She ran careful hands over the desk top. Assorted tools lay scattered across the surface, but none she could use as a weapon. A rod used to load a pistol rolled away from her. The sound of it striking the floor reverberated through the room. She scooped it up from the floor and prayed he had not heard it.
The muffled sound of shouting came from downstairs accompanied by the faint smell of smoke. The fire downstairs was spreading upward. She had to get out of this room.
The thread of light appeared from beneath the door once again. “I’ve set the second story alight, Katherine.
’Twill reach ye soon.”
He was mad. He was setting the whole house ablaze in order to kill her. Her eyes darted to the window where light flickered and glowed. Dear God, he had set the room next door on fire. Did he know where she was? Had he heard the rod fall?
The door opened. She froze. There was nowhere to hide.
****
Matthew eased the window open just wide enough to slide through then dropped in a crouch behind the cultivated bushes lining the side of the house. Smoke rolled out the next window, covering his progress, and urging him to cough. He paused long enough to cover the lower half of his face with a handkerchief. Bending at the waist, he ran a hand along the exterior wall and made his
way around the back of the house. Heat from the flames engulfing the kitchen drove him from the cover of the brush. He threw up a hand to protect his face from the hot shower of sparks that exploded with the loud pop of shattering glass. He looked up at the second floor. Several rooms on the second story were ablaze, but others were, as yet, untouched by the inferno.
He had to get up there and find Katherine.
****
Katherine squeezed herself in between the desk and the gun cabinet and pulled the open door back in front of her. She gripped the pistol rod tightly and raised it in a stabbing position. She’d go for his eyes should he move the door. She couldn’t see the man, but marked his progress by the light of the lamp he carried. “The fire is spreadin’ closer, Katherine. Let me end it for ye. ’Twill be easier than burnin’ to death.” For a moment, she thought he might have seen her, and she tensed, preparing for him to jerk the door out of the way and grab her.
She felt the pressure of his steps through the bottom of her feet as he crossed the rug. He paused to stand on the other side of the cabinet door. She pressed back against the side of the armoire. The rustle of her clothing sounded loud.
He shouted and heaved the lamp down on the hardwood floor at the base of the bed. Fire leaped to the cloth draperies that hung to the floor and swept up one heavy ornate post. She clamped a hand over her mouth as a scream of rage and fear ripped up her throat. He was destroying her home, the last thing she had of her family.
Tears trailed down her cheeks.
Despite the building heat, she forced herself to wait as his heavy tread crossed to the door and moved away down the hall. She shoved the cabinet door out of the way, and immediately had to throw a hand up to shield her face. Flames raced along the canopy and leaped to the curtains at the window.
Fearful of being heard, she ran to the door and peeked out. From the glow of the burning rooms, the hall looked empty. Smoke hung in the hallway like fog. The heat was building. Her gown felt uncomfortably tight
against her skin already growing damp with sweat.
Crouching low, she hugged the wall and hurried down the passageway, pausing at each doorway, until she reached the corner. Easing forward, she poked her head around the turn. A hand shot out grabbing her hair. Jerked forward so quickly, she lost her footing. She landed on her hip and cried out in pain.
Eye level to the man’s crotch she punched upward with the steel rod she held tight in her fist and felt the give of tender flesh beneath the point. The man gave a bellow part pain, part rage and slapped her across the face. Tiny points of light exploded in her vision.
“You bloody bitch!” He jerked her hair so hard she thought he might tear it from her head.
On her back between his spread thighs, she kicked up with her foot landing a solid blow to his groin.
Clutching himself, he fell across her, driving the air from her lungs. Wild with panic, she shoved and clawed her way free. He grabbed her skirt and she jerked the fabric, tearing it away.
Her vision blurred. Ears ringing, she limped against the pain of her bruised hip and staggered down the hall away from him. The smoke soon forced her to her knees, and she crawled through an open door. The room was hot, the floor warm beneath her hands. She curled behind the bed and paused to try to clear her head. Nausea rolled over her, and she fought against the urge to heave.
