“I’ve never felt better.” She grinned, suddenly feeling light and free of all her worries.
Jack moved his plate aside. “Come here,” he said.
Ottilie inched forward.
“Closer.” He clutched the greatcoat and drew her toward him.
“That first day I saw you at the Baudelaires’ party, you became mine.” Jack caressed her face. “I wanted you then, and I want you now more than ever.” He rested his nose against hers. The warmth of his breath fluttered on her lips, and her breathing shallowed. She knew she should pull back or do something to break the spell, but she couldn’t. She longed to be close to him and feel his body pressed against hers.
He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his. He parted her lips with his tongue and kissed her with a passion she never knew existed. Her hands slipped under his shirt and rested on his muscled back. She didn’t stop him when he pulled his shirt over his head, nor did she resist when he grasped the buttons on the greatcoat. His hands moved under the coat and encircled her waist, protected only by a cotton chemise. The coat slipped off her shoulders, and Ottilie shrugged free of it.
*
He raced acrossthe grassy stretch of moorland, colorful and fragrant with the scents of spring, clutching a bouquet of snowdrops. The flowers were Frances’s favorite. They would make his sister happy—perhaps even healthy again. One look at these would surely be enough to get her out of bed and back on the moors. The parsonage stood in the distance, beckoning to him, and he yearned to be inside its walls. Mama hung the sheets while Frances ducked between them. What were they doing out of bed?
He ran faster, but not fast enough to stop the flames that burst from the straw rooftop and licked the stone walls. Violet appeared in the window of the burning parsonage, and she banged on the glass. “Sebastian! Help me!”
“I’m coming,” he screamed.
“No!” Frances appeared at his side. “Let the flames take her. Mama and I want Violet with us.” She turned to the window. “Come to us, Violet. Papa is here too. Leave Sebastian. He’s a bad boy.”
“I’ll be better. I promise! Look, I picked these for you on the moors.” He held the bouquet out to her. Frances grinned and stretched out her hand. Her fingertips touched the green stems, but she couldn’t grasp them. She coughed, a wild, hacking cough. Blood spewed from her throat and splashed the snow-white flowers with venomous red drops.
“Sebastian. Help me!” Violet banged on the window with both fists.
But he wasn’t Sebastian any longer. He was Jack, who lived an ocean away, and he could do nothing to save his sister.
The banging grew louder in Jack’s ears. His eyelids flew open. He stared at the ceiling and blinked, trying to get his bearings. The room was dark and somewhat chilly. He struggled to sit up, intent on finding his shirt, but a weight on his arm held him back. He glanced to his right and froze. Ottilie lay beside him, her flaxen hair loose and fanned around her face.
No!Jack’s brain screamed.No!Ottilie wore a white cotton chemise, and, even in the dark, he could see the pale outline of her shapely body. He pulled his arm gently out from under her, and she stirred slightly. Jack dropped his head in his hands. “Dear God,” he whispered. “What have I done?”
A succession of raps sounded and echoed down the hallway. Jack started. He looked around the room in confusion.Am I still dreaming? Perhaps it is only the wind.
The knocking grew louder. It was coming from the front door.Did Brandt forget his key?
Jack attempted to rouse Ottilie with a gentle shake, but she did not stir.
“Ottilie,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
She moved her head from side to side and mumbled as if dreaming.
Another urgent knock sounded.
“Ottilie.” He shook her again, a sense of urgency rising inside him.
She blinked and looked up at Jack as if confused. Then she gasped, sat up, and wrapped her arms around herself. “Why is it dark? What time is it? Did I fall asleep?”
“The fire’s out; I don’t know, and yes. More importantly, someone is at the door. I think Brandt forgot his key. But you’d best grab your clothes and hide lest that lunatic Lord Towne has decided to return. You can wait in my chamber upstairs.”
“Oh, dear!” Ottilie scrambled to her feet, grabbing her clothes in haste.
“Wait, let me light some lamps. I don’t want you to have to stumble around in the dark.” Jack retrieved a paraffin lamp and matches from the fireplace mantle. He knelt to remove the glass cover and light the wick. He replaced the glass, retrieved a second lamp, and repeated the process. Ottilie scooped up clothing, took one of the paraffin lamps, and hurried out of the parlor.
Jack followed and waited for her to disappear up the stairs before he hurried to the door. “Dash it, Brandt, did you forget your key?” He pulled the door open and froze.
“Hudsyn! What are you doing here? It must be past midnight.”
“I finished it!” Hudsyn held up a thick bundle of pages. “I’ve bloody finished my book of poetry.”
