Night Fire

by Catherine Coulter

  “Dorcas, help me get him off me.”

  “No, I must make certain he’s truly dead. I’m glad I didn’t use poison this time. I like how the knife feels. Flesh is so soft, you know, my baby. So soft, it sinks right in. But he must be dead. I should stab him again. He’s so evil—”

  “Please, get him off me!”

  She knew she was going to be ill. In a spurt of strength she didn’t know she still possessed, Arielle managed to heave Etienne’s body away from her. She slipped off the bed onto her knees on the wooden floor. She jerked the chamber pot toward her. She vomited until there were only dry heaves racking her body.

  It wasn’t a question of a dream or reality anymore. It was the darkest pit of hell. She rolled over onto her side and drew her knees up to her chest. Dorcas was calling to her, but she couldn’t make out her words. She couldn’t have answered her in any case.

  It was Burke who saw the smoke.

  “Hold a moment,” he called to Joshua and Geordie. It was dark now, but there was, thank God, a full moon.

  He pointed. “Look. That’s Rendel Hall, isn’t it?”

  His question was purely rhetorical. In the next instant, he kicked his stallion’s sides. Joshua and Geordie were quickly beside him.

  Burke felt cold with fear. The flames grew steadily brighter, lighting the sky. The hall was on fire.

  He knew without a doubt that Arielle was there. And she was inside. And she could die.

  He flattened himself against the horse’s neck and urged him to greater speed.

  As they approached the house, the heat slapped them like a living thing, but Burke didn’t hesitate. He jumped off the stallion’s back and ran up the front steps to the Hall. The flames were leaping out of the upper story, thick dark smoke gushing out of the windows.

  “My lord. Wait, I’ll go.”

  Burke paid Joshua no heed. He flung open the door and ran inside. Smoke filled the entrance hall. He threw back his head, shouting, “Arielle!”

  No sound.

  He ran toward the stairs. Suddenly he tripped over something in his path. He regained his balance and stared down. It was a dead goose. He shook his head and bounded up the stairs.

  He shouted her name again and again. He heard the men pounding behind him. At the head of the stairs, he directed them down the western corridor and he took the eastern.

  Suddenly a woman tottered from a room, bent over, coughing.

  “Arielle!”

  But it was Dorcas, and in her hand was a bloodstained knife. He felt a twisting in his guts, such a deadening fear that when he heard the broken anguished cry, he knew it had come from him.

  He ran to her. “Where is she?” He yelled at her, shaking her like a rat. “Damn you, where is she?”

  Dorcas raised her watering eyes. “I knew evil wouldn’t die. I tried, you know, twice I tried, but here you are again, back to hurt my baby. I won’t let you. I won’t let you!” She jerked out of his grasp, then came at him with the knife. Burke reacted instinctively. He slammed his fist into her jaw. The knife slipped from her bloody fingers and skittered across the corridor floor. He left her unconscious on the floor and ran into the bedchamber from which she had come.

  First he saw Etienne’s body, lying half on the floor, half on the bed. There was an ugly gash in the middle of his back. He was naked and he was quite dead.

  Then he saw Arielle. She was on her hands and knees, coughing violently. He saw the burning pile of rags in the master bedchamber just beyond.

  Had old Dorcas been trying to destroy the evil by burning the room? The house?

  “Love,” he said and quickly grabbed a blanket to wrap around Arielle. “You’re safe now, I promise you. Come, we must get out of here.”

  Arielle raised burning eyes to his face. “Burke?”

  It was a thin thread of a sound. But at least she was alive. He lifted her in his arms.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

  “I knew you would come. I knew.”

  “Yes, I came. It’s all right—now it’s all right.”

  He strode out into the smoke-filled corridor. He bent down to look at the mad old woman. She was dead.

  He shook his head at the waste of it all. He kissed his wife and held her tightly against him.

  “I was strong. Burke, I was strong.”

  Epilogue

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  SEPTEMBER 1814

  “Thank God that’s over.”