The staggering thump of his steps sounded from the hall. He bellowed her name. Katherine groped in the dim light for somewhere to hide. The open door of a dressing room beckoned her and she scurried inside. It was empty and smelled musty from disuse. Afraid she wouldn’t be able to breathe, she hesitated to close the door.
She jerked with a squeak of surprise as the door slammed shut with such force her ears popped. Panicked, she climbed to her feet and shoved against the portal with all her strength, hurting her shoulder and hip. Darkness, ink black and stuffy pressed against her. When she heard the jiggling sound of a key turning in the lock, she beat against the wood with her fists and screamed in frustration and fear.
She heard his voice muffled and hoarse, close against
the door. “Ye’ll die, bitch. Not the way I wanted, but ye’ll be dead just the same. No one will find ye now. I’d have preferred to have a taste of ye first, like I did yer mum.
But this will do.”
Waiting for the fire to reach her in the locked dressing room frightened Katherine more than facing anything he might do to her. At least outside of the room, she’d have a chance to escape, to possibly survive. “You sniveling coward. You haven’t even the courage to face me.” “Courage ’asn’t anythin’ to do with it,” he said through the door, his tone a snarl. When he continued, he sounded almost amiable. “’Tis time we’re both short of, m’
lady. The fire’s nearly ’ere. It shouldn’t be long now. ’Tis the sound of you chokin’ on the smoke ’twould please me.
’Twould sound like your mother when I choked the life from ’er.”
Rage and fear collide inside her, and Katherine swallowed against the emotions. “If I am to die, I would like to know who my killer is.”
“Me name is Jaime Stone.”
“No, not you. Who is the man in charge of you? Who sent you to kill my family?”
“’Twas yer Uncle who ordered the deed. Ye were there, ye saw him. And ye don’t remember a thing.” Her legs gave way, and the darkness beat against her face. Her heart throbbed in her throat and against her temples. She slid down the door until the hard surface of the floor rushed up to meet her. One scene after another flashed through her mind, a kaleidoscope of color and emotion, sickening and painful as her mind ripped aside the protective curtain it had drawn over the memories.
She remembered Edward kneeling between her mother’s thighs, her nude body like alabaster in the flickering flames of the coach lanterns. He had been fastening his breeches as she stood at the coach door. He had raped her mother along with the other men, and she had seen it—heard her mother begging him to stop and asking why over and over.
The sound of something being dragged across the floor on the other side of the door brought her back to the present.
“’e should ’ave let me take care of ye and saved us all the trouble and worry ye’ve caused. Ye’ll not be causing anymore.”
Matthew took cover behind a clump of brush and watched the two men who stood at the base of the ladder braced against the side of the house. Had there been one, he’d have taken the chance in overpowering him. As it was, the two were well armed with both pistols and knives.
The smaller man paced restlessly around the base of the ladder going beneath it in a circle. Every few moments he looked up at the window above, his body tense.
Smoke drifted out of the open portal in wisps and puffs, growing thicker with each passing moment.
Anxious frustration niggled its way up his spine to tighten the muscles in his neck and shoulders.
“If ’e fries, the old man will ’ave our ’ead.”
“Jaime knows what ’e’s about. This ain’t the first
’ouse ’e’s burnt.”
A man’s head appeared out the window and he swung a leg over the sill and searched for the first rung with his foot. The two men below braced the ladder, as with stiff movements, the third man descended on the rickety structure.
“’Tis ’bout time. I didn’t relish comin’ in after ye, boy,” the slighter built man greeted him as he reached solid footing.
The new arrival’s face appeared gray in the dim fire light, his blond hair hanging about his face, lank and damp with sweat. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and turned. Matthew recognized the man from Katherine’s drawings immediately.
“I wouldn’t ’ave expected it of ye. I can take care of meself.”
“The girl—ye’ve taken care of ’er.”
“Aye, she’ll not be troublin’ us again.” He slapped the smaller man on the back. “’Tis time for us to leave before the fire is seen and ’elp arrives.”
