Page 97 of The Highland Heist
“What? Without you?” Lillias’ voice quavered.
Lady Blair managed to regain a standing position, the red welt where Zahra hit her bright on her pale forehead.
A large ruby ring lay nearby, presumably the projectile Zahra had thrown with exceptional aim. Perhaps Frederick could enroll Zahra in cricket. Or baseball. Did girls even have teams for those sports?
Lady Blair wiped a palm over her forehead, her attention landing on Grace. Something in the look seemed to communicate that Lady Blair saw Grace as a threat or at least a challenge.
Her attention flicked to the revolver lying on the floor, then back to Grace.
What to do? Grace slid a hand into the left sleeve of her day dress, her fingers touching the handle of her favorite throwing knife. The knife? Or race for the revolver?
“Lillias, move toward the door,” Grace repeated, her sister still frozen in place.
At that moment, Lady Blair lurched forward, Grace with her. But instead of going for the gun, the woman grabbed the lantern from the desk in the center of the room.
The lantern? Before Grace could fully comprehend her next move, Lady Blair sent her an eerie smile and threw the lantern to the floor. Flames erupted, ravenous and bright, leaping to devour the scattered papers lying about.
“Grace!” Lillias shrieked, shrinking back against the wall as smoke began to curl upward.
Zahra darted to Grace’s side, and Grace grabbed her hand, yanking her away from the rising flames now licking at the rug. Through the haze, Grace spotted Lady Blair slipping through a side door, her exit punctuated by the ominous click of a lock.
“Grace,” Lillias wailed, her voice trembling. “How will we escape? We’re trapped!”
Grace inhaled sharply, sliding her knife back into its sheath. The gesture did not go unnoticed.
“Were you going tothrowa knife at her?” Lillias squeaked, her face a ghastly shade of white.
The last thing Grace needed was her sister swooning into the fire. “Zahra, check the door Lady Blair used. Quickly!” She held the little girl’s gaze. “And mind the flame. It’s only going to grow the more books and old furniture it reaches.”
Not to mention the faded curtains or the wall of dusty tapestries on the opposite side of the room from the windows, but Grace didn’t want to contemplate that.
Zahra nodded and darted around the smoke away from the flame.
Grace turned to Lillias, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Lillias, listen to me. I need you to stay alert. We’ve not much time before this room is in flames and we need to sort a way out.”
A whimper rose from her sister’s throat.
“It’s locked, Sayyida.” Zahra announced, coming back to her side as the flames took hold of the nearest bookcase to the door Lady Blair had just exited.
Lillias’ eyes began to roll back but Grace gave her cheeks a little smack, bringing Lillias’ eyes wide open. “I’m sorry, Lillias, but you cannot faint. For Thomas’ sake, you have to keep your head. Do you understand?”
Lillias blinked, tears welling in her eyes, but nodded. Her chin quivered, but at least, she didn’t faint.
Grace turned to survey the room. One door was locked, but … Her gaze landed on the secret door in the wall. She rushed over, pushing against the panel with all her strength. Nothing. Not even a budge.
“Here!” Zahra pointed out the lever, half-hidden in the shadows. Grace yanked it down with all her might, but the mechanism refused to budge. The men must have damaged it in their fight.
Flames licked up one wall, consuming the bookshelf now and getting ready to light the next one. Smoke rose, dark and thick, from the rug nearby. They didn’t have long.
“We’re going to die,” Lillias screamed, backing away from the flames toward the wall of windows.
“No, we arenot,” Grace snapped, her attention darting to the windows above her sister’s head. The space was narrow, but just wide enough for a body.
Grabbing a nearby chair, she spun around and, with all her might, flung the chair toward the window. The glass shattered with a satisfying crash, the opening immediately pulling some of the smoke out of the room.
“We’re going to have to try and escape out the window.” Grace slid a second chair underneath the window she’d just broken and climbed up, peering out of the fractured frame. To the left was a sheer drop, but to the right, about twelve to fifteen feet below them, was a balcony. All they had to do was make it there.
The flames lit one corner of the tapestry, the old cloth peeling back like paper, demonstrating the tapestries were not an option. And then she caught sight of the one set of curtains, floor-to-ceiling, probably ten feet from top to bottom.
