Fourteen
Lady Cassandra leaned low over the neck of her horse; her eyes squinted against the force of the wind, hooves pounding a staccato rhythm beneath her. Only a sliver of moon shone tonight, the pockets of the elven lord's fire across the countryside their only light. They had left the road far behind them, and Cass prayed that none of their mounts stumbled from a hidden hole. Thomas rode to her left, the child and her mother on his other side, and Cass sneaked a glance behind them.
Breden's half-breed, Cecily, had refused to leave without her mother, and since the girl looked younger than Cassandra had expected, they'd taken the older woman along with them without a fuss. But the combined weight of mother and daughter had slowed their horse, and the guards had caught up to them on the outskirts of London.
And they were gaining on them.
She'd felt grateful that the bumbling guards assigned to watch the girl had allowed them to free her without Cassandra's having to kill any of them. But despite their lack of skill, they had managed to rally quickly in pursuit.
A shot rang out behind them and Cass pressed her body even lower in the saddle. She glanced across at Thomas, whose face had hardened with grim determination. He must have felt her gaze and met her eyes, a curious mixture of fear and glee sparkling within the gray.
"We cannot outrun them," shouted Cass.
He nodded, hair streaked like a golden banner behind him. "I will stop and engage them, give you time to lose them in the forest ahead."
Cassandra didn't think it a likely plan, one man against so many, nor would she allow him to stand alone. But she didn't get the chance to respond to his suggestion, for the girl's mother, Eleanor, shouted her own response first.
"No!"
The look of surprise on Thomas's face nearly made Cass grin, despite the peril of their situation. For she'd noticed the adoring gaze Eleanor had bestowed on Thomas the moment he'd entered their cell and announced he was there to rescue them.
Cecily sat within the shelter of her mother's arms in the front of the saddle and had to turn her head back to stare up at her mother. Without the silverwhite hair of the elven, the girl didn't appear to have inherited so much of her father's gifts, until one noticed her eyes. Like the Imperial Lord of the blue scepter, they glittered an inhuman crystal blue, large and wondrous in such a tiny face.
Cecily leaned over a bit farther to look around her mother's body at their pursuers, and Cass felt grateful that the intensity of those crystalline eyes hadn't been directed at her.
Eleanor's arms tightened even more firmly about her daughter. The child then lifted her hands up to the sky, her fingers curling as if she beseeched some pet to come to her. It seemed as if the very air shifted, a sharp tang scenting the sudden breeze.
Within the shelter of the tower, the girl's sky magic might not have been useful, but here in the open…
Cass murmured soothing words to her horse. "Easy, boy. It will be just a bit of noise, a bit of rain."
She glanced behind her again. Fie, but she spoke falsely. Gray clouds gathered above their pursuers, following them as swiftly as any steed. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed with blinding brilliance. Although they rode at the edge of the cloud, their own horses still shied at the noise, and they caught the backlash of the rain that the skies released.
Although it looked more as if a bucket had been dumped on their pursuers, a flood of water that washed their horses' legs from under them sent them twirling in circles of water. Men fell from their mounts, their cries muffled by the deluge. Lightning hit the very ground among them, outlining quaking bodies with a glow before they collapsed into the puddles that had already started to combine into one shallow lake.
Lady Cassandra turned back around, gritting her teeth against the pellets of rain that struck like a flail on her face. She did not look at the child or at Thomas. She'd hoped they would accomplish their task without a loss of life. She prayed for the souls of the general's men as they left them far behind.
Thomas called a halt just within the forest, beneath a stand of oak, the heavy canopy of their leaves protecting them from the rainstorm the child had created. Cass leaned over and patted the neck of her lathered horse while Thomas had a whispered conversation with the girl's mother.
Cass glanced at the shivering girl. Cecily did indeed possess astonishing power. The descendants of Dewhame's ruler could alter water in small ways, but only Breden could call a storm. The girl surely would have been chosen, would have perished in an agonizing death by fire by Mor'ded's hand or… what? Did Breden drown his powerful offspring? Cassandra felt a sudden rush of rightness in rescuing Cecily, and thanked God for it.