For a moment, shock held Matthew frozen as the men’s footsteps receded. “No.” The word reverberated through his skull. She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t believe it until he saw her body. Held it in his arms. He ran to the ladder. He barely noticed how the thin structure shook beneath his weight, his attention focused on the window above.
Smoke billowed out of the opening making his eyes sting and his throat to seize up, despite the kerchief tied about the lower half of his face. He gulped what little air he could and dove head first through the window. The air was a little clearer close to the floor, and he was able to get a few shallow breaths, without coughing. The floor felt warm to the touch, the air dry and hot. Sweat beaded his forehead and had his shirt sticking to his back. Matthew stayed low to the floor and looked into the first room on the left. Thick hazy smoke filled the chamber. Two men were bound to the bed posts at the bottom bed. Matthew crawled quickly to the one closest to him. The man’s shirt was blood stained, his complexion grayish-white.
Matthew briefly touched his throat to check for a pulse.
Finding the man dead he moved on to the other.
His hands a reddish purple, the man had twisted around trying to free himself from the ropes until they had dug into his arms and cut off his circulation. His eyes were open but the gag that bit into either side of his mouth was sopping wet with saliva keeping him from shouting. Matthew recognized him as Jess Thornton, one of his crewmen.
Jess’s breathing was labored as though he had been fighting the ropes for some time and had exhausted himself. Reaching into his boot, Matthew brought forth a knife. He cut loose the kerchief and ropes.
“My wife—did you see her?”
Jess shook his arms as though they pained him and clenched his fingers into fists as he worked the blood back into his extremities. “No, sir, but I ’eard ’im callin’ to ’er and talking to ’er further down the ’all. The bastard shot Willy.”
“There’s a ladder just outside the window at the end of the hall. Can you make it without me?”
“Aye, sir. ’e didn’t shoot ’er. I’d of ’eard the shot. She
may still be alive, Cap’in. I think I ’eard her calling out down the ’all, so she ’as to be close.”
“If she is, I’ll find her. Get out as quickly as you can and stay close to the ladder. I may need you to hold it for us.” “I can stay and ’elp you find ’er, Cap’in.”
“If I have to carry her out, I’ll need you manning the ladder. I don’t know how much time we have.”
“Aye, sir.”
They both paused at the thickening smoke in the hallway.
He slapped the man’s shoulder to urge him on. “Go.
I’ll be right behind you with Katherine.” The air, like hot tar against his face, tasted oily. He crawled down the hall into hell.
****
Sweat rolled in rivulets down Katherine’s spine and she tugged at the lacings of her gown loosening the bodice. Curls clung uncomfortably to her forehead and neck. Exhaustion dragged at her. Her hip and shoulder ached from throwing her weight against the door. The smell of smoke, acrid and bitter, tickled her throat with every breath she drew, making her cough.
Her throat, nose, and eyes burnt. She felt light headed.
Settling on the floor where the air seemed clearer, she rested for a moment. Her movements clumsy, she used the hem of her petticoat to wipe her face and stem the irritating running of her eyes and nose.
A need to close her eyes and rest tempted her. She could do so if she could quiet the cough that plagued her.
Had Matthew and his men escaped? She prayed so.
Tears of emotion joined those that ran down her face. She was grateful for those moments they had shared earlier.
There had been no discord between them to mar the experience. She wished Matthew was here in the dark with her holding her and at the same time, she was glad he wasn’t. He had so much more life to live, a life without her, just as she had been telling him. But she hadn’t really believed it.
She had been waiting, hoping, for some miracle to prevent their separation. And now, just as her memory had returned giving her a reason to hope, it was all going
to end. It was so unfair. And she was waiting again, waiting to die. Her family had died trying to protect her and she was lying down and letting life slip away. She should be grasping at every moment left to her.
She forced herself to her feet though her limbs felt weak and uncooperative. Her lungs burnt with every breath. She threw herself against the door again and again. Her ears rang and she bent at the waist and almost wretched as forceful coughing seized her. She braced a hand upon the door. The wood gave way unexpectedly, and she fell sideways. Her elbow connected with the door facing and pain lanced up her arm. She writhed on the floor in pain, coughing and gasping for air.