  Burke grinned at Knight, who had just wiped a singularly beautiful handkerchief across his brow.

  “It wasn’t you, Knight. Why are you sweating like a pig? Are you feeling like a fox with the dogs on your scent?”

  Knight looked pained. “The overflowing good spirits scare the hell out of me. It’s really a man’s last stand, and what happens? Just look at Percy. The fellow succumbs with a vacuous smile on his face. It’s enough to make a man lose all hope.”

  “Your turn will come, you’ll see. You’ll want it to come.”

  “I will not be domesticated like my aunt Sally’s obnoxious cat. It freezes the soul even to contemplate it. At least you should be well pleased, Burke. Lannie and the girls are no longer your responsibility.”

  “I’ll miss Virgie and Poppet.” Burke then looked a bit surprised. “Actually, I’ll even miss Lannie.”

  “Where is your beautiful wife?”

  Burke had been wondering that himself. “I think she’s upstairs with the new bride.” He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t let her out of his sight since that ghastly night some three weeks earlier. It still made his blood run cold to think about it. He could still picture the violent orange flames, still see the roof of Rendel Hall collapse inward as he was riding away, Arielle clutched against his chest. He could still see his wife’s pale face, her pain-filled eyes. He’d asked her no questions. He’d simply kept her beside him, saying nothing even as he’d taken care of her. He’d wondered briefly if Etienne had raped her before Dorcas had plunged the knife into his back. If, indeed, that was why Dorcas had stabbed him.

  He hadn’t asked her about that either. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was safe, no thanks to him, her so-called protector.

  And she was strong. She’d told him so over and over that night, even as he’d bathed her and gently rubbed in the cream on the crop welt and the bruises.

  “You want to try some of Corinne’s champagne punch?”

  Burke brought himself back to the present and shook his head at Knight. “First let me locate Arielle. If she is with Lannie, she’s probably exhausted from all the chatter.”

  “Look at poor Percy. All he does is grin like a fool. Marriage does that to a man, you know. Makes him numb in the brain. Like you, Burke. All you can think about is Arielle.”

  “It isn’t a bad thing, Knight,” Burke said easily. “Indeed, it is altogether pleasant.” And terrifying he wanted to add, and painful, particularly when one failed the other and the other was hurt because of that failure.

  “I can get all the pleasantness in the world with my mistress. Incidentally, Laura misses you. She told me so herself.”

  “That’s nice,” Burke said absently, and Knight just shook his head sadly.

  “She said I was the better lover.”

  “Remarkable,” Burke said.

  Knight laughed, clapped him on the back, and walked over to where Percy stood, surrounded by friends, his fifth glass of champagne punch in his hand. Burke had offered to keep Virgie and Poppet with him at Ravensworth Abbey while Percy and Lannie went on their wedding trip, but Corinne had insisted the girls stay here in London with her. Perhaps, Burke thought, he should take Arielle on a wedding trip. A change of scene, far from the blackened ruin that had been Rendel Hall, far from Evan Goddis, far from all the painful memories.

  It had taken nearly three weeks for her body to heal and for the mark of that single welt and bruises to disappear. She hadn’t wanted him to see her, and he hadn’t insisted. It was only two night a
go that he’d finally seen her naked, in the bathtub. She was so white and soft-looking and so beautiful he wanted to touch her and plunge into her and hold her. But he hadn’t. Her body might be healed, but he wasn’t certain about her mind. He realized he was afraid. Afraid he might rush her, afraid he might push too hard and hurt her.

  He sighed and headed for the stairs. He was deep in thought when he heard her voice.

  “Hello, Burke.”

  He smiled from ear to ear at the sight of her. “Are you numb from all Lannie’s chatter?”

  “No, but she is terribly excited, you know.” Arielle walked down the stairs and placed her fingertips on his arm. He searched her face for signs of strain, fatigue, even pain. “You’re all right?”

  “Yes.”

