To more cries of “No!” and “Stay back!” he charged once more into the conflagration. What air remained was hotter than his first two trips, and drier, searing his lungs. Flames thundered, their orange, white, and blue tendrils licking up the wooden walls. Billowing black smoke threatened to blind him.
He stumbled toward Lily’s makeshift pens, coughs wracking his body as he peered through the haze, his eyes blurred with burning tears. Frantically he searched the enclosures, finding nothing. The blaze roared all around him, the sound filling his head, battering his senses.
Heat lashed him in scorching waves. He couldn’t see; he couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t stay in here a minute longer.
This one cannot run…
He pictured Lily saying the words, kneeling beside a pen, right there. Sucking in acrid air, he reached down blindly, his fingers encountering soft, trembling fur.
And then he was on his way out, the cub a gasping, hot bundle in his arms, both of them searching for cool, healing air. Just as he cleared the door, a mighty crash sounded behind him, and for one terrifying moment he seemed surrounded by raining sparks.
Then there was light, and he could breathe, and someone was pulling the cub from his arms. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” someone cried, whacking him on the back. It made him cough more, and he tried to twist away, to run away, but he only stumbled. His eyes were still streaming and he couldn’t see, but whoever it was followed him.
“You’re on fire!” she screamed, and it was Lily’s voice, and he stood still and let her beat upon his back until at last she stopped.
“Oh God,” she said again and took him by the hand to pull him farther from the flames. They both collapsed to the ground. Rand rubbed his eyes, feeling grit, his head swimming in a haze of smoke and unreality.
He blinked until his vision cleared. He and Lily gazed at each other, ash and soot drifting around them and settling slowly to earth like a dark, eerie snowfall.
“You saved my animals,” she whispered, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks.
“You saved me,” Rand croaked through his raw throat. Still coughing, he reached a hand behind to touch his back, but it didn’t hurt enough to be burned.
“It was your hair.” Lily coughed, too. “Your hair was on fire.”
He reached higher then, to the ribbon that bound the queue he wore when he ran, and it was still there—but the hair below it felt wiry and crumbled in his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she said, coughing some more.
He shrugged, still feeling dazed. “It hardly matters. It will grow back.” They both coughed together. “Did the smoke get to you, too? Or are these sympathy coughs?” he said with a weak smile, then frowned, peering closer, finally noticing how she looked. “You’re wearing a nightdress. You’re ill, aren’t you? Rose is at Lakefield now, as usual, but she failed to mention you’re ill. You’ll catch your death—you shouldn’t be out here.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. She took the dressing gown clenched in her fingers—the one she’d used to beat out the flames—and draped it over herself. Once white, it was streaked gray and black from his hair. “You shouldn’t be here, either,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I was running and saw the smoke.” His head cleared, and suddenly he realized the fire was still raging. “Go inside, Lily. Lie down. Your animals are safe.” Even now, a couple of women were busy moving them to the stables. “I need to help here.”
He pushed to his feet and came face-to-face with Lily’s mother.
She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “You should go inside, too. You’ve done enough.”
“But the barn—”
“It’s hopeless, and the rest is under control.”
Rand turned to see. Although the bucket brigade was still operating full force under the direction of her husband, the men weren’t fighting the fire, instead drenching the surrounding area to prevent its spread. The barn itself—or what was left of it—was burning merrily despite their earlier efforts.
Lady Trentingham forced a wan smile. “It was old and needed replacing. So long as no one’s hurt, it’s no great loss. Come inside. I’ll fetch some water so you can rinse off the soot.” Without waiting for his agreement, she hurried toward the house.
His hands were coated in black, and he wanted to wash his face. Imagining he looked like hell, he reached to help Lily rise. The sunshine was dimmed by the veil of smoke overhead, but not so much that he couldn’t see the outline of her body through her thin white nightdress. He thought it wise not to mention that, however. She sneezed twice during their slow progress to the house and looked even worse than he felt.
Well, her poor red eyes and nose did, anyway. The rest of her looked magnificent.
By the time they stepped indoors, Lady Trentingham had a basin and towels set up in the drawing room. She ushered them both inside, handing Rand a clean white shirt and Lily a fresh dressing gown and a pair of shears. “I must see that ale is brought to the men,” she said and rushed off.
Lily looked shocked to be left alone with him, but Rand was too tired to care. She hurried into the dressing gown and belted it tightly at her waist. He pulled the ribbon out of his hair, then looked down at his grayish shirt, noticing all the tiny black holes where sparks had singed it. With a shrug, he began to strip it off.
Her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t avert her eyes.
Seduction, he remembered.
Hoping she was enjoying the view, he pulled the shirt over his head and turned to the water.
