She couldn’t allow that to happen.
At the well in the bailey, servants were drawing water as fast as they could. The unearthly metallic squeal of the pulley made Helena curl her hands into fists as she ran past.
“Milady.” The captain of the guard, brushing at smoldering patches on his garments, crossed to her.
Pulling up the hood of her cloak to protect her face and hair, she slowed to walk alongside him. Men separated from the thick, shifting smoke around the stable; they were tossing buckets of water at the building, trying to hinder the flames from spreading. “The horses?” she asked. Her father would be devastated if he lost his favorite destrier, and her gray mare—
“The stable hands got all of the horses out. They are tethered in the tiltyards.”
“Good. We need to bring more water—”
“I have sent a man to the village to summon help. Meanwhile, I have ordered every able-bodied man here to fight the fire.” The captain of the guard gestured to the long line of castle folk, barely visible through the smoky haze. “The line runs from the moat, across the drawbridge, and to the stable. The folk are passing along buckets of water as fast as they can be filled. Those who cannot manage the weight of the filled buckets are collecting the empty ones and taking them to the moat.”
A spark landed on Helena’s cloak with a fiery sizzle. She slapped at it, snuffing the flame.
“Milady,” the captain said. “Mayhap you should wait inside.”
In no way could she sit idle while the castle was under threat. “I want to help.” She hurried to the maidservants watching nearby. “We must form a second line, so we can bring more water. If you are able to help, come with me.”
“What about the river?” another woman said. “Could we haul water from there?”
An excellent idea, if there were enough people. “When the helpers from the village arrive, we will organize that,” Helena said, while she swiftly established a second line of folk leading from the moat to the stables. Ignoring the astonished gasps of the servants, she took the spot at the end, handing filled buckets off to the men battling the flames.
Despite the castle folk’s efforts, the fire continued to rage. The short patches of rain weren’t enough to hamper the inferno.
Frustration became a hard knot in Helena’s throat as she wiped her sweaty face with her wet sleeve. Help hadn’t arrived yet from the town. The blaze had to be stopped soon, or it would spread beyond the castle walls—if it hadn’t done so already.
Over the hiss and roar of the fire, she thought she heard the sound of hoof beats. One of the stable hands must be moving the horses to a safer location. Or mayhap mounts were being used to transport water? She couldn’t see through the smoke.
Helena grabbed another bucket from the maidservant beside her. Before she could hand it off to the waiting stable hand, a man stepped between them.
Scowling, the iron handle of the bucket digging into her fingers, Helena looked up at him. He was a tall, broad-shouldered fellow. In the hellish light, his angular features were cast in flickering light and shadow.
He wasn’t immediately familiar, and yet…she’d seen those piercing blue eyes before.
Helena froze, memories from years ago careening into her mind.
It couldn’t be…
“Helena.”
And yet, as he spoke her name, she knew without doubt that he was Tavis de Rowenne.
Chapter Four
“Tavis.” His name broke from her on a gasp. Helena’s mind reeled at seeing him again, while firelight glinted off the cross-shaped pin on his hooded cloak—the same jewel she’d held onto the day she’d almost drowned.
Helena moved aside so that the stable hand and the servants behind him could get to the water. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Your father was expecting me this week,” Tavis said.
Tavis was the lord from Dumfries that her sire had mentioned? No wonder her father hadn’t wanted to divulge his name to her.
As Helena grappled with shock and resentment, Tavis added, “I heard about the fire. I was in the town, staying the night at the inn—”
Frantic shouts and a tremendous crash carried from the stable. A section of the charred roof had fallen into the burning interior. Men scrambled out of the way as embers flew into the air, some landing on the ground; servants hurried to stamp them out.
“Father,” a child said from close by, “Dandelion is scared of the fire.”
A young girl, wearing a sky-blue hooded cloak, peered out from behind Tavis. She appeared to be about five years old, her brown eyes huge against the paleness of her skin.
