R. Mathewson - Truce: The Historic Neighbor from Hell

              “Johnny!”

              “Here,” a small voice said, sounding terrified.

              “Under the bed!” Robert yelled.

They both quickly dropped to their knees. Elizabeth leaned down and peered under the bed and nearly wept with relief when she spotted the small boy curled up beneath the bed.

              “Come here, sweetheart,” Elizabeth said softly around a cough as smoke threatened to suffocate her.

              The little boy shook his head. “Come here, you’re worrying your grandmother. You don’t want to do that, do you?”

              “No,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “I’m scared.”

              “I am, too. I need you to come out here, Johnny, and help me,” she said firmly, hoping the demand would be enough to convince him to come out.

              The boy thought it over before reluctantly nodding. Hesitantly, he reached out and took her hand. When a loud crack echoed throughout the room a few seconds later, the frightened boy tried to pull back, but Robert grabbed his arm and yanked the boy out the rest of the way before he could move back. Johnny shrieked in surprise.

“Good, let’s go,” Robert said, reaching back and taking her arm. He pulled her towards the kitchen where they both froze in horror. The way they’d come was now engulfed in flames.

              “Out the back!” Elizabeth yelled. She tugged on his hand and pulled him towards the door that led to the small garden. She managed to yank the door open and fled the house with Robert in tow.

              “I want my Grandma!” Johnny sobbed.

              Robert nodded sympathetically. “We’ll take you right to her.” He looked back at the house. Thankfully the house was made of thick stone. It would help slow the spread of flames to other houses and give the men a chance to put out the fire. They could hear the men shouting orders for more water while others screamed in fear.

              “We’ll have to go around the alley,” Elizabeth said, her voice raw from the smoke.

              “Let’s go,” he said in agreement.

Johnny wrapped his small arms around his neck while they charged through the thick smoke that poured into the alley. Water thrown on the neighboring roofs to prevent the fire from spreading dripped down on them. The cool water felt good on their overheated, ash covered skin.

              Elizabeth squeezed his hand, afraid she’d lose them in the smoke. She tugged none-too-gently to get them onto the street where they both collapsed in coughing fits. Their lungs cramped under the demand for fresh air.

              “Over here!” a man yelled.

              Strong hands suddenly clasped Elizabeth by her arms and hauled her up. In seconds she was cradled in someone’s strong arms. She looked up expecting to see her father. Instead she was looking at Robert’s soot covered face. She watched a muscle pulse in his jaw as he stared down at her.

“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” he said hoarsely.

              “Where’s Johnny?” she asked, close to panicking when she didn’t spot the little boy. Had they lost the boy in the smoke?

              “Calm down. He’s okay. His grandmother tore him from my arms before I hit the cobblestone.”

              “We need more men! More men!” someone screamed.

              They looked over to see wide gaps in the water bucket line. Without a word, she squirmed out of his arms and ran to fill the gap at the front of the line. “Elizabeth!”

              She ignored him. As soon as she found a spot she jumped into the rhythm of passing the water buckets to the first man on the ladder and taking the empty buckets out of his hand and passing them back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robert jump into the line. He worked hard and fast, but kept his eyes on her. Her father and James were further down in the line, already soaked to the bone. The women in their party were gone along with her family’s carriage. It was for the best. They were completely useless standing around swooning.

              Several women, maids mostly, from other households, joined the line upon seeing her. Soon the water was moving faster. Her arms and back were suffering under the constant strain, but she pushed on. She never asked anyone to relieve her and never slowed down. The houses were mostly made of stone and a good distance apart, but if they didn’t get this fire out, there would be nothing to stop the fire from spreading from rooftop to rooftop until it found a wooden building. Then there would be big trouble.

              Seven hours later the fire had consumed everything that it could. Men were forming lines into the house and putting out smaller fires. They were very fortunate that the fire hadn’t spread. The house was in complete ruins, but other than a few burns, no one was seriously injured.

