Page 43 of Somewhere I'll Find You
Her arms trembled with exhaustion, and she felt her body swaying as it was engulfed in blasts of heat. She heard warning shouts from somewhere nearby, but she didn't pause in her battle to smother the flames that had begun to eat at one of the side curtains. Suddenly she was hit hard around the middle, her waist and sides compressed by a force that drove the breath from her. Flinching from pain and shock, she couldn't make a move to defend herself as she was dragged across the space of several yards. There was a cracking, whooshing sound in her ears, mingling with the heavy throb of her pulse.
As she pushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from her eyes, Julia realized that the crew had collapsed the flat on stage right. She had been standing directly in its path. Someone had pulled her out of harm's way, the same person who was now beating at her skirts, his hand descending with bruisingthwacksagainst her thighs and calves. Coughing, struggling for air, she tried to evade him before realizing with a thrill of horror that bits of burning residue from the backcloth had set her costume on fire.
When the material of her skirts was extinguished, her rescuer stood up, his face looming dark and furious over hers. Silhouetted against the background of fire and smoke, he looked like the devil. His bronzed face gleamed with sweat, his broad chest lifting as he took in deep, gulping breaths.
“Damon,” she said, her lips feeling numb as they formed his name. He seemed ready to kill her. His hands clamped around her, and he began to yank her off the stage in spite of her protests.
“Jessica?” She heard Logan Scott's voice from nearby. He paused in his efforts to contain the fire, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glanced from her to Damon. “For God's sake, get her out of here!”
“My pleasure,” Damon muttered.
Wincing at her husband's painful hold on her, Julia allowed him to usher her offstage to the greenroom. “This way,” she managed to say, before she was overtaken by a spasm of coughing. She led him through the back of the theater, pausing only when she sensed that someone else was with them. She turned to get a hasty glance of a man who bore a startling resemblance to Damon. It could only be his brother. “L-Lord William?” she stammered.
“Yes, it's William,” Damon said impatiently. “There'll be time for introductions later. Let's go.”
Scowling at his high-handedness, Julia went to the door opening onto the street. She nearly collided with a small figure bolting back inside. It was Arlyss, bubbling over with relief and panicked excitement. “Jessica!” she exclaimed thankfully. “When I realized you weren't outside, I had to come back and find you…” She paused as she saw the two tall, dark-haired men behind Julia. A droll smile lit her face. “It seems you've already been rescued. Now I see that I should have stayed inside the theater and waited for help myself!”
William stepped forward, gallantly offering his arm to escort her. “I admire you for having the sense to leave immediately, Miss…”
“Barry,” she said. Her bright gaze missed no detail of his elegantly tailored clothes and dark, handsome looks. “Arlyss Barry.”
“Lord William Savage,” he said, introducing himself with a flourish. “At your service, Miss Barry.”
Rolling his eyes, Damon pulled Julia outside into the cool, fresh air. Annoyed by his rough treatment, she jerked away from him as soon as her feet touched the pavement. “There's no need to haul me around like a sack of barley,” she snapped, heedless of the other people who milled around the small back street.
“You'll be fortunate if I don't do worse to you. Putting yourself in danger for no reason—”
“I wanted to stay!” she said heatedly. “I had to offer what help I could. If that theater burns, I'll have nothing!”
“You'll have your life,” he pointed out, his tone scathing.
Another fit of coughing precluded a reply, but she managed to glare at him with watery, stinging eyes.
Staring at Julia's reddened face, her cheeks streaked with sweat and soot, Damon felt much of his anger fade. He had never seen anyone look so valiant and vulnerable at the same time. Managing to locate a handkerchief inside his coat, he went to her and began to wipe the grime and paint from her face. “Hold still,” he murmured, sliding an arm around her when she tried to pull back. After a moment, he felt the rigid shape of her spine begin to relax. She lifted her face a few inches to allow him better access. Carefully he used a fresh corner of the linen square to blot her eyes.
“William,” he murmured, aware of his brother's attempts to flirt with the curly-haired actress nearby, “try to locate our driver at the front of the theater, and tell him to bring the carriage back here.”
“It would make more sense to hire a hackney,” William said, clearly reluctant to leave Arlyss's company. “The street out front is probably crammed full of people, horses, carriages—it would be a miracle if I found—”
“Just do it,” Damon said curtly.
“All right. All right.” William looked down at Arlyss with a hopeful smile. “Don't go anywhere. Don't move from this spot. I'll be back soon.”
Giggling in reply, Arlyss pretended to salute him, and watched admiringly as he strode away.
Julia looked up at her husband's expressionless face. “I didn't know you would be here tonight.” Her nerves seemed ready to snap after the ordeal inside, yet even with the danger she had been in, and the sick worry about what was still happening inside the theater, she felt strangely comforted. There seemed to be no safer place in the world than there in Damon's arms.
The soft handkerchief continued to move over her face in gentle strokes. “I had no time to send a message,” he said. “I collected William from Warwickshire and returned to London as soon as possible.”
She shrugged in a show of indifference. “You could have stayed in the country. It didn't matter to me when you returned.”
“It mattered to me. I wanted to see you—especially on your opening night.”
Her lips twisted bitterly. The play was in ruins, and what would have been a significant step in her career had been obliterated by the fire. Worst of all, the theater—and all the dreams it had housed—might burn to ashes before the night was through. “Quite a show, wasn't it?” she said wearily.
“More than I bargained for,” he admitted, a smile touching his lips. He seemed to understand what she was feeling, the fear and the aching awareness that life held such treacherous twists in store. It wasn't fair that after her hard work and sacrifice, everything could be destroyed so easily.
Julia stared up into his silver-gray eyes, struck by his calmness and strength, and the sense that he wasn't afraid of anything. He had saved her life tonight, or at the very least had kept her from harm. Why had he put himself at risk for her? Perhaps he felt he owed her his protection because she was technically his wife. “Thank you,” she managed to say. “Thank you for…what you did.”