With a jolt of surprise, Helena glanced from the girl to Tavis.
“This is my daughter. Merry,” Tavis said. “Merry, this is Lady Helena Marlowe.” Tavis hesitated. “At least, you were Lady Marlowe. Since you are no doubt married—”
“I am still Lady Marlowe,” Helena said.
He seemed puzzled by her revelation, and about to ask why, but then Merry stepped out from behind her sire. She was holding a cage, and as she dropped into an awkward curtsy, almost lost her grip on it. Tavis caught her arm, steadying her. “Careful,” he murmured.
The girl nodded. “Dropping Dandelion would most certainly upset his tummy.”
Tavis met Helena’s gaze; a warm tingle raced through her, a curious sensation she’d only felt when with him. “Dandelion is the name of her kitten,” he said, clearly guessing the question that had formed in Helena’s mind.
“I see.” The cries of the fire fighters drew Helena’s gaze. More of the stable was about to collapse. “Forgive me, but I cannot linger right now. I must return to helping the men.”
“I am here to help as well,” Tavis said. “More folk are on the way from the village.”
As unnerved as she was at seeing him, Helena couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.” Glancing at Merry, she said, “’Twould be best if you went inside the keep. ’Tis too dangerous for children to be in the bailey right now.”
Merry frowned. “But—”
Tavis set his hand on Merry’s shoulder. Such a tender touch. Helena’s throat tightened, and she quickly looked away. Catching the gaze of one of the maidservants hovering close by, Helena summoned the woman.
“…must go inside,” Tavis was saying. “There are a lot of sparks in the air. We would not want you or Dandelion to be hurt. I will join you as soon as I can.”
“But, Father—”
The maidservant curtsied. “Milady?”
“Sylva, please take Lady de Rowenne inside,” Helena said. “She may want food and drink. When she gets tired, escort her to the guest chamber with two beds in it. Stay with her until her father retires for the night.”
“Of course.” After dropping into another curtsy, Sylva gestured to the keep. “This way, Lady de Rowenne.”
With a grudging sigh, Merry left with Sylva.
Helena met Tavis’s gaze. Tension hummed between them, but before she could say a word, Tavis took a filled bucket and strode to join the men.
***
His eyes watering from the heat and the smoke, his arms aching from the numerous buckets of water he’d hurled at the blaze, Tavis broke from the workers near the front of the stable. He’d seen Helena go around the side of the building. He doubted she’d ever fought a fire before this night, and he’d be damned if she got hurt. The moment he’d seen her again after almost ten years, he’d experienced a welling of emotions so intense, he’d silently vowed to protect her with his own life, whether she wanted his protection or not.
After what had happened at the lake, he owed it to her to keep her safe.
Water sloshed onto his boots as he hurried to catch up with her. Truth be told, when he’d gazed upon her face, framed by the worn hood of her cloak, he’d found himself momentarily lost for words. She’d been beautiful long ago, but she’d grown even more exquisite as the years had passed. Hopefully that meant that those years had been g
ood to her, although he was surprised that she hadn’t wed. Once the fire had been put out, he would hopefully have a chance to talk to her and find out more about her life since they’d parted at Bremworth Keep.
She disappeared around the corner of the building, and he swore under his breath, pushing himself to a lope. The stable was burning quickly, and scorched timbers could fall with no warning.
The inferno buffeted him as he reached her. Smoke steamed from the wall and the ground, where she’d doused flames licking across the dry grass.
“We cannot let the fire spread,” she said, panic in her eyes.
“Agreed.” Tavis followed her lead and tossed his bucket full, and then stamped on the ground to ensure the flames were completely out. A few paces on, though, near servants throwing water, more lines of flame branched out across the grass. They were going to have to work harder to control the blaze.
