Violet Fire by Brenda Joyce Page A

forgot this, darlin’,” he called, retrieving her reticule and following her. “Where are you going, Gracie? Do you need an escort?”
    That thought horrified her. “I most certainly do not,” she cried.
    â€œHow about a ride then?”
    Because she had to walk, the offer was tempting. But she’d sooner die than accept anything from this impossiblescoundrel. “No, thank you,” she said glacially, striding down the drive.
    â€œYou’re walking?” Rathe asked incredulously, pacing alongside her. “Where are you going? You can’t walk. Did you know that the whole reason I came to Melrose was to see you?”
    She snorted. “I have two good legs, Mr. Bragg, and an excellent set of lungs. I most certainly can walk.”
    He grinned, looking sideways at her, “I’ll vouch for the excellence of your ‘lungs’.”
    Grace caught the glance and the innuendo and went crimson. She decided to ignore him. He wasn’t worthy of her attention. Maybe that was the problem—instead of disregarding him she let him bait her, which he seemed to thoroughly enjoy. Then she realized he had stopped and was no longer following, and she had to check herself to keep from looking back to see what he was doing. She managed to keep marching down the drive, and refused to be disappointed that he had given up so easily.
    But she did look back ten minutes later when she heard a carriage approaching. Rathe smiled, sitting relaxed as you please in the open vehicle, looking very much the Southern gentleman in his coat, breeches, and polished boots. Grace could not believe his audacious persistence. She resolved to ignore him as the buggy drew alongside.
    â€œCome on, Gracie, let me drive you to town.”
    She didn’t answer.
    â€œHow are you going to get back later? It’ll be dark in a couple of hours. You can’t wander around here alone at night. You might get lost, or worse.”
    â€œSomething ‘worse’, as you put it, would most likely occur if I were to ride with you!” She felt quite smug and pleased with that retort.
    â€œAh, Gracie, that’s not fair. Wasn’t I the perfect gentleman the other night?”
    â€œI really can’t recall,” she lied, cheeks burning. She doubted she would ever forget the sensual, rasping qualityof his voice. Even now, thinking about it did something strange to her stomach.
    â€œYou wouldn’t have forgotten if I had kissed you,” he said tightly. “Look, Grace, I only want to give you a ride. And I really did come all the way out to Melrose just to see you.” His coaxing smile flashed.
    It was about two miles to Sarah Bellsley’s house, and Grace would have dearly loved to ride. But she did not dare give him an inch. She did not trust him. Or was it her own self she didn’t trust? “No thank you, Mr. Bragg. Would you please stop bothering me? Maybe you should think about Louisa. I’m sure she’s wondering where you are at this very moment.”
    â€œI doubt it,” Rathe said.
    â€œI do not need a ride,” Grace said firmly.
    To her surprise, he acquiesced with a grin. “They’re your lungs.”
    Â 
    The night was balmy, soft and thoroughly pleasant. Rathe leaned back in the carriage, once again looking toward the lights of the Bellsley house. A dozen ladies had congregated. He had to smile at the thought of Grace arousing them with her incendiary talk. After having seen her at van Horne’s, he could just envision her lecturing now—and it was too easy to recall just how adorable she was when she got excited.
    Scraps of conversation had been drifting through the open windows to him all night. Initially, the women of Natchez had been shocked. They were not prepared for Grace’s extremism. Grace’s strident tone had carried. “But they make the laws! And we have to abide by them! How fair is that when we’re