An Affair So Right (Rebel Hearts #4)(4)
“Well, I am.” Deacon protested. “I’m tired of women who just want to sit on my lap a few times and then pretend they didn’t fancy me after all.”
Quinn choked on an oath. Now there was a picture he’d rather not have in his mind. “Ah, Deacon, now is really not the time for specifics of your intimate relations. When we’re done here, we could talk at my home if that suits?”
Deacon nodded quickly. “I knew I could depend on you.”
Chapter 2
Theodora Dalton shielded her face from the heat even while trying to see beyond the fierce blaze into her home. “Father!”
“It’s no good, miss,” an older neighbor insisted, arms held wide to prevent her from continuing her search for her missing parent. “It’s too late.”
Above Theodora’s head, the country home she’d shared with her parents on the outskirts of London since their return from abroad two years ago crackled and groaned ominously as it was consumed by ever-expanding flames. Theodora was fortunate she’d awoken and found her mother before the smoke had choked the life from them. They had fled via the rear of the property, where they had expected to find her father.
“Father might be in the library,” she told the man over the noise. “He is always there at this time of night. We must rescue him!”
“No one could survive that.” The man grasped her shoulders and pushed her back none too gently.
“Unhand me, sir!” she screamed indignantly.
He did just as the house groaned again. They both staggered back, shielding their heads from another blast of heat.
“It’s too dangerous to stay here,” the man yelled before backing all the way to the street and leaving her as the only soul brave enough to remain near the blistering fire.
Theodora held her ground, blinking through the intense heat and smoke, determined to be on hand to assist her father. The street behind her was filled with people taking in the horror of the situation.
She heard a disturbance, and cast a quick glance for her mother, grateful to see her at a safer distance. The local firefighters had arrived and parted the crowd by yelling, finally bringing the water wagon to begin pumping water toward her home. A line of men and a few women carrying buckets also began to fling water toward the open doorway, sloshing most on the ground before it could do any good to prevent the blaze from spreading.
Theodora took a bucket herself and approached the doorway. Flames had reached the front door hallway, dancing up the walls and licking the stucco ceilings until they blackened and cracked. Small clumps of fire fell like raindrops in places, scorching the hall runner she’d chosen in India and brought home to England.
She tossed her inadequate bucket of water ahead of her, desperately hoping for some sign of movement within. She took a step closer and called out.
Her arm was caught suddenly. “Everyone is accounted for,” a man shouted over the din of the crackling blaze.
Hope surged, and she scanned the crowd. “My father?”
“No,” the unfamiliar voice replied. “There is no sign of Mr. Dalton anywhere.”
Theodora damped her handkerchief in the bucket slops. If she covered her mouth and nose, she just might get closer. “He depends on me.”
“The minute you step inside that house, you’ll be lost too,” the man warned in a harsh voice, and then he cursed—like a sailor who’d never been around a proper woman before in his life. His arm curled around her middle and, before she could protest, the fellow hefted her off her feet. Although she struggled, Theodora was moved back, without apology or permission.
The cooler air filled her lungs and made her cough hard enough to bring tears streaming from her eyes. She struggled but was carried to her mother, who was staring at the building in her blanket-covered nightclothes with huge, fearful eyes.
“Thank heavens she’s safe,” Mother whispered to the women flanking her, women who had dressed in such a rush that their hair was down and their costly jewels had been left at home. “Thank you for bringing her back to me.”
Theodora fought the restriction of the strong arm that remained around her waist, holding her off the ground like a child. “Let me go!”
“Not until you accept it is hopeless,” the man growled. “Anyone who goes near that house again will surely lose their life. I won’t risk yours, and anyone fool enough to follow you will die too,” he insisted harshly.
She twisted around to view her captor, and her eyes widened in surprise. She barely recognized the hulking, soot-covered giant who pinned her to his body. No wonder her feet dangled in the empty air. Lord Maitland, formerly Captain Maitland of the HMS Reckless Hope, held her fast against his broad chest. She knew little of the man for all they’d been neighbors these last two years, but since his return to shore, he was forever entertaining friends in his home until all hours. His comings and goings entertained a whole host of gossips each morning. Theodora knew him enough to nod to, to admire his muscular form as he rode past.
He had seemed a merry sort of man under normal circumstances, but today she barely recognized him in his temper.
“Lord Maitland. Help us!”
“I am,” he promised, holding her closer still. His attention returned to the burning house. “I’m doing exactly what your father would have wanted me to do. I’m keeping his daughter alive. Ladies, you must remain here.”