TheCharmer (5 page)

No time to cry out. No time to explain.

Collis flung himself across the room.
Oh, God, he was too far away
—

He took her to the mat in a ferocious tackle, rolling over and over with her in his arms. Behind them the giant oaken wheel crashed to the floor, sending up a whoosh of wind and hot spattering wax mingled with straw from the shredded matting, plunging them into total darkness.

«
^
»

Rose couldn't breathe. Couldn't see, couldn't move. For a single second, her mind went circling in panic. Then she focused with a will.

She couldn't see because the candles had gone out. Something heavy crashing to the floor—added to darkness permeated with the smell of smoking wick—equaled a narrow escape from Death by Chandelier. She'd been standing directly beneath the giant wheel if she recalled correctly.

Which meant that something had cut the rope.

Collis. And the reason she was lying here with the breath knocked from her lungs?

Collis. And the great warm weight that even now pinned her limbs to the floor?

Collis.

She forced her lungs to expand. The first painful breath was followed by another, less so. Above her she felt Collis sucking in a great lungful as well.

"Are you injured?" His breath brushed her face. His arms tightened around her, pressing her to his hard, bare chest.

"No," she whispered. "I don't think so." Distracted, she realized that she seemed to be embracing him as well. Her arms were looped under his and her hands clasped the back of his broad shoulders. Broad
naked
shoulders.

His muscles flexed beneath her hands. Momentarily charmed, still dazed, Rose dug her fingertips lightly in response.
He's so strong. Holding me so close, as if I were as dear as dear could be
.

Breathing still wasn't easy. In fact, it was becoming more difficult by the moment. He covered her like a lover, with her breasts crushed against his broad chest and his knee pressed between her thighs. The firm pressure against her sensitive center made hot jolts of want shoot across her body.

When he shifted that knee slightly, she nearly whimpered at the sensation. Her thoughts faded for a moment as she merely
felt
. She felt her skin shimmer as the heat of his body penetrated her. In a moment she would puddle like melted wax beneath him. He smelled so good—man and sandalwood and just a hint of clean sweat.

Deep inside her a tiny voice sighed in pleasure.
Don't move
.

Collis couldn't move. Wouldn't move. His senses were full of sweet aromas, warm sensations, and tiny breathless sighs. His arms were full of supple female.

She was lithe and strong beneath him, not limp and compliant. Firm and lively and very, very arousing. His arms tightened. For a moment he forgot everything but his arousal and the feel of her hands spread on his bare skin.

His breath mingled with hers as their lips hovered, not an inch apart. He could have her. He felt it in the way she lay open to him, the way the vee between her thighs was heating where his knee pressed. He could have her and it would be fast and hard and hurried and so very good.

They were already alone, already lying down, already in darkness…

She made a small noise. She writhed a bit in his arms. The squirm of her hips beneath him fired his erection further. He forgot his impairment, forgot that he couldn't feel how tight he was—

"Squeezing me!" Her voice reached a squeak. His arms loosened instantly. With horror he realized that he was as hard as stone.

Over
Rose Lacey
!

Quickly he scrambled backward, his feet scuffling in the scattered straw. He stood slowly, his hands fisting and releasing.
Think of cold water, man. Damp and snowy days when the fire only reaches so far and the water in the washbowl is like ice
.

His towering erection began to subside. Thank God the room was dark, although he suddenly realized it wasn't as dark as it had been. He blinked.

Rose was standing. "I can see you now. A candle must have survived, or perhaps a—" She stopped with a gasp. "Fire!"

Collis whirled to gaze at the wreckage in horror. She was right. The wax-soaked straw had smoldered under their inattention. Even as he watched, the tiny tongues of flame licked farther along the ruined mat as thickening smoke began to rise.

"Oh, God," he breathed. Not a curse. A prayer.

There was no time to run three flights of stairs to wake the other students—no time to run for help at all. The desiccated straw would burn like—like straw.

They ran to the flames and began to stomp them, but they spread too fast.

"The kitchen," Rose said. "Quickly—the pump!"

The school kitchen lay directly behind the arena. In a breath Rose and Collis were inside, fumbling in the dark. She pushed him to the left. "There, by the sink."

He felt around frantically. He'd never stepped foot into this kitchen. Kitchens were for servants and—at Etheridge House—for stealing a late-night bite from the larder. Right now he was wishing mightily that he had lowered himself to step foot into the school kitchen.

He found the rigid metal handle of the pump. He knew how to use a pump, thank God. It was like the one in the stables, and he knew how to care for his own horse.

Below the spout he found a small pot full of water that likely always remained there, just as in the stables. He primed the pump with a careless splash and began pumping with all his might.

Rose bumped him, shoving a large pot beneath the stream of water that gushed from the spout. In an instant it was full and she replaced it with another. Without a word, she ran with the two full pots into the next room. Collis continued pumping with his deadened arm, watching it closely in the unfortunately increasing light flickering from the other room. Now he could smell smoke, even in here.

They were going to burn down the school. Dear God, they were going to burn down
London
! With the other hand he reached blindly over his head for any container in reach that he could fill.

Rose came back, pushed the empty pots at him, and disappeared with the ones he'd filled. They worked like this in panicked and breathless silence for what seemed like hours. Collis felt the water run over the sink into his boots but never let up the pumping. Rose blew past him, tossing empty pots into the water with a splash that soaked them both and pulling full ones dripping from the sink.

