Page 92 of To Love A Spy
“It’s a joint venture,” she replied. His face was streaked with soot and his hair caked in cinders, but his eyes sparked with a clear blue intensity that eclipsed all else.
Lynsley. The light of her life.
A blinding flash exploded in the main salon. Looking over his shoulder, Valencia saw that the fire had spread quickly and was raging out of control. Silhouetted against the multicolored smoke, the shower of plaster flakes had an incongruous beauty, floating silent and serene amid the cacophony of snapping timbers.
“We can’t go forward,” muttered Lynsley. The carved moldings were starting to disintegrate, falling away in jagged chunks that rained ash and sparks over their heads.
“And we can’t go back,” she added. The corridor was blocked by a wall of flames.
He hesitated for an instant, then pulled her into the side parlor. “Our only chance of escape is the windows.” He slammed the door shut before picking up a Chinoise sidechair and hurling it through the mullioned glass.
A blast of cold air funneled through the gaping hole. “You first!” he yelled over the rattle of the broken casements.
“No, you should?—“
“That’s a bloody order.”
Much as she wished to object, Valencia realized this was no time to argue the fine points of honor. She scrambled up to the ledge and inched out along the narrow ledge of decorative limestone. The marquess kicked off his shoes and followed on her heels.
A crowd was milling in the cobbled streets below. A patrol of soldiers was trying to calm the confusion and organize a bucket brigade.
“It’s useless,” said Lynsley. “Nothing can extinguish this spark of Satan. It will burn itself out eventually—but not before destroying the entire street.”
She watched a mother and three children fleeing from the adjoining building. “Heaven help the souls living here.”
The fiery glow from the burning roof showed the anguish in his eyes. “I should have anticipated he would seek to inflict harm, even in death.”
“Damnation, Thomas. Don’t blame yourself. You did all in your power to prevent needless destruction.”
The bleakness of his smile tore at her heart. “War is hell. Isn’t that one of the pompous platitudes that I teach you at the Academy?”
She touched his sleeve. “Look, the cornice stonework appears to offer some sort of handholds. From there, we can climb downto the arched windows.” She couldn’t see past the jutting slates. “We must move. I can feel the heat seeping through the mortar.”
Lynsley nodded. His eyes, however, remained locked on the flames licking out from the adjoining mansion.
Steeling her aching muscles, Valencia started off at a slow slide. The stretch of ledge was short, but the footing was treacherous. Narrow as a knifepoint, the ancient stone was crumbling in spots. The drifting smoke and gusting wind made it difficult to see?—
Her injured leg, already weakened from the strain of her earlier exertions, suddenly gave way.
The scuff roused Lynsley to life. Reacting in a flash, he caught her around the waist and pulled her back against the wall.
“For the love of God, Val, don’t you dare leave me now.” His raspy murmur was rough as his soot-streaked jaw rubbed against her cheek, and yet strangely plaintive.
Love.That word again.
“Not after all we have been through together,” he added.
Valencia held him tightly, steadying their foothold. The perch was precarious—an apt metaphor for their strange relationship, she thought wryly. Her laugh, no more than a breath of air, stirred his wind-tangled hair. “I’m afraid you are stuck with me for the duration of the mission. Merlins don’t fly away from adversity. They rise to any challenge—isn’t that what you teach us?”
“I don’t think you have anything left to learn from me,” whispered Lynsley. He hunched against her as a nearby window blew out in a welter of twisted metal and slivered glass. “Time to spread our wings.”
The marquess slid into the lead, keeping a firm grasp on her hand. “Watch your step.”
“I’m not some fragile piece of porcelain,” she said lightly as they paused to catch their breath. “Like a jug of rum, I am still serviceable, even with a crack or two.”
“Having had my lips on your spout, I would have to agree,”
“Why, Lord Lynsley! Another lewd remark?” Valencia knotted up her skirts and slipped her fingers into the chiseled detailing. “At this rate, your reputation as a paragon of propriety will soon go up in smoke.”