Helena had already started running to the front of the building. He followed, dropping his empty bucket on the ground alongside hers before snatching a filled one. On her heels, he ran around to the rear of the building and poured his bucketful on the burning grass. Working silently but together, they fell into a kind of pattern: grab a bucket of water, run, toss the water, run again, drop the bucket, and grab more water. Their routine brought to mind the engraving on his brooch: We go in circles at night and are consumed by fire. Hell, they might be running in circles tonight, but neither of them was going to be consumed by the blaze. He’d make sure of it.
Pausing for a moment, he shoved back his hood, reached into the full bucket he’d just collected and splashed some of the cool water on his sweaty face. Over the shouts of the other men fighting the fire and the roar of the blaze, he caught the rumbling sound of approaching wagons. Relief rushed through him, for the townsfolk who had gone to the river to fill empty ale barrels with water had finally arrived.
Tavis glanced back at the stable, but Helena had disappeared from view. He caught up to her just as she doused a fiery patch on the uneven ground close to the back of the building. He helped her put out the flames.
As he straightened, he saw her staring up at the stable rafters that were enveloped by fire. “We should move away,” he shouted, pointing at the blackened timbers. “That section looks ready to collapse.” When the rafters fell, chunks of burning wood and sparks would fly out into the night—right where they were standing.
She nodded and started to walk away.
The flames suddenly surged, burgeoned by a strong gust of wind. With an eerie crack, the timbers began to fall.
She glanced back. Her eyes widened in horror.
“Run!” Catching up to her, he grabbed her hand and pulled her forward.
With a frantic cry, she tripped. She careened face first toward the grass.
“Helena!” He spun and hauled her to her feet as the ruined beams crashed to the ground in a violent spray of ash and sparks. Once she was standing, he slid his arm around her and urged her to a run. They headed for the front of the building, while flame-engulfed wood thudded on the ground behind them.
Back at the spot for empty buckets, Helena halted, panting, her hand pressed to her throat.
He glanced over her cloak. Thankfully, he didn’t see any signs that her garments were on fire. “Are you all right?”
“I am.” Her mouth formed a wobbly smile. “Thanks to you.”
He loved that she’d smiled at him, and he appreciated her gratitude, but his actions hadn’t been so remarkable. Shrugging, he said, “I only did what any gallant man would have done.”
“Well, if you had not hastened me to a run when you did—”
“Say no more.” He didn’t care to think what might have happened. Forcing a lop-sided grin, he asked, “Does that mean you will forgive me for that day at the lake?”
Her expression turned thoughtful. Her lips parted, as though she intended to challenge him, but then shouts and a gritty rumbling noise alerted them that servants were rolling heavy, water-filled barrels toward the stable.
When he glanced back at her, she’d picked up another bucket of water. Without a word, she returned to battling the fire.
***
Pinkish-gold dawn light touched the sky as the last defiant embers of the fire were snuffed out. The blackened skeleton of the stable was all that remained; smoke still coiled up from the white-hot ashes.
Helena rolled her stiff shoulders. Her arms hurt, and her hands were sore and blackened with grime, but she and the other folk who’d worked tirelessly through the night had finally triumphed over the beastly blaze. She’d ordered the captain of the guard to organize groups of men to search the surrounding fields and make sure the fire had not leapt over the keep’s walls. While a few small fires had been found in the surrounding grassland, they’d been quickly put out. The good folk who lived in cottages nearby as well as the town were safe; news she would be sure to convey to her father.
The pattering sound of water drew her attention. A few yards away, Tavis had tossed his cloak on the ground, kicked off his boots, and stood with his legs braced slightly apart. He raised a splashing bucket into the air, tipped his head back, and slowly poured the water over his face, the wetness trickling down his cheeks and chin onto the front of his sweat-soaked tunic. A primitive groan of pleasure rumbled from him.
The sound sent a wicked shiver rippling through her, and a pang of envy, for she longed so very much to be able to cool off as he did.
