when Miguel joined her he pulled on the mare's rein and turned her aside.
'We'll go back this way,' he decided, 'then you can go straight in and get Don Jose's supper while I stable the horses.'
'Oh, but there's really no need '
Her objection was automatic, but it was cut short because he kept a firm hold on the rein and for the mare's sake she yielded. When she again felt the saddle shift slightly sideways as they set off she still said nothing, but rode with her chin in the air and her face turned determinedly forward. Riding at their present rate there was little danger that anything would happen.
They rode in silence, but Kirstie realised that she had never before been quite so aware of her own body, and the reason was the proximity of that virile and masculine presence right beside her. The thin white cotton shirt shfe wore was one she had worn often, but never before had it so obviously stressed the soft round young curves beneath it; and the fawn drill trousers stretched tautly over smoothly rounded thighs had never seemed so closely fitting on other occasions. Nor did the looks that occasionally came in her direction do anything to ease her selfconsciousness, but only increased it.
'We can make better speed than this!'
She glanced round quickly, startled by Miguel's sudden impatience, but she wasn't in time to do anything. Obviously he was anxious to get home, for he slapped the mare briskly across the rump with the quirt he carried, then did the same to his own horse, and both animals took off immediately.
*Oh no, wait '
She felt the saddle begin to slip sideways, but before she could say any more or slow her animal down, she was plunged downward and sideways at the same time, and the ground seemed to rise up and meet her. Fortunately Scheherazade was a sensitive and alert animal and the moment she felt all was not well she slowed down and eventually stopped, with her head tossing agitatedly.
Some yards away, Kirstie lay winded, but nothing worse as far as she could tell, but she lay where she had fallen with the breath knocked out of her and too stunned to move at the moment. She was vaguely aware, in the near distance, of the stallion being pulled so abruptly to a halt that he slid on to his haunches with his mouth gaping on the harshness of the bit, and she watched Miguel slide from the saddle and come striding back towards her, his expression one of mingled alarm and disbelief.
'What on earth happened?' he demanded, and stood for a second or two towering over her like a black-headed Nemesis, and glowering darkly.
Kirstie ached, but she was certain there wasn't anything serious the matter with her, yet when she didn't immediately answer, Miguel dropped on to one knee beside her. Her eyes were open, but from that angle they appeared heavy-lidded and half-closed, and he pressed a hand to her forehead; anxious instead of angry suddenly.
'Are you hurtT She shook her head because she was still too winded to speak, but she made a tentative effort to sit up and was immediately pushed back again. 'No, stay where you are until I make sure you're all right.
Does anything hurt? Your ribs or your back?*
*No. No, I'm all right, just winded.'
Her voice was light and breathless and slightly husky, for he wasn't taking her word for it. Large and surprisingly gentle hands spanned her rib cage and checked for damage; working round from back to front and from bottom to top, the backs of his hands touching the warm intimacy of her breasts with the lightness of a caress, so that she held her breath to try and lessen the contact.
Eventually he eased back and looked down at her with dark, fathomless eyes for a moment. 'You seem to be O.K.,' he remarked. 'Can you move your arms and legs?'
Kirstie obligingly moved all four limbs, and it was while her arms were extended that he reached and slipped his hands under her shoulders, drawing her -upward until she was within the circle of his arms. Instinctively she put her
'We'll go back this way,' he decided, 'then you can go straight in and get Don Jose's supper while I stable the horses.'
'Oh, but there's really no need '
Her objection was automatic, but it was cut short because he kept a firm hold on the rein and for the mare's sake she yielded. When she again felt the saddle shift slightly sideways as they set off she still said nothing, but rode with her chin in the air and her face turned determinedly forward. Riding at their present rate there was little danger that anything would happen.
They rode in silence, but Kirstie realised that she had never before been quite so aware of her own body, and the reason was the proximity of that virile and masculine presence right beside her. The thin white cotton shirt shfe wore was one she had worn often, but never before had it so obviously stressed the soft round young curves beneath it; and the fawn drill trousers stretched tautly over smoothly rounded thighs had never seemed so closely fitting on other occasions. Nor did the looks that occasionally came in her direction do anything to ease her selfconsciousness, but only increased it.
'We can make better speed than this!'
She glanced round quickly, startled by Miguel's sudden impatience, but she wasn't in time to do anything. Obviously he was anxious to get home, for he slapped the mare briskly across the rump with the quirt he carried, then did the same to his own horse, and both animals took off immediately.
*Oh no, wait '
She felt the saddle begin to slip sideways, but before she could say any more or slow her animal down, she was plunged downward and sideways at the same time, and the ground seemed to rise up and meet her. Fortunately Scheherazade was a sensitive and alert animal and the moment she felt all was not well she slowed down and eventually stopped, with her head tossing agitatedly.
Some yards away, Kirstie lay winded, but nothing worse as far as she could tell, but she lay where she had fallen with the breath knocked out of her and too stunned to move at the moment. She was vaguely aware, in the near distance, of the stallion being pulled so abruptly to a halt that he slid on to his haunches with his mouth gaping on the harshness of the bit, and she watched Miguel slide from the saddle and come striding back towards her, his expression one of mingled alarm and disbelief.
'What on earth happened?' he demanded, and stood for a second or two towering over her like a black-headed Nemesis, and glowering darkly.
Kirstie ached, but she was certain there wasn't anything serious the matter with her, yet when she didn't immediately answer, Miguel dropped on to one knee beside her. Her eyes were open, but from that angle they appeared heavy-lidded and half-closed, and he pressed a hand to her forehead; anxious instead of angry suddenly.
'Are you hurtT She shook her head because she was still too winded to speak, but she made a tentative effort to sit up and was immediately pushed back again. 'No, stay where you are until I make sure you're all right.
Does anything hurt? Your ribs or your back?*
*No. No, I'm all right, just winded.'
Her voice was light and breathless and slightly husky, for he wasn't taking her word for it. Large and surprisingly gentle hands spanned her rib cage and checked for damage; working round from back to front and from bottom to top, the backs of his hands touching the warm intimacy of her breasts with the lightness of a caress, so that she held her breath to try and lessen the contact.
Eventually he eased back and looked down at her with dark, fathomless eyes for a moment. 'You seem to be O.K.,' he remarked. 'Can you move your arms and legs?'
Kirstie obligingly moved all four limbs, and it was while her arms were extended that he reached and slipped his hands under her shoulders, drawing her -upward until she was within the circle of his arms. Instinctively she put her
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