Violet Fire by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

the magnificent animal was obvious, and a carefully neutral expression crossed his face. He tore his gaze away from the horse with difficulty. “I hear your cook makes excellent fritters,” he said, to divert the conversation and regain some degree of leverage for the bargaining that would come. He was not overly worried. He was used to success; it had followed him his entire life.
    â€œShe does,” Robert Chatham said. A perfect host, he gestured toward his white plantation house sitting on the hill behind them. “Shall we?”
    An hour and a half later Rathe left Chatham’s home, theproud owner of the colt, and at a fair price. He was not surprised. One of his friends had once said, somewhat enviously, that he was not just a charming scoundrel, but a charmed one. Rathe had laughed at the time, but his friend was right.
    He had been born on a west Texas ranch. His father, Derek Bragg, was a powerful man, a half-breed who had also been a captain in the Texas Rangers. He had never hidden the fact that he had fallen in love with his genteel English wife at first sight, a fact which much amused—but hardly surprised—his children. As they grew up, their parents’ love for each other was more than evident: it was a tangible thing.
    As the youngest, Rathe demanded attention, and naturally received it. He was the apple of his parents’ eyes, and his older sister and brother adored him also. It seemed he could do no wrong, even though, if truth be told, he was constantly in trouble. He neglected his chores, running off with a friend to shoot rabbits, or setting off firecrackers in the attic. He liked to steal out at night to play posse, and once sneaked along on the trail drive, only to be discovered too late to be sent home. He tried to break a bronco mustang, played hooky from school, spied on a Comanche camp—as a test of courage—and in Galveston when he was ten, almost successfully stowed away on a cargo ship. He had wanted to see Africa.
    He was uncontainable. His energy, curiosity, and intelligence were limitless. He drove his family to distraction. His father, who had rarely had to raise a hand to his other two children, walloped him frequently, if half-heartedly. “I pray and thank the Lord every day that you were born under a lucky star,” his mother once confessed, “otherwise, you certainly wouldn’t be long for this world.”
    As an adult he enjoyed the same luck he had as a child. He nearly always won at cards. His first investment, in an ironworks, with money won at poker, quadrupled itself. In his hands, several hundred dollars became a thousand,a thousand dollars became ten thousand. Investing became a challenge to Rathe, a game that wasn’t very different from poker—except that the stakes were much higher. The thrill came from the possibility of losing—and the staggering amounts that could be won. By the age of twenty four Rathe had made his first million.
    With women, it was the same story; his successes were legendary there, too. He had discovered sex at the tender age of thirteen, and couldn’t remember having been rejected by a woman ever since.
    As he cantered his horse back to his hotel, he savored his most recent success in purchasing the colt. Now that it was his, however, he realized that his business was concluded and there was no real reason to remain in Natchez. The thought unsettled him somehow, and made him think about Grace. Suddenly he was imagining her with her hair down, her glasses off, naked. Her hair probably came to her waist. She was undoubtedly beautiful without those spectacles—he was too experienced not to be able to see past something so superficial. And as for her body, he had held her, and he knew she was tall and small-waisted and long-legged, and that she fit against him perfectly.
    Of course, she was not his type of woman.
    But he was undoubtedly attracted to her; a mere fantasy about her could