Page 24 of Mistress of Darkness

Chapter 12

Gwen got into her bed in her sleeping shift, pulled the blankets up over her, and waited for Robert. It was a strange feeling, waiting for him in her bed. Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him, of feeling him beside her, on top of her, and in her. It was exciting and wanton but also not a little frustrating as she listened for his footsteps.

His bundle of papers had been thick, but he’d said he would only attend to something important. She found herself rubbing the back of her hand where he’d kissed it, even as she replayed his words in her mind. Perhaps something had required his immediate action after all.

As the minutes ticked slowly by, she started to wonder if he’d sought his own chamber. Had he changed his mind? But no, if he’d gone to his own bed chamber, she would have heard him pass by. Perhaps she should go check to see where he was, but the sheets were only now becoming warm. She stretched and tried to stifle a yawn. When had she become so sleepy?

She woke with a sudden start and saw immediately that she was still alone. How long she’d been asleep she couldn’t tell, but as she sat up, a strange, faint scent tickled her nose.

Quickly she donned her dressing gown and went out into the hall. She smelled smoke.

“Fire,” she gasped. Something downstairs was on fire. “Fire!” she screamed as she dashed down the steps. “Fire! Robert, where are you?”

At the bottom of the stairs, she could see that smoke was coming from his library. “Robert,” she screamed as she flew through the open doorway.

He was slouched in his chair, head dangling off to the side. The curtains at the window behind him were on fire.

“Miss!” Parks yelled behind her.

“Parks, thank God!” She pointed behind him. “Bring the fire buckets from the living room hearth.”

As the flames crept along the floor, Gwen ran to Robert. She screamed his name and shook him as hard as she could. “Wake up,” she pleaded. “Please, Robert!”

Though he stirred, he didn’t wake.

Parks dashed past her and flung the sand on the floor and then on the curtains, while she tugged Robert out of his chair and onto the rug in front of it. Grasping him under the shoulders, she hauled him backward with her. He was much heavier than she thought he would be, but every muscle in her body strained to pull him to safety. With each laborious tug, she gained another precious inch.

When she spared a glance for the fire, all she could see was smoke. Had Parks managed to put it out? As if in answer to her question, he emerged from the thick cloud, coughing, only to run past her to the kitchens. He must be going to get water, she thought, tugging Robert’s leaden body along the ground. The fire must still be burning. It occurred to her then that she might have to drag him out of the house. Though her back ached, she redoubled her effort.

“Gwen?” she heard Robert murmur, but his voice was thick and the words slurred. “What is happening?”

“Thank God you’re alive,” she gasped, panting hard, still dragging him slowly to the door.

Parks ran past again, with two pails of water. She heard the hiss of them hitting the fire and the sound of him stamping. But after a minute, he was at her side.

“Is the fire out?” she gasped.

“Yes,” Parks choked out. “But we must escape this smoke.” Coughing, he grasped the lapels of Robert’s coat and quickly dragged him into the hallway.

Finally, well clear of the library, he let Robert back down and Gwen fell to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed and he had still not moved.

“Robert,” she tried again, “please wake up.”

“Hmmm?” she heard him murmur and his eyebrows lifted, though his eyes remained shut. “Is that you Gwen?”

Why was his speech slurred? How could she rouse him? As a thought occurred to her, she whispered a brief apology, then slapped his face with the full force of her open hand.

“What?” he exclaimed, as his eyes flew open. They finally focused on her. “Gwen? What are you–” He saw Parks on his other side, and then his nostrils flared. “Fire,” he said, struggling to sit up. “There’s a fire.”

“I’ve put it out, master,” Parks said, helping him.

Relief surged through her. “It was in your library, Robert,” Gwen told him. “We only just managed to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” he muttered and shook his head as if to clear it. His voice was sounding more firm. “Yes. I heard you but I couldn’t rouse myself. It felt as if all of my limbs were made of lead.”

Parks exchanged a look with her, before addressing Robert. “Perhaps too much whiskey, sir?”

“I had no whiskey,” Robert said, his words less slurred, but still not right. “Help me up.”