Page 19 of Winter's Waltz
Chapter 4
Gen woke to scratching on her door.
And whining. Then a bark.
Arthur.
She sat up in bed, wondering why he was not settled down in his bed by the kitchens, where he preferred to sleep because he was often gifted scraps. That was when she noticed a scent on the air…
Smoke.
More barking, more scratching.
Smoke meant there was a fire.
She vaulted from her bed and raced across her room, terror lodged in her chest. She had not even reached the door when it burst open. Her chamber filled with the glow of a candle as Arthur ran to her, nimble on his three legs.
“Miss Winter!”
A familiar, masculine figure filled the doorway.
The marquess.
“Miss Winter, you must come with me,” he said, extending a hand. “We haven’t much time.”
“What is happening?” she demanded. “Where are my men?”
“There is a fire. Peter is manning the fire buckets. I came to see you safely outside.”
There was a fire in her gaming hell—which had yet to open—and he imagined she was going to follow him to the street whilst everyone else fought to save it?
“No.”
“Damn it, woman, there are times to be stubborn. This is not one of them.”
Desperation edged his voice as he stormed forward, as if he intended to bodily haul her from the room and edifice altogether.
“I will fight the fire with my men,” she told him, hastening toward her wardrobe, so she could change out of her shift and don some trousers and a shirt. It wouldn’t do to attempt to fight a blaze whilst wearing a gown. One wrong move, and the bleeding thing would catch flame.
“I cannot allow that. It is not safe.” Sundenbury was behind her.
She did not give a shite if he was still in the room. Ignoring him, she grasped her shift in two fistfuls of linen and ripped it over her head before whipping it to the floor. Cool night air kissed her bare arse but she was too beset by fear to care.
“Genevieve.”
“Stay where you are, Dunderhead. I am naked as a babe.”
“I am aware.” His tone sounded strangled.
Shouts rose below and her heart quickened, mouth going dry. Fire was destructive—a nightmare for anyone. The Devil’s Spawn had suffered damage in the past by flame, but they had emerged fortunate. She had yet to even attract a single lady to her establishment. If it burned to ashes before she had a chance, everything would be over.
She would be ruined.
And if any of her men were injured or worse in this blaze…
She refused to think it.
Gen pulled her shirt over her head, then stuffed her legs into trousers. She fastened the buttons on the fall before spinning back to face the marquess. Arthur was on the floor between them, whining and barking. He was ever a protective beast. But in this instance, it almost seemed as if he was protecting the both of them.
