Page 102 of Claiming his Cursed Duchess

Mercifully, the fire had not yet destroyed them, but the flames were already licking at the posts.

Rosaline was so weak that she could not hold her weight, so he pulled her into his arms.

He turned for seconds only, to look back at the towering blaze behind him, hoping that everyone else had managed to make it out alive.

Then he picked Rosaline up into his arms. His bad leg protested at the added weight, but Adam ignored it—nothing would keep him from saving his wife.

Swiftly, he carried her down the stairs, through the billowing smoke and out into the night.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Rosaline.”

She was floating on a sea, a raft of driftwood holding her up above the waves, safe from the flames, no longer fighting to breathe.

She smiled happily, knowing that Adam had been with her on her last day on this earth and they were together at last.

“Rosaline.”

She opened her eyes, the glow of the fire in the distance illuminating Adam’s blackened face, smudged with soot.

His eyes were urgent as he looked at her, and suddenly the dream faded, and she fell violently back to reality.

“Adam,” she whispered. “Is it really you?”

Gently, Adam knelt on the ground as several guests from the inn gathered around them throwing out their cloaks to cover her. Someone shouted to bring water, but she only had eyes for her husband.

“Are you all right?” Adam asked urgently. “Whathappenedto you?”

Adam’s finger fluttered over the side of her head against the throbbing site where Claridge had struck her.

Rosaline’s fingers found his, gripping them tightly.

“He…he struck me from behind.”

There was a long, ominous silence until she looked into Adam’s eyes, his hand tightening on her back as the glow of the flames illuminated his furious expression.

She had never seen him look so dangerous before.

“Who struck you?” he asked, his voice like iron.

Rosaline moistened her lips, her mouth impossibly dry and the stench of smoke hanging all around her.

“It was Claridge,” she said firmly. “He came to my room, crazed, furious. He was the one who started the fire.”

“I can bear witness to that, Your Grace,” the innkeeper said as he walked up to them. “I saw him go up to her room, and later he ran past without a word. Didn’t buy a drink or nothin’. Then I understood why.”

Adam looked back at the inn, his face a mask of suppressed rage as there was an ominous crash and the roof of the building collapsed down upon itself.

“By God, I will kill him,” he growled but even as he said it his fingers tightened against her and he turned back to her. “But not now. Now I must see to my wife. Can you stand?” he asked, with so much fear in his voice that she attempted a reassuring smile.

“I am all right, Adam.”

“Your face is covered with blood, and your gown is singed and black with soot. Do not tell me what I can see with my own eyes to be false.”

He lifted her to her feet as they walked away from the heat of the inn. She leaned heavily on his arm, her head still throbbing painfully.

Adam enquired with one of the staff as they passed him if anyone had been left inside, and he confirmed that all the guests were accounted for.