Rogues and Ripped Bodices (31 page)

Almost
a Hero

Lucian snapped up his head and peered into the darkness for
a moment. Both arms on his desk, he screwed up his eyes and opened them once
more to clear the bleary haze of sleep. Running both hands through his hair, he
pushed himself up from the desk. He winced. Sleeping on a desk was not a good
idea. Not that he’d intended to fall asleep. Why had no one come to wake him?

Then he recalled his foreman
had come in briefly and reminded him it was the end of the day, but he had been
so buried in work, he had decided to stay late. It had not been dark yet so no
lamps were lit.

Damn, his mouth was dry. What
he would not give for a decent cup of tea, or better yet, a strong drink. He
stretched and leaned back against his chair. His night vision grew good enough
to see the time on the clock. It really was quite late. He supposed he should
return home and have dinner, but the thought of having dinner alone with only
the company of his staff lingering around did not appeal one bit.

He wanted dinner with Ellie.

But she did not want him,
Lucian reminded himself. If she felt even half what he did, she would have had
no doubts about saying yes. Not that he blamed her. Marry the man responsible
for years of hurt and for forcing your parents into marrying you off? He
laughed aloud. What had he been thinking?

He hadn’t been thinking, if
truth be told. All he knew was that he wanted Ellie as his wife. He needed her
by his side and without her the ache inside him was more painful than ever. The
uncertainty that had haunted him since the fire disappeared with her and he
felt like a man again, instead of a disfigured source of gossip. Damn society,
he didn’t care a fig for it, but he did care for Ellie. He’d happily never
attend a ball or a dinner ever again if he had her by his side.

As he forced himself to
standing, feeling as though he might well be a hundred years old, he scowled
and froze. A sound had awoken him, he recalled that now, and there was another
one. A crash. Damnation, was someone breaking in again, and where were the
guards? He turned and peered out of the window but saw no one creeping across
the courtyard.

“Not this time,” he said.
Whoever it was must be in the mill.

Ignoring his coat, he stomped
outside and headed towards the factory building. What he saw made his heart
jolt to a standstill. Fire. Bloody hell. The building glowed orange and flames
danced out of the back windows.

He swivelled on his heel and
raced to the gates only to find a carriage outside. The driver stepped forwards
and held out an arm to stop him in his tracks.

“Johnson has gone for the fire
brigade. We saw the flames a few moments ago. Where is the countess?”

Lucian wondered if he had been
doused in icy cold water as his entire body tensed and the hairs on his arms
stood on end.

“The Countess of Hawthorne?”

“Aye, she came to see you, my
lord. Where is she?”

Lucian pivoted slowly and eyed
the flames slowly eating into the building. She wouldn’t, surely? But she
might. Bile rose in his throat and he fought the urge to bend double.

“She’s in there.” He knew it to
be true as his heart felt as though someone had put a hot vice around it. As if
someone was tearing it from his chest or stabbing it with a dagger.

“Nay, my lord, surely not?”

“Find your friend and find a
doctor. There is one in Lenten Street, I believe. When the fire brigade arrive,
tell them someone is trapped in the building.”

“You can’t go in there, my
lord. If she is in there, it’s surely too late and you’ll be burned too.”

“Damn it all to hell, I don’t
care. Just fetch the doctor.” Lucian said these words over his shoulder. He had
already taken off across the courtyard to the mill.

The door was ajar and he
clamped a hand over his mouth when he entered. The blaze lit the room,
revealing a thick cloud of smoke. Heat hit him and brought out instant beads of
sweat. His hand fell away and he accidentally drew in a long breath as he gaped
at the sight. Half of the inside of the building had already crumbled away and
the fire had taken its vicious hold on the rafters.

“Ellie!”He began stalking
between the looms, trying to penetrate the thick smoke to spot her. “Damn you,
Ellie, where are you?”

Had he been wrong? Perhaps she
wasn’t here, and his body was lying to him, but he did not believe so. Every
part of him told him she was in danger.

The smoke had begun to clog his
nostrils and made him cough. His lungs ached for fresh air and his scars itched
at the sensation of remembered heat and the very real heat that flickered too
close by.

A crack resounded from above
and he was sure the floor had shaken. He glanced up and the knot of fear in his
stomach tightened. The building was foundering. He had to find her.

“Ellie,” he tried again,
drawing in another gulp of smoke as he did so. The crackle of flames drowned
out his desperate cry.

Then his foot hit something.
Something that shouldn’t be between the looms. He bent and pressed his hands to
the foreign object. When he lifted it, his heart stopped beating.

Ellie.

Wasting no time, he scooped her
lifeless form into his hold and stood, fighting another coughing fit. The
proximity of the flames terrified him. If he had not come upon her when he did,
she might have gone up in flames too. His eyes watered and he had no idea if it
was down to the smoke or utter terror at the image created. He would not have
been surprised if it was the latter.

He carried her between the
looms as quickly as he could. Smoke and tears clouded his vision and he didn’t
want to hurt her on the metal machines or injure himself and destroy any chance
they had of escaping. As it was, he had no idea if she was even alive. What if
she had inhaled too much smoke?

No. No, it was inconceivable.
He’d rather she was alive and spitting her aggravating words at him and getting
under his feet than that.

Lucian paused as a groan
wracked the building. He definitely felt the ground shake that time. The
remains of the wooden gallery gave way, sending sparks flying and he turned to
shield Ellie from them. Some struck him but he didn’t feel their sting. He
strode on, the door so temptingly close.

