Page 72 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
He ran away as horses bolted from the burning building with their heads and tails high in fear. He was temporarily deafened by their whinnying and when he looked, he saw every horse—but Bessie. No. This was not right!
The blaze of the heat grew so intense Heath stumbled back. It dried his eyes and blasted his cheeks, but he had to get Bessie out. Holding his breath, Heath dashed inside. The heat inside was nearly unbearable, smoke stung his eyes and ash blew up his nose. He leaped over fallen beams and rushed to Bessie’s stall. It too was latched shut! She was whinnying and squealing, pawing at the floor and from the movements he heard inside, she was turning in circles to pace away from the flames.
His palms were scorched as the cloth had burned away from his hands, but he had to get Bessie out. Penelope would never forgive him if he let her horse die. Grasping the beam, he cried out in pain as the heat scorched his hands, and with a surge of strength coming from the memory of Penelope’s golden eyes, he lifted it off and grabbed the frightened mare. She butted him with her head in an attempt to bury her face under his hands.
Smoke and soot clogged Heath’s throat and scorched his lungs. He skin was red-hot, his eyes were burning and watered fiercely. He could barely see but he had to get them out. Flames raged across the open door, creating a wall of fire. A loud crack resounded over the roar, and another beam crashed to the ground. Grabbing Bessie by her mane, he swung himself up and kicked her hard to run. She bolted, leaping over the burning logs and was out the door.
A wash of cold water was hurled upon him, by mistake he was sure, as it had to have been aimed at the burning building, but he was grateful. His heart was hammering, and his lungs were contracting in his chest without ceasing. He coughed up ash and dark spit tinged with blood. The burn in his lungs was fading, too slowly for his comfort.
He slipped off Bessie’s back and sank to the ground holding his head down to calm the ringing. How had things gone from perfect to horrifying in mere moments? He looked up to see servants and stable-boys throwing buckets of water on the smoldering remains of the stable.
Rubbing his eyes from the lingering soot, Heath grimaced at the burnt building with the charred door hanging from the hinges like a limp arm.
“Bessie!”
His head snapped around—too quickly as his head began spinning again—to see Penelope, clad in a dress now and a thick coat. She ran to the horse who was a few feet away from him. She was running her hands over the whinnying mare’s head, side, and legs.
Clambering to his feet, Heath reached out and rested a hand on Bessie’s back. Penelope reached up and swiped a finger over his cheek and came away with soot. “Y—you did this? You saved her?”
He nodded numbly. Golden eyes welled with tears while he sucked in another gasp of air that burned his lungs. “I did…”
Darkness closed over his vision, and he slumped on the back of the horse, unconscious. The last thing before his mind went dark was when he dimly heard Penelope’s cry and felt her hands on his face. “…because I l-love you.”
Chapter 26
Noontime found Penelope sitting beside Heath’s head as his faithful nurse. Martha had just popped out to get some food or take a bath…she wasn’t sure. She dipped a rag in the bowl of water, squeezed it out and laid it on his forehead. Fever was flushing his face a warm red and his breathing was ragged.
From inhaling the soot, the physician had told her. He had burns on his shoulders, chest, and abdomen, but the worst burns were on his hands.
The doctor had told them to get a certain salve but she thought it only fitting to use the same salve Heath had given her. With love in every touch, she was the one to clean the wounds, apply the salve and wrap the rough, blistered skin with strips of white bandages with Martha as her chaperone.
If he’s fortunate, the lungs should clear, but if he begins spitting up blood, he will need to go to the hospital. The physician’s words were a mantra in her mind.
I did…because I l-love you.
What had she done to deserve him? Heath had risked his life to go save her horse. An animal that many others would have left to die, just count it as an unfortunate loss and would move on. Heath knew how precious Bessie was to her, which was why he had done it.
He does love me…by saving her, he saved me.
A soft pitying groan snapped her attention back to him and she saw his chapped lips part. Taking up the cup of cool water, she set it to his lips and allowed him to take as much as he could with her hand bracing his neck. After a few swallows, he sank back and breathed hard.
She smiled softly and dabbed at his chin. Hazed green eyes fluttered open with confusion. “It’s all right, Heath. You’re safe.”
His bandaged left hand rose to his face, and he looked at it as though seeing a gangrenous limb. “You got burned, Heath. The stables were on fire and you went to get Bessie for me. Your palms were seared black.”
Twisting the bandaged hand, he croaked, “I remember.” He then looked at her smiling faintly, “Thank you.”
With that, he sank back into sleep and she leaned over to kiss his cheek, prickly with a growing beard. “I love you.”
A knock took her attention from the man on the bed, but she did not move her eyes away from him. The only person who was authorized to come and disturb her was Martha. “Yes, Martha?”
“His Lordship needs to speak with you in his study, My Lady.”
Sighing, she stood and after casting a protective glance over Heath and then over the spartan room where only the bare necessities were rested. There was not even a scrap of carpet on the floor. Not much better than living outside.
Approaching the study, she could hear voices inside and frowned. Why would Edward want to see her with company? She knocked and after getting permission, entered to see a grim-faced Edward, two constables and a man she vaguely recognized as a stable hand.
“Edward…” she said warily. “What is going on here?”
