Page 91 of To Love A Spy
Valencia averted her eyes.
“Yes, perhaps I shall see you in Hell. But whatever my sins, they pale in comparison with yours,” replied Lynsley softly. He could muster no pity for a man who killed without remorse or regret. “Make your peace with the Devil, for I doubt that Heaven has any place for you.”
“Oh, you and your doxie shall roast in flames too, Lord Lynsley.” His fist clenched, the crackle of glass giving force to his last gasp. “Sooner than you think.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Merde.”
Valencia had not quite recovered from the shock of hearing Lynsley murmur the word ‘love’ when his oath rumbled in her ear.
“Dear God,” she whispered, watching the crimson liquid spill across Rochambert’s blood-soaked shirt. “Will it explode?”
“I added the neutralizing chemical, as the recipe spelled out, but . . .”
A tongue of fire shot up from the torn linen, and then another.
“But I wouldn’t stake my life on it.” Lynsley grabbed her arm. “In any case, nothing will stop the stuff from bursting into spontaneous flame.” Ducking beneath the plume of smoke, he headed for the door. The sickening stench of charred flesh was already overpowering.
“Thomas.” Much as she longed to escape from the bilious black cloud, she held back. “The box—should we not finish what we came here for, once and for all?”
He touched a hand to his coat. “I have the papers.” A glance at the rising flames. “The rest will take care of itself.”
A shattering of glass punctuated his reply. Flying shards shredded the painted canvas on the wall behind their heads. “I never cared for Delacroix,” he muttered, pulling her into the shelter of his arms.”
“You are quite mad.” She kissed his cheek. “And quite magnificent.”
A lopsided grin gleamed through the ghostly light. “Not bad for an old man, eh? I must make a point of getting out of the office more often.”
“Over my dead body.”
“All joking aside . . .” Lynsley fumbled with the locking mechanism as thewhooshof the flames rose to a roar. “We best hurry.”
He heaved the door open just as a shuddering boom knocked them sprawling to the corridor floor.
“Stay low,” sputtered Lynsley in between coughs. A noxious gas swirled with the smoke, creating a pale, poisonous pink cloud that blanketed the air. The wall sconces flared, then died out, leaving them in darkness. “And keep hold of me.”
The heat quickly turned blistering. The wainscoting buckled and ignited in a shower of sparks. Covering her mouth with her skirts, Valencia choked down a welling of panic. Her eyes were slitted shut, and her lungs burned from the acrid fumes. Dizzy, disoriented, she clung to Lynsley’s warm, strong hand. It was her lifeline, her hold on all that was good amid the crackling chaos of destruction.
“Just a bit farther,” he called, as if sensing her faltering spirits.
It was strange how the connection between them had survived the pain and the struggles of the past. Through his callused palm, she felt the steady beat of his heart. Oh, how she loved his touch, his humor, his courage.
Indeed, she loved everything about him, even his infuriating stone sphinx stare.
Love.She dared not dwell on the word. The endearment had slipped from his lips in the heat of battle. An expression of friendship—it had no deeper meaning.
And that must be enough to carry her through this storm, and beyond. Lynsley had shared much of himself—his strength, his knowledge, his passion. But there was still a private place that he kept sealed to all but himself. A place with no fancy key of steel or iron. It would only open of its own accord.
“Unfasten the bolts!” From downstairs came a panicked cry and the pounding of running feet. “The mansion is ablaze.”
Up ahead, the gilded banister winked in the wild light, its spiraling curve beckoning them to safety.
Lynsley rose to his knees.
She jerked him back, rolling to cover his body with hers as a beam came crashing down to the floor.
“Just who is saving whom,” he quipped, quickly reversing their positions.
