The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

“I found the window,” he coughed. “But it’s one of those stupid tall and thin ones. I don’t know if we can get through.”

More loud cracks and grumbles shook the surrounding walls.

“Let me see.” Some of the smoke was clearing, so she rose to her knees and made her way to the wall, clawing her way up it and holding her breath until she reached the space and the spot open to the air.

Harry was right. It was very thin and although some of the smoke began to escape outside, it made barely a dent in the thick fog within.

“You could do it, Gwyneth,” said Harry, moving beside her.

“Give me something to knock out these edges,” she replied, ignoring his statement. “The glass edging will give us another six inches or so if we can dislodge it.”

He crawled away, only to come back with a sculpture of some animal. “How about this?”

“Should work.” She set to carefully smashing the glass border and within a few minutes had widened the opening. “Now you try.”

“No, you need to go.”

“Harry. You have longer legs. A better sense of where we are. I have to assume that people have seen the smoke by now and are on the way. You are the best person to find them and bring them here.” She turned away. “I will not leave Gabriel, any more than I would leave you if you were injured.”

“Gwyneth…”

“Go, my dearest one. Please. Do as I say. I love you.”

He gulped, coughed, and then kissed her. “All right.”

She watched as he took off his jacket and gave it to her. “Here. Put this around Gabriel’s leg so it doesn’t get too much dirt.”

Then, with one last look that branded itself into her brain, he began to struggle through the window, easing his body sideways, going an inch at a time, and cursing softly when the bits of broken glass they hadn’t been able to clear, gouged his skin.

It seemed like hours, but it was probably only minutes until he tumbled free into the bushes beneath.

“I’m out. I’ll be back in no time. I love you.”

His words echoed through the din of the fire, and Gwyneth sighed, knowing that at least he was safe.

She crawled back to Gabriel. “Did you hear him?”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes. Please go. Get out. Save yourself, Gwyneth. Please.” His beautiful eyes were filled with tears.

She shook her head. “I won’t leave you, Gabriel. No matter what you say. You are mine. I love you. And I will stay here with you until help arrives.” She took his hand and lay beside him, knowing the small window wouldn’t stop the smoke or the heat and that it would not be long before this very room would be burning.

“We’re together. That’s the most important thing.”

Gabriel’s fingers tightened around hers. “I don’t deserve this. Don’t give your life for me. It’s silly.”

“Hush. We’re not going to give up our lives. We’re going to be here together, holding on to each other until help comes. It will, Gabriel. We’re family. The others won’t let us down.”

He bit back a sob and coughed again. “I…”

“Shh. I love you,” she said again, as much for her own comfort as for his. “Remember that Wolfbridge looks after its own. You and I are Wolfbridge. Harry, Jeremy, and Evan, they’re Wolfbridge too. We survive, Gabriel. We survive.”

And on those words, a shout rang out.

“Gwyneth, we’re here. Stay away from the window.”

It was Royce.

She bit back a sob of her own. “All right.”

There was a bang, a shudder, and a crash, and a portion of the wall fell away. Within seconds strong arms were lifting her and Gabriel and hurrying over the rubble into the blessed clean air outside.

She looked up, convinced that she was dead. “Giles?”

He smiled back, his eyes filling with tears. “Of course. Who else?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The fire at Fivetrees burned for quite some time, until a day of solid rain finally turned the embers to wet slabs of steaming charcoal.

Giles and Royce rode over to look at the remains.

“’Tis a sad thing,” Royce said quietly. “I’ve seen too many great houses burned to the ground. Reminds me of France.”

“The smell.” Giles nodded. “Yes, I too have memories of that smell.”

Both men gazed across the mass of shattered timbers and the ruins of stone walls that had probably stood for centuries.

“The Bishop would be saddened to see what his home has been reduced to,” commented Royce. “But perhaps we can turn this to good use…”

“Perhaps.”

Giles kept his thoughts to himself. He was no longer in a position to make decisions that might affect Wolfbridge, and knew Royce would certainly consult him, but when it came to the final moments…Giles would be stepping back.

However, they’d both collaborated on a statement in reference to the late Alfred Gylbart. And though everyone had scoffed at the phrase “Much respected member of Society”, something had to be said about his death. His family, such as it was, had been notified and the coffin containing his remains was transferred with all due respect to their hands.

The consensus was that he had been taking his own steps to secure Fivetrees, now that the legal challenge to the Mortmain had failed. He could have waited for the rest of his court-related matters to resolve themselves, but no. He had decided that if he couldn’t have it, then nobody else would. With no manor house, he could have substantially lowered his offer and there would have been no viable reason for it to be refused.

Giles knew Judith Withersby and her husband would do all in their power to keep it out of his hands, but sooner or later it would have to