Realizing she was staring, Helena glanced over the bailey, illuminated by flickering wall torches, to assess what was left to be done. The captain of the guard, though, seemed to have already taken charge of the tasks. The townsfolk had departed a while ago, taking the barrels in their wagons, and servants had cleared away most of the buckets—
Fabric rustled, and she couldn’t help glancing at Tavis again. Her heart jolted, for he’d removed all but his snug-fitting hose. Oh, mercy, what a magnificent chest. She’d never seen such an enticing display of muscles, or such a flat belly.
He straightened from throwing his garments on the ground and caught her staring. He grinned, and a blush heated her face. Before she could look away, he crooked a finger. “Come join me. I can fetch more water.”
Whenever he and water were involved, matters ended badly for her. Besides, ladies did not splash in the bailey with half-naked lords, regardless of the circumstances…or how much they secretly wanted to. “Regretfully, I cannot,” she said.
“Because I am the one who asked?” His words held a hint of disappointment.
Not only because you asked. “Even if I wanted to cool off in that manner, I could never remove my garments as you have done.”
“Ah. I understand. Well-bred ladies do not do such things.”
“Indeed they do not.” Inwardly, she groaned. Now she sounded as prim as her childhood tutor had been.
“Since you have made up your mind, I will press you no further. The water feels bloody good, though.” He reached for another filled bucket. His impressive muscles rippled and stretched beneath his skin. A wicked part of her longed to stay and watch more water stream down his body.
“Helena.”
“A-aye?” He’d picked up the bucket, but hadn’t poured it yet.
“You worked very hard this night. Your father will be proud of you.”
She smiled. “I was most grateful for your help.”
Tavis’s mouth curved into that roguish grin again. How was it possible that just by grinning at her, he could make her giddy?
She was overtired. That must be the reason. She’d feel differently about him once she’d slept.
“When you are done with the water,” she said, “please come to the great hall. I have ordered food and drink to be readied for all who worked through the night. The castle healer will tend to any burns or other injuries you might have.”
“Kind offers. Thank you.”
Her pulse fluttered, but she forced the words out before she could change her mind: “The
servants will also prepare you a hot bath. I am sure we can find you fresh garments as well, if you do not have any spares. A guest chamber is ready in case you want to sleep.”
He whistled. “Tending to all of my needs? Are you trying to tempt me, Helena?”
His tone softened as he said her name; it warmed with an earthiness that sent an unexpected thrill chasing through her. He was tempting her, just with his voice.
Before she could think of a suitable reply, Tavis lifted the bucket. He shut his eyes, tilted back his head as the water, gleaming in the torch light, trailed down over his brow and streamed over the angular planes of his face.
She spun on her heel and hurried to the keep.
Chapter Five
Sitting at the lord’s table on the stone dais in the great hall, Helena smothered a yawn and ate another mouthful of cooked oats, fresh blackberries, and milk. At the oak trestle tables lined up in rows in the vast room, weary servants chattered and ate, their voices and occasional laughter creating a steady hum of sound.
At the table nearest the dais, Delfina wrapped linen bandages around a young woman’s blistered hands, while offering pots of salves and ointments to servants who had burns and other injuries. Thankfully no one had been badly hurt.
Helena’s eyes still burned from the fire’s relentless heat, and her clothes and hair reeked of smoke. She was so bone weary, she vowed if she closed her eyes, she’d fall sound asleep—and then would collapse face first in her porridge bowl. That would be rather humiliating, especially with Tavis seated beside her. He’d donned his garments again, but his hair was wet, and she couldn’t clear the image of him standing half-undressed in the bailey from her mind.
How shameful that her sire was ill in the solar, and all she could think about was Tavis’s glorious body.
Downing another mouthful of oats, Helena resolved to push through until she could go to her bedchamber. Regardless of how she felt about Tavis, she had a responsibility to her sire to ensure the Galloway lord’s visit went smoothly. She’d treat Tavis with the courtesy she’d extend to any well-respected nobleman visiting Kellenham. ’Twas the least she could do, after all of his help with the fire, even though she might privately wish he’d hand over the sword her father was expecting, get back on his horse, and ride away.
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