Page 86 of The Duke of Ruin
He ran into the scullery and saw that the door to the storeroom was ablaze. Dashing back out, he shouted for an axe or some sort of tool to batter at the door.
Tinley ran to the woodpile and came back with an axe. “You need a cover for your face, for the smoke.”
Simon didn’t have time for that. He ran back inside and got as close to the door as he dared. Heat scorched his face and arms, then he felt water dousing him from behind, wetting him from head to toe and splashing against the door. The intensity of the heat diminished, and the flames fought to stay ablaze.
“Diana?” he yelled, his hands shaking. “Are you in there?”
“Help us, please, Your Grace.” It wasn’t Diana’s voice, but her use of the word “us” told Simon all he needed to hear. His wife was in there. He was sure of it.
“Step as far back from the door as you can!” He sent the axe into the blazing wood as another bucket of water came to the end of the line. This one was tossed over the door, extinguishing some of the flames. “Keep the water coming!” He brought the axe back and slammed it into the door again, over and over until the wood splintered.
Another bucket arrived and was thrown on the door. The fire sputtered and managed to keep its hold near the bottom. Simon reached for the latch, but jerked his hand away as the still-hot metal burned his fingers. He went back to hacking at the door, battering it into bits until there was a hole large enough for him to see inside.
Curled against the shelves on the opposite wall was one of the scullery maids holding Diana, who was slumped on the girl’s lap.
Despite the burns on his hands, he felt nothing but ice as his world seemed to stop. He couldn’t move or breathe or think. She was gone.
Tinley nudged him as he pushed past with a large bucket. Water sluiced over the last of the fire, leaving a smoldering door with a blackened hole in the middle.
“Your Grace, we need to get them out,” Tinley said. When Simon didn’t move, the coachman took the axe from his slack hand and whacked a hole big enough for a person to get through.
Galvanized, Simon pushed past Tinley and stepped into the storeroom. He coughed as smoke filled his lungs, then he bent and picked Diana up. Holding her close to his chest, he slipped back out through the charred door. “Help the maid,” he said as he carried Diana through the scullery past the kitchen into the servants’ hall, where he laid her on a bench.
He knelt next to her on the hard stone floor. Her dark hair had come loose, and silky tendrils framed her unnaturally pale face.
“She’s breathing.” It was his mother’s voice.
Shewasbreathing, but Simon knew better than to hope. Miriam had been breathing too before she’d died in his arms.
He stroked Diana’s face and bent forward to kiss her lips. His tears fell onto her cheeks. “Please, Diana, don’t leave me. I can’t bear to lose you. I won’t survive it.”
How could he go on with the knowledge that he hadn’t been able to save two wives? Two women he loved more than he ever dreamed possible.
Laying his head on her chest, he listened to her shallow breaths as he stared up at her still features. “I love you. And if you could just stay with me,please, I’ll show you how much.”
Her breath caught in her chest, and he listened for it to start again. When it didn’t, he clutched at her savagely, anguish tearing through him as he gave in to the grief that would torment him forever.
Chapter 18
Diana gaspedas she pulled air into her burning lungs. Her eyes fluttered open. There was something on her chest…
“Simon?” He’d been begging her not to die. “I’m not dying. I refuse to do that to you.”
The weight came off her chest, and she saw his face over hers, his dark eyes wide with wonder. “Diana?”
She began to cough, deep, racking spasms that shook her body. He helped her to sit up and called for water. Tears streamed from her eyes, and someone pressed a tankard into her hand. She drank deeply, urging the cool liquid to soothe her sore throat. She heard him send someone to fetch the doctor in Romsey.
When she finished the water, Simon took the cup and handed it off to someone. She’d no idea who, because she couldn’t take her eyes from his beloved face.
“Did you say you loved me?” she croaked.
“Shhh.” He kissed her softly, reverently, his hands cupping her cheeks. “Yes. More than my life.”
She reached for him, clutching at the lapels of his coat. “I love you too. Why are you wet?”
“We were frantic to put out the fire. But I was trying to get the door open. They doused me with water.”
She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his palm, but he winced. Taking his hand, she looked at his reddened flesh. “You’re burned.”
