Natchez Flame by Kat Martin

are good things and bad things about this land. If I want to share in the good things, I’ll learn to put up with the bad.”
    Brendan studied her a moment more, but made no further comment. They pulled up on the knoll into the shade of a live oak tree, and Brendan climbed down. His hands went around her waist and he swung her to the ground beside him.
    While he unhitched the team and led them to water, Priscilla headed down the slope to relieve herself. The landscape was a bit more barren, mostly cactus and mesquite, but Priscilla determinedly scanned the area looking for a large clump of brush or a cluster of rocks to give her some privacy.
    The best place lay a goodly distance away, but afterjouncing all morning on the hard wooden seat, the walk would give her a chance to stretch her legs.
    Crossing the dusty open space, she skirted the rocks and discovered a secluded place behind them. As she started her return to the wagon, she spotted Brendan in the distance, leading the mules back into their traces.
    Priscilla lifted her skirts and started to hurry, knowing he’d be angry if he saw her this far away. Spying what appeared to be a shorter return route, she hurried in that direction. Once she cleared the rotting fallen log that blocked her path, she’d be home free.
    Raising her skirt even higher, Priscilla set one sturdy brown shoe on the top of the log. A bone-chilling buzz erupted from a rock beneath her leg, raising the hair at the back of her neck. With a scream of terror, she tried to avoid the piercing fangs of the coiled up, brown-speckled rattlesnake, but they tore into her tender flesh as she leapt over the log.
    Pain shot up her leg, but she kept on running, her heart thundering wildly against her ribs. Her leg throbbed and her body shook with the remnants of fright, but all she could think of was the tempest that awaited her back in camp. Brendan would be furious! He’d rail at her for being so careless and tell her again what a fool she was for coming to Texas at all.
    She saw him racing toward her and ran straight into his arms.
    “Priscilla, what is it?”
    “R-rattlesnake,” she stammered. “Over by thatlog.” She pointed with a shaky finger, fighting to hold back her tears.
    Brendan grabbed her shoulders and set her away from him. “I told you not to go that far from the wagon.”
    “Please don’t be mad.”
    He felt her trembling and pulled her against his chest. “It’s all right. Just don’t do it again.”
    Her arms tightened around him. “It isn’t all right,” she whispered. “My leg—” Priscilla’s knees gave way and only Brendan’s hold kept her from falling.
    “Sweet Jesus!” He settled her down on the ground and hurriedly lifted the hem of her brown gingham skirt. “Where?” he asked, searching her pale flesh, finding no fang marks on her ankle or calf.
    “Higher,” she whispered. Brendan pushed her onto her back and hoisted her skirts even farther. “I still don’t see anything. Are you sure he struck you?”
    “Higher,” she repeated, blushing from head to foot. “On the inside.”
    Brendan swore softly, jerked her skirts up to her waist and spread her legs apart. He spotted the hole in her soft cotton drawers high on the inside of her right thigh.
    With a great ripping tear, he parted the fabric, exposing her skin and most of her thigh. Priscilla’s face flamed hotter,
and
she twisted and tried to sit up.
    “You stay right where you are.” He pressed her back down. “Your damnable modesty will just have to wait.” Pulling his knife from the scabbard at his waist, he shoved it into the burning sand beneath them and worked to cleanse the blade as best hecould. “Saw this done down in Mexico. I hope to God it works.”
    “W-what are you going to do?”
    “Lance the wound and suck out the poison.” Before she could protest, he cut an x on her thigh with two swift clean strokes.
    Priscilla stifled the terror she felt and began to tremble even more.