The Tempestuous Debutante: Book 4 in the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance) (21 page)

The look on Amanda’s face after Blake proposed made Jasmine question her own choice. Amanda was so happy and couldn’t stop touching her intended. Jasmine could almost see the crackle of sexual tension around the pair, and longed for the same for herself. Perhaps the man who could elicit those feelings from her was someone other than Alistair. For the first time since choosing her path in January, she stopped to question her feelings.

She had been telling herself for weeks now that it didn’t matter. That a title and money were all she needed to be happy. Maybe this delay in the announcement of her engagement was a good thing. She needed some time to think.

She removed her arm from Alistair’s, ignoring the darting eyes of her mother, who was pleading with her to do something with the man seated next to her. Engage him in conversation, touch his arm, whatever. Her mother made her suggestions clear by doing the same with her father, so Jasmine followed suit. She removed her gloves, hoping the sensation of flesh on flesh would incite her desire. She touched the back of his hand, and then enfolded their fingers together. Nothing. Not a tremor from either of them. She dropped her shawl, hoping the sight of her creamy shoulders would produce a spark of excitement in his eyes. He didn’t even acknowledge her. He was staring out the window, his mind a million miles away.

Jasmine thought about the caravan of carriages that was behind them, on their way out to Alistair’s home in the Bronx. There were, of course, the happy couple and Amanda’s parents. Jasmine could guess that Amanda had her arm wrapped tightly around Blake and was talking to him animatedly, maybe even stealing a kiss when her parents weren’t looking. Then there were Amanda’s parents’ best friends, Doctor and Mrs. Alexander. The Harpers were in another carriage rolling out of the city. They had become great friends with Alistair over the months he’d been in this country, so of course they were included in the impromptu guest list, along with Jasmine’s rival for his affections, Lydia Smith, who was coming along in her own carriage, with her coachman.

Why Alistair had decided to invite her was beyond Jasmine’s comprehension. She upset the balance by being a single female in the group. She upset more than the balance, if Jasmine was to be totally honest. Her appearance at tonight’s party was unsettling at best. Jasmine thought she was to be out of town until the first debutante ball of the season, but her sister managed to have her blasted baby early, so Lydia returned home sooner than expected. And threatened all of Jasmine’s carefully orchestrated plans.

With a sigh, Jasmine pressed her face up against the glass, trying to discern how much longer this suddenly tense ride would be. As her gaze swept over the landscape, she spied flames and smoke off in the distance. Her stomach jumped when she realized it was coming from somewhere close to Alistair’s property.

“Alistair, I think your house is on fire! Look out the window!”

He leaned over her as he peered out the carriage window. “It’s not my house. It’s the stable.” He thumped on the roof of the carriage and yelled at his driver to hurry. “We must get there quickly and save the horses!”

“And Parr,” Jasmine replied as she closed her eyes.
Please, please, we must get there in time to save Parr.

• • •

Alistair jerked open the door to the carriage and bolted out the entrance before it came to a complete stop. He didn’t take the time to assist Jasmine down. Instead, he took off running without a backward glance. The carriage door was swinging wildly as she crouched at the opening. She didn’t wait for the driver to place the steps at the carriage door or for her father to help her alight. Her only thought was to make certain Parr was out of the stable and safe. She vaulted from the carriage, her long peach dress trailing after her. Picking up her skirts, she ran toward the fire, to where Alistair was talking to the men who were fighting the fire with buckets of water.

“Yes, sir, all the horses are out. Parr made sure of that. They’re all in the pasture, but frightened. He told us to start a bucket brigade from the lake to the barn, and we’re trying, but it’s a losing battle.”

“But where is Parr? Is he all right?” Jasmine screamed at the man.

“He said he’d forgotten to get something, and went back in.”

“And you’re just standing here instead of trying to get him out?”

“We can’t go in after him. The front corner of the building collapsed just after he disappeared, sending sparks flying in all directions. His exit is cut off. Besides, we can’t get close enough to even try. The fire is too hot.”

Jasmine’s eyes went to Alistair, expecting him to take the lead. He was staring at the building, in shock. Well, he was of no use.

