Burning Bright (Brambridge Novel 2) Read Online Free Page A

the hill was a church with an enormous clock tower, a farm, blacksmiths, bakery, vicarage, and another inn, the Prince of Wales.
    In contrast to the cottages that nestled into the landscape, the Fountain Inn hunkered down on the hillside, glowering with a hat of thatch and small eyes made of windows. Tethering Scorpius to the rail at the front, he made sure that he had plenty of water in the horse trough. Giving the great horse a last rub behind the ear, he looked up at the Inn. Gods he needed his bed.
    But a clear, well-modulated voice rang round the yard as James strode to the door.
    “Two days, and you have yet to visit us at the school house, Lord Stanton.”
    Twisting round and down into a crouch, James searched the yard for the owner of the voice. “To whom am I addressing myself?” he asked, flicking his gaze from the stable to the outhouse.
    A small figure as straight as a rake stepped from the shadows, a cloak around its shoulders, hair pinned back in a neat bun. “The mistress of Brambridge School.”
    Straightening, James cleared his throat. She provided no threat. “Let me assure you that I take my responsibilities very carefully Miss… eh, Miss…”
    But the shadowy figure did not supply her name.
    “I understand you to have been in Brambridge for at least two days. What can have been more important than the well-being of your villagers?” Her tone was starchy.
    James had had enough of this buttoned up madam. It was none of her business what he had been doing. Turning his back, he began to walk back towards the door.
    Suddenly his boot caught; his other foot flailed in the air mid-step. For a few moments he teetered on his heel and then fell to the ground, landing hard on the seat of his breeches.
    “You said you would come back for me!” The former imperious tones were now shot with frustration.
    A shadow crossed the ground where he lay. He was still trying to catch his breath when another sharp pain skewered his shins.
    “Ow, ow, ow.” 
    The small shadow jigged up and down, coming to a stop by the horse trough.
    James clutched at his leg. Bloody pikes and pennants. Surely he was the one that should have been doing all the exclaiming?
    “Oooh.” The muttering continued. “Should have known that Mr. High and Mighty Stanton would be wearing armored boots. Why didn’t I stop to put on my own boots? Damn these buckle shoes.”
    “That’s Lord Stanton, thank you,” James corrected angrily. He had managed to brave the Peninsular only to be felled in the middle of his home village by someone tripping him up and kicking him hard in the shins. He sat up and looked harder at the schoolmistress who rested against the trough clutching her foot. Her cloak had fallen aside to reveal a distinctly feminine figure with eye-catching curves. He stared with admiration as a sudden clearing of the clouds cast moonlight on flawless skin and a tightly bound bun of red hair.
    “Harriet?” he said in disbelief.
    “Oh, Lord High and Mighty Stanton knows me now, does he?” The diminutive figure turned and put her foot gingerly on the ground.
    James shook his head. Harriet was the Brambridge school mistress? “It’s a bit hard to identify someone when you are lying on the floor.”
    “Two years.”
    “What?”
    “You said you would come back for me, and it’s been two years.”
    “When did I say that to you?” James got up from the floor slowly, and brushed off his breeches.
    “When you left me at the bottom of the mine at the cliff’s edge. Two years ago.”
    “Well, you obviously didn’t stand there for two years waiting.”
    Harriet let out a huff of obvious frustration. “That is not the point. You said you would come back for me. That you always did.”
    James frowned. “Harriet, I was accused of murder by my own father. I had to escape. It wasn’t safe to come back. This wasn’t just the playful scrapes of our childhood.”
    Harriet gave an obvious shudder. “I’ve never regarded it as a