Addicted. Charlotte Featherstone

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      Racing out of the chamber, heart pounding, Lindsay lunged for the stairs, heedless of the flames that were busy devouring the wooden banister. Reaching the main level, he ran outside and froze on the step, his breathing coming in hard gasping pants. Before him, Broughton stood with legs braced wide and Anais draped in his arms, her long golden curls cascading over the sleeve of Garrett’s black greatcoat.

      For what felt like minutes Lindsay could say nothing as his gaze stayed riveted on Anais, waiting for some sign that she had made it through the ordeal unscathed. When he saw her chest rise and fall, he fought the urge to sink to his knees in relief. At that moment, he didn’t care that it was Broughton she had chosen.

      “I’ve got Darnby,” Wallingford called from his horse, jolting Lindsay out of his stupor. Anais’s father was in the saddle in front of Wallingford, barely conscious. Lindsay could see that the man had suffered a deep wound to his head and that it was bleeding heavily.

      “I’ve sent one of the stable boys to Broughton’s estate,” Wallingford called over his shoulder as he took the reins in his gloved hand. “Broughton says Robert is in residence. I shall meet you back at Eden Park, then?”