Thomas walked his horse over to hers.
"How is she?" asked Cass, nodding at Cecily, who had collapsed within her mother's arms.
"She's just drained from the use of her magic. Eleanor is strong and can take care of the girl." His gray eyes appeared as dark as Dominic's in the dim light, but Cass thought she detected a glimmer of warmth as he spoke of the girl's mother. And indeed, Eleanor was remarkably beautiful.
"Thank you, Cass," murmured Thomas with feeling, and she noticed that the heat of his breath frosted the chill air with his words.
"Whatever for?"
"If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have found them. How did you know?"
Lady Cassandra shrugged. "An advantage to knowing the son, I suppose. I didn't think Mor'ded would risk keeping Cecily with the other children. He wouldn't risk exposing his charade."
"Clever, yes. But why did he surround them with such inept guards?"
Cass suspected Dominic had had a hand in that. Had he hoped the Rebellion would attempt to free the child? He'd felt so guilty for bringing the existence of Cecily to Mor'ded's notice.
Raindrops peppered the canopy above them, smacked Cass's head like dollops of melted ice, plunked against the ground in spreading puddles. Thomas reached over and took her hand, the warmth of it enveloping hers even through the cloth of his heavy gloves. "Come with us."
"I cannot. Even if I wanted to."
"You truly love the bastard, then?" Thomas shook his head, his golden hair plastered to his skull in a dark cap. "He will be the death of you."
Cass shivered, and not from the cold. She nodded at mother and child. "Can you hide them?"
"I'm skilled at stealth and disguise, you know." He gave her that rakish grin of his. "Your efforts tonight will not be in vain, I assure you. I will keep them safe."
Cassandra nodded.
"Lord Althorp?" interrupted the girl's mother. "We must get Cecily to shelter. She cannot withstand the cold in her weakened state."
Thomas quickly dropped Cass's hand and dug in his pouch, pulled forth a blanket and led his horse back over to theirs, gently wrapping the damp wool over the two. His strong hands lingered on Eleanor's thin shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
"I must return before I'm missed," said Cassandra, feeling suddenly uncomfortable by Thomas's attentions to Cecily's mother. He had been her friend and admirer for such a long time.
Viscount Althorp tore his gaze from Eleanor's and frowned at Cass, as if he'd forgotten her presence. "Are you sure you won't come with us?"
She felt Eleanor's gaze upon her. "Very sure. Farewell, Father Thomas." His teeth flashed white in the darkness. "I hope… I hope that one day we can meet again."
And she turned her horse around as he led the others deeper into the forest, knowing she'd never see him again. He would have to hide deep to keep them safe. New identities. A new life. Until the Rebellion had need of the child's gifts.
As Lady Cassandra made her way back to London, giving the newly formed lake a wide berth, she wondered if a half-breed's magic could ever be strong enough to stand against an Imperial Lord's. Once the Rebellion spread the word about the true fate of a chosen one, the people of England would fight to hide their children from the trials. Like this eve, many more men would die in their efforts to keep them safe.
Assuming the people would believe that the children weren't sent to Elfhame. It would be hard for many, who led such difficult lives, to give up the dream of a better life for their children.
And would the Rebellion save the children to challenge the elven lords, and lose their lives anyway when they failed?
Cass couldn't be sure. She only knew she could not stand by and let any child be sent to certain doom.
She avoided the streets when she entered the city, using what elven gifts she had to make her passage as silent as possible through mews and alleyways. She came upon the palace through the forest that sheltered the elven garden where she'd professed her love for Dominic, the faint sound of the musical flowers almost bringing tears to her eyes.
To love among such misery only made it feel all the sweeter.