              Elizabeth and the four men completely covered from head to toe in wet soot traveled by Lord Bradford’s carriage to Bethany House, her family’s London seat. No one was surprised to find the parlor full of curious women. They nodded politely, but didn’t answer any questions. They were hungry, tired and sore. All Robert wanted at that moment was a hot bath, a warm bed and perhaps a warm body to hold. His gaze shot to Elizabeth the same time that hers shot to his. They held the gaze until one of the men cleared his throat.

              “I’ve had rooms set up for you and hot baths should be awaiting all of us,” Lord Norwood said, his voice was as scratchy as theirs. “I’ll have meals brought up. Get some rest and then later we’ll sit down and figure out some things.” His attention shifted to Elizabeth. She swallowed nervously and stepped back into James, who steadied her by cupping her elbow with his hand.

              “Are you okay?” he whispered.

              She nodded.

              “Thank you for your help, Elizabeth. I don’t think we would have put the fire out as quickly or would have been this fortunate not to lose anyone in the fire if the women hadn’t joined,” James said sincerely.

              “Y-you’re welcome,” she said, a bit embarrassed by all the attention.

              “I would have to agree. Thank you, my dear,” Lord Bradford said, bowing to her.

              Robert didn’t speak. His eyes dropped to where James held her elbow before he turned around and gestured for a footman to show him to his room.

Her father looked both proud and upset. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. It’s not good for an old man’s heart to see his youngest daughter run into a burning building.”

              “Sorry, Papa,” she mumbled as he kissed her forehead.

              “Run along and get cleaned up.”

              “Yes, Papa.” She forced a smile and made her way upstairs. A nice warm bed sounded so good. A nice warm strong body to curl up with sounded better. She looked towards the guest wing and sighed. That would have been very nice indeed.

              “Good morning, Lady Elizabeth,” he heard a footman say in greeting to the woman that hadn’t left his thoughts since the moment he’d laid eyes on her in the orangery.

              He paused mid-chew, wondering if he should do them both a favor and sneak out the servants’ door and leave for the day, but the maid carrying in a fresh platter of eggs took the decision out of his hands.

              With a putout sigh, he got to his feet and picked up two of his empty plates and headed for the sideboard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elizabeth enter the breakfast room, come to an abrupt halt when she spotted him, take an anxious step back before a look of determination took over her features and she forced herself to walk into the room. So, she wasn’t a coward, he thought with a spark of admiration, that was good to know.

              Because he just couldn’t help himself, he took his time loading both plates with food. He ignored the rather adorable homicidal glare that she was sending his way as she stood to the side of him, holding an empty plate as she waited for him to get the hell out of the way. When she started to tap her foot impatiently, he decided that perhaps he should add a third plate now, to save time later and to annoy the little brat. He took his time making his selections, wondering just how far he would be able to push her before she started screaming at him or threw her plate at his head, but to his surprise she didn’t say a word while he made her wait.

              Feeling slightly disappointed, he picked up his plates, careful not to drop a single delicious morsel, and carried them back to his seat at the table. As he ate, he watched her make her selections, wondering if she was going to leave the room entirely or sit at the far end of the table to get away from him. She did neither, surprising him once again.

              “Couldn’t stand to be away from me?” he asked when she sat down across from him, because apparently he was an idiot. He should be avoiding this woman and figuring out a way to convince his mother that he needed to leave before he did something foolish like throttle the woman sitting across from him or bend her over the table, lift up the skirts of her light pink dress and relieve the ache between his legs that was now making itself known.

              Instead of answering him, she simply sat there eating quietly as she pretended as though she hadn’t heard him. He wasn’t sure why that pissed him off, but it did. Given their history it would probably be for the best if they ignored each other, but he really wanted to get a reaction out of her. He really loved it when she reacted, he thought, remembering last night when she’d been beneath him, fingernails digging into his back as he slid in and out of her incredibly tight sheath.