Married to the Lord (The Wallflower Brides Book 2)

by Samantha Holt

  “Oh, Miles...” She flung her arms around him as he arrived.

  “Mr. Snow is in there,” she sobbed against his neck. “He went to get Augusta but...”

  “Gus?” He pulled back to eye Mrs. Snow’s tear-streaked face.

  “She was the first to spot the fire. She went in to get the horses.”

  Miles disentangled himself from her embrace and raced over to the blaze. Heat from the fire prickled his skin. “Keep trying to douse it,” he ordered the exhausted-looking stable hand. He spotted two horses loose and clever enough to put plenty of distance between themselves and the fire. The Snows owned three, he knew that much, which explained why Augusta was still in the inferno.

  Tearing off his jacket, he dunked it in the nearby water trough and put it back on, shuddering as droplets of frigid water trickled down his arms and neck. He undid his cravat and wrapped it around his mouth. Just as he was about to enter, someone emerged from the smoke. Bent double, Mr. Snow gagged and coughed, clawing his hands up Miles’s chest, though Miles suspected he had little idea who he was. His face was black and his hair singed.

  “Gus...”

  Miles nodded and passed the man over to Mrs. Snow. “Get him some water,” Miles ordered before ducking into the inferno.

  The lack of windows did not help with visibility. No wonder Mr. Snow had been unable to find Augusta. Smoke filled the air, making his eyes water. He remained low and called her name, moving slowly in case she was on the ground. Smoke tickled the back of his throat and he fought the urge to cough while heat from above dripped down, making him sweat. Flecks of flaming wood were beginning to drop down from the roof. He glanced up to see fire rippling along the beams, the only light in the gloom. It was a matter of time before the whole roof collapsed.

  A desperate whinny from deep within the barn snared his attention. He squinted into the gloom, eyes burning. The sweat dripping into his eyes didn’t help matters. But he had to get to Augusta.

  He pushed on toward the back, cursing when his toe struck something hard and pain burst through his foot. Gritting his teeth, he continued moving through the smoke. The heat increased and the flames above were clouded by it, creating an eerie red glow. All around him wood popped and hissed and somewhere behind him, something cracked. He didn’t take the time to look at what it was.

  His palms finally came into contact with the body of the distressed horse. “Gus?” he called, the word muffled by the cravat around his mouth.

  He dropped low and swiped the smoke and sweat from his eyes, all too aware he had no time for this. Much longer and the building would be down upon them. He scrabbled his hands across the ground until he came upon fabric. He bunched it in his hands and gave it a tug. It was most certainly attached to a body. He felt his way over to her and drew her limp form into his arms. As light as a feather and just as easy to handle, he slung her over his shoulder and grabbed the horse by its mane.

  “Come on,” he urged, tugging it forward.

  With much persuasion, the terrified animal moved at a slow pace toward the entrance. A thin shaft of light broke through the choking thickness. The building was small but he felt as though he might as well be wading through an ocean to escape. His lungs were thick with smoke and his head swirled but the slender legs currently tucked under his arm and the limp arms tapping on his back as he moved urged him onward.

  As they neared the front of the barn, the horse propelled itself forward, tearing from his grip and vanishing out of the entrance. Behind him, a crack reverberated through the air. He shifted Augusta fully into his arms and kept himself bent low, shielding her with his body and bracing himself for the moment that flaming wood and clay tiles collapsed atop him.

  The pain never came and he continued forward as fast as his sluggish legs could carry him until they were out into daylight. He squinted in the light and gagged on a gulp of fresh air. Augusta was swiftly taken from him before he had even had a chance to check on her condition. The stable hand gaped up at the burning building while Miles sank onto the edge of the water trough. He took a scoopful of it and swiped it over his face before sipping the bitter water from his cupped hands. “It’s lost, boy,” he rasped to the stable hand.

  “The horses are well, though.” The lad nodded toward the three horses, now corralled into one of the fields. Even the one Miles had rescued appeared well.

