Page 78 of Love with a Notorious Rake

Aidan, my love, be careful.

If she lost him, her heart would never recover.

Chapter 22

With a swift kick, Aidan tore the door to the residence off its hinges. He stepped aside, waiting for the roar of flames to greet him, but nothing came—it hadn’t spread to the stairwell yet. No time to waste. Delaney caught up to him. “I’ll grab the boy, you find the wife,” Aidan said.

“Aye. Lead the way,” Delaney replied.

There was nothing else for it but to dash in, locate them, and escape before the roof caved in or the passageway caught fire. Aidan ascended the stairs until he reached the French double doors. Through the glass, he could see small pockets of flame consuming draperies and furniture and climbing ever higher to the ceiling. Through the smoke, he saw Mrs. McRae slumped on the sofa. Where was the boy?

Upon opening the doors, the fire was met with a blast of oxygen, but the rush of flames was not as serious as it could have been due to the fact the window had already been smashed, allowing air into the room. Or so Aidan surmised. Before he’d arrived, he read up on how serious a fire could be at a cotton mill. If the fire spread to the mill proper—it didn’t bear thinking about. Hopefully the workers made it to safety. Aidan pulled the draperies down to try to slow the spread of the fire, but it insidiously consumed everything it came in contact with: cushions, rugs, wooden cabinets filled with expensive treasures.

Delaney lifted the unconscious woman over his shoulder. “Never mind the fire, find the boy!” he yelled at Aidan. “I’ll wait.”

Right. Aidan sprinted into the narrow hallway, coughing as the black smoke grew thicker.

“Come out, lad!”

He had checked two rooms and was about to exit the third when he heard a whimper. Crouching down, he found McRae’s son curled into a ball under a bed. “Take my hand!”

The boy didn’t move or respond. Aidan grabbed his leg and pulled him from his hiding place. Copying Delaney, he slung the boy over his shoulder and ran to the parlor. Aidan’s eyes were watering; the heat was overwhelming, making breathing difficult. “Ready—”

“Look out!” Delaney shoved him out of the way, causing him and the boy to sprawl across the sofa. A large section of the ceiling fell on Delaney, scattering him and Mrs. McRae in sparks and flame. That Delaney managed to stay upright and still have a firm hold of the woman was impressive. But the sleeve of his coat had caught fire, the flame spreading upward, catching part of Mrs. McRae’s skirt, then in turn spreading to Delaney’s face and hair.

McRae’s son was screaming at the top of his lungs as Aidan jumped from the sofa. He grabbed a cushion and tried to beat the flames into submission. He’d managed to snuff out most of it when Delaney yelled, “Go, before the rest of the ceiling comes down on us!”

Aidan threw the cushion aside, grabbed the hysterical child, and rushed through the wall of flames that was spreading into the stairwell. When they reached the outside, Delaney collapsed, part of his sleeve still burning. Muggeridge shrugged out of his coat and smothered the remaining flames.

Aidan lowered the screaming boy, and when he located his father he stumbled toward him. Cristyn ran into Aidan’s arms and he held her close, grateful to be alive, thankful he could hold her once more. Hell, he could not imagine never holding her again. Life would not be worth living. His eyes burned from the smoke, as did his lungs. He coughed, trying to catch a decent breath of air.

“I must check on the others.” She kissed his cheek and moved to Delaney’s side. Mrs. McRae lay next to him, unconscious.

Samuel pulled up in one of the mill’s wagons. “Sir, we had best leave. The fire is spreading to the roof of the mill.”

“Is everyone out?” Aidan asked between coughs.

“Yes, sir. The village doesn’t have a fire brigade; we could use the water from the river.”

“Perhaps it is better that it burns.” Evil place. He cast a glance at McRae. Evil man.

Muggeridge motioned to a couple of soldiers. “Take Mr. McRae into custody. There is a jail in Hinckley. Take him there, and I will follow directly. We will have to locate Hanson, this former overseer.”

“My family knows where he is. I will send word.” Aidan rubbed his stinging eyes. “And the bodies?”

“We will have to find a suitable place. Do you believe Dr. Middlemiss is up for the task of examining the remains?” Muggeridge questioned.

“Yes. More than competent.”

“Good. We will make arrangements when we take the injured to his clinic.”

“And the fire?” Aidan’s voice had grown hoarse. God knew how much smoke he had swallowed.

“The remaining soldiers and men from the village have already set up a bucket relay to try to keep the fire from destroying all in its path. I would hazard to guess the residence is a complete loss. Perhaps also the roof of the mill.”

“If the flames come in contact with the cotton fibers in the air, or the bales of cotton, the place will become a raging inferno. It is best everyone stay away and let it burn itself out. Try to prevent it spreading to the surrounding woods by all means. But the mill? Do not risk any lives to save it.”

“I will heed your advice. Now, Lord Wollstonecraft, climb on the wagon and go with the others. You must be examined by the doctor. You have done enough heroic deeds for one day.”