She left her horse with May's smitten stable boy, the yawning lad asking no questions about Lady Cassandra's wet and bedraggled appearance. The entire palace seemed to sleep, for she managed to make it to her apartments unseen. She had concocted a story about tending to a sick friend at her old school to explain her absence in the dead of night, but fortunately she didn't have to use it.
Her shoes still squelched as she entered her silent bedroom, and she quickly removed them, setting them quietly down by the door. The curtains around the bed had been drawn and only a soft glow from the fireplace lit the room. She cocked her head, listening for the sound of her husband's deep breathing. Cass had left him a message that she would explain her absence when she returned. She would tell him the truth, and despite his ridiculous notions about her safety, she felt sure he would understand why she'd had to help Thomas.
She peeled off her wet stockings, managed to struggle out of the sodden dress and bodice, and had just started on the ties of her stays when she saw him.
He sat in a shadowed corner of the room, and at first she could see only the glimmer of his crystal eyes.
"Dominic?"
He did not answer. She slowly made her way across the room to him, almost afraid to approach his still form. He must be more angry with her than she had supposed. She started to babble.
"I had to help Thomas save her. Breden's halfbreed child. I… I could not let her face the trials. I know I've probably worried you, but I knew how guilty you felt about telling your father about the girl and so I thought you would forgive me—"
"Are you hurt?"
His voice sounded odd, the smooth elven richness of it changed to a gravelly whisper. She had reached the front of the chair, her damp petticoats brushing against his knees. He wore nothing but his breeches, his skin pale in the dim light.
"No. Just wet. Cecily, the half-breed, called down a storm on our pursuers and we caught the edge of it. But it allowed us to escape them, for Thomas to take them to safety—Dear Heavenly Father. Dominic, what's wrong with you?"
For her eyes had adjusted enough to see that his skin lacked its usual luster, that his face had seams of lines across his forehead, along the sides of his full lips. She reached out and laid her fingers on his arm, and he winced, pulling away from her. As if her very touch brought him pain. Then he leaned forward, every muscle in his body tense with sudden anger.
"I had planned on freeing her tonight, after the play," he growled. "With enough skill that no one would have suspected her absence until the morrow. When it would be too late to launch a successful pursuit. If you had but confided in me, I could have told you."
Cass tried to keep the sullenness from her voice. "You wouldn't have allowed me to help."
"No. Unlike your Thomas, I have a concern for your safety."
Would he never accept her competence in taking care of herself? "Thomas has faith and confidence in my abilities."
"Do not say that man's name again." His anger abruptly died and he collapsed back into the chair with a groan.
Cassandra fell to her knees. "Dominic, please tell me what's wrong with you. I see no sign of hurt, and yet…"
"Foolish woman," he whispered, as if his voice could no longer retain its usual timbre. "Did you not think that my father might come after you?"
"We had thought to take her in stealth but it did not go as smoothly as we had planned." Fie, she hated to admit that.
"It went better than you know."
He sounded so weak, as if he'd just returned from a battlefield. Had he been with the men who had pursued them? Had Cecily's spell caught him unawares? Cass did not understand, but instead of asking more questions she waited for his reply, a dreadful feeling twisting her belly.
"Father saw my lieutenant when he brought me news of the girl's escape. I could not keep it from him, nor could I ride after you, for Father would have joined the hunt. Fortunately your Sir Robert stood with us—"
She gasped.
"Ah yes. He's part of this Rebellion of yours, is he not? A clever man to have on your side, I wager. He questioned the importance of the girl, and of course, my father could not admit to it. So it gave me the chance…"
His voice faded, as if parched beyond speech. The feeling that had grown inside of Cass now solidified into a vague sort of terror. She rose on wooden legs, fetched a glass of water, and returned to hand it to him.
His hand shook as he brought it to his lips. She could not bear to see him so weakened, and collapsed at his feet again.
The water appeared to help, and as Dominic set the glass down on the delicate mahogany table at his side, his posture straightened. "I could think of no other way to distract him. I told him I felt the black magic within me, goaded him to test me in front of the entire court. And it worked."
