hands to his chest to keep some distance between them. 'I'm perfectly all right,' she insisted, still in that curiously breathless voice, but Miguel still knelt there.
'Hmm.' His arms held her loosely and his big hands were on her back, the palms warm through her shirt, and she found it much too difficult to meet his eyes. 'How did it happen, Kirstie?' he asked, and her pulse gave a great leap of surprise when he used her first name.
'The girth slipped; I'd felt it move earlier and I meant to have adjusted it before I started back.'
'Then why didn't you?' He was looking at her in a way that made it impossible to meet his eyes for more than a second or two. 'Didn't it slip when you got on just now?'
'A httle.'
'And you said nothing!' He was shaking his head, and the long fingers on her back pressed hard for a moment, as if in reprimand. 'Didn't you reahse how dangerous it was riding with a loose girth?'
Kirstie admitted it with a slight nod, but said nothing.
She was shaking like a leaf, but it had little to do with the recent fall, she suspected; it was more the effect of that stunningly virile body that now and then touched hers, despite the barrier of her hands, and the steady darkness of his eyes watching her. His hands moved on her back, slowly and lightly, so that the strong brown fingers seemed to stroke her skin through the thin cotton shirt and she instinctively arched her body towards them.
'You're a little fool.' He spoke softly, his voice in direct contrast to the accusation, and Kirstie glanced up through the thick blackness of her lashes. 'You took a quite unnecessary risk of being seriously injured rather than tell me there was something wrong,' he went on before she could protest. 'Isn't that taking your dislike of me to extremes?'
Still she said nothing, but sat with his arms supporting her; aching a little, but nothing that a hot bath wouldn't soon put right, and increasingly aware of how her own body was responding to that dangerous aura of masculinity about him. Then his arms were gone suddenly and he straightened up, reaching down with his hands to help her stand and supporting her with his hands on her arms until he was sure she could stand on her own feet.
'Will you be all right while I check that girth?' he asked, and Kirstie nodded.
She walked slowly over and watched while he carefully examined the buckle and strap, noticing the way he frowned over it, and when he nodded she ventured an opinion. 'Is the buckle worn?'
Miguel looked up swiftly, still frowning. 'Dangerously so; didn't you notice it when you saddled up?'
'I thought it wasn't as good as it might be,' she confessed, and he clicked his tongue impatiently.
'Then you should have had more sense than to use it!'
'And miss my ride?' she parried. 'There isn't another one.'
'Then it will have to either be mended or replaced!'
Kirstie watched him tighten the girth and double the end of the strap back on itself to make it more secure, while she realised with regret that the old sense of resentment was once more raising its ugly head. Til have to wait until I get my first month's salary before I can afford that,' she told him. 'Which means I'll just have to do without my rides, I suppose.'
She hadn't realised how sorry she sounded for herself, but when Miguel had given the strap a last final pull and then turned to face her, there was a gleaming look in his eyes that was all too familiar to her. 'Don't try and play for my sympathy,' he told her. 'You know me better than to expect me to pity you in your poverty!'
The harshness of it stunned her for a moment, and her face flooded with hot colour. 'How—how dare you!' she whispered hoarsely. 'How dare you speak to me like that? I'm not looking or asking for your sympathy, Don Miguel, I never have!'
'Good!'
He took her fury in his stride and surprised her by walking off with the mare and remounting his own horse still holding her rein, while Kirstie stared after him, blank-eyed with
'Hmm.' His arms held her loosely and his big hands were on her back, the palms warm through her shirt, and she found it much too difficult to meet his eyes. 'How did it happen, Kirstie?' he asked, and her pulse gave a great leap of surprise when he used her first name.
'The girth slipped; I'd felt it move earlier and I meant to have adjusted it before I started back.'
'Then why didn't you?' He was looking at her in a way that made it impossible to meet his eyes for more than a second or two. 'Didn't it slip when you got on just now?'
'A httle.'
'And you said nothing!' He was shaking his head, and the long fingers on her back pressed hard for a moment, as if in reprimand. 'Didn't you reahse how dangerous it was riding with a loose girth?'
Kirstie admitted it with a slight nod, but said nothing.
She was shaking like a leaf, but it had little to do with the recent fall, she suspected; it was more the effect of that stunningly virile body that now and then touched hers, despite the barrier of her hands, and the steady darkness of his eyes watching her. His hands moved on her back, slowly and lightly, so that the strong brown fingers seemed to stroke her skin through the thin cotton shirt and she instinctively arched her body towards them.
'You're a little fool.' He spoke softly, his voice in direct contrast to the accusation, and Kirstie glanced up through the thick blackness of her lashes. 'You took a quite unnecessary risk of being seriously injured rather than tell me there was something wrong,' he went on before she could protest. 'Isn't that taking your dislike of me to extremes?'
Still she said nothing, but sat with his arms supporting her; aching a little, but nothing that a hot bath wouldn't soon put right, and increasingly aware of how her own body was responding to that dangerous aura of masculinity about him. Then his arms were gone suddenly and he straightened up, reaching down with his hands to help her stand and supporting her with his hands on her arms until he was sure she could stand on her own feet.
'Will you be all right while I check that girth?' he asked, and Kirstie nodded.
She walked slowly over and watched while he carefully examined the buckle and strap, noticing the way he frowned over it, and when he nodded she ventured an opinion. 'Is the buckle worn?'
Miguel looked up swiftly, still frowning. 'Dangerously so; didn't you notice it when you saddled up?'
'I thought it wasn't as good as it might be,' she confessed, and he clicked his tongue impatiently.
'Then you should have had more sense than to use it!'
'And miss my ride?' she parried. 'There isn't another one.'
'Then it will have to either be mended or replaced!'
Kirstie watched him tighten the girth and double the end of the strap back on itself to make it more secure, while she realised with regret that the old sense of resentment was once more raising its ugly head. Til have to wait until I get my first month's salary before I can afford that,' she told him. 'Which means I'll just have to do without my rides, I suppose.'
She hadn't realised how sorry she sounded for herself, but when Miguel had given the strap a last final pull and then turned to face her, there was a gleaming look in his eyes that was all too familiar to her. 'Don't try and play for my sympathy,' he told her. 'You know me better than to expect me to pity you in your poverty!'
The harshness of it stunned her for a moment, and her face flooded with hot colour. 'How—how dare you!' she whispered hoarsely. 'How dare you speak to me like that? I'm not looking or asking for your sympathy, Don Miguel, I never have!'
'Good!'
He took her fury in his stride and surprised her by walking off with the mare and remounting his own horse still holding her rein, while Kirstie stared after him, blank-eyed with
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