(Southern #1) Creole Fires by Kat Martin

Author:Kat Martin [Martin, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mom 02/14/14
ISBN: 9780307574480
Publisher: Dell
Published: 1992-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

13

In her tiny inside cabin, Nicole fell asleep just as the sky grayed with dawn.

Her mind conjured dreams of Alex. In the early morning mists, he followed her, trying to catch up to her but somehow unable. In a plaintive voice, he professed his love, repeating over and over how much he cared. Nicki just laughed, a harsh grating sound that called him a liar. He reached out to her, but she only drew farther away.

Eventually the disturbing dream faded, and Nicki slept a little more soundly. Since she had no window in the cabin, there was no morning sunlight to awaken her, and she woke a little later than she intended. But the rest, however fleeting, had been good for her. She felt ready to face what lay ahead, ready to get on with her life.

Pouring water from the blue china pitcher into the basin on the tiny bureau beside the berth, Nicki washed the sleep from her eyes and smoothed back her hair. She wore it braided and knotted into a chignon at the nape of her neck. With her small carpetbag in hand, she opened the door into the corridor and went out on deck. Once there, the wind brought some of the color back to her cheeks and she felt even better.

The boat made a stop to offload a bit of cargo, but there were few buildings and no sign of anyone who might be able to take her inland. There was just one more town before Baton Rouge, but Nicki decided it would be perfect, even if a bit disreputable. The city of Montagne was small, but not too small. She had been there once with her father. One road led out of town to the north on its way to Baton Rouge, while another road skirted the bigger city, but eventually connected with the road east to Hammond. She would take the Hammond road, then head north to Jackson or continue on to Atlanta.

“Goin’ to Baton Rouge?”

The words, with their soft Southern accent, drew her attention to a lanky man who propped a boot on the rail beside her. He was shorter than Alex, but still tall. Fair-skinned and dark-haired with eyes that missed nothing.

“Montagne,” she corrected, then regretted telling him the truth.

“Nice little town,” the man said. He tipped his black, flat-brimmed hat. “Name’s Preston, ma’am. Traver Preston. Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, I’m sure,” she said, instead of giving him her name. He didn’t push her, just looked out over the rail, watching the passing shoreline, the trees and shanties that crouched at the water’s edge. Near-naked dark-skinned children splashed and cavorted while their fathers stood some distance away quietly fishing for catfish.

Taking a slim cigar from the pocket of his waistcoat, Traver Preston struck a match against the rail and lit up. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked belatedly.

Nicki shook her head, inhaling the pungent scent of the tobacco. He had the look of a gambler in his black frock coat, ruffled shirt, and striped blue silk vest.

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