Cass dropped her face into her hands. He'd made his father torture him with magic. For her sake. Dear Lord, how could she live with this? She had never had anyone make such a sacrifice for her, would never have expected it. She hadn't realized the way love could entangle lives. She had a greater responsibility for him now than she ever did for the Rebellion.
She lifted her head, met his eyes. "To say I'm sorry cannot erase your pain. And I cannot ask for your forgiveness when you have suffered so greatly. All I can do is promise that I shall never act without your knowledge again."
He grunted, leaned forward and clutched her shoulders, dragging her face up to his. "That is enough," he whispered. "Damn, it is enough that you have returned to me unharmed."
And then she could no longer stop the flow of her tears. But at least they were silent ones, running down her cheeks with nary a sob. He kissed her then, so tenderly it made her tears flow the faster, for surely just the touch of her lips caused him more pain.
"It has been long and long since anyone has shed a tear for me," he said as he pulled his mouth away from hers. "Father's black fire has an uncanny knack for lingering inside of me for a time, making me sensitive to the slightest touch. But it will fade."
"Is there naught that I can do?"
His lip twitched. "Get out of those wet underclothes and join me in bed. It will help if I'm nude atop the covers. Can you manage to lie beside me without touching me?"
Cass sniffed. "You are entirely too arrogant in regard to your beauty."
"Will it help to know that it will be torture for me not to touch you as well?"
Lady Cassandra rose to her feet and considered. He looked a bit better already, the hint of a smile lingering on his mouth. "Yes, my love. It does."
When they finally settled beside each other on the bed, Cass could not help admiring the lean sight of his body. "Does your hair hurt?"
"It wouldn't surprise me if it did; but no, I think not."
She wrapped her fingers in the long length of it. It lacked its usual silver sheen but still felt like silk within her palm.
"I told you," he murmured smugly.
Cass sighed and brought the locks to her cheek, breathing in the faint spicy scent. No, she could not help but touch him.
"My magic is still not strong enough to defeat my father. Despite Ador's words, I fear it may never be."
"God will grant you the strength when you have most need of it."
She felt his body stiffen in doubt, but he did not shush her when she began to pray. Indeed, he drifted off to a peaceful sleep on the sound of her words.
* * *
Cassandra felt as if she'd barely closed her eyes when the stench brought her awake. Dawn light filtered into the room, highlighting the planes of Dominic's body, making his skin shimmer. She glanced at his hair still tangled about her fingers and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it had regained its silver luster.
And then she coughed.
Cass rose as quietly as she could and followed the smell, staring out her window with disbelieving eyes. A ribbon of blackness stretched from the palace through the city almost as straight as a road, nothing but rubble in its path, the far end of it flickering with red fire, a cloud of black smoke hanging above it.
She felt Dominic join her, heard him curse, but could not tear her eyes away from the devastation.
"What has happened?" she breathed.
"My guess is that Father regained the full strength of his powers this morning. And that your Thomas has managed to get Breden's half-breed out of Firehame. Mor'ded hasn't had a tantrum like this for many years, and never through the heart of London. The nobles will be annoyed by the loss of their fine mansions." He turned and began to pull clean clothing out of the wardrobe.
"What are you doing?"
"I must stop the fire before it does any more damage."
Cass quickly retrieved her own clothing. Black. Again. Yet she could think of no better color to wear in soot. "How?"
"With fire, of course. I will start a blaze to combat the one still burning—what do you think you're doing?"
"Coming with you."
He stilled for a moment, those fathomless midnight eyes staring into her own. "This is not your fault."
She did not agree but knew the futility of arguing with him. "So many people will be hurt, Dominic. I must help them if I can."
He pulled on the coat of his red uniform, secured a black cloak about his broad shoulders. "Do not slow me down."
