Page 124 of Affair

Morgan’s head snapped around very quickly. “That is far enough, St. Ives. Not another step.”

Baxter halted. “Very well. But be so good as to satisfy my curiosity.”

“There was a hidden tunnel that led out of the laboratory.” Morgan’s mouth twisted. “I managed to get into it in time to escape the flames but I could not outrun the gases that were formed when the chemicals caught fire. I nearly choked to death on those foul vapors.”

“Your voice was ruined by those gases, was it not?”

Fury, a dark shadow cast by a thunderous cloud, passed over Morgan’s face. “You did this to me,” he rasped. “And tonight you will finally pay for it.”

“How dare you?” Charlotte shouted. “You tried to murder Baxter that night.”

“Silence.” Morgan flicked her another annoyed glance before he turned back to Baxter. “I think we’ve had quite enough reminiscing for the moment.”

“I agree,” Baxter said.

“Tell me what you found in Drusilla Heskett’s watercolor sketchbook that pointed in my direction,” Morgan said. “Tell me now, St. Ives, or I will kill your mouthy Charlotte.”

“We found a very interesting sketch.”

“Baxter, no,” Charlotte said. “Do not tell him anything. He will kill you.”

“Shut your mouth, Miss Arkendale,” Morgan snarled, “or I shall do it for you.”

Charlotte promptly opened her mouth again to tell him what she thought of him but she never got the chance.

With a sudden, terrifying rush of unseen wind and a sharp crack of sound, the heavy drapes at the window where Baxter had been standing a moment earlier, erupted into flames.

Morgan froze for an instant. Pure terror etched his handsome face. “No,” he whispered. “No, god damn you,no.”

“Bring back a few memories?” Baxter asked evenly. “Certainly does for me.”

Morgan shuddered and then made an obvious effort to collect himself. He aimed the pistol at Baxter with shaking hands. “I’m going to kill you now. I shall get the information I need from your woman. And I will take great pleasure in doing so. Think of me between her legs as you die.”

Charlotte saw Morgan’s fist tighten around the pistol.

She opened her mouth and gave a bloodcurdling scream.

Morgan flinched at the earsplitting sound.

Then, with a roar, the small fire on the hearth suddenly exploded into a great blaze. The tongues of flame shot past the fire screen, the talons of a great beast seeking prey.

“No.” Morgan took a faltering step back and came up against the edge of the large bed.

Flanked by pillars of fire, Baxter walked slowly and deliberately toward Morgan. “There is no time,” he said. “You must flee.” The flames soared behind him as he went steadily toward Morgan.

Charlotte knew that he was counting upon Morgan’s fear to supersede his deadly intent but she did not trust that factor. Another distraction was needed.

Crouched on her knees, she reached up and seized the silk fringe of the scarlet bed drapes. She pulled downward with all of her might.

The heavy hangings fell, an avalanche of crimson fabric. Some of it landed across Morgan’s head and shoulders.

The rest of it crashed down on Charlotte. She was buried in a mass of dusty red velvet.

Morgan’s shout of rage echoed on the stone walls. The roar of his pistol exploded across the chamber.

“Baxter.”Charlotte surfaced from the tumbled red drapes, choking from the dust and the smoke that filled the room.

The flames were spreading swiftly. Against the fiery backdrop, Baxter and Morgan were locked in a violent embrace. They fell to the carpet and rolled wildly. Firelight glinted on steel as they struggled for possession of the other pistol, the one Baxter had brought with him into the room.

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