It seemed Adam and Rosamunda were made for each other. But he could never reveal the dark secret that would keep them apart.
Denis’ gut clenched. He hurried to Adam, holding up two fingers as he pointed to the upper floors. “We were right, and wrong. There may be two women up there. Come on. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow them to burn to death.”
He tore off the shirt he had donned hastily moments before, ripped off a length of it, soaked it in one of the buckets, and tied it around his face.
Adam followed his example.
Vincent put a hand on Adam’s arm. “It’s too dangerous. It’s our responsibility, mine and Lucien’s.”
Denis shoved him, his blood boiling. Two women might die, perhaps because they were afflicted with some sort of deformity. It was too close to his heart. “You should have thought of that before you allowed them to be kept up there.”
Denis and Adam hastened to the lower flight of stairs, Adam taking them two at a time. Burning thatch fell here and there, but the planked floor of the second storey was still mostly intact.
Denis heard a choked scream and the sound of a door banging. “They are still alive,” he yelled.