Chapter 26 #2
“Oh, darling.” She dropped to her knees, ignoring the pain that shot up her arm as the hot floorboards bit into her skin. She gathered him up, pressing his trembling body against her chest. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
The roof groaned above them. Catherine looked up just as a beam cracked and fell. Instinct made her twist, shielding the boy. The wood struck her shoulder with brutal force before splintering beside her. Sharp, white-hot pain shot through her, but she didn’t let go.
Her breath came in gasps. For a moment, there was only the roar of flames and the pounding of her own heartbeat. Heat licked at her skin, smoke stung her throat, and the ceiling above groaned as another beam gave way.
“Henry,” she whispered, pressing the child tighter against her chest. “It’s all right—we’re almost out. Hold on to me.”
She stumbled forward through the haze, but the fire had swallowed the hall. Every door she tried was blocked, every turn worse than the last. Then, over the crackle and roar, another sound broke through—a voice, deep and urgent.
“Catherine!”
Her head snapped up. Through the smoke, she saw Duncan, his coat thrown off, arm shielding his face as he forced his way inside. The sight of him cut through the terror.
“Here!” she cried hoarsely. “We’re here!”
Without hesitation, he crossed the burning threshold. The fire lit his shoulders, gilding him in gold and ash. “Give him to me,” he ordered, voice rough from the smoke.
She shook her head, coughing. “The doorway—it’s blocked—”
“I’ll clear it. Stay behind me.”
He tore down a half-collapsed beam with his bare hands, shielding her from the falling embers as he kicked open the last door to the yard. Cold air rushed in like salvation.
“Go,” he barked, and she obeyed, stumbling as she ran.
Outside, the winter air struck her lungs like ice. Arms reached for her, for the child. She blinked through the haze and saw Mrs. Simms running toward them, skirts gathered, face streaked with soot.
“Take him,” Catherine gasped, thrusting the boy into her arms. “Please—he’s breathing, just—get him to safety.”
Mrs. Simms clutched Henry close, tears cutting clean lines through the ash on her cheeks. “Oh, my sweet boy—yes, yes, I have him—” She hurried away toward the waiting carriage.
Catherine swayed, her vision blurring again. The cold bit into her, cruel after the fire’s heat. Then strong hands caught her—Duncan’s—pulling her steady against his chest.
“Catherine,” he said, voice fierce, breath ragged. “Are you hurt?”
She tried to answer, but the smoke burned her throat. Only when he pulled back slightly did he see the blood seeping through her sleeve, dark against the pale fabric.
His expression changed, the fury in his eyes replaced by something raw and unguarded. “God above,” he breathed. “You’re bleeding.”
She tried to smile. “It’s nothing. He’s safe.”
But her knees gave out, and he caught her before she hit the ground.
“What in God’s name were you thinking?” He held her by the waist. His hands were rough, strong, trembling slightly as they steadied her.
“I had to— the children—”
“They are safe because I sent half my men here,” he growled. “You could have been killed.”
“I couldn’t leave him.” Her voice broke. The child’s faint sobs still echoed in her ears. “He was alone, Duncan.”
He exhaled harshly, pressing his forehead against hers for a fleeting second. “You did not need to dive into the flames yourself to rescue him. What would I do if I lost you?”
Her heart jolted. Even in the haze of smoke and pain, that nearness—his breath against her skin, the rawness in his tone—made her tremble for reasons beyond fear.
“I do not know,” she whispered.
“You’re hurt.” His tone softened further.
“It’s nothing.”
He caught her wrist gently, turning her arm to inspect the scrape. Blood streaked her pale skin; his thumb brushed it slowly.
“Does that feel like nothing?”
Her throat tightened. “I feel no pain because you are near.”
Something raw, unguarded flickered in his eyes. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The firelight painted them in gold and shadow, and she thought absurdly that this was what it must mean to burn without flame.
The sound of cracking wood broke the moment. A section of the roof collapsed in on itself with a roar, sending a wave of sparks skyward. Duncan pulled her close instinctively, shielding her.
She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek.
“Stay with me,” he murmured.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice barely audible against the thunder of destruction.
As the last of the flames died, the courtyard was filled with smoke and silence. The children huddled together, coughing, weeping softly.
Catherine took a step toward them, but Duncan’s hand shot out, catching her arm. His grip was firm, urgent. “You’re not going back in there,” he said, his voice low and edged with command.
She turned to him. “I’m not,” she managed, shaking her head. “I’m going to them.”
“They’re being looked after,” he insisted. His tone was gentle. “You need tending yourself.”
But she was already pulling free. “They’re frightened,” she said, voice quaking with exhaustion. “They need to see me. To know they’re safe.”
“Catherine—” His fingers lingered for a moment longer, reluctant to let go.
She met his gaze, shadowed with fear, and placed her soot-stained hand over his. “Please.”
Something in him yielded. His hand fell away. And without another word, she crossed the yard and sank down among the children, her skirts blackened, her arm throbbing, her heart still racing with terror and relief.
She knelt beside the smallest girl, smoothing her tangled hair. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. All of you are safe.”
The child nodded, clutching her hand. Catherine’s vision swam, but she smiled anyway.
Behind her, Duncan spoke with the constable, issuing orders, his voice steady again. Yet every few seconds, she felt his eyes on her, a silent tether between them. He stared at her for a long moment, something fierce and helpless in his eyes, before turning away and continuing the conversation.
Catherine stayed where she was, surrounded by the children, her arm throbbing, her heart caught between gratitude and grief.
All they had…all the gifts she and Duncan had given them for Christmas…all the new coats and hats, boots and gloves were gone. The celebration that had lasted for ages just a few days before was long forgotten as the entire orphanage vanished in a flash of flame and smoke.
She had saved them.
But something inside her whispered that the fire had only just begun.