Rocky Mountain Bride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 2) by Lee Savino

hind legs, whinnying and shying away. Carrie watched in horror as the stallion kicked the air in front of it, just a few feet away from Miles’ head. She rushed forward to help, but Miles threw out a palm to stop her from coming any closer, then whirled to face the horse. From where she stood, she could see man match wills with beast, the muscles in both males taut with readiness.
    Miles approached, hands out and spoke soft words until the stallion relaxed to all fours, and then dropped its head to nuzzle its master.
    Only then did Carrie remember to breathe.
    Miles finished quieting the horse and then left the pen to come towards her. His late day stubble carved shadows into his already harsh face, and dust streaked his tanned muscles. Her mouth went dry and she took a deep breath, wondering why her stomach fluttered so at the sight of him. A strange giddyness came over her, even as he frowned down at her.
    “I told you to stay near the homestead.”
    “I thought it would be all right,” she stammered, as Miles took her arm and guided her to a stump. He knelt and propped her leg up on his knee, pushing up her skirts and unlacing her boot.
    She blushed. It was unseemly for a man to see a woman’s ankles, not that propriety ever seemed to stop him. Perhaps things were different in the West. Peeking up at him, she wondered if he thought she was pretty.
    “It’s not swollen, and the bruising’s gone down. But I don’t want you walking this far on it.” She met his tawny gaze, warm feelings suffusing her.
    “Your health is important to me,” he continued, lacing up her boot and then standing. “You’re my responsibility, now.”
    A responsibility. Just like a horse, or his herd of cattle. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a burden.”
    “You’re not a burden. But you must learn to listen to me.”
    Shaking his head, he picked up the water pail. “Stay here.” He strode back towards the copse and the stream.
    Carrie studied his retreating back, the power latent in the tanned form. He still hadn’t bothered to put on his shirt. A part of her hoped he wouldn’t.
    When he returned, body wet from a quick dip in the stream, pail in hand, she quickly averted her eyes. What was she doing? Lusting after a man like a wanton woman? As if her past hadn’t taught her the punishment for such a sin.
    Miles offered the pail to her to drink, then went to set hay bales in both pens.
    Carrie stared down at the water in her lap, wishing she could will her feelings away.
    The white horse stood at the fence, nickering at her, so she stood carefully, and went forward with the pail to offer it a drink of water. As soon as she was near, the horse kicked the fence, neighing angrily, and thrusting its head forward to knock the pail out of her uplifted hands.
    Then Miles was at her side, pushing her back and inserting himself between her and the raging stallion.
    “Easy, Lightning.” His deep voice held no trace of fear, only stern command. Carrie clutched the back of his shirt, walking backwards with him until he turned to her.
    “Are you all right?” he asked, and she caught her breath at the tenderness in his tone.
    “I am. I’m sorry.”
    “My fault,” Miles said. “I should’ve warned you—but now I will. He’s still untamed. You’re never to go near the pen, unless I’m here with you and tell you it’s all right.”
    “I won’t,” she said.
    Before they left, Miles knelt and checked her foot. Again, his hands were strong and sure as they worked over her bruised flesh. “Does that hurt?”
    “No, sir,” she said. When she looked up, she saw the horses lining the fence, watching her with their master. She expected they found his deep voice as soothing as she did.
    “All right then. We’ll walk back, but you’ll lean on me.”
    He took her arm and escorted her back to the homestead. Even though his legs were longer, he matched his strides to hers, so she didn’t feel as if she must scurry along. As they