Courting Susannah (40 page)

She reached out automatically, reached for Aubrey, but his side of the bed was empty, and the covers had not been disturbed at all. Worse still, Victoria was nearby, in the nursery, and the intruders were sure to find her.

That thought galvanized Susannah, broke the paralysis of fear that had held her pressed to the mattress, her hands clenching the blankets. Heart pounding at the base of her throat, she rolled out of bed onto her feet and made her way toward the child. The murmur in the hall intensified, shaped itself into the occasional word or a low chuckle. Plainly, these outlaws did not fear discovery, and the implications of that scared Susannah almost as much as the situation itself.

If only she'd locked the bedroom door, she thought frantically, uselessly, as she groped her way through the darkness, arms extended before her like a sleepwalker in a melodrama, she might have gained a few minutes in which to save Victoria and herself. Because Aubrey had been out when she retired, because, right or wrong, she had wanted him to lie beside her, to hold her, it would not have occurred to her to turn the key.

Using the passage adjoining the master suite to the nursery, she rushed to the crib and gathered Victoria, a warm and solid bundle, into her arms and dashed back
into her own room and Aubrey's just as the door sprang open. She clutched the baby against her chest, brushed her lips across the small, downy head, and prayed silently. There was no way out, no place to hide.

Two men entered the master chamber, shadows in the gloom, and one of them turned up the gaslights.

“He ain't here,” sputtered the smaller of the pair, glaring around him until his gaze fell on Susannah and Victoria. If he wasn't the person Maisie had seen at the back door with Julia, he certainly resembled him. He had small, colorless eyes, pitted skin, and a hard mouth, thin as the slash of a knife.

The other stared at Susannah. “But she is,” he said, and smiled.

A searing chill rushed through Susannah. “Don't come any closer,” she warned, all bravado. They were armed; both carried a pistol, and the little one had a blade thrust beneath his belt. She had no weapons at all except her instincts. Her concerns had all boiled down to one, in just an instant: she had to protect Victoria.

“Pretty little thing, all right,” the second man mused, as though she hadn't spoken. He let his gaze drift over Susannah's trailing hair and practical flannel nightgown with slow impudence. “I'm going to enjoy this.”

Susannah had never in her life been so frightened or, conversely, so deadly calm. She held Victoria more tightly, and the child began to cry. There were others in the hall; she heard their footfalls, heard a curse and the crash of a vase falling to the floor.

Where was Aubrey? Dear God, Susannah thought, don't let him be dead.

The tall man took a step toward her.

“Stay back,” Susannah warned. Victoria began to scream.

“Do something with that kid,” the short one commanded.

Susannah bounced the child in her arms and patted her back, trying hard to comfort her. “What do you want?”

The ringleader merely smiled at her, sending another chill skittering along the length of her spine. Then, incomprehensibly, he started making his way around the room, turning up the gaslights. It was then that Susannah smelled the first fumes, just beginning to roll in from the hallway.

The little man pulled a bandanna out of his pants pocket and pressed it to his face, then went to the door and shouted, “Send that woman in here to get this kid—my eardrums is about to split wide open!”

Maisie, Susannah thought in despair. Were she and Jasper safe in their room, undiscovered? Or had they already been asphyxiated by the escaping gas? How long could Victoria breathe the stuff without being overcome?

Ellie stumbled over the threshold, looking more sullen than surprised, and Susannah realized with a shock that the woman knew these men. She was fully dressed, and she did not meet Susannah's gaze as she crossed to her and reached for the squalling baby.

“Let me take her,” she mumbled. “I promise she'll come to no harm.”

Susannah had little choice, given the fact that the leader had begun to retrace his steps from one light fixture to another, calmly blowing out each flame without turning off the lethal vapors. “I swear by all that's holy,” she vowed in an angry whisper, surrendering the precious child with the greatest reluctance, “if any harm comes to this child, I will find you, and I will kill you with my own hands.” By then, Susannah was coughing intermittently, and her eyes burned. She wondered how long she could remain conscious.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded of the two men.

“Tie her up, and let's get out of here before the place blows,” urged the leader.

His partner was standing directly in front of Susannah now. He clasped her chin hard and forced her to look up at him. “It's a shame,” he mused, ignoring his partner's insistent plea. “A damn shame.” Then, without further warning, he raised one hand and struck Susannah with such violence that the very darkness itself came inside her, entering through every pore, snuffing out all conscious thought.

The smell of gas struck Aubrey like a cudgel the moment he opened the front door. “Jesus God,” he gasped, and, pulling a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his coat, covered his nose and mouth.

“Get Susannah and the baby,” Ethan said, coming in behind him. “I'll look for Maisie and Jasper.”

Aubrey was already taking the stairs two and three at a time. “For God's sake, hurry!” he yelled over one shoulder. “And be careful!” The house was as black as the inside of the devil's heart, but he dared not strike a match, of course; he felt his way along the corridor, cursing himself for a fool as he went and, at the same time, begging God's mercy for his wife and child.

Stumbling into the bedroom at last, already choking on the poisonous air, he went to the bed first, found it empty. Then he saw her, because of the whiteness of her nightgown, lying on the floor near the hearth. He did not bother to feel for a pulse but simply draped her limp and motionless frame over one shoulder.

The crib in the next room was empty, a fact that terrified him; he deliberated for a few moments, then set Susannah on her feet, holding her by the shoulders, and shook her hard, shouting her name. Her head lolled.

“Susannah!” he bellowed. “Where's the baby?”

