Dear Readers,
Here’s another scene from The Earl’s Enticement (May 28, 2014 Soul Mate Publishing.) This is the third book in the Castle Brides Series.
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In this scene, the elite guests dining at Cadbury Park have their dinner interrupted when a fire breaks out in the stables.
~~~
Thudding footsteps and frantic voices had Roark out of his seat and halfway across the dining room. Georgie, a stable boy, his face smeared with dirt and smoke, plowed into the room, Westbrook but inches behind him.
Holding his side and gasping for breath, Georgie blurted, “Fire, yer lordship! The stables are afire.”
Tossing her napkin on her plate, Adaira sprang to her feet.
The horses. Fionn!
She cast a frantic glance about the table. Chaos erupted. Women screamed and swooned, while the men littered the air with oaths.
Panic gagged her as a score of men, including Father, Dugall, and Flynn, charged to the dining room’s doors.
“A moment, please.” Roark held his hand up, his calm voice ringing throughout the room. Everyone turned anxious gazes to him.
How can he sound composed?
Gripping the table’s edge, Adaira squeezed her eyes shut, fighting waves of nausea.
Dear God, they must get to the horses.
“Lady Ferguson, can I impose upon you to entertain the ladies in the drawing room? Gentlemen who wish to assist me, please follow me. Lord Harrison, I leave the other gentlemen in your capable hands.”
Adaira’s eyes popped open. Drawing room? She wasn’t sitting and twiddling her thumbs in a confounded drawing room, listening to inane drivel. She sliced a glance to Mrs. Winthrop. Red-faced, she appeared to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit. Count von Schnitzer remained in his seat, casually spooning trifle into his mouth.
Unmitigated, cowardly boor.
Roark laid a hand on Westbrook’s arm. “Please see to the needs of our guests.”
“Of course, my lord,” the butler said, angling his head in acquiescence.
From the gleam in his eye, Adaira would wager her savings he would rather be fighting the blaze.
Without further ado, Roark and the other men, including a slew of liveried footmen, stampeded from the room. In the ensuing confusion, Adaira edged to the French windows at the end of the dining room. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she slipped out, unnoticed.
She rucked her gown to mid-calf and tore after the men thundering to the stables. They were joined by dozens of others, both the earl’s staff and servants who’d accompanied their privileged employers to Cadbury for the house party.
The screams of terrified horses, men’s coarse shouts, and the eerie groans and shrieks of the burning buildings shattered the night’s tranquility. Flames, fueled by a brisk breeze, shot to the heavens, lighting the sky with writhing orangey-red and yellow blades. Hell on earth.
Please let Fionn be safe. Please let Fionn be safe. Oh, God. Please.