Cassandra nodded, snatching a plain woolen mantle, struggling into it while following on her husband's heels. She pulled the hood over her head as they made their way through the eerily silent palace, and stayed beneath that covering while Dominic gathered up a troop of his men, gave orders to many others. She rode her black stallion, who had become hers by the simple fact that he allowed no other to approach him.
They rode hard through the streets of London, on parallel roads untouched by the fire, until they reached the end of the blaze. Dominic guided them directly in its path, behind several buildings that the fire had not yet reached. He ordered his men to clear the buildings, but most people had already fled, except for a lame old man and his grandson who had refused to leave his side.
At first the pair stared at Dominic with cold hatred, and Cass suspected they thought he was Mor'ded, but when they caught sight of Cass and studied her husband's uniform and face, their expressions changed, and they waited and watched with the rest of the general's men.
Dominic seemed to struggle to call his power, perhaps still not fully recovered from last night's ordeal, and Cass sidled her horse up to his, reached out to touch his arm. He glanced at her but a moment, his eyes shimmering with determination, then held up his hands. Gray flame burst from his palms, crawling over the buildings before them, smothering the red fire from the top down. But the red slid beneath his magic, igniting the buildings, smoke pouring through open windows.
The heat of the flames burned Cass's cheeks and robbed her of breath.
Then Dominic cursed and slammed down both his arms; a gray shimmer flashed before them, and the red fire snuffed out.
He gave a satisfied toss of his head and turned his mount.
"Where are we going?" asked Cass, blinking tears from her eyes, the smoke still shrouding the street.
The general frowned at her. "Back to the palace."
"But… but what of the people?"
"I have dispatched men to assist where they can, to quell any ensuing riots. The healers will see to the injured."
Cass prayed for patience. She must remember that he'd walled off his heart a long time ago, and even now he'd opened only a part of it to her. And she might be asking more of his power than he possessed. "But the city healers have but a whisper of the blue fire that you can call. Did the summoning of the gray flame exhaust you, then?"
"Of course not."
Ah, how she loved his arrogance. "Then we must do what we can. Even if we save only one life, it is worth the cost."
Without another word, the general turned his mount in the direction of the black wreckage, ordered his men to find and bring the injured to him. He dismounted near the edge of the burned street, sat upon an old planter as if it were a throne. Within moments, his men started bringing him the injured. Cass stayed by his side, made sure he did indeed have the power to use the blue flame without draining himself completely. He became absorbed in the healing as his soldiers brought one after another person to him.
After barely an hour, Cass felt near tears. So much suffering… and all of it her fault. She had to do something, anything to atone for what she'd done.
"Dominic," she murmured. "I'm going to help the men find more survivors."
He looked at her with dazed eyes, his face composed despite the suffering he witnessed. Despite the magic he was expending. Cass held her breath. She had promised to tell him her intentions, but she could not stop from doing what her heart bade her to. She didn't know if he had understood that.
Dominic nodded and turned back to his task, and Cass could breathe again. Her husband did indeed accept that she wouldn't be a normal wife. He would not deny her freedom in fear for her safety. With the exception of her challenging Mor'ded, he seemed to think she could take care of herself. Or at least, that's what his agreement proved to her.
Lady Cassandra leaned over and kissed her husband's cheek, much to the astonishment of several of his men, and then leaped onto her stallion's back.
And quickly joined the general's troops in the hunt for more survivors.
The buildings along the fire's path had suffered from the strength of the blaze, parts of them collapsing, especially the older structures. Her stallion picked his way through the rubble, suddenly perking up his ears in the direction of an old workhouse. It took a few moments for Cass to hear the cries as well.
She dismounted and gingerly made her way through the fallen stone and mortar, entered the collapsed building by ducking under fallen beams. "Where are you?" she shouted.
A faint response came from the left. Cass crawled through the wreckage, heading toward the sound, hoping that the way ahead wasn't completely blocked. She coughed again and again from the smoke and black dust, and the half-buried people continued to call out hopefully toward that sound.