  Miles glanced wearily at the house, looking up to where he knew Augusta’s room was. He only hoped he had reached her soon enough.

  He watched as the barn began to collapse in on itself with an odd sense of detachment. He’d never seen a fire like it. The most common reasons for a fire like that would be because of an oil lamp spilled or someone being careless with a pipe. They were usually slow to start and rose up from the bottom. This one looked as though the roof had been set alight first. This fire had been deliberate, he was certain of it.

  Miles splashed his face with water again and finally found the strength to come to his feet. “You had better clean yourself up and get some rest, lad.” He told the stable hand, who had seemed mesmerized by the fire.

  “I’ll tend to the horses first,” the boy vowed, hastening away.

  As he stepped over to the house, feeling as though he had aged several decades, Mrs. Snow hurried out of the house and wrapped her arms around him once more.

  “Mrs. Snow, I am filthy,” he protested, his throat dry.

  “We will forever be indebted to you.” She stepped back and cupped his face in both hands. “She is well, if a little tired.” Mrs. Snow’s brow furrowed. “You must come inside and have a drink and some rest.”

  He gestured to the barn. “It could not be saved.”

  She waved a hand. “Oh it is only a building. Now, come inside,” she ordered.

  He ducked into the drawing room. Now that he was away from the smoldering building, he could smell the smoke coming off of his clothes. He looked down to see he was leaving trails of soot. “Mrs. Snow...”

  “Nothing that cannot be fixed.” She tilted her head. “Do you need to lie down? Mr. Snow is resting or else he would be here to thank you too.”

  He cleared his throat. “I am well enough, Mrs. Snow. Please attend to your family.”

  She clasped her hands together. “The housekeeper is with Augusta at present but I should see that Mr. Snow is well...”

  “Please do so but may I ask...that is, would you mind if I visit with Miss Snow—just to see that she is well for myself.”

  “Most certainly!”

  Mrs. Snow led him upstairs and let him into Augusta’s room. Laid against white sheets, she looked paler than ever. The smoke had been washed from her face and her skin was damp. Her eyes fluttered open and she bolted upright as soon as she saw him. “Miles!”

  “Please do not—”

  “I shall see to my husband, if you do not mind.” She gave Miles’s hand a squeeze. “Thank goodness you were nearby, Lord Ashwick. Whatever would we have done without you?”

  He gave a tight smile but could not tear his gaze from Augusta. The housekeeper sat on a rocking chair in one corner, her hands folded across her stomach and her eyes shut. Even when Mrs. Snow departed the room, the woman did not open her eyes.

  Augusta smiled. “It seems she has had a trying day.”

  “Not nearly as trying as you.”

  “Nor you.” She reached for him and he could not resist taking those delicate fingers in his and coming to her bedside. “Mama says you saved my life.”

  He lifted his shoulders as he came to kneel beside the bed. “You saved the lives of those horses.”

  “It was Jenkins,” she blurted out.

  “Jenkins?”

  “He was here. In my room. I…” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I hurt him and I’m certain he burned the barn in revenge.”

  “Christ,” he muttered. “I shall ensure he is dealt with,” he vowed.

  “I know you will.” She pressed the handkerchief she had bunched in one hand to her mo
uth when a coughing fit struck. Remaining sitting, she squeezed his hand tight. “Miles, I would have died in there had it not been for you—”

  “Do not even say that,” he said gruffly. He couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to her.

  “Miles, listen,” she said with more force than he expected.

  He let his lips curve. “Whatever you say, Miss Snow.”

  “I know that this is wrong to say and that given the circumstances with Henry…well…anyway, I must say this because all I could think about was how much I would regret it if I…”

  He frowned. “Gus?”

  “I love you,” she blurted out.

  Miles stared at her for several heartbeats. Had the smoke addled his wits? Surely she could not have…?

