incredulous laugh. “Not mind you running off with a purebred animal in a county crawling with thieves, cutthroats, and worse?”
Her delicate nostrils flared at his implication that the horse’s and not her own safety had him so worried.Big blue eyes narrowed to ominous slits.
“I would have protected it with my life.”
He snorted. “Then I’d have that on my conscience and no horse, either. No sensible female would parade herself around the countryside alone in times like these.”
Her hands fisted at her sides. If she’d had a gun, Reeve figured he’d be sucking air through a new orifice. But better her angry than the other things he’d imagined while racing on foot to the Manor.
The horse never once crossed his mind.
“Jus’ ask from now on, and I’ll take you.”
“You’ll take me?”
He could see the clouds of her displeasure massing, piling darker and darker one atop the other, forming a magnificent thunderhead of rage. He waited stoically for the downpour.
“Ask you?”
Lightning strobed in her stare.
A smart man would take cover.
She drew a deep draft of air and let it blow.
“Who do you think you are, sir, to dictate when and where I go? Ask you? I’ll do no such thing. Let you take me? I’d as soon walk as ‘borrow’ your horse or depend upon your charity. I want nothing from you, Reeve Garrett.”
Though not the wisest thing to do, he crooked a cynical smile. “But my horse came in mighty handy, didn’t it?”
Her teeth clenched tight. Her cheeks flamed as fiery as her hair. She started walking.
It was more stomp than stride.
Reeve watched with some appreciation, reminded of the impulsive girl who’d give way to tremendous—and foolhardy—tempers that madeher act before thinking things through.
And foolhardy it was if she meant to march all the way back to the Glade wrapped only in her indignation.
Especially when it began to rain.
At first, the misty spray felt good upon her face, cooling her temper, restoring her reason. And it felt equally good to vent her temper for the first time since her pampered life was wrested from her. Then, the rain grew in intensity from gentle sprinkle to pummeling downpour.
Pride made a miserable umbrella.
Strands of wet hair plastered themselves to her face and clung coldly to the back of her stiffly held neck. She blinked rapidly to keep persistent drops from skewing her vision. Practical calico proved a poor shield against a steady rainfall. Her skin chilled. Her skirt sucked up more water than a thirsty sponge. Fabric dragged in the muddying drive, hampering bold steps, tangling about her legs like cold plasters.
By the time she reached the road, she seriously rethought her situation. Maybe she should turn around and seek shelter at the Manor rather than court pneumonia in the brutal weather. If the storm didn’t settle in for the day, she’d have plenty of time to make it back to the Glade after the worst of it was over.
She squinted heavenward. A solid black mat hugged close to the shoulders of midday, offering no relief. She paused, feeling the ground seep up over the tops of her half boots. Time either to sink or surrender.
And then she heard the jingle of bridle tracings.A quick glance confirmed the worst. Right behind her, Reeve slouched indolently in his saddle, looking not at all uncomfortable in the deluge.
“Like a ride, Miz Sinclair?”
Suddenly, she decided she’d surrendered quite enough to Reeve Garrett and those like him.
That determination kept her going for close to half a mile. By then, she was tripping on her sodden hem, blinded by the sluicing, endless stream of water runneling down her face. Lifting bags of bricks would be easier than wresting her feet, first one, then the other, out of the quicksand the road had become. Her muscles ached. Her knees wobbled. Breath clawed up her throat in ever more desperate struggles for escape. How she hated Reeve’s mocking smugness, his patient stalking, as he
Her delicate nostrils flared at his implication that the horse’s and not her own safety had him so worried.Big blue eyes narrowed to ominous slits.
“I would have protected it with my life.”
He snorted. “Then I’d have that on my conscience and no horse, either. No sensible female would parade herself around the countryside alone in times like these.”
Her hands fisted at her sides. If she’d had a gun, Reeve figured he’d be sucking air through a new orifice. But better her angry than the other things he’d imagined while racing on foot to the Manor.
The horse never once crossed his mind.
“Jus’ ask from now on, and I’ll take you.”
“You’ll take me?”
He could see the clouds of her displeasure massing, piling darker and darker one atop the other, forming a magnificent thunderhead of rage. He waited stoically for the downpour.
“Ask you?”
Lightning strobed in her stare.
A smart man would take cover.
She drew a deep draft of air and let it blow.
“Who do you think you are, sir, to dictate when and where I go? Ask you? I’ll do no such thing. Let you take me? I’d as soon walk as ‘borrow’ your horse or depend upon your charity. I want nothing from you, Reeve Garrett.”
Though not the wisest thing to do, he crooked a cynical smile. “But my horse came in mighty handy, didn’t it?”
Her teeth clenched tight. Her cheeks flamed as fiery as her hair. She started walking.
It was more stomp than stride.
Reeve watched with some appreciation, reminded of the impulsive girl who’d give way to tremendous—and foolhardy—tempers that madeher act before thinking things through.
And foolhardy it was if she meant to march all the way back to the Glade wrapped only in her indignation.
Especially when it began to rain.
At first, the misty spray felt good upon her face, cooling her temper, restoring her reason. And it felt equally good to vent her temper for the first time since her pampered life was wrested from her. Then, the rain grew in intensity from gentle sprinkle to pummeling downpour.
Pride made a miserable umbrella.
Strands of wet hair plastered themselves to her face and clung coldly to the back of her stiffly held neck. She blinked rapidly to keep persistent drops from skewing her vision. Practical calico proved a poor shield against a steady rainfall. Her skin chilled. Her skirt sucked up more water than a thirsty sponge. Fabric dragged in the muddying drive, hampering bold steps, tangling about her legs like cold plasters.
By the time she reached the road, she seriously rethought her situation. Maybe she should turn around and seek shelter at the Manor rather than court pneumonia in the brutal weather. If the storm didn’t settle in for the day, she’d have plenty of time to make it back to the Glade after the worst of it was over.
She squinted heavenward. A solid black mat hugged close to the shoulders of midday, offering no relief. She paused, feeling the ground seep up over the tops of her half boots. Time either to sink or surrender.
And then she heard the jingle of bridle tracings.A quick glance confirmed the worst. Right behind her, Reeve slouched indolently in his saddle, looking not at all uncomfortable in the deluge.
“Like a ride, Miz Sinclair?”
Suddenly, she decided she’d surrendered quite enough to Reeve Garrett and those like him.
That determination kept her going for close to half a mile. By then, she was tripping on her sodden hem, blinded by the sluicing, endless stream of water runneling down her face. Lifting bags of bricks would be easier than wresting her feet, first one, then the other, out of the quicksand the road had become. Her muscles ached. Her knees wobbled. Breath clawed up her throat in ever more desperate struggles for escape. How she hated Reeve’s mocking smugness, his patient stalking, as he
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