Cass was brought up short by a tower of rubble with no way around it. For a moment she could hear nothing but the pounding of her heart. She focused on that rhythm, using it to build a dance. But she hadn't been taught one that could make her scale small mountains.
So she would have to improvise. She took the speed and power of a death dance, the strength of a love dance, and combined them into a new pattern that allowed her to spin and twist her way up the wreckage, through the small crevice that brought her face-to-face with four small children.
Their faces were so layered with soot that the whites of their eyes stood out in startling contrast.
"Bugger me, it's a lady."
Cassandra smiled at the boy. "Indeed, but I shall need the help of a man to get us all out. May I depend upon it?"
Green eyes widened, and he quickly nodded.
"What's your name, sir?"
"Henry, at yer service, me lady." He pointed at the ground beside him, explaining why he hadn't already rescued the others by himself. "This one here's too heavy ta carry, and I couldna jest leave her."
She glanced down in surprise at a black, unmoving bundle. Without the whites of her eyes, Cass hadn't seen her. She picked up the child, who despite her size, didn't weigh as much as she should.
"Now then, Henry. Please take the hands of the other children and lead them after me. It will be easier going down than up, but we must take care not to jostle anything and to go as quickly as we can." She stepped out of the dark crevice, squinting at the comparative brightness of day shrouded by black smoke. "Step where I step, do you understand?"
All the children nodded warily. Cass descended the mountain of rubble, the dance still thrumming through her blood, and managed only one misstep. The blackened beam gave way beneath her and she slid, holding the girl up as high as she could, praying they wouldn't slide all the way to the bottom. But another beam brought them up short; the pile shivered in response for a moment, then settled again.
"That was a close one, Henry," she called behind her.
"We'll be more careful, me lady."
And indeed, they were. Without further mishap they reached the bottom, snaked their way through the rest of the collapsed building. To Cassandra's relief, the stallion stood waiting for them, nickering at the sight of her. She had feared he might be stolen while she was inside, but apparently no thief dared to approach the devil of a horse.
The rest of the children followed the horse, giving him a wide berth, while Cass carried the unconscious girl with her in the saddle. When she returned to where she'd left Dominic, her brown eyes widened with surprise. Tents had been erected in the bare area, pallets beneath them, and now several healers, distinguishable by their blue robes, mingled alongside the general's men.
Cass awkwardly dismounted, the girl now heavier than she had been at first, and approached the largest tent. Word had spread quickly for a line of people awaited the healing blue fire of her husband's magic.
A stout woman with a blackened apron and a motherly smile herded the rest of the children over to a steaming pot above an open fire, although Henry refused to be ambushed and stuck by Cassandra's side, his eyes fixed on the girl within her arms.
A healer with a soldier escorting him appeared at her side, lifted the eyelids of the girl. "You should take her to the general's tent." He nodded his head at the line. "This isn't something my powers can heal."
Henry rubbed stubbornly at his eyes.
"She will be fine," Cass assured him, glancing down at the boy.
The soldier standing next to the healer gasped. "Lady Cassandra?"
He looked so astonished that she felt sure she must look a sight. "Yes?"
"Please follow me." The soldier gently but firmly grasped her arm, as if afraid she would disappear, and tugged her toward the large tent. The healer stared after them with an open mouth. The soldier took the girl from her arms and then nodded for her to enter first, and Cass sighed, knowing she deserved whatever scolding Dominic would give her. But she hadn't realized she'd been gone so long—it felt but a few moments since she'd heard those first cries.
But he gave her only one long look and turned his attention to the soldier. "Put her on the table."
"Aye, sir."
Dominic held his hands over the child while Henry shuffled from one foot to another, his green eyes widening as the general's hands began to glow. Blue fire bathed the girl, and Cass watched in admiration as the child's eyes blinked slowly open.
Dominic collapsed onto a stool. "Take her back outside to the other healer. She needs a splint on her right leg that time will heal. I must conserve my magic."
"Aye, sir."
"You." And he focused his eyes on Cass. "Take the boy to get some food. Then return to me. I have need of you here."
