Burning Bright (Brambridge Novel 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

words.
    “Ah. Might a changed a bit from when you were last here, sir. We had complaints. Our… clientele expects a little luxury.” Dropping the key on a small table by the door, the innkeeper turned and left the room before James could say a word.
    Depositing the candle on the small table, James crossed to the bed. As he gazed at his highly polished Hoby boots, his eyelids became heavy. He had spent two cold nights on the cliff tops of Brambridge, watching the comings and goings of the villagers and fishermen. And before that, three days travel by horse from London staying in inadequate coaching inns. Lying down on his side on the bed, he winced and rolled straight back on his back. His shoulder had begun to ache from the constant activity.
    Struggling back into a sitting position, he pulled off his coat and shucked off his shirt. His bag had already been moved into the room by one of the maids. Hooking his feet beneath the heavy chair in the corner of the room, he eased his legs out of the tight-fitting boots. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments, exhausted, noting the crumpled nature of his breeches. Now that he was Lord Stanton he would have to think about engaging a valet.
    Standing stiffly and crossing to the window, James opened the casement and looked outside towards the church clock. It would be at least seven hours before he needed to leave. Seven hours before he could put his relationship with his father behind him and gain what was rightfully his. Wincing a little, he bent and pulled a leather tube from his bag. Unhooking the top, he turned it upside down and dropped his pocket telescope out into his hand. The patina on the metal was worn with use and smooth against his fingers. Putting the instrument to his eye, he surveyed the headland and the shore behind the church. There was no movement or sound in the dusk apart from the gentle hum of voices from the taproom below. Picking up the candle, James turned back towards the bed and eased onto the covers with relief. He placed the candle on the bedside table and blew it out. As the shadows drew in he closed his eyes.
    He awoke in a hot sweat, half-remembering the continuing dream that took him every night.
    Screaming horses, shouting men, the boom of guns, falling masonry . And yet a new element had been added : a shadowy man standing with his arm upraised . James shook his head, his shoulder still ground painfully where he had been stabbed at Badajoz, the wound healing badly. Massaging his shoulder forcefully, James stumbled across the room and splashed water from the ewer on the dresser into a bowl.
    He pushed his face beneath the water and held it there until all traces of the nightmare had been erased. Slowly he raised his face to the gilt mirror that hung by the washbasin. A white face stared back at him, the only part of his body that remained unscarred. Slapping at his cheeks, he watched as the color seeped back into them. Glancing out of the window, he caught sight of the church clock and cursed. Even though he had slept badly, he was still late. He pulled on his boots, stopping only to grab his telescope and its holder before leaving the room in haste.
    James took the stairs two at a time and pushed his way through the tap room. Scorpius had already been brushed down, fed and watered. He stood waiting in the yard. James swung his leg over the saddle and, gently urging Scorpius with his knees, turned the horse up the lane to Brambridge Manor.
    Riding through the wrought iron and gilt manor gates, he surveyed the opulence in front of him. The gates were much smaller than those in his memory. In the past the gates had towered over him as the family had trotted in and out on an assortment of ponies or left in their carriages to visit friends. Weeds grew around the edges of the gates, which now stood propped open by two large rocks.
    One hand clenched tightly onto the reins, James ran a hand through his hair. Without stopping, he took up the reins