  That was always her reply. He had no idea what the truth was. What do you expect? he’d asked himself. He hadn’t told her any of his thoughts, so why should she be any less reticent with him?

  “I should like some champagne punch. I think Lannie drank three glasses and she, I promise you, is ready to dance.”

  “Much like Percy, I suspect.”

  She chuckled and touched his cheek with her fingertips. Without thought, he kissed her. She became very still.

  “Burke—”

  He kissed her again, lightly, not trying to force her in any way, but the possession was there. He knew it and couldn’t control it. He wondered if that was what worried her so profoundly.

  “Don’t sound so wary,” he said, stroking his knuckles over her jaw. “It’s just a kiss. From your husband. He’s that man who’s inordinately proud of you. That fellow who thinks you’re so wonderful he wants to shout it to the world.”

  He heard a harrumph and saw his sister standing on the stairs behind Arielle. “Hello, Corinne. Everything is splendid. You’ve done marvelously well.”

  “You two are as bad as Percy and Lannie. I declare, it is more than a body can stand, a body that’s lived with the same man for twenty-two years, that is.”

  “Twenty-two years,” Burke repeated, smiling at his wife. “Will you still be interested in me in two decades?”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “Oh yes.”

  “You two come and mingle now.” Corinne said, and with sublime assurance that her orders would be obeyed, she strode forward, not looking behind her.

  “My sister is a martinet,” Burke remarked. “Come, love, and I’ll fetch you some champagne.”

  It was another fifteen minutes before Burke managed to speak to Arielle alone. She was sipping her punch, standing in the shadow of an overly large potted palm imported for the wedding.

  “Are you all right?” he asked again.

  “Yes,” she said.

  That yes was the one that tipped over the scales. He felt such anger he could have spit. “Of course you would say yes. And frankly, I’m tired of your continually saying ‘Yes, Burke’ to me.” He paused but got no response. He controlled himself. His outburst was altogether out of proportion. “I wanted to speak to you, Arielle. Would you like to take a wedding trip?”

  He was watching her closely. He saw her pale, saw her close her eyes for a moment. He said very quietly, “Please tell me what you’re thinking. Don’t shut me out anymore.”

  She remained silent.

  “I love you, Arielle. I am your husband. You don’t have to be strong all on your own. You can lean on me; you may use me.”

  “Use you? I believe I have used you, innumerable times. The last time, you saved my life. If you hadn’t arrived, well, I would have ended up like poor Hannibal the goose.

  “Dammit, some help I was when it took me long enough to find you! If only I’d been thinking more clearly, if only I hadn’t gotten diverted to Leslie Farm, if only—”

  Her fingers touched his lips. “There was no way you could have known I was at Rendel Hall. No way at all. You came. That is all that is important. You saved my life.”

  He abruptly took the champagne glass from her hand and poured its contents into the potted palm. “We’re going back to our hotel.”

  “I should like that,” she said. He hadn’t bothered opening up the Drummond town house for their brief visit to London. They were staying at the Pulteney in Piccadilly, in the suite Czar Alexander’s sister, the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg, had used during the summer.

  Arielle said polite good-byes and let her husband lead her from the Kinnard town house.

  Burke hailed a hackney.

  He remarked on the unseasonably cool weather, the interesting cloud formations moving east toward Purfleet, the comfortable gait of the sway-backed mare. Nothing of any importance until they were alone in their suite.

  He leaned against the closed door. He looked at her and said very quietly, “I can’t bear this anymore, Arielle. I know you’ve been hurt, terribly hurt, but if you will only tell me, I can help you bear it. At least I can try. Can you not like me enough for that?”

  Like him? She laughed, a raw, hoarse sound.

  Her hands slashed through the air. “I like you, Burke. I love you, as a matter of fact. I told you, long ago, it seems.”

  She’d spoken quickly, her voice high. Still, he wanted to hear her say it again. “What?” he asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “I said I love you. Far more than that silly fifteen-year-old girl who stared at you with stars in her eyes. Oh, yes, she worshipped you, thought of you as a brave warrior god who through some unexplained miracle deigned to recognize her existence. She believed she was blessed when you smiled at her.”

