Jillian nibbled her lip thoughtfully. “And you, Quinn de Moncreiffe, why do you wish to wed me?”
“Because I care deeply for you, lass,” Quinn said simply.
“Perhaps I should ask Grimm about you.”
Quinn closed his eyes and sighed.
“Just what’s wrong with Grimm as a candidate?” she pressed, determined to have it all out.
Quinn’s gaze was compassionate. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but he will never marry you, Jillian. Everyone knows that Grimm Roderick has vowed never to wed.”
Jillian refused to let Quinn see how his words affected her. She bit her lip to prevent any rash words from escaping. She had nearly worked up the courage to ask him why, and if Grimm had actually said such a thing recently, when a tremendous explosion rocked the castle.
The windows rattled in their frames, the very castle shuddered, and both Jillian and Quinn leapt to their feet.
“What was that?” she gasped.
Quinn flew to the window and peered out. “Christ!” he shouted. “The stables are on fire!”
CHAPTER 21
JILLIAN RACED INTO THE COURTYARD AFTER QUINN, crying Grimm’s name over and over, heedless of the curious eyes of the staff and the shocked gazes of Kaley and Hatchard. The explosion had roused the castle. Hatchard was standing in the courtyard shouting orders, organizing an attack against the hostile flames that were devouring the stables and moving east to ravage the castle.
The autumn weather had been dry enough that the fire would quickly rage out of control, gobbling buildings and crops. The teeming village of daub-and-wattle huts would ignite like dry grass if the flames encroached that far. A few stray sparks carried on the breeze could destroy the whole valley. Jillian frantically pushed that concern to the perimeter of her thoughts; she had to find Grimm.
“Where’s Grimm? Has anyone seen Grimm?” Jillian pushed through the throng of people, peering into faces, desperate to catch a glimpse of his proud stance, his intense blue eyes. Her eyes were peeled for the shape of a great, gray stallion. “Don’t be a hero, don’t be a hero,” she muttered under her breath. “For once, just be a man, Grimm Roderick. Be safe.”
She didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud until Quinn, who’d surfaced in the throng beside her, looked at her sharply and shook his head. “Och, lass, you love him, don’t you?”
Jillian nodded as tears filled her eyes. “Find him, Quinn! Make him be safe!”
Quinn sighed and nodded. “Stay here, lass. I’ll find him for you. I promise.”
The eerie scream of a trapped horse split the air, and Jillian pivoted toward the stables, chilled by a sudden, terrible knowledge. “He couldn’t be in there, could he, Quinn?”
Quinn’s expression plainly echoed her fear. But of course he could, and would. Grimm could not stand by and watch a horse be burned. She knew that; he’d said as much that day at Durrkesh. In his mind, the innocent cry of an animal was as intolerable as the cry of wounded child or a frightened woman.
“No man could survive that.” Jillian eyed the inferno. Flames shot up, tall as the castle, brilliant orange against the black sky. The wall of fire was so intense that it was nearly impossible to look at. Jillian narrowed her eyes in a desperate bid to make out the low rectangular shape of the stable, to no avail. She could see nothing but fire.
“You’re right, Jillian,” Quinn said slowly. “No man could.”
As if in a dream, she saw a shape coalesce within the flames. Like some nightmare vision the white-orange flames shimmered, a blurred form of darkness rippled behind them, and a rider burst forth, wreathed in flames, streaking straight for the loch, where both horse and rider plunged into the cool waters, hissing as they submerged. She held her breath until horse and rider surfaced.
Quinn spared her a quick nod of reassurance before racing off to join the fight against the inferno that threatened Caithness.
Jillian darted for the loch, tripping over her feet in her haste to reach his side. As Grimm rose from the water and led Occam up the rocky bank, she flung herself at him, burrowed into his arms, and buried her face against his sodden chest. He held her for a long moment until she stopped shuddering, then drew back, wiping gently at her tears. “Jillian,” he said sadly.
“Grimm, I thought I’d lost you!” She pressed frantic kisses to his face while she searched his body with her hands to assure herself he was unharmed. “Why, you’re not even burned,” she said, puzzled. Although his clothing hung in charred tatters and his skin was a bit pinkened, there wasn’t so much as a blister marring his smooth skin. She peered past him at Occam, who also seemed to have been spared. “How can this be?” she wondered.