was not his type at all. He remembered his dead wife. She’d been slender when he had married her, yet he had always preferred women with ripe, voluptuous figures. Like Louise, who had breasts a man could bury his face in forever. She was soft and accommodating. No, Miranda was not his type at all.
Nacogdoches had always been a rough town, and it was even more so since Texas had gained independence from Mexico in ’36. There were no longer Mexican Rurales to keep peace, and although the Texans had elected a sheriff, violence ran rampant in the town, outlaws and drifters competing with immigrants, and the sheriff could not keep the peace. Because it was high noon when they rode in, Bragg secured them lodging at one of the more reputable establishments. He was glad they had only a half day of travel that day. He was worried about Lady Holcombe, who was thinner than when the trip had begun, pale and wan. She needed a bed, food, and rest.
“There is nothing to see in this town,” Bragg announced to the ladies as they stood in the front room. The common room was already half full with patrons, and Bragg immediately saw two hard, dangerous men. He instinctively stepped closer to Miranda.
“What do you mean, Captain Bragg?” Miranda met his eyes briefly, innocently.
“This is a hard town. Dangerous men, outlaws, ridethrough. I want both of you to keep to your rooms until we leave tomorrow.” He settled an unflinching gaze on her. “Understand?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, taking Miranda’s hand.
“Anything you need—food, drink, bathwater—have brought up.” Bragg stared at Miranda again. Then he glanced at the common room and immediately met a dark gaze in a shadowy, bearded face. The man looked from him to Miranda with open lust. Bragg restrained the urge to beat the man to a pulp for his insolence. He unconsciously noted that the man was as tall as he, brawny, and exuded a reckless, lawless confidence. He took Miranda’s elbow, ignoring her gasp, and said, “I’ll escort you upstairs… now .”
Unfortunately, the stairs to the rooms were on the other side of the common room, and there was no way to approach them except by entering that male domain. They had taken no more than three steps within when a hush fell over the room, and every eye turned to Miranda. Bragg felt her tremble beneath his hand.
There were only a dozen men in the room, but another man stood out. A tall, dark, ruggedly handsome Mexican, possibly a Comanchero, caught Bragg’s attention. As with the dark, bearded man, the Mexican was also a worthy opponent—possibly trouble. The Mexican, clad in buckskins like everyone else, devoured Miranda with cold, black eyes.
They had started up the stairs when the room began to buzz excitedly.
“Did you ever see anything like that?” someone said hoarsely.
“What a beauty! What white skin!”
“Did you see her eyes? They’re purple! I saw ’em!”
“She’s skinny.”
“Who cares? With your rod buried deep in her, would you give a damn?” Excited laughter greeted this last remark.
“You wish you could bury your rod in her!”
“She looks like a virgin,” a cool voice commented.
“Who’s the man?”
“Bragg.”
“You think he’s getting it?”
“He’s a Ranger,” someone warned.
Miranda was shaking when Bragg opened the door to the room.
“It’s all right,” he said softly.
Her eyes, wide and filled with horror, held his. Bragg wanted to sweep her against his chest and protect her, but he shrugged off that ridiculous, womanly urge.
“How could you bring us to this place?” Elizabeth gasped, her face flushed with outrage and indignation.
“I told you,” Bragg said coolly, suddenly wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to camp on the trail, “it’s a rough town. I guess I won’t have to remind you to stay in your room?” He quirked a brow.
Miranda turned and fled inside.
Bragg regarded her aunt soberly. “I’ll be downstairs, and I have the
Nacogdoches had always been a rough town, and it was even more so since Texas had gained independence from Mexico in ’36. There were no longer Mexican Rurales to keep peace, and although the Texans had elected a sheriff, violence ran rampant in the town, outlaws and drifters competing with immigrants, and the sheriff could not keep the peace. Because it was high noon when they rode in, Bragg secured them lodging at one of the more reputable establishments. He was glad they had only a half day of travel that day. He was worried about Lady Holcombe, who was thinner than when the trip had begun, pale and wan. She needed a bed, food, and rest.
“There is nothing to see in this town,” Bragg announced to the ladies as they stood in the front room. The common room was already half full with patrons, and Bragg immediately saw two hard, dangerous men. He instinctively stepped closer to Miranda.
“What do you mean, Captain Bragg?” Miranda met his eyes briefly, innocently.
“This is a hard town. Dangerous men, outlaws, ridethrough. I want both of you to keep to your rooms until we leave tomorrow.” He settled an unflinching gaze on her. “Understand?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, taking Miranda’s hand.
“Anything you need—food, drink, bathwater—have brought up.” Bragg stared at Miranda again. Then he glanced at the common room and immediately met a dark gaze in a shadowy, bearded face. The man looked from him to Miranda with open lust. Bragg restrained the urge to beat the man to a pulp for his insolence. He unconsciously noted that the man was as tall as he, brawny, and exuded a reckless, lawless confidence. He took Miranda’s elbow, ignoring her gasp, and said, “I’ll escort you upstairs… now .”
Unfortunately, the stairs to the rooms were on the other side of the common room, and there was no way to approach them except by entering that male domain. They had taken no more than three steps within when a hush fell over the room, and every eye turned to Miranda. Bragg felt her tremble beneath his hand.
There were only a dozen men in the room, but another man stood out. A tall, dark, ruggedly handsome Mexican, possibly a Comanchero, caught Bragg’s attention. As with the dark, bearded man, the Mexican was also a worthy opponent—possibly trouble. The Mexican, clad in buckskins like everyone else, devoured Miranda with cold, black eyes.
They had started up the stairs when the room began to buzz excitedly.
“Did you ever see anything like that?” someone said hoarsely.
“What a beauty! What white skin!”
“Did you see her eyes? They’re purple! I saw ’em!”
“She’s skinny.”
“Who cares? With your rod buried deep in her, would you give a damn?” Excited laughter greeted this last remark.
“You wish you could bury your rod in her!”
“She looks like a virgin,” a cool voice commented.
“Who’s the man?”
“Bragg.”
“You think he’s getting it?”
“He’s a Ranger,” someone warned.
Miranda was shaking when Bragg opened the door to the room.
“It’s all right,” he said softly.
Her eyes, wide and filled with horror, held his. Bragg wanted to sweep her against his chest and protect her, but he shrugged off that ridiculous, womanly urge.
“How could you bring us to this place?” Elizabeth gasped, her face flushed with outrage and indignation.
“I told you,” Bragg said coolly, suddenly wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to camp on the trail, “it’s a rough town. I guess I won’t have to remind you to stay in your room?” He quirked a brow.
Miranda turned and fled inside.
Bragg regarded her aunt soberly. “I’ll be downstairs, and I have the
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