In situations like this, I suppose only the truth will do.
He was determined to make his case, to be utterly unstoppable when he did, but he hadn't reckoned on fire.
Robert arrived to find Baling House in chaos. The servants were on the front lawn, frantically organizing a bucket brigade, and the entire scene was lit up with an unearthly orange light.
“What the hell is going on here?”
A chorus of voices answered him with various degrees of coherency, but he was scanning the faces frantically, failing to find the one he needed to know was safe.
“She rang the bell,” shouted one of the maids, her face dark with soot. “She woke us up!”
“Dammit!”
The fire was belching out of just two windows. As Robert prepared to run into the house, he heard something else.
“It's that damned Davis; he's the one that did all this! He never left at all, and for all I know, he's in there still.”
Despite the warmth radiating from the house, Robert felt his blood run cold. He had to get to Lacey. He prayed it wasn't already too late.
He ran into the house, and he stifled the urge to shout for her. If Davis had her, it might drive him utterly mad. Instead, he ran for the flames, knowing that if she were anywhere in the house, she would be safer.
The library door was open, and when he looked in, Robert saw the books, antique and leather bound, were going up in flames, which belched into the night outside. Worse than all of that was Davis, standing in the flames as if he was immune to their heat, and behind, stretched out on the floor, was Lacey.
Robert couldn't stop a cry from escaping his lips.
Davis turned to him, a look of sheer mania on his face.
“Ah, the erstwhile bridegroom! Come to join your bride?”
“Let me have her! I won't stop whatever the hell you are trying to do here, just let me have her!” Robert had to shout to make himself heard over the roar of the fire.
“You may come to get her if you like,”
Davis said mildly, but there was an iron poker in his hand and a devilish grin on his face.
Robert realized that whatever else happened, Davis had absolutely no interest in getting out of the inferno. For a split second, he considered trying to reason with the man, but all he could see was Lacey, helpless and terribly close to the flames.
All he had to rely on was his strength and his desperate speed. He feinted left, just barely dodging the swing of Davis’ poker, and he lunged at the man, trying to grab him and thrust him aside. Davis wasn't going to go down easily, however, and he twisted, still between Robert and Lacey. He was quick enough to deal Robert a stunningly hard blow on the shoulder, sending a roaring pain through his arm.
“Damn you!” Robert cried.
“I am already damned. Now I just need company on my voyage down.”
Robert made a second desperate rush toward him, only to be driven back by the iron poker thrust into his face. He knew he wasn't thinking straight. He was too terrified by how vulnerable Lacey was, how very close the flames were coming.
Davis was a little slow on Robert's third feint, and finally, he wrestled the crazed man's poker up over his head. He knew he was stronger than Davis, and he was ready to thrust the man away, toward the flames or out the window. Then, as he lunged forward, one foot slipped underneath him, and to Robert's horror, he went down on one knee.
Davis rose up over him.
“This game is mine, then.”
Then Lacey was rising like the wrath of God behind Davis, and in her hands was an enormous leather-bound book. She brought the book down squarely over Davis’ head, connecting with a solid thump, and the man folded to the floor.
She gave the man a hard kick and turned to Robert.
“Let's get out of here.”
Robert took her hand and led her through the library, which was hellishly hot. They made it out just as a rafter came down, and Lacey flinched.
She didn't speak until they were safe on the lawn, and then she turned stricken eyes on the library.
“It was so hard to wait, to pretend to faint and then to wait until he wasn't looking. Oh, my god. My home, Robert, I...”
She turned to him, and to his shock, she threw herself into his arms. It could have been for comfort alone, but there was something more to it, he knew.
“I love you, please, don't leave. Please. Please.”
“God, Lacey, I could never leave you. I love you.”
In the middle of all that chaos, Robert knew he would never let Lacey go, and she would never leave him. It was as if all the trouble between them and all of the misunderstanding had been burned completely away, leaving only their two hearts, beating together the way it was meant to be.
* * *
12
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CHAPTER
TWELVE
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Lacey woke in her bedroom at the Winsteads' manor, still sore, lungs still a little raw from her time in the smoke. She was recovering every day, but it might be a full week or more before she was back to her old self.
“You were more than a little lucky, young lady,” the doctor had said. “If you had stayed in there much longer, the damage might have been permanent.”
Or I might not have gotten out at all.
She, her mother, and Robert were staying with the Winsteads for the moment. All things considered, the damage was minimal, and though the books were a loss, the house would be habitable again before winter. Constance, in fine form, had apologized to her daughter for the travesty that Lord Exter had turned out to be while at the same time congratulating herself for making it possible for Lacey to find herself such a fine man as Robert. Lacey had only smiled, too tired to fight, and too sensitive to her mother's wounded pride to pursue it.
