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Page 76
Thorn had just doused the light in the kitchen when he heard a noise outside, much too loud to be Indians or any other man or beast trying to raid his inn. René had gone upstairs to see to theft guest's comfort and had doubtless become involved in a protracted conversation.
It had to be the woman. Miss Walker.
Mariah.
He should not think of her by her first name. He should not think of her at all. Had she not proven she was some pampered female from the east who had no business on the frontier?
There had been that other pampered woman from the east who had needed his help. And look what he had done to her. . . .
The wooden door banged open. In walked Mariah, light from her candle flickering softly on her lovely, pale face. Her hand was cupped about the flame, as though it were something to be protected, fragile.
Like her.
He laughed aloud. No, whatever this woman was, she had shown her bravery against those men who had come after her. She might need protection, but she was not fragile.
''Oh!" The woman gasped at his laugh. She startedand the flame of her candle went out. "Now look what you've done." Her voice sounded irritated.
"You know where to get more fire." He stood unmoving in the dark. "Or to start your own." He knew his tone was belligerent, inviting her to argue. Or to complain about the way he'd teased her earlier.
Instead, she laughed. "Yes, I suppose I do, though I wish I could see where I was going now. Is this a test?"
He said nothing, though in a way he supposed it was. So far, she had passed it admirably. Instead of shouting with the outrage of the spoiled rich woman he knew she was, she had laughed at herself. And when she edged past him, apparently following a faint glow from beneath the door into the common room, he held his breath. She probably did not know how closely she had drawn near him.
Or perhaps she did.

 
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