Her breath hitched painfully. She thought of the argument—of her sharp question about Bonnie, of Halvard’s closed expression, of the sting she had felt in the moment he walked away from her. The absurd, childish resentment she’d felt only minutes earlier.
And now he was inside a burning building, risking everything because a child had screamed.
Because that was who he was. Reckless, stubborn, relentless.
A man who ran into fire while others stepped back.
The flames shifted suddenly as a portion of the roof gave way, sending a torrent of sparks into the yard. Villagers cried out, but Elsie’s voice failed her. Her hands shook violently, nails biting into her palms.
Smoke poured out of the doorway, thick and black and merciless.
But there was no trace of Halvard.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Not willing to leave his fate up to God alone, Elsie took a step forward, ready to run in after him, when the doorway exploded with a burst of sparks and embers. A broad silhouette appeared, staggering through the smoke, a coughing, squirming little boy clutched against his chest.
“Halvard!” she gasped.
Sten and two other men rushed forward to grab the child. Halvard sank to his knees in the dirt, coughing, soot-streaked, his sleeve burned away to reveal angry red skin along his forearm.
Elsie was on him in an instant.
“Are you mad?” she cried, hands shaking as she gently touched his scorched arm. “You could have died! You reckless, stubborn…”
He looked up at her through red, blood-shot eyes.
“He was alone,” he rasped.
“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be so reckless,” her voice broke. She swallowed hard. “For God’s sake, you are a laird, you should not be so reckless.”
His gaze softened, just a fraction. “I didnae die. I came back, didnae I?”
But the fear in her chest refused to settle. She had watched him disappear into flames. She thought she would never see him alive again. And it scared her more than she’d ever admit.
She busied herself tending to his burn, avoiding the emotions building inside her. She brushed the soot from his skin as she examined the blistering with a healer’s precision. Her fingers were steady even if her breathing was not.
“You scared me,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
His hand lifted, hesitant, tender, and he touched her wrist. “Elsie…”
But before he could continue Sten shouted for more water and the moment slipped away.
It was hours later when the fires were finally dead. Night had fallen thick and heavy, the stars dim behind the lingering smoke. Elsie’s dress was ripped and muddied. Her hair flew wild and her face was streaked with ash and sweat. She looked nothing like the polished English lady she was born and groomed to be. If her parents saw her now, they would disow her, she was sure of it.
And yet…
Halvard stared at her in a way that made warmth spread through her middle. It was as if he had only just noticed her and she was somehow the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, suddenly nervous.
“Ye’ve ne’er looked bonnier,” he said quietly, voice still rasped and rough from the smoke.
Heat crept to her cheeks. “Don’t mock me. Look at me, I’m filthy.”
“Oh, I’m lookin’,mo bhean,” he drawled.
A breath caught between them and her world began to shrink until it held only the two of them. He stepped slightly closer. She felt the warmth of him despite the chill in the air. His hand lifted,hesitated, then softly brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek, his fingertips lingering at her cheek long after the soot was gone.