As the maids dressed her for the day, a footman arrived with a message. It was brief and to the point.
Will you come walking with me before breakfast?
-R
“Tell him I will, thank you.”
It would be the perfect opportunity to speak with him. They hadn't spoken, really spoken, since that awful night, and in the meantime, she had thought about it a great deal. What was said in the shadow of fire, she decided, could not be binding, not if they wanted to be utterly open and honest with each other.
As the household woke up for breakfast, Lacey tucked a wrapped package under her arm and slipped out into the garden. She found Robert at the same sundial where they'd had their disastrous conversation before the fire. It still made her heart hurt, seeing how handsome he was. He had been allowed to give up the sling yesterday, and now he was flexing his arm absently, rubbing his shoulder.
“Lacey. I was hoping you would come—”
She held up a hand. “Please. There has been so very much going on lately. May I speak first?”
He frowned and nodded.
She clutched the package close to her chest for a moment and then handed it to him.
“Open it.”
He did and found inside a leather-bound volume that, despite all her best efforts, still smelled faintly of smoke.
“Is this—?”
“Yes, the same volume I struck Lord Exter with. But it's more than that.”
Robert's eyes widened as he saw the title, Al-Hazaad's Strategy of the Chessboard.
“That's where I learned most of my skills with chess. He's amazing. It's all my secrets, and if you can't beat me after reading that, then you might as well find a new game to play.”
“I didn't bring you out here to talk about chess, Lacey.”
“I didn't think so, but I'm claiming the right of past victory. I won our last chess game, so I play white this time, and that means I go first.”
Robert nodded, mystified.
She took a deep breath.
“Robert, I love you. I ha
ve for a while now, and there's no beginning to it and no ending at all. All that I can think of is you, and when you rescued me, it was like I was being given a chance to make things right. I don't know how you feel, whether you might feel something similar for me, or whether you just want to get back to London after all this insanity. But I love you, and I suppose the book is my way of saying… Well. It's your move.”
Instead of speaking, Robert took her hand and pulled her to him. She saw the kiss coming, but the first touch of their lips, reverent, grateful, and perfect, was still a beautiful surprise.
“Robert?”
“Here.”
He pressed something into her hand, and she blinked with surprise. It was a chessman carved from ivory, a small queen perfect down to the detail of dress and the imperious expression on her face. She was the conqueror, the strongest piece on the board, and Lacey raised her eyes to Robert.
“You said it's my move, and here it is. Queen to you, and you have conquered me utterly. Lacey, I love you, and as mad as things have been, I refuse to retreat or to leave you. Pick the game, and I'll play it. Marry me, and we'll play every night if you like. Come with me to London, or tell me, and I'll build us a house in Westchester, whatever you like. Only say you love me again, and I'll be yours forever.”
Lacey's eyes filled with tears, and she threw herself into Robert's arms.
“I love you. I love you so, Robert.”
She clung to him, love and happiness mingling with the relief that they were both safe and together and that there were a lifetime of games for them to play together.
* * *
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EPILOGUE
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“You cannot stall forever, Lacey.”
“I am not stalling, dear, I'm consulting.”
Lacey ran her hand absently over the rise of her belly, never taking her eyes off the board. Playing with Robert in the room, even if he was inclined to tease her about how long she took to make a move, was a decided improvement over playing by post.
From across the board, Robert leaned back in his chair, watching her with a kind of pleased contentment.
“I think your consultant is a little young to be offering you any good advice.”
“Well, our son or daughter is getting an early start, that's all. And...”
She paused, feeling a fluttering kick against her hand just as an idea popped into her head. “Ah, there it is.”
Ceremoniously, she moved her knight, taking Robert's queen. “Now, you may squirm a bit, but I think that's going to be check in eight moves. Maybe less, certainly not more.”
Robert scowled, looking down at the board. She could almost see his lightning-quick mind playing through his next possible moves and coming to the same realization. Finally, he took his king and lay it down on the board between them.
“Damn it to perdition, you're right.”
Lacey laughed and took his hand as he offered it, going to sit on his lap by the fire.
“When our child's born, it is only fair that you let them advise me for at least a year.”
Lacey grinned as Robert rested his hand on the curve of her belly and kissed her neck lovingly.
“Well, of course, Robert. I wouldn't want to be unfair in any game we play.”
* * *
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ALSO BY JULIA SINCLAIR
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- HART AND ARROW SERIES -
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Part Series 01 : Marrowly Grange
LINK: Book 1 - Regency Romance: The Marquess' Angel
^ Story of : Lady Blythe . Thomas
This book is copyright © 2018 by
Julia Sinclair
All rights reserved.
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
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The Marquess' Angel_Hart and Arrow_A Regency Romance Book Page 28