Free A Christmas Escape by Anne Perry Page A

they meant to darken the whole sky. He saw lightning fork through them, and then another jet of scarlet fire hundreds of feet high. At the same moment the ground below his feet trembled and the roar of it drowned any words he might have had.
    Stefano jerked his head to indicate the way they should go, and Charles followed him quickly. He had no wish whatever to be caught out here alone.
    They searched the house, looking in all the public rooms and then the bedrooms. Stefano had the keys and it took only a glance in each to know that Bailey was not there. All the time the mountain rumbled sporadically. The air was thick with the stench of ash and sulfur, burned grass, and the dust of stone where pieces of wall had been struck by lumps of burning lava and left scorched and, in many places, broken.
    It was probably mendable. Perhaps this was the price of living on this amazing island, but Charles grieved for the damage, the carefully nurtured buildings and gardens that had been ruined in a few moments.
    They started on the outbuildings, storerooms, and garden sheds. Here the damage was worse. These buildings were only a few dozen yards closer to the mountain, but perhaps they had been built here originally as the first wall of defense.
    The first Charles and Stefano looked in was the one most seriously damaged. One side of the roof had completely collapsed, rafters and tiles having fallen in. The upper edges of the supporting walls were scarred with fire where flying lava had struck them with tremendous force.
    It was inside the wreck of this room that they found Walker-Bailey’s body. He was lying on the floor on his back, a rafter from the damaged ceiling fallen across his chest. Blood covered his shoulders and pooled on the floor behind the back of his head.
    Stefano said something in Italian. Charles did not know the words, but he certainly understood the sentiment. He would have said something the same if his mouth was not too dry to speak at all, and his heart pounding as if to drown out all other sounds.
    Stefano bent to touch the wrist of one of the outflung arms. His own hand was shaking so hard he had to make a deliberate effort to force himself to be still. It was more than a minute before he looked up at Charles, his face ashen under his olive skin.
    “I am sorry, but he is dead.” He closed his eyes. “Now how are we going to tell the signora? Poor creature…”
    Charles held out his hand and helped Stefano to his feet. He was surprised how much of his weight he had to take.
    “It’s not your fault, Stefano,” he said. “If the stupid man had come in with the rest of us, he would be all right. I’m sure she’ll be shaken up. I daresay she wouldn’t have wished him dead. But on the other hand, I rather think she will recover.”
    Stefano looked wretched.
    “He was not a nice man,” he agreed. “Now he has died without the chance to do better. That is very sad, Mr. Latterly. In fact, perhaps it is the last tragedy in a man’s life. I fear he will not be much missed.”
    “I’ll go and tell them,” Charles offered. The instant the words were out of his mouth he wondered what on earth had made him say them. But the warmth that now filled Stefano’s face made them impossible to take back. He had no idea how he was going to make it any easier for the others than Stefano would. Perhaps his offer stemmed from gratitude for Stefano’s warmth, the kindness he had shown, his love of simple things like good bread, and the welcome he had shown his guests.
    “I will check the rest of the damage, perhaps,” Stefano started to speak again. “I…I think the mountain is going to get worse before it quiets down. Don’t let them argue with you, Mr. Latterly. They must be ready to leave at the first opportunity. I will recognize it and tell them. I know the way down. We have had to leave before.”
    “But the house is fine!” Charles protested, indicating it by spreading his arms apart in both