Scandals Bride

more than to crawl back into her bed, she smiled serenely about the hall and helped herself to lamb collops.

Then pushed them around and around on her plate.

She felt like slumping; only by maintaining a continuous inner lecture did she manage to preserve her facade. But she couldn't eat-she'd lost her appetite. In an effort to conceal her disinterest in the food, she caught Henderson's eye. 'What have the children been up to today?' In spite of his dour demeanor, Henderson had a soft spot for the manor's brats.

'Seems like the master'd been teaching some of them to ride, so I took them out to the barn.' He grimaced, a depressing sight. 'I'm no great horseman, though. I'm thinking they'll have to wait on his return to polish up their skills.'

'Hmm.' Not wanting to dwell on how long the children might have to wait, Catriona looked along the table at Mrs. Broom and gestured to the steaming apple pie just placed before her, the fruity, spicy aroma much more to her liking than the cold collops a maid had whisked away. 'I congratulate you on your new receipe-the spices add a pleasing tang.'

Mrs. Broom beamed. 'Twas the master suggested it-seems they cook it that way in London town, but it was easy enough to do. Pity he isn't here to enjoy it-he said it was one of his favorites. But we've apples aplenty in the store-I'll make it again when he gets back.'

The smile on her face felt tight; Catriona inclined her head gracefully and turned to McArdle 'Has Melchett-'

'Mistress!'

'Mister Henderson!'

'Come quickly!'

With those and other cries, the manor children burst into the hall. They were led, as always, by Tom, Cook's red-headed son. He rushed straight to the main table, his gaze locked on Catriona's face. 'It's the blacksmith's house, mistress. It's burning!'

'Burning?' Rising, Catriona stared down at Tom. 'But…' She frowned. 'It can't be.'

Tom bobbed his head urgently. 'It is, mistress! Flames leaping into the sky, an' all.'

Everyone rushed to see. Wide-eyed, Catriona halted on the back step and saw that Tom hadn't lied. The blacksmith's small house, wedged between the forge and the granary, was alight. Angry red flames licked over the wood and stone building, engulfing it from the rear. Beyond, out of sight behind the house, lay open pigpens, presently empty.

As they watched, the flames caught better hold and roared throwing red sparks high.

Within seconds, the stable yard was a scene of confusion. Pandemonium reigned. People ran this way, then that, bumping into each other and cursing, some running to fetch pails others had already grabbed.

Dragging in a breath, Catriona lifted her head. 'Henderson-you and the stablelads to the pump. Huggins, check the stable. Irons, where are you?'

The big blacksmith, a dripping pail in his hand, raised his arm. 'Here, ma'am.'

'You and all the men start dousing the fire.'

'Aye, ma'am.'

'All the women-into the kitchens. Grab whatever will hold most water.'

They streamed past her, she heard the clatter as the huge pots and pans were collected. They all helped, even Algaria-a deep jam pot gripped tightly, she flung water onto the burning building.

Down on the cobbles, her face lit by the garish glow. Catriona monitored their frantic efforts. Huggins came puffing up. 'The horses and animals are well enough-I've left two lads with them.'

Her eyes on the flames rising above the cottage, then fanning over to embrace it from behind, Catriona grabbed his arm; she had to scream for him to hear. 'Take halt the men and start throwing water onto the back. That's where the source is.'

Huggins nodded and went. Catriona coughed as billowing smoke gripped her throat. Turning, she surveyed the yard-there was a large crowd waiting, buckets, pails, pots and pans in hand around the pump. It wasn't hard to guess the problem. The roads had cleared, but it was a long way from spring-the main snows on Merrick had yet to melt, so the river was still at its winter ebb. Only a gentle gush came up through the pump, enough for daily needs, but not enough to fight a fire.

A hot roar at her back had Catriona whirling; she backed as heat hit her like a surging wave.

Sparks and cinders rained down-a real danger for those running close to throw their precious water on the fire. Then came a loud crack!- a beam exploded; flaming debris showered down, driving everyone back.

Gasping, Catriona found herself cowering protectively over Tom. 'Blankets!' Tom looked up at her-she shook his shoulder. 'We need blankets to beat out the sparks. Get the others and fetch the horse blankets from the tack room.'

Tom nodded and fled, shrieking through the din for his cohorts to follow him. They did, an unruly band streaking for the stables. They returned in double time, staggering under the weight of the heavy blankets balanced across their arms. Catriona grabbed one and started beating out the flaming cinders. Other women saw and did the same.

Huggins and his band had reached the back of the house; Catriona heard them bellowing for more help. Brushing the back of her hand over her flushed forehead, she looked around. 'Jem, Joshua!-take your pails to the back.'

They nodded and changed course around the side of the forge.

In the yard, everyone redoubled their efforts, trying to fill the gaps left by those who'd gone to the other front. But the pump would yield only so much. Glancing back through the swirling smoke, Catriona saw Irons had stripped off his shirt and was now bending his back to the pump handle. Henderson was slumped, wheezing, on the water trough-now empty.

'Lady!'

Catriona turned at the tug on her sleeve. Huggins, doubled over and panting, struggling to catch his breath, grimaced up at her.

' 'Twas the woodpile behind the house-that's where it started.' He paused to drag in another breath, his eyes going to the fiercely burning cottage. 'We can douse the pile, but it's almost ashes now. But that won't stop it. The flames have got a good hold on the back wall, particularly on those big lintel beams across the back.'

Following his nod Catriona stared at the huge wooden beams that crossed the cottage, one above the door and window, separating the ground floor from the first, and the other above the first floor, supporting the roof timbers. Matching beams spanned the back.

'It's going to go.' Huggins shook his head and slumped forward again. 'We can't reach those big beams, and we haven't got enough water even if we could. It's an inferno, up there.'

Catriona stared at the greedy flames, then dragged in a huge breath. She coughed and took a firm grip on her wits. And ignored the fright licking at her nerves. 'All right.' She squeezed Huggins's arm, sending him a little of her hard-won calm. 'Tell your men to concentrate on saving the granary and the forge.' She hesitated, then added: 'The granary first if a choice has to be made.'

They couldn't afford to lose the grain and other foodstuffs stored in the granary, their larder for the rest of the winter.

Huggins nodded his understanding and stumbled away to issue her orders. Catriona took one last look at the fiercely burning cottage and went to find Irons. She found him slumped by the pump; Henderson was manning it again. Grim-faced, his gaze on his burning home, Irons heard her out, then, with a pain-filled grimace, nodded.

'Aye.' With an effort, he hauled himself to his feet. 'You be right. Cottage can be replaced-granary, and what's in it, can't.'

He started bellowing orders himself; Catriona rushed forward once more to take charge close to the house, instructing the waterbearers where to fling their loads.

Her voice hoarse and fading, she grabbed a pot from a maid hard of hearing and showed her where to throw it-at the junction between the walls of the cottage and the granary. Handing the empty pot back to the woman, she paused, wiping the sweat from her brow, trying not to notice the heat washing over her-