She grabbed the arm of the man who was imparting the information, and yelled, “You need to cut a new exit for him, then. He’s probably in his quarters, getting the breeding book or something.”

She took the axe from the worthless man’s hands. “Give me that.” Her fancy shawl fell from her shoulders into a muddy puddle as she ran to the back of the stable with the axe in one hand, her skirt in the other. The side of the stable which housed Parr’s quarters was still intact, but smoky. The fire was spreading quickly toward this end of the building, eager flames gobbling up the volatile hay. Once the fire made it to the hay stored in the loft over Parr’s quarters and the tack room, the barn would explode and all would be lost. The exact location of Parr’s quarters was known to her, since she’d envisioned herself being in his arms on his cot many a night before she fell asleep. Lifting the heavy axe, she began to chop at the wood boards, carving what she hoped would be an escape hole for Parr.

The heat was intense, and her arms soon tired, but she kept on, lifting the axe, and chopping at the wood. Finally, the men, who’d seemed to be mesmerized by the blaze, joined her with axes of their own. Alistair grabbed the axe from her and began hacking at the building. She let them take over, but stayed on the scene, removing the hunks of wood as they fell, clearing the way for Parr to emerge from the building. If they were in time. And in the right place. Her heart jumped at the possibility he might not make it out.

“Hold on, Parr,” she yelled over the roar of flames and the noise of the axes cutting through the wood. “We’re coming for you.”

As one man after another was overcome by heat and smoke and fell back, others took over. But Jasmine wouldn’t leave the scene. The heat from the fire scorched the fine silk fabric of her dress, but she didn’t even notice. She could smell her hair singeing as sparks from the fire fell on her. She brushed away some of the sparks from her dress when she caught sight of them burning holes in the fabric. Her hands were sore and torn up from the wood splinters. She wiped away the sweat from her brow with a dirty hand.

It wouldn’t be long now. The chopping continued as Jasmine prayed Parr could hold on for another few minutes. She splashed through the mud and muck, her sodden dress dragging along the ground. The pieces of wood she picked up snagged the fragile lace of the bodice, sending beads flying as the top of her dress continued to be torn and tattered. She didn’t care about her dress or her fancy ballroom slippers. Her only thought was of Parr.

After five frantic minutes, the men finally cracked through to the interior of the barn. A large billow of black smoke emerged and the men stepped back, coughing as they inhaled the fumes. Jasmine plunged into the opening as the smoke threatened to consume her as well. Her hands frantically searched the air, looking for the only man who mattered to her. Finally, she came into contact with flesh and began to tug Parr from the building.

• • •

Several men rushed in, picked up Parr’s body, and moved him to the edge of the paddock, just as flames licked around the corner of the building and then, with a whoosh, the hay in the upper loft caught fire. The barn collapsed in a heap of flames, smoke, and sparks. All around, men were yelling at each other, soaking the paddock boards with water to prevent the fire from spreading further, but it all served as background noise to Jasmine, who knelt by Parr’s prostrate form, willing him to open his eyes. She grabbed his grubby hand and pulled it to her chest as she leaned over him.

On the other side of Parr, Dr. Alexander knelt and grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse. Alistair was beside him.

“Well, is he alive?” Alistair asked the doctor.

“Yes, he’s just overcome with smoke inhalation, in my opinion. But his heartbeat is strong. Give him a few minutes. Everyone stand back and give the lad some air to breathe.”

Jasmine didn’t move. She brushed back the singed hair from his forehead and kissed his cheek. “Please, Parr, wake up. Let me see your beautiful eyes again.” A mountain of dirty peach fabric lay around her as her skirt billowed. She grabbed some of the skirt and used it to clear the soot and ash from Parr’s face. As soon as she cleaned off a spot, she kissed it and moved on to the next. He lay still as death, but he was warm and breathing. The doctor was examining him again, looking down his throat, when Parr coughed and a puff of black smoke emerged from his lungs. He coughed again, and more smoke appeared. Then he opened his eyes. The ice-blue eyes in his blackened face was the most beautiful sight Jasmine had ever seen. She leaned over him again and kissed him on the mouth. Despite his harrowing ordeal, and his weakened state, he managed a smile as he held her hand tightly.

