Free Along Came a Rogue by Anna Harrington Page A

trust me?”
    Sucking in a shaking breath, she nodded jerkily. “With my life.”
    “Good.” Her soft admission stirred a warmth deep inside his chest. Later he would let himself wonder what that meant, but now— “Help me find a way out of this room.”
    He snatched up the iron fireplace poker and began to pound it against the door handle, hoping to break it free so he could ram the poker inside and twist open the lock. Smoke billowed beneath the door now, the smell acrid and pungent as the wood panels grew warm to the touch.
    “Could you shoot the lock open?” she asked desperately.
    “If I had my gun.” But he’d left it in his room, not thinking he’d need a weapon inside a sleeping house.
    He twisted the poker against the handle, trying to force open the lock as he pried at it, all the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining with brute force. But it didn’t give. With a curse, he raised the poker to strike the door again.
    She waved a gun in front of his face. “Here!”
    “What the hell—” He drew back in surprise and stared. A dueling pistol with pearl-inlay handle and acid-etched barrel, elegantly beautiful, and wholly impractical. And so old he wondered if it would even fire.
    “Be careful,” she warned, “it’s loaded.”
    He blinked. “You keep a loaded pistol in your sitting room?”
    “Of course.”
    For a heartbeat he stared at her incredulously. Then, grinning broadly, he murmured appreciatively, “Good girl.” He gestured toward the settee. “Get behind that.”
    She did as ordered, and standing at an angle to the door, he raised the pistol and fired. The ball hit the lock and shattered it, the metal pieces falling away. Dropping the spent pistol, he kicked hard at the door, and this time, it broke open with a splintering pop.
    With a snarling whoosh, smoke and heat poured into the room. Rolling flames curled across the ceiling.
    “Emily!” he shouted over the noise of the burning building, calling her to come to him.
    But she was frozen in fear, her eyes wide as they stared at the flames. Even from across the room, he could see her shaking violently.
    He rushed to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the door. When she saw the flames engulfing the hallway, she screamed and jerked back with terror. His grip tightened around her wrist so she wouldn’t be able to pull away, so tightly that he was certain he bruised her. But he refused to let go.
    “Come on—we’ve got to go. Now!” He dragged her into the hallway and straight into the raw heat of the fire.
    Forcing her to crouch low beneath the billowing smoke, he pulled her along behind him as he half crawled down the hallway toward the stairs, moving as quickly as he could beneath the lowering wall of smoke. But she could barely walk and still shook violently with fear, and she coughed and gasped as she struggled to breathe in the thick smoke.
    As they reached the stairs, Hedley raced up toward them. A damp cloth was tied around his mouth and nose, an ax gripped in his hands. When he saw Emily, he grabbed for her arm.
    “I’ve got her,” Grey yelled. “Get the others out of the house!”
    “They’re all outside.”
    “Then get yourself out!”
    “I’m not leavin’ you, Major.”
    “Go! Get to the stable and hitch up the team. Quickly! We’ll be right after you.”
    With a worried frown, Hedley nodded and turned to hurry down the stairs and back through the burning house. A good soldier, Hedley would never disobey orders, and Grey was counting on that. He needed to get Emily far away from here as quickly as possible.
    “Come on, brat,” he coaxed. He slipped his arm around her waist to help her down the stairs, their way nearly black with smoke and lit only by bright flashes of searing flame.
    But she was too overcome to follow, and her legs crumpled beneath her. He scooped her into his arms as she fell, her body frighteningly lifeless, her arms unable to cling to him as he cradled her against his