Another groan. Another crack.
What was giving way this time? He peered up and came to a standstill. Horror
ate into him and made his limbs feel like jelly. It happened very slowly, yet
he could not move quickly enough. A rafter dangled from the roof, ready to
drop. It was not one of the main beams but it would crush a man with ease. It
gave way and it brought down a fiery mass of wood with it.

All he could do was drop to the
ground and cover Ellie. Debris rained down around them and dust filled his
lungs. Something struck his arm and a sharp sting bit into his leg. The pain
was different from that of the previous mill fire so he could only conclude he
was not alight.

With a groan, he dragged
himself up, hauling Ellie with him, and he glanced at the debris. The sharp
pain in his leg jabbed at him and begged him to give up. Even his arm protested
holding the light weight of Ellie. But giving up was not an option. Not while
there was a chance Ellie was still alive.

Ignoring the agony in his calf,
he stepped over the rafter that had nearly crushed them and picked his way
through the rest of the burning debris. The flames touched his trousers and he
cursed when he noticed the hem of his trousers was beginning to burn. But the
door was steps away. He stumbled on and the door shattered.

Two firemen burst through, the
golden glow of the flames glinting off their helmets. Wordlessly, one grabbed
Ellie from him, while the other urged him outside and patted out the flames
that had taken a stubborn hold of his clothing. Once only smoke rose from his
clothing, pain and fear forced him to the ground.

A fireman wrapped an arm around
his waist and helped him to his feet. “Come on, my lord. It isn’t safe to be so
close to the building and we can’t get our hoses in if you’re there.”

He nodded wearily and looked
for the man carrying Ellie. Several firemen were bringing in their hoses and
onlookers had crowded the gates. He could not see her and panic ate into him.
The man keeping him upright pushed aside the crowd.

“Where’s Ellie?” he demanded.

“The doctor is seeing to her.
Sit down, my lord.”

“Take me to her.”

The fireman looked as though he
was about to argue but thought better of it and peered over the crowds. “Just
there. Come, he will need to see to your leg too.”

His damned leg. The pain was
burning through it and he walked at the pace of a snail. Not quick enough. Why
had the fireman not dragged him straight to her side, damn him? His heart had
never left his throat since he had realised Ellie was in the building but now
it threatened to jump clean out of it when he saw Ellie laid out on some
blankets someone must have thoughtfully provided. An elderly chap, the doctor
from Lenten Street, he assumed, was leaning over her.

Lucian disengaged himself from
the fireman’s hold and dropped to her side. The doctor moved back, allowing him
to smooth her hair away from her blackened face.

“Is she alive?” The noise of
the crowd and the building in its death throes almost drowned his words but the
doctor clearly understood and nodded.

Lucian let his shoulders drop.

“She has likely inhaled a lot
of smoke,” the doctor told him loudly. “If she wakes up, she shall need to be
well looked after so she doesn’t sicken.”

Nodding, Lucian eased her head
into his lap and urged her to awaken. Drops fell onto her face and he scowled.
It wasn’t raining. He swiped his eyes and realised they were his tears. Bloody
hell, the woman had him in tears. What had she done to him?

“My lord, your leg...” The
doctor motioned.

He glanced at the leg in
question that was stretched out in front of him and noted the large splinter of
wood sticking out from his trousers. That explained a lot then.

“Just pull it out.”

Even over the noise surrounding
him, he was sure he heard the doctor sigh as he moved around to tear apart the
fabric. Lucian kept his gaze fixed on Ellie and hardly noticed the pain as the
doctor removed the huge splinter.

Wake up, wake up, wake up. The
words echoed the painful thump of his heart.
Look at me, Ellie. Wake up.
If she lived, he didn’t care if he lost the mill or every penny he owned. He
didn’t care if she decided to travel the world and search for more bugs, or if
she took a hundred lovers. If only she lived.

Very well, so he might have
something to say about the lovers. But her life was more important than his
happiness. He would suffer unending agony for her.

Hope burst in his chest when
her eyelids fluttered. It took far too long but gradually her eyes opened and
that beautiful grey gaze latched onto him.

“Lucian.” Her voice came out a
mere croak and a great coughing fit consumed her.

The doctor came back to press
his stethoscope to her chest and Lucian cradled her as though she were a child
while he checked her over once more.

“You need to get her clean and
warm, my lord. Take her home and I shall follow. And we must see to your leg.”

“Damn my leg, I don’t care two
figs about it.”

Lucian thought he saw the
doctor roll his eyes, but he said nothing as Lucian insisted on drawing Ellie
into his hold and carrying her to the carriage.

“Take us to my house,” he
ordered the driver. “With haste.”

The man nodded. Everyone knew
of his townhouse. Lucian thanked the Lord it was close to the mill and would
only take minutes to get there.

He settled Ellie against his
chest. She appeared to be fighting to keep her eyes open and that was the way
he wanted her. Fighting.

Before they started off, a fireman
popped his head through the open window. “Thought you’d like to know we’ve
caught the man who started the fire.”

“Already?”

“Your guards caught him
sneaking away and had given chase. A bobby just arrived and informed me the
police have him in custody and will be questioning him.”

“Good. My thanks.”

The fireman slapped the side of
the carriage and told the driver to move on.

“Everything will be well,” he
soothed when the carriage jolted forwards. He pressed his hands across her
cheeks and savoured the warmth of her skin.

“The mill,” she said, her voice
still raw but more audible now they were away from the crowd.

The last he had seen of the
building, it was half collapsed and he doubted the firemen could save it. “It
doesn’t matter.”

“Someone set that fire...I was
looking for you...I wanted to stop—” A coughing fit consumed her and he shushed
her.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a
mill.”