Page 13 of The Gods Time Forgot

Thirteen

Finn hesitated, holding on to a bucket of water as he watched flames ravage the once-luxurious Madison Hotel, wondering if this was a sign of things to come.

The fire department was out in full force with their ladder trucks and hoses. They commanded the scene as they worked to clear the area and put out the flames.

He was surprised at the turnout of civilians offering their assistance. Crowded onto the street in front of the burning hotel, panic-stricken faces shouted orders, all trying to contain the spread. Saving the neighboring stores and homes had become the priority.

Of course, there were those who had simply come to watch. Tragedy so often did bring out the curious. Young children huddled in groups, staring at the flames in bemused horror. Men and women shook their heads, sorry but not surprised; wooden structures were prone to fires.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Finn focused on the bucket he was holding, handing it off to the neighbor next to him. One by one they passed them forward, dousing out a flame just for another to rise in its place. It wasn’t enough. The hotel was coming down.

“Help!” He heard a desperate cry through the roar of the flames. He looked around for the source.

“Help!” they cried again.

He tossed his empty bucket aside and moved toward the hotel entrance. A tremendous wave of heat licked his skin. It was like walking into a furnace.

“I think it’s coming from that window over there,” a fireman said, gesturing to the window on the ground floor. “We can’t send anyone in. It’s too dangerous.”

A burning piece of debris crashed on the sidewalk.

“Please, help me!” a woman cried. Before anyone said another word, Finn ran into the burning building. There was no thought beyond helping that woman and his belief that he could save her.

“Where are you?” He coughed as he inhaled the smoke, his eyes burning. What remained of the hotel lobby was covered with fallen debris and charred furniture. He looked up at the beams buckling with the heat. The ceiling was going to come down.

“Here!” she cried.

Finn cursed when he saw her. She was trapped under a large beam that had already fallen from the ceiling, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to lift it on his own. She knew it too. The look of disappointment that crossed her face when she realized he was the only one that had come for her was gutting.

“It’s all right. I’m going to get you out of here,” he said.

She nodded, but the fear in her eyes told him she didn’t believe him.

He reached for the part of the beam that wasn’t burning and tried to lift it. Judging by the size, it had to be triple the weight of him, more than any man could ever dream to lift on his own. The bones in her leg, if she ever got out from underneath, would no doubt be crushed.

Finn took a deep breath and squatted down, placing his hands beneath the corner of the beam. His skin burned against the scorched wood as he pushed upward, using the force of his legs to lift it off the woman. He let out a roar as he did it, feeling raw strength course through his veins. The woman cried as the wooden shaft rose off her leg and was cast aside, and then she fainted.

Chest heaving, he picked her limp body up from the floor, his eyes stinging as he tried to find the nearest exit. Through the flames and wreckage, Finn barreled his way outside.

The crowd rushed toward them, trying to help. Finn set the woman down far away enough from the blaze. Her leg was mangled, and she was still unconscious. “She needs a doctor!” he shouted between gasps as he tried to clear his lungs of the smoke.

“How in the name of God did you do that?” a man asked, laying a blanket on the ground for the woman.

The shock and confusion on the man’s face mirrored what Finn felt inside. His skin was hot to the touch, sensitive where blisters should’ve formed and hadn’t. He glanced down at his garments, which were utterly destroyed by soot and flame, not understanding how he’d made it out unscathed.

“There was a path,” he lied.

They both glanced at the hotel, the entrance nothing but a burning pile of remains, then back to each other.

Finn stood up and walked away from the man and the other prying eyes along the cobbled footpath. They were as surprised as he was, but he didn’t need any more questions. Questions that felt like accusations.

He made a fist and released it, feeling that familiar buzz of strength. In no world should he have been able to lift that beam on his own, and yet he had done it. Lifted it as though it were nothing but a twig.

Away from the heat of the fire and the swell of the crowd, he found relief.

He thought back to when this had started, the unexplained strength he’d experienced when he knocked out the man at the athletic club, and his mind went to Rua. Everything had changed the day he met her.

In a daze, he glimpsed the street signs, realizing the direction he was walking—toward her.

In no time at all, he stood outside the Harringtons’ home, wondering about the decision that had led him here to this wealthy Manhattan neighborhood, mixed up with these titans of industry.

He’d been so blindsided by the news of the hotel fire that he’d hardly understood what he was agreeing to when Flossie offered him a place to stay. Come to think of it, he didn’t think he’d agreed to anything at all, but as it was, he did need a place to stay.

At the far corner of the building, a window lit up. He could make out the slight shadow of a figure behind the curtain. Expectantly, he wondered if it was Rua.

He let out a sigh, crushing a pebble underfoot. Things were becoming complicated, and he didn’t know when it had gotten this way. Perhaps it was precisely because he had been cautioned against her that he was so intrigued.

Nothing to do with the intense longing that plagued him night and day. A longing not pure and unfettered but marred and torturous, filling his quiet world with worry.

Resolute, he walked up the steps, straight into the belly of the beast.

“Good evening, my lord,” the butler said as he opened the doors. His voice did not betray the shock in his eyes. Finn understood he must look like a depraved monster walking through the doors of the beautiful home. His shirt was undone, and he was covered in sweat and soot.

“Evening,” Finn replied, exhausted and ready for sleep.

“I will show you to your suites straightaway. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington have retired for the evening, but if there is anything at all you require, do let me know.”

“Thank you,” Finn said as he followed the butler up the staircase.

The entire home was lit up, he assumed for his arrival, despite the late hour. Truly a magnificent display of opulence. It must infuriate the Harringtons to have so much money and still have to fight for acceptance.

“Someone will be available to assist with the collection of any personal belongings that might’ve been recovered.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Finn said. “The damage is too widespread. There’ll be nothing left but a pile of ash when it’s done burning.”