Collis wanted to help but stayed where he was. Rose was faster. He was stronger. This was the best way to do it. He could only carry one pot without spilling it—his dead hand never seemed able to keep a grip unless he was looking at it.

Finally, he felt a small, cold hand rest on his good arm. "Stop," she breathed. "It's out."

Sure enough, there was no more dangerously flickering light, although the kitchen was choked with smoke. He reached out one arm to support her, letting his dead hand slide from the pump handle. She sank against him for a moment.

Now that they weren't in a panicked frenzy, Rose realized how cold and wet she was. Her clothing was soaked through, especially where she'd been forced to douse her own trousers to protect her legs from the heat of the flames.

But Collis was warm and he felt as solid as a tree in the smoky darkness. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and shake with all the relief and leftover panic welling inside her.

Surely he wouldn't mind, after what they had just gone through together? To lean on someone strong… just for a moment…

"Bloody
hell
!" The roar came from the arena.

The smoke had roused Kurt.

Rose watched warily as Sir Simon Raines tapped a finger on his lips while he walked slowly about the room surveying the damage done to the
Lillian
Raines
School
for the Less Fortunate. The former spymaster turned headmaster was usually a cheerful man, quite willing to be teased by his pretty wife, Agatha.

This early dawn, he was not so merry. In fact, Rose had never seen the man so grim as he eyed them both. Collis was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the very post that had once held the rope to the giant chandelier. His expression was one of buoyant unconcern. His knife still protruded from the wood above his head, just out of reach.

Rose couldn't decide whether to run screaming into the dawn or throw herself at Sir Simon's feet and beg for mercy. The devastation surrounding them was bloody phenomenal.

It had seemed bad enough in the darkness and panic. Now, in the bright light of the several carriage lanterns hastily hung about the chamber, it was much, much worse.

The giant mat was ruined. Not only had it torn down every seam from the impact of the chandelier, but it also bore a great charred hole in its center. Rose tried not to think about the way it also squelched wetly beneath his lordship's every step.

In the middle of the room, the wreckage of the giant oak wheel looked like the last siege of some medieval fortress. Great spokes pointed skyward like broken spears raised toward the pall of smoke that still drifted through the beams.

Around the perimeter, the dummies lay sprawled like the dead warriors of that fortress. Dimly Rose remembered knocking them down a few hours ago— had it only been such a short time? Now they were ruined as well, soaked by the volumes of water she had thrown on the smoldering mat. They would never dry but only mildew and rot from within.

It was carnage, plain and simple.

Rose tried not to think about the additional damage they'd done to the swamped and smoky kitchen. It would take days for the hungry students to clear it.

Sir Simon stopped and turned to face them with his hands clasped behind his back and ire in his blue eyes. "Fire, flood, and famine… in one short night. I must say, I wouldn't have believed it could be done." His dry tone did not bode well.

Rose didn't move or respond in any way. It was time to think carefully. Although she would never lie directly to the headmaster, she'd long ago learned how to evade complete disclosure. Everything might still be passed off as an accident. She was clumsy, everyone knew that—

Sir Simon let his sapphire gaze pass over her for one long moment, then turned it on Collis. "Here's what I see. You challenged Rose to a contest. You then carelessly sent a knife into the moorings of the chandelier. What have you to say for yourself?"

Rose blinked in dismay. How had he known?

Collis couldn't help his surprise. Rose must have sold him out. She hadn't seemed the sort, but then again, she was awfully keen on the rules. He didn't look at her but only kept his eyes on Simon. "I'd say you got the gist of the story, then." He shoved off the post with a grin. "It's just a bit of mess after all—"

Simon's sharply raised hand halted Collis's offhand apology. Collis subsided, glancing at Rose for support. She was looking down, her hands clasped tightly before her. Collis found himself disappointed that she'd obviously not felt the same sense of camaraderie after their struggle to douse the fire.

Oh, was that what you were feeling? And does camaraderie usually come accompanied by a raising of the old flag?

Collis squashed the thought. Lusting after Rose? 'Twould never happen again.

Simon was eyeing him now, but Collis didn't even bother to hide his impatience.

"What's all the fuss? It was nothing but a bit of healthy competition that got out of hand."

"You demolished the arena."

Collis threw up his hands. "I'll sew you another bloody mat, all right?"

Simon's gaze was cool. Too cool, really, for Collis's comfort. This wasn't going to go away, it seemed. For the first time it occurred to him that there might be serious consequences coming.

"What's it to be then? A scolding? A slap on the wrist?"
Expulsion
. The word began a nasty singsong in his mind.
No more Liars, lost it all, all adrift again
. He shook it off with a quick jerk of his head and forced a careless grin. "Probation?"

Simon didn't smile back. "You were already on probation."

Collis felt a shock go through his gut. Already on probation? He dropped his pose of unconcern. "Based on what offense, may I ask?"

"Lack of ability to play well with others," Simon snapped. "I've had my fill of the both of you, squabbling like children. You two are the best we have—the best we ever hope to have—yet neither of you has the slightest idea of what being one of the Liars truly means!"

Simon folded his arms and glared at them equally. "Hasn't it occurred to either of you that there may someday be a need for the bonds that you discount today? What of later, when you might be working Liars together?"

Uneasily Collis noticed that Simon said "might be"—not "will be." Collis opened his mouth to protest again, but there was nothing he could say in his defense that would not sound more asinine than what he had already said.