Perfect. There was no better way to slow an arson investigation than to make the cause obvious. Accidents were bound to happen when city people tried to live in the country. Woodstoves and fireplaces caused fires all the time. Plus, Nathan had had good luck with fire in the past. Flames were cleansing in many, many ways. A few tweaks to a space heater had rid him of a pesky police chief. No one had been the wiser. He was sure many people had figured out that Nathan was responsible, but at the critical time, the chief’s death had been attributed to accident.

The green light blinked from a smoke alarm on the ceiling. Nathan stopped to remove the nine-volt battery. He did the same in the kitchen. By the time smoke hit the master bedroom, the fire would be well advanced. He hoped.

He opened the woodstove door slowly to avoid the squeak of metal. Using the tongs from the nearby stand, he removed a few embers and set them on the closest area rug. The material caught. Smoke licked from the growing blaze. He leaned forward and put his hand into the flames. Fire wrapped around him, soothed him with blessed pain. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand free before the heat seared his skin.

There was no time for indulgence.

Nathan scattered a few more glowing coals on the hardwood. Then he backtracked through the kitchen and slipped outside.

The trees welcomed him. He took a deep breath. The scents of pine and loam, the sounds of bugs and bats, calmed him. In the forest, all his senses reminded him of his uncle, the true Druid. Nathan should have embraced his uncle’s ways sooner. To turn his back on his heritage was wrong. Maybe the gods were angry with him. Maybe that was the reason the family curse had been invoked.

Nonetheless, he was glad he was following his uncle’s path now. From behind a thick bush, he turned to watch the growing glow in the windows of the house. A flame licked into sight. Then another. The faint smell of smoke drifted toward him.

Satisfied, Nathan made his way to the game trail. His boots made no sound on the soft spring grass.

Tonight, Danny Sullivan would regret returning to Maine. If he survived, he’d learn a valuable lesson. Mandy belonged to Nathan. Anyone who came between them would suffer.

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

An alarm shrieked over Danny’s head. He leaped out of bed. The heavy comforter and sheets tangled around his feet. He flung his hands out to brace his fall. Pain shot through his left wrist and hand as his weight crashed to the hardwood. He righted himself and yanked his legs free of the twisted linens.

Smoke!