“Such a pity that is.” The butler shook his head.

When Finn reached the top step, he heard something crash to the floor. He looked up to find Rua standing in the hallway, a pile of books at her feet. At this hour, she was the last person he’d expected to see. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, a slight flush in her cheeks.

She’d changed into her nightdress, free of her torn orange gown. A pity, he thought, as his mind wandered to their moment in the Randalls’ front garden. To the curve of her breast as her body pushed against his and the feel of her hands digging into his torso. The familiar longing was once more building inside him. Though if he were being honest with himself, it was always there, simmering under the surface.

She bent down for her books, and he moved to help her, but by the time he reached her, she had them gathered. Without a word, she disappeared behind a set of mahogany doors.

“I do not want to overstep, my lord, but I fear I must warn you,” the butler started.

“Go ahead,” Finn said, already knowing what he was going to say.

“Best to keep your distance from that one. She’s quite troubled. Spends all hours in the library, so it shouldn’t be too hard to avoid her. Rather unstable.”

Finn nodded. He was tired of everyone telling him that.

“Well, here we are, my lord. Do let me know if there’s anything else you require.” The butler stopped outside his new bedchamber and opened the door for Finn.

“Thank you.”

Five minutes ago, he had been uncertain of his ability to make it up the stairs to his new room, his exhaustion was so extreme. But now he was alert, filled with the knowledge that Rua was awake and only a few doors away.

He entered his latest accommodations and was thoroughly impressed. Spacious and clean, everything like new. As he tossed aside his jacket, he wondered what book was so important that Rua needed it at this hour.

Restless, he sat in the chair, only to rise again a moment later. Curiosity, or something like it, got the better of him.

He made his way to the library, hoping she was still there. What he was going to do if he found her was another story entirely.

The double doors had been left ajar. He pushed them open and found Rua leaning against the settee, a book hidden behind her back. She was talking to her lady’s maid. “If your mother knows you’re out of bed at this hour,” the maid warned.

“I told you I would be right there—” Rua stopped talking when she saw Finn. The maid looked startled. He understood; he was still wearing the clothes destroyed by the fire.

“What are you doing in here?” Rua asked, giving him a once-over.

“I was …” Lost for words, he thought, What am I doing in here?

“Please, Mara, I’ll meet you in my chambers in a moment.”

“But, miss,” the maid protested.

“It’s fine,” Rua said.

Begrudgingly, the maid left, but not before shooting Finn a dirty look.

“No manners on the servants either, I see,” he said, though he wasn’t sure why he was needling her.

Rua stiffened.

A moment of quiet intensity lingered around them as they waited to be sure the maid was gone, and then she charged him, wagging her blasted little finger.

“You’re quite bold for someone in a predicament such as the one you’re in,” she said, poking him in the chest, letting her finger loiter a moment on his bare skin. The sensation was invigorating, like a jolt to his heart. She snatched her hand back as if feeling the same thing. He glanced quickly to see that she hadn’t left a mark.

He bent his head toward hers. “And what predicament might that be?”

Her gaze moved slowly from his mouth to his torso and back up to his eyes. “The one in which it’s a quarter past two in the morning, you’re bare chested, slicked with sweat, and in the library looking for me.” She smiled.

He pressed his lips together. She had him there. “Your point?”

“Glass houses, my lord. Your manners are questionable at best.”

Before she could speak again, he took a step forward off the wall. He would not allow this unruly woman to question his character.

She moved in response, losing her footing, and he contemplated letting her fall. There was no doubt she deserved a good thump, but he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her upright, electrifying the air around them.

She steadied herself, pressing her arm against his chest. The light touch, devastatingly tempting, left him certain that this time she’d burned right through him.

Eyes full of mischief and sparkling gold, Finn stared at the woman before him—so passionate, so willful, so wrong. The feel of her body awakened a primal need within him. Her luscious lips, full and pouting, dared him to touch them. He needed to know every part of her. Even the part that warned him away.

Hungrily, he studied her, desperate for any indication she was feeling the same. But she was unreadable, too clever to be caught. Stealing his breath, she turned her hand over. Both of them watching as she trailed the backs of her fingers across the upper part of his abdomen.

“Rua,” he heard himself say.

Her eyes flicked upward, and he knew he’d broken the spell, severing all tension with his reckless plea. She pushed herself out of his arms, and the loss was immediate.

“You may dress in their clothes, you may use their words, but you are no gentleman, Lord of Donore.”

She had no idea the truth of her words.

With that, she picked up her books and slipped through the library doors, not giving him a second glance.

Now alone, Finn went to the bar cart and poured himself a glass of whatever was in the decanter. He sat down in the brown leather chesterfield chair and put his legs up on the ottoman.

He rolled his head back and forth against the deep buttoning, trying to understand how he had ended up here. He glanced at the side table and spotted a book: Legends and Stories of Ireland by Samuel Lover.

Shocked that the Harringtons had it in their library, he reached for it and flipped through the pages, wondering why someone, presumably Rua, was reading up on Ireland. He’d hardly made it through the preface when he started to doze .

Finn wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he woke with a fright. He sat up and looked around the unfamiliar room. Recognizing it as the Harringtons’ library, he leaned back in the chair.

The fire had dwindled to nothing, the candles on the mantel burnt to the ends, and he looked at the clock. A quarter past five.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember his dream, but all he could recall was the glowing eyes. Stranger and more frequent, his dreams were a new addition to his life. He thought back to when they’d started, to his new feelings of strength, and drew the same conclusion.

Rua.

Twinned feelings of aggravation and exhaustion battled within him. He let out a yawn; it was time to retire, though he doubted he’d get back to sleep. He left the library and went to find his room.