Miraculously, she answered, murmuring like someone talking in her sleep. “Gone—Ellie took her—gone—”

The relief was so great that it nearly crushed him; Susannah was alive, his daughter was safe with the housemaid; for the moment, he could think no further than that. He lifted his wife into his arms and rushed out of the room, along the corridor, and down the rear staircase to the lawn. They had barely reached the grass, crisp with frost, before a thunderous explosion hurled them both forward onto the ground. Another blast followed, and another, and debris and hot ash rained down upon them, an apocalyptic baptism in fire and fear.

Aubrey sheltered his wife with his body as best he could, and Susannah, only half conscious, whimpered beneath him. He did not need to look back to know that the house was gone, utterly destroyed—and he didn't give a damn about that pile of brick and wood anyway. The tears on his face were for Maisie, for Jasper, for Ethan. Dear God, Ethan. Had he gotten out before the place went up? And where had Ellie taken Victoria?

He became aware, gradually, of the pain in his ribs, the burns on his hands and back, the distant clanging of bells. The fire department, he thought, and gave a shout of bitter, ironic laughter. Then he levered himself to his feet and pulled Susannah after him, farther and farther from the blazing ruins of his house.

“Aubrey!” At first, the sound was just part of the cacophony that surrounded him; a moment or so passed before it sorted itself out as his name. “Aubrey!”

The voice was Ethan's. He dragged a soot-covered arm across his face and called back a reply. “Over here!”

Ethan materialized out of the fiery gloom, fair hair singed, clothes in tatters, and his whole face about to disappear behind a jubilant grin. “Thank God,” he said.

The two brothers embraced.

“Susannah?” Ethan asked hoarsely. “The baby?”

“Susannah is back there, in the gazebo,” Aubrey said.

“My daughter—” He choked on the words, had to stop and begin again. “Ellie took her. If they got out in time, they're both safe.”

“We'll find them,” Ethan said. His own eyes were glittering, and he laid a reassuring hand to Aubrey's shoulder.

“Maisie and Jasper?”

“Safe, except for a hell of a scare and a few minor burns,” Ethan assured him. “I took them to the stable.”

“What about you?”

Ethan grinned again. “I reckon I'm doing about as well as you are, brother. No better, no worse.” With that, he went into the gazebo and collected Susannah, lifting her easily into his arms. Since his ribs felt as though they were about to spring out of his skin, Aubrey didn't protest the liberty.

When Susannah opened her eyes, she had a thundering headache, and she was lying in a bed of loose, fragrant straw, covered with a horse blanket. Aubrey knelt beside her, and, seeing him, she let out a sob of relief and flung her arms around his neck.

“Shh,” he said. “It's over now. You're safe.”

“Victoria—”

He kissed her forehead. “Ellie left her with Reverend Johnstone. She's all right, Susannah. So are Maisie and Jasper.”

She heard the noise then, smelled the dense, acrid smoke. “The house?”

“Gone,” Aubrey said. “Don't fret, Susannah. We don't need it.”

We? She clung to him. Was there something different
in the way he'd used that word, the tone he'd given it, or was she imagining things?

He smoothed her tangled hair back from her face, kissed her lightly, chastely on the mouth. “I love you, Susannah,” he said, quietly but clearly. “Stay with me. Please.” Tears of joy stung her eyes; exultation was violent within her, like a storm. “You love me?” she echoed in disbelief.

He nodded and kissed her again, this time on the forehead. “Come on, Mrs. Fairgrieve,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling her with him. “Let's get you to Reverend Johnstone. He's going to put you and Maisie and Jasper up for the night.”

“What about you?” She saw her brother-in-law out of the corner of her eye. “And Ethan?” “We'll be all right,” Aubrey insisted, but tenderly.

“Wait,” Susannah said when he took her hand to lead her out of the stable, under the orange and crimson sky.

“What?” He sounded a little impatient.

“I love you, too,” Susannah told him. “I just wanted to say it out loud.”

He chuckled. “And I wanted to hear it,” he said. Only then did she realize that she was wearing his coat, that there were burn holes in his shirt and probably in his flesh as well.

She looked sorrowfully at the house, now an inferno, beyond saving. “What will we do now?” she asked.

He smiled. “We're going to start over, Mrs. Fairgrieve. From the beginning.”

Chapter 20

T
he once-grand mansion lay in ruins under a wintercool sun, and as Susannah stood gazing at the rubble, she thought about new beginnings. Aubrey, beside her, put an arm around her waist. Victoria was still at the parsonage, under Maisie's care.

“I'm sorry, Susannah,” he said.

She looked up at him in surprise. “Sorry?”

“You're a bride. You should be living in a house. Instead, you and I and Victoria are going to be residing above the store for a year or so while we build the new place.”

She smiled, let him hold her close against his side. “I don't care where we live, as long as we're together,” she said.

He brushed his lips lightly across her temple; she felt his breath move through her in a warm shiver. “I'll make it bigger, better—”

She looked up at him. “The house?”

He nodded, plainly baffled by the expression on her face, which must have mirrored the doubts she felt.

“Isn't that what you want?”

She searched his eyes, saw that he genuinely wanted to please her. And she shook her head. “We'll need plenty of space,” she said with a slight blush, “because there are bound to be more children. But I'd prefer something far simpler and more—well,
homey
. Couldn't we just have a modest stone house?”

He smiled. “No ballroom?”

She laughed softly. “No ballroom. I will require a piano, however.”

He kissed her temple again, squeezed her close. Then he chuckled. “As long as your students understand that your courting days are over.” He watched her responding smile with real pleasure, like a man basking in spring sunshine. It touched her heart “Let's get in out of this cold before we freeze to death,” he said practically.