Love, Come to Me(31)

“Has someone seen Mrs. Emerson’s document box?” Daniel’s sister Abigail asked loudly, coming over from the spot where the Emerson family was gathered. “It was in the library. She said she put some important papers there, some bonds and contracts.” They all searched the yard quickly, but no box could be found. There was a moment of silence and indecision, and Lucy looked from face to face, realizing that they were all afraid to go in the house.

“I’ll do it,” she said, tightening the ribbon around her hair to make sure that it stayed tied back.

“But it’s dangerous—”

“Not yet. The men and boys are still inside, getting the furniture. The fire hasn’t made it downstairs.” Lucy dashed to the half-open window before anyone could offer any further objections, hoisting herself up and clambering over the sill. She closed the window most of the way before venturing further into the room, which looked like the parlor. It was so hot and smoke-hazed in there that she could barely see. An unearthly stillness settled in the room while the sound of fire roared all around.

The doorknob was still pretty cool. Cautiously she opened the door and went into the hallway, where men rushed back and forth in the last efforts to rescue valuables. In the frantic, traffic-ridden hallway no one seemed to take notice of her, and she sidled along the wall to the next doorway. It was the library, she saw with relief, and slipped inside. The smoke stung her eyes and seemed to sear the inside of her nose. Coughing, Lucy felt her way around a huge, solid table and bumped into a chair, knocking something to the ground. A pang of triumph quivered in her chest as she squinted down at the square metal object. The document box.

Grabbing the box, which was already warm to the touch, she stowed it under one arm and ventured gamely out into the hallway, where the shouted warnings and crashing sounds were deafening. She was coughing so hard that she could barely breathe. As a boy carrying a heavy chair rushed by, he bumped her accidentally, causing her to stumble against the wall. Suddenly a burning timber fell down from the ceiling, narrowly missing her, and she stared at the splintering, blazing hunk of wood in shock. The ceiling was beginning to crumble in! Lucy’s hasty courage fled as her face paled with the beginnings of real fear. Her pulse raced as quick as lightning. Irrational though it was, her first instinct was to head for a corner to hide in. She had to get out of here! Afraid that her skirts would catch on fire, she started to edge around the timber carefully. Just then a booted foot kicked aside the timber in one swipe and her shoulders were seized in a grip so brutal that she dropped the document box.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” a hoarse masculine voice demanded, and she looked up into Heath Rayne’s hard eyes. She was so startled by the vicious bite of his hands and his savage appearance that she couldn’t have said one word to save her life. His coppery skin was gleaming with sweat and smudged with soot, his eyes narrowed and reddened from smoke. The shirt he wore was rolled up at the sleeves, revealing heavy muscles that strained tightly against the damp linen; the shirt parted down his chest to a midriff that was taut and patterned like a washboard. He looked so angry that he seemed about ready to cuff her, and for just a second she was afraid that he would. “I want you to get your little rear end out of here!” he snapped. “Why hasn’t your father or your damned fiancé kept an eye on you? If neither of them is going to bust your backside for this, I sure as hell am!”

“I came in here for an important reason!” Lucy interrupted indignantly, wriggling free of his painful grip and bending to scoop up the box. She paused as a spasm of coughing shook her.

Heath muttered a curse and took the heavy object from her as soon as she straightened up. He hooked an arm around her waist and rapidly half-dragged, halfcarried her through the hallway. The front door was edged on either side with long tongues of flames. Lucy stopped struggling as he sheltered her with his body and carried her through. Her nose and cheek brushed against his wheat-gold hair, which was darkened with sweat. She could feel the cruel, limitless power of his arms around her, as secure and unyielding as the jaws of a lion. His lack of fear made her feel like the kind of woman she most despised, the kind that acted clinging and helpless in the presence of a strong man. Breathing deeply, she hung onto her wits and lifted her head from his shoulder. She started to pull away from him as soon as they got through the door. He let her feet drop to the front porch, steadied her, and handed her the metal box. It felt much heavier than before, and she took it with trembling arms.

“First you almost drown, then you’re almost burned to a cinder,” Heath said, turning her around and giving her a firm push in the direction of the steps leading to the street. He still sounded angry, but not quite as much as before. “God knows what you’ll get into next.”

“I would have been fine without you!”

“Like hell. Now stay away from here.”

She didn’t dare talk back to him as she watched his broad-shouldered frame disappear through the doorway again. Going down the steps, Lucy was surprised to find that her knees were weak as she made her way to the pile of furniture in the yard. After setting the document box down carefully on a sofa, she watched as the men carried the last pieces of furniture out of the house. None of them could go back in now. The fire had destroyed the top floor and was spreading to the downstairs; it had eaten at the ceilings and crumbling walls until the house was a death trap.