Innocent Fire Read Free Page B

nodded to the innkeeper’s wife, who was up and fixing breakfast for all the travelers, and he silently moved with a sinuous, coiled grace up the stairs. His wariness wasn’t purposeful; it was instinctive. Not a board creaked.
    He rapped three times very sharply on the ladies’ door. “Rise and shine, ladies,” he called loudly. “We’re moving out in thirty minutes. Grub’s downstairs.”
    He paused, about to leave, but he didn’t hear any sounds from within. He was just about to knock again, this time more forcefully, when he heard a soft voice say, “Who’s Grub?”
    Christ!
    Bragg turned swiftly and went back outside. He finished saddling his own horse, a high-strung palomino stallion. He found Welsh relaxing with a cup of coffee. “That’s about it,” Welsh said cheerfully. “’Cept fer the ladies’ bags.”
    “Let’s eat,” Bragg said.
    They had just finished when they heard the rustle of skirts, notifying Bragg that his charges had arrived. He stood abruptly, shoving his plate away when the serving girl bustled over.
    “You want some more, Derek?” She flashed him a big smile. “Or anything else?”
    He smiled back and patted her round rump. She was a cute, plump thing he had bedded in the past, and would certainly bed again in the future. “You know what I want,” he teased in a low voice. “Next time, Lettie.”
    She giggled and fled back into the kitchen. He straightened to find the aunt, Lady Holcombe, staring at him with disapproval. Behind her stood her niece, but all he could see was her dark green skirts—she was obviously short and small.
    “Ma’am, morning,” Bragg drawled. “Why don’t you two have a bite, and fill up good. We won’t be stopping until nightfall. We’ll be loading up your bags.” He touched two fingers politely to his hat and swept past them with a snapped “Welsh.”
    The women had enough trunks to clothe an army. Bragg was disgusted. There were four large trunks, and six smaller ones. The wagon would be completely full, and the mules would have to work too hard.
    No, this was insanity, and it wouldn’t matter if she were the princess of England! He told Welsh to stay put, and strode back inside. He stopped in front of the two women, his face grim. “Ladies.”
    They both looked up. For a second, Bragg stared at the girl—because that’s what she was—and forgot everything he was about to say. She looked him in the eye for a second, just long enough for him to glimpse huge violet eyes set in a flawless, pale face, before her long, black lashes swept down and she pinkened again. His heart had begun a dull thudding.
    Sweet Lord, he thought inanely. She’s a beauty! No wonder…I had no idea….
    He was dying to see the rest of her, but she was seated, and all he saw were small shoulders and arms—she had to be tiny—and the top of her bent head. Coils and coils of sable black hair glistened in the lamplight.
    “Mr. Bragg?” her aunt said, and he tore his gaze away from the young woman, wondering again what her body looked like. He was very aware of his strong stirrings of desire.
    “Ma’am. Look, we’ve got close to five hundred miles to travel, and we’ve only got two mules. Half the luggage has to go. Once we get to Comanche country—hell, we won’t stand a chance loaded down like that.” He frowned.
    The young woman gasped and turned her lovely, pale face toward him. Her full, red lips were parted, and he saw her wide-eyed fear. “Indians?” she whispered.
    Bragg hated himself for scaring her with the truth. But before he could speak, her aunt patted her arm, saying “Don’t worry, dear, remember what your fiancé said about Captain Bragg. We’ll be safe.”
    Miranda’s gaze had gone to her aunt, but when he spoke, she looked back at him.
    “I’m sorry to frighten you, ma’am. We’re losing time. I need you to show me which half of your luggage you’ll leave behind to be sent for later.”
    “Now see here,” Lady Holcombe