Part 18 (1/2)

Now she did scream, leaping in to pound at the smoke that puffed from his back. He whirled to face her, furious to find her there.

”You're on fire.” She barely choked the words out. ”For G.o.d's sake, Ry! Let it go.”

”Stay back.”

With an arching movement, he smothered the flames that had begun to lap at the central desk. The paperwork left on its top, he knew, would feed the fire. Focused, he turned to attack the smoldering baseboard, the intricately carved trim that was flaming.

”Take this.” He shoved the extinguisher into her hands. The main fire was out, and the smaller ones were all but smothered. He nearly had it. From the terror in her eyes, he could see that she didn't realize the beast was nearly beaten. ”Use it,” he ordered, and in one stride he had reached the flaming curtains and torn them down. There would be pain later-he knew that, as well. But now he fought the fire hand to hand.

Once the smoldering, smoke-stained lace was nothing more than harmless rags, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the extinguisher out of her numbed hands and killed what was left.

”It didn't have much of a start.” But his jacket was still smoking.

He yanked it off, tossed it aside. ”Wouldn't have gotten this far this fast, if there weren't so many flammables in here.” He set the nearly empty extinguisher aside. ”It's out.”

Still he checked the room, kicking through the ruined drapes, searching for any cagey spark that waited to burn clean again.

”It's out,” he repeated, and shoved her toward the door. ”Get downstairs.”

She stumbled, almost falling to her knees. A violent fit of coughing nearly paralyzed her. Her stomach heaved, her head spun. Near fainting, she braced a hand against the wall and fought to breathe.

”d.a.m.n it, Natalie.” In one sweep, he had her up in his arms. He carried her through the blinding smoke, down the elegant staircase.

”I told you to get out. Don't you ever listen?”

She tried to speak, and only coughed weakly. It felt as though she were floating. Even when he laid her against the cool cus.h.i.+ons of the love seat, her head continued to reel.

He was cursing her. But his voice seemed far away, and harmless.

If she could just get one breath, she thought, one full breath to soothe her burning throat.

He watched her eyes roll back. Jerking her ruthlessly, he pushed her head between her knees.

”Don't you faint on me.” His voice was curt, his hand on the back of her head firm. ”Stay here, breathe slow. You hear me?”

She nodded weakly. He left her, and when cold, fresh air slapped her cheeks, she s.h.i.+vered. After propping the outside door open, Ry came back, rubbing his hands up and down her spine.

She'd scared him, badly. So he did what came naturally to combat the fear-he yelled at her.

”That was stupid and thoughtless! You're lucky to get out of there with a sick stomach and some smoke inhalation. Itold you to get out.”

”You went in.” She winced as the words tormented her abused throat. ”You went right in.”

”I'm trained. You're not.” He hauled her back into a sitting position to check her over.

Her face was dead white under sooty smears, but her eyes were clear again. ”Nausea?” he asked in clipped tones.

”No.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her stinging eyes. ”Not now.”

”Dizzy?”

”No.”