He would not berate her, then. Just remind her of her duty to her husband. He looked tired beyond endurance. "Have you eaten?"
He frowned. "I can't remember."
"Faith, it is past noon." She spun around, almost barging into the soldier, who stared at her with widened eyes. "Why are you still standing here? You heard the general. Come along, Henry." And she snatched up the boy's hand, dragging him in her wake.
Whispers followed her as she made her way through the makeshift camp but she paid them nary a mind. Her husband needed her. She took him a bowl of soup and loaf of bread, watched until he'd eaten it all. "Do you feel better?"
"Yes. Send in the next one."
And that was how it went for the rest of the day, Dominic healing with blue fire while Cass fed him when his strength seemed to falter, until dusk shadowed the corners of their tent.
"Enough," she finally announced, sending the few remaining injured to the other healers. "You cannot do more without risking harm to yourself."
"You are one to talk."
Cass frowned, hands on hips. "Dominic, you look dreadful."
"Look in a mirror, my dear. I wager I look better than you."
"I took a tumble; that's all."
"Your face is black with soot."
Cassandra's hands flew up to her cheeks, but since her gloves had already been blackened beyond repair, she could not wipe her face clean. She glanced down at her torn gown and grimaced, knowing the back of her skirts looked far worse from her slide down the rubble. But saving those children had been worth it. It had helped her with the guilt she felt at causing this entire fiasco. If she had just spoken with Dominic first, he wouldn't have challenged his father. And Mor'ded wouldn't have lost his temper and flamed a ribbon of black through London.
"I suppose I do look a sight. But I saved five children, Dominic. Although I should say four, since you are responsible for the recovery of the girl."
He raised one silver brow.
"It is worth a bit of soot, don't you think?"
He moved so quickly with that elven speed and grace of his that Cassandra barely blinked before she found herself in his arms.
Shadows flickered across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones, his square jaw. "You have taught me to care for others again. That is worth more to me than a bedraggled wife."
Before she could take mock offense at his description of her appearance, he swept his lips down on hers, making her stomach flip, causing her to rise to her toes. Cass clutched his shoulders and he gathered her closer, his hands exploring every inch of her torn dress.
When he pulled his mouth from hers, some of her soot had transferred onto his pale skin. "It doesn't matter what you're wearing, my dear. You always look beautiful to me."
Heavens, would she ever get used to such romantic remarks from her once rigidly composed husband?
"But I suppose you want to be clean, anyway. It will probably take me all night to scrub the soot off you, so we'd best be on our way."
Cass felt her cheeks heat, imagining such a thing, but she couldn't stop the eager nod at his words.
Dominic led her from the tent and they both stopped in astonishment as the crowd in the makeshift camp suddenly broke out in cheers. Although her husband didn't betray a hint of it on his handsome face, Cass knew he must be feeling just as confused as she by the outburst.
But as they walked through the crowd toward their mounts, it became clear.
"Thank you, my lord," said the old man who'd witnessed Dominic's squelching the blaze.
Dominic did not have the chance to object to the honorific when the boy next to him echoed the same words.
The children Cass had rescued brought her a ragged bouquet of flowers, and although she suspected they'd snatched them from someone's garden, she took them and buried her nose in the blossoms—for the first time that day smelling something other than smoke.
Henry led the children away, but not before he gave Cass and Dominic a bow worthy of the most elegant courtier.
It took them some few minutes to reach their horses as they made their way through a throng of healed people eager to praise them with kind words, and in Lady Cassandra's case, reach out just to touch her.
But finally Dominic swung her up in the saddle, his face shadowed with concern, but his lip twitching into an almost smile. "You have made the people love you."
"You are the one who healed them."
He swung onto his horse in one smooth movement. "At your bidding."
"You are not the kind of man to be forced to do anything you don't want to."
A few of his men surrounded them so he did not reply, but as they rode back to the palace, she felt his eyes upon her again and again.