  “I do not expect—”

  Before she could say anything further, he rose and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, silencing her. He shifted back to eye her, bringing a palm up to cup her cheek. She tilted her face so he could feel the cool softness of her skin.

  “I love you, Gus,” he said through a tight throat. “Damn it, woman, I love you more than you realize.”

  She beamed at him and he had to wonder if he had not died in that fire and gone to heaven. But that couldn’t be right. He was not sure his tainted soul was ready for heaven yet. So this had to be real.

  “I love you,” she repeated softly.

  A loud, abrupt snore from behind him prevented him saying anything further so he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make you mine,” he vowed.

  He wasn’t sure how he was going to tell Henry about all this but now that he knew Augusta didn’t love Henry…well, he had to do something. Somehow, he had to tell his brother the truth—that he had loved his fiancée for longer than he could remember.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Skirts in hand, Augusta stumbled along the groove worn into the grass by the passage of many hundreds of feet. Overhead, the sun shone intermittently through clouds as they moved swiftly across the sky. A breeze rippled the lengths of grass that spread out in front of her but she welcomed the slight chill it brought to her heated cheeks. If she thought too hard on this, she would turn around and return home and wait.

  But no more.

  No more waiting for life to happen to her. No more passively letting others make her decisions.

  It had been two days since Miles had confessed his love for her and after a day's bed rest, she was itching to see him again. She was not certain why he had not visited since but she was simply done waiting.

  The estate office was set on a winding farm track, a lone farm building with one cart parked outside. Her heart picked up its pace and she moved quicker. He had to be there. And with any luck, he might be alone.

  Augusta approached the building slowly. Even if Miles's estate manager was there, she doubted he would have much to say about her being here alone—the man was hardly the sort for gossip—but she'd still rather avoid any scandal until she had spoken with Henry. Naturally, there would be talk that could not be avoided, and while the idea of being gossiped about once more made her toes curl into her boots, she knew it would be worth it. For the first time in her life, she was ready to take control of the direction in which she was headed.

  She only hoped Miles still felt the same.

  Stopping outside the red brick building, she peered in through the window. She ducked back swiftly when she saw Mr. Thomas, the estate manager, deep in conversation with Miles. At least she knew he was here, though. She had anticipated having to come up with an excuse to go to the house with her mother or perhaps asking Joanna to accompany her. How easy it would have been to talk to Miles alone there, she did not know, but she would do whatever it takes.

  Augusta slunk around the side of the building and waited, her back pressed against the rough brick. She squinted up at the sun as it touched her skin through a break in the clouds. With any luck, she would not have to wait long before catching Miles alone. He would have to leave eventually after all and she would probably dash after him and...

  A door slammed shut and Augusta dashed around the corner, paused, and quickly retreated, ducking back behind the wall as Mr. Thomas left the building. She pressed a hand to her thudding chest and stole a glimpse around the building. If he had seen her, he showed no sign of it, continuing at a quick pace away from the office. She waited until he was some distance away before pressing open the front door and slipping inside the gloomy confines of the building.

  Broken into several rooms, she could hear papers being shuffled to the right, where she had seen Miles. Swallowing the tight knot of half-excitement, half-nerves tightening her throat, she straightened her shoulders and stepped through the doorway into the main office. Miles was standing over a table, his brow creased in concentration while he riffled through paperwork. She took a moment to admire his bare hands, his fingers leafing through the sheets of paper confidently. She opened her mouth then shut it. It would be so easy to turn around, to wait and hope he would come and visit her. Surely he would? Her toes twitched with the desire to turn around and flee.

  No more.

  “Miles,” she forced herself to say, his name rasping from her throat.

  He turned swiftly, muttering a surprised curse under his breath. “Gus?”

  She offered a shaky smile.

  He glanced out of the window and moved past her to close the door and lock it. “What are you doing here?” He glanced her over. “You should still be resting. You should—”

  She held up a hand. “I am perfectly fine.”

