Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance) by Anna Markland Page B
Authors: Anna Markland
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filled with smoke. The banners she had glimpsed briefly when she had yanked Rosamunda back into the chamber were now floating bits of scorched fabric. Flames licked at the rafters. Fear wound its tendrils into her belly. She screamed, slamming the door shut.
Hastily she dragged a bliaut over her nightshift and threw one to Rosamunda. “The house is on fire. Put on your slippers, quickly. We must leave or we could be trapped.”
Rosamunda’s eyes widened in fear. She stumbled from her bed and ran to the door, clumsily pulling the bliaut over her nightshift. Paulina blocked her way. “Too much smoke.”
They both looked to the window. Paulina might squeeze through it, but they were three floors up.
Smoke billowed under the door; breathing became more difficult.
Paulina covered her mouth and nose with the wide sleeve of the bliaut . She grasped Rosamunda’s hand. “The garderobe ,” she rasped.
Rosamunda frowned, but allowed Paulina to drag her to the privy. Their grandfather, Sir Stephen Marquand, had apparently boasted proudly of the modern addition he had made to Kingston Gorse. Imprisoned as they were, both girls had been grateful that the house had a privy shaft. It made life more civilized.
Paulina had no idea where the end of the shaft came out, but braving that unpleasant unknown was preferable to burning to death.
She shoved aside the heavy curtain separating the garderobe from the main chamber. “Help me,” she insisted, straining to push off the wooden planking that covered the hole.
They peered down into blackness. Rosamunda grimaced and held her nose. Paulina’s throat was raw, her eyes watering. She hoped she did not look as deathly pale as her sister.
“Afraid,” Rosamunda mouthed, stark fear in her eyes.
Paulina shook her head, gagging on the smoke. “A rope—with the linens.”
She staggered to regain the chamber, but the smoke was too thick and she was forced to retreat into the garderobe . Rosamunda lay slumped against the privy, gasping for breath through the sleeve mask, her eyes glazed.
Hopelessness flooded Paulina. She swallowed the lump in her throat, resigned to the inevitable. Sobbing, she lay down beside her beloved sister, stroking Rosamunda’s hair, praying for deliverance to heaven.
“At least we will die together.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Burning thatch showered down around Adam and Denis as they made their way up the smoke-filled staircase to the upper chambers. The hungry flames were greedily consuming the house. Timbers hissed and popped. Denis glanced down to see the Lallement brothers thundering up the stairs behind them.
It angered him, but was also a relief. If there were indeed two women trapped upstairs, it was unlikely Denis could carry either to safety.
Adam put his shoulder to a door. He stumbled into the chamber as it gave way easily. Denis followed. Vincent staggered in behind them, hacking breathlessly.
They peered into the smoke.
Lucien arrived. “The garderobe ,” he rasped.
Denis dropped to all fours and crawled in the direction Lucien had pointed. He bumped head first into a heavy curtain. He thrust it aside. “Here!” he shouted, frustrated that the rag around his mouth muffled his shout.
Two women lay slumped against the privy, or perhaps a woman and a child?
A child?
He scrambled to her side, dragging her into his arms. He put his ear to her mouth. Still breathing. He could carry a child. The others would have to save the woman.
He hugged the girl to his bare chest, preparing to hoist her over his shoulder. The soft breasts pressed against him did not belong to a child. His shaft stood to attention.
Perhaps a dwarf after all?
A fierce determination to save the life of what now appeared to be a tiny woman surged through him. He lifted her over his shoulder and came to his feet.
Vincent jostled him. “Let me take her.”
Denis snarled at him. “ Non !”
He turned to leave the chamber, vaguely aware of Adam beside him, the other
Hastily she dragged a bliaut over her nightshift and threw one to Rosamunda. “The house is on fire. Put on your slippers, quickly. We must leave or we could be trapped.”
Rosamunda’s eyes widened in fear. She stumbled from her bed and ran to the door, clumsily pulling the bliaut over her nightshift. Paulina blocked her way. “Too much smoke.”
They both looked to the window. Paulina might squeeze through it, but they were three floors up.
Smoke billowed under the door; breathing became more difficult.
Paulina covered her mouth and nose with the wide sleeve of the bliaut . She grasped Rosamunda’s hand. “The garderobe ,” she rasped.
Rosamunda frowned, but allowed Paulina to drag her to the privy. Their grandfather, Sir Stephen Marquand, had apparently boasted proudly of the modern addition he had made to Kingston Gorse. Imprisoned as they were, both girls had been grateful that the house had a privy shaft. It made life more civilized.
Paulina had no idea where the end of the shaft came out, but braving that unpleasant unknown was preferable to burning to death.
She shoved aside the heavy curtain separating the garderobe from the main chamber. “Help me,” she insisted, straining to push off the wooden planking that covered the hole.
They peered down into blackness. Rosamunda grimaced and held her nose. Paulina’s throat was raw, her eyes watering. She hoped she did not look as deathly pale as her sister.
“Afraid,” Rosamunda mouthed, stark fear in her eyes.
Paulina shook her head, gagging on the smoke. “A rope—with the linens.”
She staggered to regain the chamber, but the smoke was too thick and she was forced to retreat into the garderobe . Rosamunda lay slumped against the privy, gasping for breath through the sleeve mask, her eyes glazed.
Hopelessness flooded Paulina. She swallowed the lump in her throat, resigned to the inevitable. Sobbing, she lay down beside her beloved sister, stroking Rosamunda’s hair, praying for deliverance to heaven.
“At least we will die together.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Burning thatch showered down around Adam and Denis as they made their way up the smoke-filled staircase to the upper chambers. The hungry flames were greedily consuming the house. Timbers hissed and popped. Denis glanced down to see the Lallement brothers thundering up the stairs behind them.
It angered him, but was also a relief. If there were indeed two women trapped upstairs, it was unlikely Denis could carry either to safety.
Adam put his shoulder to a door. He stumbled into the chamber as it gave way easily. Denis followed. Vincent staggered in behind them, hacking breathlessly.
They peered into the smoke.
Lucien arrived. “The garderobe ,” he rasped.
Denis dropped to all fours and crawled in the direction Lucien had pointed. He bumped head first into a heavy curtain. He thrust it aside. “Here!” he shouted, frustrated that the rag around his mouth muffled his shout.
Two women lay slumped against the privy, or perhaps a woman and a child?
A child?
He scrambled to her side, dragging her into his arms. He put his ear to her mouth. Still breathing. He could carry a child. The others would have to save the woman.
He hugged the girl to his bare chest, preparing to hoist her over his shoulder. The soft breasts pressed against him did not belong to a child. His shaft stood to attention.
Perhaps a dwarf after all?
A fierce determination to save the life of what now appeared to be a tiny woman surged through him. He lifted her over his shoulder and came to his feet.
Vincent jostled him. “Let me take her.”
Denis snarled at him. “ Non !”
He turned to leave the chamber, vaguely aware of Adam beside him, the other
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