  She stopped, infuriated by his slow, mocking smile. “All that?” he said. “Here I thought I was the one who was infatuated by that fifteen-year-old girl. I thought I was the one incredibly blessed when she smiled at me. I had no idea she worshipped me. It makes sense, of course, but I was too enthralled with her to notice.”

  “She was a guileless twit.”

  “And I was beguiled by her, twit or no.”

  “Oh, be quiet. She is not the one who is here today. Her infatuation for you was nothing at all compared with what I feel. You wretch, I love you—Burke Drummond—a man who is fine and good and—” She ground to a halt, threw her hands up in the air, turned, and walked away.

  He strode after her, grabbed her arm, and swung her around to face him. He pulled her to him tightly and pressed her face against his shoulder. “You foolish woman. I could spend two lifetimes with you and not have enough.”

  He kissed her then and the possession in his touch filled her and she accepted it willingly.

  “I’ve missed you terribly, Burke.” She stood on her toes, fitting herself against him.

  He held her tightly, stroking her back. Everything he’d wanted to tell her poured out of him. “You are so beautiful and soft and sweet. I nearly failed you, and I’ve hated myself for it more than I can tell you. I get cramps in my belly and sweat like the most cowardly soldier under fire when I remember that night. I will try my damnedest never to be apart from you again. Merciful heavens, I need you, Arielle.”

  She pulled back in the circle of his arms, looking up at him, a frown on her face. “You need me? That sounds so strange, Burke.”

  “Why? Do you believe me invincible? So removed and remote?”

  She pressed herself against him and felt him hard against her. “No,” she said, “not remote.”

  He grinned then. “You are a coquette and I will make you pay for it.” He swung her up in his arms and carried her into the large corner bedchamber, a room so impossibly opulent that Arielle had simply stared at it for a good five minutes when she’d first seen it.

  When he was finally lying naked beside her, he said, his voice low and intense, “You’re the strongest woman I know. You’re proud and you’re brave. You have so much to give, so much to teach me and our children. Will you come back to me?”

  “I never left you.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Never. It’s just that I left myself for a while.”

  “Can you translate that, ple
ase?”

  She laughed self-consciously. “It sounds odd, even to me. But there was so much to consider, Burke, so much to resolve inside me. What saved me with Etienne, what helped me be strong, was you. It was you who helped me become what I am now. You who helped me to stop being a victim. And I wasn’t. I hurt him, you know. If it hadn’t been for Dorcas, I would have controlled him. It was the oddest feeling, that I had power over him and that I was the victor—until she reminded him that he was the stronger, that he was the master and I was naught but poor, helpless Arielle.”

  She stopped and closed her eyes tightly.

  He said nothing, merely waited. His fingertips stroked over her jaw, her ear, smoothed back the hair from her forehead.

  “I didn’t mean to close you out or act as if you weren’t important to me, Burke. You were and you always will be. It’s just that—”

  “You had to go away for a while.”

  “Yes. Etienne didn’t rape me. He tried and he would have succeeded because I hadn’t the strength left to fight him. It was then that Dorcas stabbed him.”

  “It’s over.”

  “Yes. Finally.”

  His fingers moved downward as he spoke, and she interrupted him with a small cry. He looked at her face, saw that she wanted him, and grinned. “Does that mean you’ve come back to me? You want me inside you?”

  “Yes. That’s about it, I expect. In addition to being fine and good, you’re also beautiful and I want you. At least for the next two decades.”

  “You won’t leave me again?”

  “Only if you don’t tell me what Montrose did to get that pony, Victor, away from you.”

  He stared at her blankly.

  “Don’t you remember all those wonderful stories you told me when I was ill? You told me about Victor, your pony, and how Montrose wanted him and how the pony wanted Montrose.”

  “You’re thinking about a damned horse from years ago when I want to make love to you?”