The women left then, disappearing away up the hall. Wyatt turned back into the bathroom and quickly turned on the shower taps, allowing the water to pour down over him before he stepped out and grabbed the hand towel off the rack beside the sink. He tied the hand towel around his head so that it covered his mouth and nose, offering some protection from the smoke. He grabbed the bath towels off the rack, and tossed them under the spray to soak up the water pouring down, again taking extra time to stick his legs under the spray while there—first one and then the other. Wyatt then grabbed his T-shirt off the floor and stepped under the water with it to let the spray soak the shirt as well as his body and jeans before he stepped out and moved to Elspeth.
“El, love, wake up,” he murmured, catching her by the shoulders and pulling her upright so that he could put his wet T-shirt on her.
“Wyatt?” she said sleepily, and then blinked her eyes open with shock as the cold, wet material touched her skin. Wyatt pulled the shirt over her head. Her eyes were closed when he tugged it down to her neck, but opened again as he began to urge one of her arms into a sleeve.
“What’s happening?” she asked with confusion. “I smell smoke. Do you smoke? I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Not me, sugar,” he said with a crooked smile as she helped him get her other arm into its sleeve. “The house is smoking. It’s on fire.”
“What?” That brought her awake in a hurry, a sudden rush of adrenaline no doubt helping as she sat up straight and peered around. When she looked out into the bedroom and saw the fire licking across the floors and up the one wall they could see, she issued a foul curse that made him smile. Damn . . . beautiful, smart, sweet, sexy as hell, mind-blowing in bed—or on the bathroom counter, to be more accurate—and she had a potty mouth. He could love this woman, Wyatt thought with a smile.
“What happened?” Elspeth growled, slipping off the counter. She was not smiling, he noted, and he couldn’t blame her. His grandmother’s house was going up in smoke, taking Elspeth’s home and belongings with it. It was nothing to smile about, and yet he’d found his El again. After four years of searching, and long after he’d given up on ever having her back, here she was. Nothing was going to take her from him again, not her mother, and not even this fire. He wasn’t letting her go.
Pulling her away from the door, Wyatt moved back to the shower and retrieved the towels. They were sopping wet and heavy as he quickly wrapped them around her, leaving only a small hole for her to breathe through. He then scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom door. The fire was following a starburst pattern from the middle of the room outward, and he was pretty sure he could smell gas. A Molotov cocktail, then. Nice, he thought with disgust. Definitely not an accident.
Mouth compressing, Wyatt tightened his hold on Elspeth and launched himself into hell. That’s what it felt like. The air was so hot it was painful to breathe, so Wyatt held his breath. But there was nothing he could do about the fire that licked at his feet and lower legs as he ran through the flames to the bed. When he reached it, Wyatt simply leapt on top and ran across the soft mattress. He pushed off hard, and leapt high when he reached the side nearest the French doors. Still, he came down several feet short of them, his feet disappearing in the flames as he landed, but Wyatt simply continued forward, charging through the broken glass from the shattered door to get out onto the balcony where cool night air greeted them.
Wyatt didn’t stop until he reached the railing. Pausing then, he set Elspeth down and quickly unwound the towel from around her legs. She needed mobility for him to lower her down to his grandmother’s porch.
Wyatt straightened from the task to find Elspeth had removed the upper towel as well and was now peering sadly back into her burning bedroom.
“El?” he said gently. “We have to go.”
Nodding, she turned back to him and then frowned as she looked him over. “You got burned.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her and urged her closer to the rail. “I’m going to lower you to Gran’s porch and—”
“I can climb,” she interrupted. “Do you want me to help you?”
Wyatt smiled crookedly at the offer, but shook his head. “I’m good. Let’s get moving. The fire hasn’t spread to the porch yet, but it still could.”
Elspeth nodded and began to climb over the rail. Wyatt followed suit, throwing one leg over the rail and then quickly lowering himself even as Elspeth did. When she swung out and dropped to the grass in front of his grandmother’s porch, he did as well, and then he caught her arm to urge her away.
“Oh thank God!”
Wyatt glanced down with surprise as he was suddenly caught up in a ridiculously tight hug by Alex, he saw. She’d approached so quickly he hadn’t even seen her coming, and now she lifted him off his feet briefly, and then set him back down and clasped his face, pulling him down to buss his cheek. “You saved her. And yourself. We’re so glad you’re both okay.”
Alex had barely finished saying that before she released him and switched places with Sam, whom he now saw releasing Elspeth. Alex caught El up in a hug now even as Sam rushed around her to hug him as well. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! And thank God you were here! We never could have got to her.”
Wyatt chuckled and patted the woman’s back, his gaze now moving around the backyard just in time to see Julianna and Victoria rush around the corner of the burning house and hurry toward them. His grandmother and Martine followed, the two women moving at almost a jog, which was as good as a full-on run for his elderly grandmother. She looked fine, though, he noted with relief. They all did.
“How are you?” Sam asked, pulling back to look up at him with concern.
“I’m good,” he assured her, stepping back. “I—” The word ended on a grunt as the twins reached them and both threw themselves at him at once, nearly knocking him over before he managed to regain his balance.
“Thank you for saving Elspeth, Wyatt,” Julianna said, hugging him tightly. “And thank goodness you’re all right too.”
“How do you know she didn’t save me?” he asked with amusement.
“I read it from your mind as we rushed up,” she said easily, and then gave him another squeeze, and slid away to hug Elspeth.
“Thank you,” Victoria said simply and gave him another squeeze as well before following Julianna.
“Wyatt?”
Turning back at that anxious cry, Wyatt hurried toward his grandmother, intent on making sure she was okay too.
“You’re good?”
Elspeth smiled at that question from Julianna. “Yes. Perfect. Not a blister or splinter.”
“Good, good.” Julianna hugged her again and then said, “But Wyatt was hurt.”
“Yes, I saw that he had a bit of scorching on one arm,” Elspeth admitted, her worried gaze sliding to the man as he greeted his grandmother. She noticed her mother standing next to the pair, talking on the phone, but then glanced back to Julianna as she continued speaking.
“Not his arms, although he has more than a bit of scorching there,” she said solemnly. “His feet and lower legs are badly burned from running through the fire, and his feet are cut up pretty bad too . . . from the broken glass from the French door.”
Cursing, Elspeth turned and rushed over to where Wyatt was talking quietly with Meredith.
“I’m fine, Gran, really,” he was saying as she reached them.
Elspeth slowed to a stop and looked him over with concern. Julianna was right. He was more than a little scorched on the arms. There were a couple of good burns on the bottoms of his lower arms, but there were a lot of larger, deeper scorch marks on his legs and feet. Elspeth closed her eyes briefly. He’d run through the fire. She hadn’t been able to see that. She’d thought he’d found a way around the flames or something. She’d never imagined he’d run right through it. She couldn’t imagine what the bottoms of his feet must look like.
“We are going to Marguerite’s. Rachel is meeting us there. She will look after Wyatt,” Martine announced as if she thought she could still order them all around.