Free Along Came a Rogue by Anna Harrington Page B

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    Slipping his hand behind her head to press her face against his shoulder and protect her from the heat and swirling billows of smoke, he carefully descended the stairs, then carried her through the house and out the front door into the cold night.
    Around them, everything was confusion and panic. The two male servants had given up on the house, letting it burn to the ground in favor of attempting to dump water on the outbuildings and save whatever they could of the farm. A sobbing Yardley huddled by the garden wall, staring incredulously at the flames now engulfing the roof and spreading down to the ground floor, unable to believe the terrible sight before her. The night sky was alive with flames and sparks, and all of it glowed like the fires of hell.
    Forcing back the panic that pulsed through him, Grey laid Emily down on the damp grass. Her body slumped helplessly onto the ground. She coughed violently to clear the smoke from her lungs and inhale fresh air.
    “Breathe, Emily,” he pleaded between his own coughs, his voice a raw rasp from the smoke as his hands squeezed her arms.
    But she couldn’t catch her breath. Her mouth gaped open and closed futilely like a fish out of water.
    He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. “Breathe, damn it!” He wouldn’t lose her—he wouldn’t ! “Breathe!”
    With a violent, shuddering gasp, she inhaled sharply, her lungs finally finding air. She took rapid breaths now and gulped frantically at the cold air between pain-filled coughs. But she was breathing again, and relief fell through him.
    Grey pulled her against his chest to press her close. As she continued to gasp, shaking with an occasional cough yet unable to speak, he rubbed his trembling hands over her back. The emotion that flooded over him with each of her deep breaths overwhelmed him, and his smoke-stung eyes blurred as he buried his face in her hair as she clung to him. A black streak dirtied her face, the hem of her robe was singed, her bare feet most likely burned—but she was alive. Thank God.
    He rocked her gently in his arms long after her breathing steadied and her shaking calmed, long after her arms rose up weakly to encircle his neck. After coming so close to losing her, he now didn’t want to let her go.
    “Dear God, brat,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I thought I’d lost you.”
    “Grey,” she mumbled against the bare skin of his neck, her voice scratchy and rough, “are you hurt—”
    “Major!” The small carriage and two-horse team drove toward them from the stable, with Hedley mounted on the driver’s seat and the reins twisted around his hands, expertly controlling the skittish horses.
    When the carriage stopped on the lawn beside them, Grey lifted Emily into his arms and carried her to it. He flung open the door and placed her inside, then he leaned out the door and ordered, “Drive!”
    As the carriage lurched to a start, Grey swung back inside and slammed the door closed. He didn’t care where they were headed as long as they left. Sitting on the edge of the bench across from her, facing backward as the carriage swayed and rocked down the lane toward the road, he reached for her hands and held them tightly. She breathed more easily now as her skin warmed and the color returned to her cheeks.
    Her fingers curled gratefully around his. “Yardley,” she whispered. “I can’t leave her behind. We have to go back for her.”
    The hell they would. “I’ll send for her once we’re safe.”
    Her eyes turned pleading. “Please—”
    “We are not turning around,” he forced out through clenched teeth.
    At the strong resolve in his voice, she wisely stopped pressing for her maid and nodded. She blinked hard, tears gathering at her lashes. “What you did back there—”
    “It stops,” he hissed furiously as he leaned across the compartment toward her. His fingers clamped down hard around her wrists so she couldn’t pull away. “The lying, the