Free Smuggler's Glory by Rebecca King Page B

sleeping in the bedchambers upstairs, but
couldn’t be entirely sure. Easing toward the kitchen, he was
unsurprised to find two damp footprints on the otherwise clean
kitchen floor. Unfortunately, whoever had just entered the kitchen
had had the forethought to remove their boots before going any
further. Turning around he carefully closed the kitchen door and
slid the bolts closed. He studied the footprints as closely as
possible in the dark, before turning toward the back stairs,
undoubtedly the route the new arrival had taken moments earlier. He
paused at the top of the stairs to listen. At the far end of the
corridor, a soft thump of something hitting the floor drew him in
that direction.
    Slowly
easing open the last few doors revealed nothing more unusual than
room after empty room. That is, until the last door on the left.
Easing open the door, he was immediately aware of the soft glow of
embers from the fireplace that bathed the room in an orange glow.
Unlike the other rooms, this bedchamber bespoke warmth and
occupancy. It felt as though something deep inside him was already
linked to her, and he knew without entering the room that this was
Francesca’s bedroom. He had no idea about scents, but could
immediately identify the sweet yet slightly musky scent as
Francesca’s.
    Sure
enough, she lay in sleepy abandon in the middle of the bed and, if
her boots sitting next to the chair beside him were any indication,
she hadn’t been out for some considerable time. Something inside
him was relieved to be able to remove her from suspicion, but the
warrior in him still refused to be fooled so easily. During his
time in the Star Elite, and before, he had seen more than one good
soldier be struck down by a duplicitous female. He had no intention
of becoming one of those unfortunate souls who was ensnared by
beauty, only to find himself stabbed in the back.
    Well
aware that his back was open to attack from the corridor, Simon
decided to take the opportunity to search her room. Keeping a wary
eye on her slumbering form, he eased into the room, silently
closing the door behind him. It didn’t take long to search her
belongings. Unless she was very good at hiding things, there were
really very few possessions at all with most drawers remaining
empty. The few items she did have were soft and well
worn.
    He
studied the room carefully, before his eyes turned toward her. The
rhythmic rise and fall of her chest remained unchanged. She was
still beautiful, even with her features relaxed in slumber and he
felt the unfamiliar urge to lie down next to her. Tiredness began
to slow his movements and, even though he could go on for several
hours yet, if he had any chance of being of any use tomorrow night,
he had to get some sleep. He was about to turn toward the door when
the creaking of a floorboard in the hallway outside broke the
silence. At the same time, Francesca moaned and rolled over in
bed.
    Staring
at the door for a moment, Simon turned to study the woman on the
bed. She looked like a goddess with her hair fanned out across the
bed. The white of her nightgown lay in stark contrast to her dark
golden hair. He thought about the white strands he had seen earlier
and was inordinately pleased that the grey wasn’t her natural
colour. His fingers itched to stroke the honeyed strands and see
for himself if it really was as soft as it looked. He instinctively
clenched his fingers into a tight ball to prevent himself from
crossing the room and finding out.
    Outside
the door, the gentle rustle of fabric snapped him away from
temptation. With all of his senses tuned to movement beyond the
door, Simon eased around until he was standing with his back to the
wall. Whoever was moving around, was looking for something, of that
he was certain, but what?
    One hand was placed on the holster of his gun as he watched
the knob on the door slowly begin to turn. As silently as a ghost
in the night, the door to the otherwise ramshackle house