Page 107 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
They stole through a deserted, cobbled yard, approaching a tall brick building. The sound of the slow slosh of the river reached them from the other side of the building as well as its noisome stench. They found a door which had not been locked and carefully opened it. Inside was dark.
Emma stole inside, finding herself walking along a canyon of tall, wooden crates. A sickly sweet smell filled the air.
“Smells like oil,” she commented. “Damien!” she called out into the gloom, “are you in here?”
Her voice echoed from the walls of crates around them. Only darkness answered.
“Damien! I am here to implore you. Do not do it! We can be happy together, you do not need to submit to this madness. Please!”
From somewhere above came a sound, as if of a muffled grunt. Then there was a light, high above. It was yellow and flickering, growing rapidly in intensity.
“That is a fire!” Elsie cried out, grabbing for Emma's arm. “We must leave before this whole place goes up!”
“Damien!” Emma cried, seeing the silhouettes of two figures outlined in shadow by the firelight above.
There came the sound of running footsteps and a shadowy figure appeared high above, dashing for a doorway in the wall. Emma recognized the figure.
“Damien!” she cried as loudly as she could.
Damien froze, then looked down at her. The fire lit his face. He looked stricken, disbelieving.
“Emma? I heard your voice but thought you to be outside! What are you doing here? Get out, it is dangerous!”
Elsie was tugging frantically at Emma's arm as another figure appeared above. It was…Silas Sutherland?
His face was bruised, his clothes blood-soaked, and he was staggering and clutching his head. Something rolled at his feet and he cried out, kicking at it. It was a lamp, and at his kick, the glass broke. It fell from the walkway on which Sutherland stood, falling like a shooting star. Emma stood, frozen in place as it tumbled lazily to disappear among the crates.
Then there was a roar, followed by a wall of flame.
Sutherland screamed, falling back into the room from which he had emerged, slamming the door. Damien raised a hand against the sudden heat. He pointed towards the door that Elsie and Emma had just come through.
“That's the only unlocked door. Get out before the fire cuts you off!” he yelled, choking and coughing even as he spoke.
“Not without you!” Emma cried.
“I have my way out, but I must get Sutherland out with me. Go now!” Damien roared before dashing towards the door.
Emma knew she should run but she could not move her feet. She did not know why Silas Sutherland was there or if the fire had been started deliberately.
Is this part of his revenge? Does Damien include Josie and my family in his vengeance now? He would not murder a man. He could not. Could he?
Damien appeared again, dragging a screaming Silas Sutherland with him. The man was thrashing and kicking, plainly more terrified of Damien than of the raging inferno below them. Damien pushed him towards the door in the wall, bellowing at him to get out.
Emma finally moved, seeing that Damien must be leaving the building with Sutherland. She ran with Elsie but their escape was short-lived. A mountain of burning crates suddenly crashed to the ground in front of the door. The two women shied away from the intense heat and licking flames, running in the opposite direction.
“We must find another door!” Elsie cried.
But where. Any other way out of the building was hidden by the mountains of crates, barrels, and bales of wool. They rose at least twelve times Emma's height all around. Those that weren't alight were smoldering and smoking. The air was becoming harder to breathe.
There was no escape.
“Get out, you fool!” Damien bellowed at Sutherland.
Damien had intended a far worse fate for the man. Tie him up, beat him to a pulp, let him think he would be burned alive if he ever dared utter a word about Emma again. That was if he managed to still breathe after tonight.
But then Damien had heard Emma’s distant cries.
Damn the man for being a coward. If he had not panicked, then the lamp would not have ever been knocked over to start the fire.
