She was determined not to scream, determined not to open her mouth, but a powerful cough took away that choice.
This was it. The end. If she closed her eyes, that darkness from her vision would take her. But she wasn’t ready!
Flanders!
He'll come. He must.
The flames crawled closer and licked the edge of the little platform, then began to chew. Heat and smoke became a blanket wrapping themselves around her. She choked again. Her vision blurred, but she saw Flanders’ form finally break free from the chair. James blocked a guard from stopping him.
It was too late. The fire surrounded her. The smoke was too much. She had to breathe something.
“No!”Flanders’ anguished voice seemed so far away…
A sound came from the edge of the fire and the torchbearer retreated. A hissing, like water on coals.
Something tugged the ropes away from her wrists.
Easy, lass. It’s over. I’m here.
But Flanders!
No time.
Wickham cursed aloud.
A low but forceful boom sounded, then ceased, as if it had never started, and she doubted her hearing. Blackness swallowed her, whisked her away from the hot wind that had pushed at her skin, then changed its mind. The rough wood of the pole was gone, the platform gone from beneath her feet. Her only anchor was Wickham’s grip on her arms.
She was flying. A mast on the bow of a ship cutting fast through a dark water she couldn’t see.
Was this death?
The platform suddenly returned and Wickham’s hands abandoned her. He cursed again and she opened her eyes just as he rushed back at her, a pale blanket in his hands with which he knocked her to the ground and started beating painfully on her legs.
A woman screamed her name.
Bella!
37
A TRUSTIN’ BUGGER
* * *
When Flanders was sure they would never come free, the chains finally fell away from the heavy chair. He didn't waste a moment but gathered the trailing links in his bloody hands and surged to his feet. The flames had fully engulfed the base of the pyre now, climbing hungrily toward Brigid. Even from this distance, he could see her choking on the thickening smoke, her body convulsing as she tried not to breathe.
"Move!" he roared, and the crowd parted.
With chains rattling, he ran, his eyes fixed on Brigid's face. The torchbearer recoiled from the fire he'd started. Nothing between Flanders and the pyre now. Nothing but fire between him and his love.
Twenty yards.
Fifteen.
Some fool stepped into his path and they collided. Flanders went down hard and landed on one knee. Pain shot through him from a chain pinned beneath it. Precious seconds were lost while he rocked to one side then scrambled to his feet again. He surged forward, found her again. With all eyes on him, he might have been the only one to see the dark shadow that loomed up behind her.
Wickham! It had to be!
But the fire!
