Brandon's Bride by Alicia Scott

Author:Alicia Scott [Scott, Alicia]
Language: deu
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-08-19T11:30:27+00:00

Chapter 8

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Plumes of smoke rolled out of the stable's center aisle, thick and black. A nervous whinny erupted, then hoofbeats thundered as Doc plunged around the arena, enraged by the fumes and crackling blaze.

"The horses," Brandon shouted and raced into the heart of it. He had a last glimpse of Victoria running toward the closest stall, then he was struggling with his shirt, ripping off the cotton and holding it in front of his face as the acrid smoke seared his nostrils.

Up ahead, orange tongues of flames danced across the hay bales and licked the wooden stalls, heading for the rafters, seeking the rafters. If they caught…

The hose, the hose. He felt along the ground frantically, his eyes tearing, his throat closing up. Alfalfa burned densely. In his mind he could see the charts for fuel moisture to time of burning while his fingers scratched along the dirt floor trying to find the damn coiled hose.

He tripped over it, followed it to the end and flicked on the knob. Water streamed out, sweet and clear.

He turned and let the fire have it.

In the distance, Doc neighed wildly and careened toward the gate.

* * *

"Doc, no!" Victoria screamed. She bolted over the fence, waving her arms. Doc rolled his eyes in panic and just kept coming. The gate was too high. He'd break a leg.

"Down!" Brandon yelled.

She dove to the side. Suddenly water arched through the air, nailing the foaming horse between the eyes. Doc reared up, stopped cold. He screamed, a raw primal yell that hurt Victoria to hear. Then the horse twisted to the left, as desperate to escape the water as the flames, and took off running once more.

"I got him, I got him!" Victoria scrambled to her feet.

"Open the gate, let him out!"

"He's too panicked, he'll break a leg."

She raced for the lunge rope. With a curse, Brandon hosed down the exposed rafters, then grabbed the hay hooks and ripped open the bales, exposing golden, burning embers and dousing them with water.

He could hear Doc whinnying again, long and furious. Then he heard Victoria's sharp yell.

"Dammit!" He dropped the hose and ran for the arena.

* * *

"Shhh," Victoria murmured. "Shhh."

Brandon burst through the smoke like a specter and Doc reared again, but she had him on the lunge line and brought him down. Brandon froze, almost as panicked as Doc. His torso was bare, the rippling lines of his chest clearly illuminated by sweat. Soot dusted the broad sweep of his collarbone, smearing through the small smattering of golden chest hair and drawing her gaze to a washboard stomach.

He was toned. Lord, he was toned, and sweat and water stained the waistband of his jeans, while his forearms tensed, sending ripples of tendons snaking beneath his skin. He was on edge, she was on edge. At the other end of the lunge line, the horse was on edge. The silence drew out, lengthened, then Doc's foreleg quivered and he rolled his eyes, ready for flight once more.

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