Free Innocent Fire by Brenda Joyce Page B

sheathed his knife and rose. She didn’t understand what the man had been doing, but Bragg had seen it. He wanted to kill, but he would not. It was the hardest thing he had ever done.
    Miranda turned away from him, and her aunt pulled her into her arms, patting her while she choked back her sobs. Bragg scowled, trying to ease his bloodlust, then stared past their heads—at Chavez.
    Studying him without a smile, Chavez was standing in the shadows of the inn. Bragg had never even seen him arrive, he had just appeared, with the stealth of a Comanche. Their gazes locked. Chavez’s contemptuous glance said clearly, I would have killed him, no matter what she said .
    “We ride out,” Bragg said. “Now.”

Chapter 12
    Miranda stole another glance at Bragg. He was eating rapidly, using his fingers, gnawing on a bone. He’s an animal, she thought, unable to look away. He was squatting in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, but he always ate in that position on the trail. He suddenly tossed the bone into the fire, rubbed his hands on his thighs, and looked over at her.
    She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. His gaze had been masked, but as she stared at him, even from across the fire, she could see it changing. She could see his expression of raw hunger, as if he hadn’t just eaten half a haunch of venison. Miranda realized that she was holding her breath. She expelled it, forced her eyes away, and daintily picked up a bone with her fingers. She was starved for the first time in ages, it seemed, and she had already tried to carve the meat, unsuccessfully, with a knife and fork.
    Bragg had almost killed a man today! A man who had simply touched her arm. She still could not get over it. His hypocrisy astounded her. At least she thought that was why her pulse raced whenever she thought of the incident. Bragg had done much worse to her. He had kissed her and held her while she was clad only in her underclothes. But he had beaten a man badly, and been only a second awayfrom slitting his throat, all because the man had held her arm intimately.
    She had not realized Bragg was so lethal. Good heavens, she thought, what kind of a man is he? Her glance slid to him again. A savage, an animal, her mind whispered. A beautiful animal, another voice said.
    Startled, Miranda dropped her plate with a cry.
    “What is it?” her aunt asked solicitously, while Bragg and Welsh stared at her with open curiosity.
    “Nothing,” she said quickly. Wherever had that thought come from? Then, as her mind raced, she grew calm. Bragg’s stallion was a beautiful animal. A wolf, a bear, they were all beautiful beasts. They were beasts, and they were beautiful. Bragg was the same. It was all right to see him that way, as dispassionately as she saw his stallion. Yes, he was beautiful, but frightening, because he was crude and uncivilized.
    “Miranda? Are you listening? I asked if you are ill.”
    “Oh no,” she said hastily, looking away from those golden eyes. But when he got up, her glance was drawn to him again, and she watched him leave the glow of the small, smokeless fire.
    The next day, as usual, Bragg rode ahead, disappearing from sight. By high noon, he had not returned, which was unusual. Several hours passed, and there was still no sign of him. The garrulous Welsh had ceased his chatter some time ago, his face wearing a dark frown, and Miranda and her aunt had begun exchanging very frightened glances. Lady Holcombe finally asked what had happened.
    “He’s run into trouble,” Welsh said bluntly.
    Miranda gasped, a crazy, sudden fear tearing through her. “What do you mean?” she cried. “How do you know?”
    “Because we’d already discussed this,” Welsh said. “Don’t worry. Bragg probably ran across a raiding party of Comanche, and the plan was for him to lead them away. A decoy, so to speak.”
    “Oh God,” her aunt moaned.
    Miranda’s heart was pounding. “What if they catch him?” she whispered, her eyes