  Miles pushed a hand through his hair. “I was going to come and visit you but I thought—”

  She could bear it no longer—looking at him and not being able to touch. The way he looked at her with such dark intensity, the heat that seemed to sizzle from his broad shoulders. It was too much. Taking two steps forward, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly, passionately.

  A surprised sound rumbled up from him but it was only moments before his arms were wrapping around her waist, drawing her hard into him. He returned the kiss with what felt like as much built-up frustration as she had suffered. She savored the touch of his firm chest, molding against hers with a sigh. His fingers dug into her waist, just so, providing her all the support her now weak legs needed. She funneled her fingers through his hair, drinking in the freedom to touch him, to feel him, to take everything he had to offer.

  When he broke away, every inch of her body felt heated and she gulped down a few breaths.

  He kept her close, pressing his forehead briefly to hers before landing a chaste peck on her nose. “You should not be here,” he murmured.

  “I did not want to wait.” She gave a light laugh. “I am very done with waiting.”

  “I know, forgive me.” He eased back enough to view her properly. “I wanted to give you time to rest and...well, I was trying to figure out what to tell Henry.”

  “I think I should tell him. That is if...”

  “I want you, Gus. More than anything.” He lifted a shoulder. “Whatever happens, so long as I have you, I am not concerned.”

  She smiled, relieved. “I will speak with Henry as soon as I can.”

  “We shall do it together.” He grimaced. “I hope he is not too upset.”

  Augusta gave a wry smile. “Somehow I think he will not be upset at all.”

  “You may be right, fool that he is.” He cupped her face, his palms warm on her skin. “My only concern was you,” he confessed. “I always thought Henry was what you wanted.”

  “For a brief while, perhaps he was, but I did not know my own mind.” She returned his caress, smoothing a thumb along the slightly rough line of his jaw. “I do now, though.”

  “God, Gus, I thought I'd go mad with wanting you,” he muttered before lowering his lips to hers.

  She sighed at the contact, sinking into him and letting the waves of desire carry her along. His tongue delved, tasting her, sending flutters of delight s
wirling into her belly. She moved closer and shuddered at the feel of his firm body aligned so perfectly with hers. He groaned and shifted his hands down, down, down, following the curve of her spine, touching her hips then finally cupping her rear. His arousal prodded against her and she moaned into his mouth.

  With a muttered curse, he lifted her. She latched her hands around his neck and her legs around his waist on instinct and a sound of delight escaped her. It took her a moment to realize it had even been her making such a noise. Her mind whirled, lost in a sea of need that had her desperate for more. Never in her lifetime could she have imagined such a moment. He pulled back briefly to meet her gaze and she saw the same emotion in him. His eyes were dark, his pupils wide. His breaths came raggedly and she felt the tension in his forearms as he battled for control. For the moment, she did not want him to have any.

  “Miles,” she whispered.

  He responded with a firm kiss, his lips sealing over hers and delving deep once more. He staggered back a few steps then twisted around, bringing her down onto the desk. He shifted one hand down her leg, the other cradling her back so that she was angled just perfectly so.

  “Oh!” she gasped between kisses.

  He moved against her and sparks of pleasure burst behind her tightly closed eyelids. Tingles raced along every inch of her body. She grappled at his shoulders, digging her nails into his shirtsleeves. No wonder she had been so confused, so lost to him. Nothing had ever felt so right.

  Miles shifted his mouth from hers, leaving her feeling briefly bereft. She opened her eyes as he trailed kisses down the arch of her throat. She shivered while new sensations rippled down her spine. He nibbled briefly at her ear, then kissed the hollow behind it. More open-mouthed kisses followed, moving down, down, down...

  Her whole body ached with need and she arched into him. His mouth lingered over the subtle rise of her breasts then came back up to press firmly upon her mouth. He drew back and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her with more passion than she ever thought possible. She pressed a hand through his mussed hair.