The Perfect Arrangement (The Not So Saintly Sisters #4) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,50

he dare not imagine what it was doing to her pale lovely skin. He couldn’t imagine her pain or he was likely to go mad. “One. Two.” He secured it and lifted with all his might. “Three.”

It moved up, a few inches. “Push, Lillian, push.” Her eyes were squeezed tight, and she attempted to pull herself out with the spare inches he’d managed to give her.

“I’m stuck!” She gasped. “My gown! Go, Christian. Go!”

Christian removed the sword, sliced off what he could reach of her gown, and quickly shoved the sword back into place. “One. Two. Three.”

He lifted harder this time, ignoring the pain in his hand and at the same time, reaching down to drag her to freedom. She was caught, again, but they didn’t have time. With one jolting motion, he tugged with all his might, ripping part of her gown right off of her.

When he could see that she was in the clear, he allowed the suit to drop. Blood soaked her white chemise, and she lay lifeless on the floor.

He’d promised Bernadette that he would live. “Damnit, Lillian. I need you. Don’t you dare die on me!” he shouted as he lifted her into his arms. “Don’t you dare die on me! I love you! I know I’m not supposed to. I know it should be impossible. But I love you. You are my wife and I intend to be your husband for a very long time.” Carrying her toward the stairway, his voice was hoarse and dry. “I need you to live with me, though. Do you hear me?” Was that a sob coming from him?

The stairwell was nearly fully immersed in flames now, but it was the only way he knew out. He straightened his spectacles, steadied his grip, and hoped that love would be enough to keep them both alive as he dove into the tunnel of hell.

Chapter 14

I’m Here

“She’s a lucky young lady.”

Lillian fought drowsiness as she listened to a man’s voice. A physician?

“The ankle looks worse than it is. Have her maid apply the balm to her burns again later tonight and again in the morning. I’ll return tomorrow afternoon to check on both of you. You need rest as well, Your Grace.”

“She’s all right, though?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Of course.”

Footsteps and then the sounds of the door opening and then closing signaled that she was alone with him. So much of what had happened earlier that night was unclear.

Christian had come into the fire to save her. She remembered that much, but other things he’d said—promises he’d made—felt more like a dream amidst the nightmare of the fire.

“I love you, and I’m not leaving without you. You and I are both going to escape, and we are both going to live.”

She must have dreamed those words.

“Christian.” Her voice came out little more than a whisper. The doctor must have given her laudanum for pain, but she fought off the weighted feeling.

“I’m here.”

The sight that met her eyes made it worth the effort.

Standing beside the bed, covered in soot, he stood over her with his hair standing on end and with one lens of his spectacles cracked.

“You saved me.” Then she frowned. “Mother?”

“She’s asleep in one of our guest chambers, safe and sound and quite angry at herself for sending her daughter after a few old letters.” He smiled tenderly as he spoke the words, and as though he couldn’t help himself, his fingers caressed the side of her face.

“I thought I’d lost you.” His voice broke.

“I don’t want to lose you, either.” Her throat hurt and she was so very sleepy, but she needed to tell him. She needed him to know how she felt. When she’d lain trapped in the fire, believing certain death was her fate, her greatest regret was that she’d not be able to grow old with him. The two of them were meant to grow old together. She would believe in the future for both of them.

The sight of blood mixed in with some of the soot along his jaw broke her train of thought. “You are hurt?”

At her question, he shook his head. “It is nothing. Lillian. I’m so sorry for everything. For being such a fool.” His eyes shined even brighter than usual. “I pushed you into this marriage, but I can never regret it. I only regret that I didn’t meet you at a ball and request a waltz, or row you around a pond at a garden party. You deserve all