“Ah, cailín, you’re a sight for these sore eyes.”

“I was so frightened, Parr. I thought you were a goner for sure. Why did you go back into the stable when all the horses were safe?”

“I couldn’t let me most prized possession burn up in the fire. I had to go back in.”

She kissed his eyes, and then again his mouth. “You taste of smoke. What could possibly have been so important that you’d risk your life for it?”

He reached for his back pocket and pulled out the gray tweed cap Jasmine had given him just weeks before. The cap that had caused their first kiss. The cap that had changed their lives.

Jasmine’s eyes widened when she beheld the item Parr considered worth risking his life for. Tears sprung to her eyes for the first time that night, and she leaned over him again and hugged him tightly. “You crazy, silly, beautiful man. I love you.”

“You do?” Parr replied weakly.

“You do?” Alistair asked.

Jasmine glanced up from Parr for the first time, and observed Alistair kneeling beside him. She had forgotten all about Alistair in the flurry of getting Parr to safety and waiting for him to wake up. Fully aware of the consequences of her actions now, she leaned over Parr once again and kissed him.

“Yes, I do. I’ve tried to deny my feelings for you for weeks now, since our first kiss. But it was hopeless. It took you almost losing your life to bring me to my senses and to realize how foolish I was being.” She helped Parr sit up finally, and put his back up against the paddock fence.

“Ah, me muirnin, me sweetheart. Look at your fine dress. ’Tis ruined.”

Jasmine ran her fingers down her dress, the bodice of which had fallen from her shoulders. Her breasts were extremely close to falling out of their moorings. Hastily, she pulled her bodice back into place. Funny how she had practiced that move in the mirror earlier so she could entice Alistair. But she didn’t need to expose herself so blatantly to entice the man she’d given her heart to. Parr loved her, even if he had yet to speak the words she was longing to hear.

She grinned. “The dress is a mess, isn’t it? And I’m probably every bit as much of a mess as the dress is.” She brushed back her hair from her face. The pins had fallen out long ago.

“Your jewels are lovely, though,” Parr replied as he reached up and ran a hand over her neckline where the diamond necklace still was in place. Jasmine shivered at the slight brush of contact. She turned to Alistair.

“I apologize to you. I know I’ve been leading you to believe I wanted to marry you, and for a while, I thought I did. But my heart has belonged to Parr for weeks now. I tried to fight our attraction, but in the end, I have to admit my love for him. And if he’ll have me, I’m going to marry him. We can make a go of it, even without your wealth or my father’s money. We don’t need a lot, as long as we have each other.”

“So you don’t mind it if I don’t have a fancy title to give you?” Parr croaked.

“The only title I care about is Mrs. O’Shaughnessy.”

“So you’ll be marrying me instead of Alistair?”

Jasmine smiled for the first time since she vaulted from the carriage. “Only if you do it properly, and get to one knee and ask for my hand.”

Charlotte hustled into the middle of the scene. “Do give the poor man a break, Jasmine.” Her mother patted her shoulder. “He’s only just crawled out of the fire. It’s enough that he wants to marry you, too.”

Parr smiled at Charlotte before he moved from his seated position on the ground, to get on his knees beside Jasmine. He took her hand in his and his blackened face hovered nears hers. “I have no right to ask this of one so fine as you, but will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the country? I’ve loved you since the moment you got out of the carriage on the first day we met.”

Jasmine wrapped her arms around Parr as tears of joy streamed down her soot-stained cheeks. “Of course I will. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time.”

What do you know? The peach gown was her engagement dress after all.

• • •

As Alistair and the doctor got Parr to his feet and began to walk with him to the house, Charlotte grabbed her daughter in a hug.

“You’re not upset with me, Mother?”

“Heavens no. My wish has always been for you to be happy. And if Parr is the one to do that, then I’m all for it.”

“But he’s not titled, and you were counting on being able to claim your daughter as a viscountess.”

“Hush, darling, none of that matters now. You know that. You’ll figure out a way to make a living.”

“Well, of course. I have my design business, which is just now beginning to take off, and Parr will soon be winning big purses at the racetrack and be able to expand what he and Alistair have here. We’ll be fine, as long as we have each other to come home to at the end of the day.”