This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“Taking them with me, of course,” he replied, finishing the tie and straightening around to gather up the horse’s reins. “There’s some poor cowboy walking around out there with no clothes on. We can’t have that.” He clicked to his horse and reined it away from the river.

Panic filled her when she realized he was actually going to leave with her clothes. “No! They’re mine! You bring them back here!” Alarm was in her voice, weakening its anger to fear.

Checking his horse, he turned it in a quarter-pivot so it was standing parallel with the river. Iron hooves clattered on the sandy gravel of the bar as the horse shifted impatiently, waiting for its rider to make up his mind where they were going.

The sunlight striking the crystal-clear water of the river turned its surface to glass. From his vantage point in the saddle, Chase saw the naked white shape of her body beneath the water—slim and high-breasted. He had a young man’s appetites, and the spring roundup had meant a long fasting period, so the sight of her easily aroused him.

In the beginning, Chase had intended only to take her clothes and ride off a ways before leaving them where she could find them. Now he was unconsciously changing his plans, wanting to see her without the distortion of the water to interfere with the sight.

“If they are your clothes, why don’t you come and get them?” he challenged smoothly.

Maggie drew in a sharp breath, sensing a change in the air. Some new undercurrent was present, vaguely threatening. She sank a little deeper in the freezing water, its coldness lapping into the hollows of her collarbone.

“No.”

“If you want them, you’ll have to come get them.”

“No.” Her refusal was more forceful this time, but her teeth had started chattering from the numbing cold. She moved her arms in the water, trying to keep the circulation going. “You leave my clothes where you found them,” she insisted in a wavering voice.

“I can’t do that.” He shook his head briefly and shifted in the saddle, as if making himself more comfortable. “I’ll just have to wait until you come out of the water to claim them.”

“I’m not coming out while you’re there,” Maggie retorted.

“I’m not leaving until you do.” Chase could see she was shivering, and guessed the water was icy. “You’ll freeze in that river. You’d better come out before you turn blue.”

“I’ll freeze to death before I’ll ever set foot on that bank with you there!” An impotent kind of fury raged through her.

“You stupid little fool.” Chase saw the mule-stubborn expression on her face, and his jaw hardened. He’d taken a position and couldn’t retreat from it. That left him only one recourse—to advance. “In that case, I’ll just have to come out there and get you.”

Her wide-eyed look held panic. “You wouldn’t dare.” But there was doubt in her shivering voice.

“Wouldn’t I?” He raised an eyebrow and reached for the coiled lariat tied below the saddle pommel.

His horse was instantly alert. The lariat represented the kind of work it understood and enjoyed. When its rider pointed the horse at the figure in the water, it pricked its ears curiously at the girl, then swiveled them back and forth, uncertain that its rider actually intended the human to be the objective.

Shaking out the loop, Chase walked the horse into the water, ignoring its rolling snort at this curious business. The loop of the rope was held low and free of his right side, ready to be swung into action when the time came.

For several long seconds, Maggie watched him come closer, part of her refusing to believe that he would go through with it. Then she tried to swim out of his path. Chase put the spurs to his horse, sending it plunging through the water to turn her back. The river ran past his boot tops, its temperature colder than he had realized.

As she tried to change directions and elude him again, the only sure target his rope had was her head. At this depth, the loop would lay on the surface, catching her around the neck. He had to maneuver her into shallower water, where the rope could settle around her middle. It became a cat-and-mouse game, with the outcome foredestined, because the cat was too quick and the mouse was too sluggish.

The icy temperature of the river had stiffened her muscles, making her reflexes slow and her movements uncoordinated. Maggie floundered in the deep water, going under once before her toes scraped bottom to push her to the surface. The cold had sapped her strength. Weak and quivering, she was frightened by the new danger of drowning.

When it appeared that Chase had followed her too far into the river’s channel, his horse snorting nervously at the water rising midway to the point of his withers, Maggie struck out frantically for the solidness of the bank. All her effort was concentrated on trying to run as she reached belly-deep water.

A complacent smile was curving Chase’s mouth. His hors

e had begun its turn to shore a second after the girl had made her break. It was lunging through the water after her while Chase lifted the rope to circle it above his head. While he made the calculations of distance and speed, the other part of his mind was noting the jutting swell of her profiled breast and the snow-white cheeks of her bottom as she ran from him.

The rope made two swings above his head before he let the loop sail to its target. It settled over her shoulders and Chase jerked it tight just above her elbows. The horse stopped as quickly as it could in the water to hold the rope taut.

Maggie struggled wildly, twisting and straining, trying to loosen the binding rope, animal sounds of desperation coming from her throat. Despite her struggling efforts, the tension on the rope wasn’t eased. She cast a wild look over her shoulder, a curtain of wet black hair getting in her way.

With his quarry captured, Chase urged his horse forward while his eyes took in the nude beauty of her. The horse was momentarily confused by the command, trained to hold the tautness of the rope until its captive was set free, but at the insistence of its rider, the horse obeyed. Chase kept the rope tight, feeding the excess to his left hand and coiling it up.

He made no attempt to check the horse until it was alongside the stumbling, splashing, still-struggling girl. Close up, the unblemished perfection of her naked flesh was even more beautiful. Chase pulled her backward a step to draw her even with his saddle and bent down to scoop her up. The tight noose pinned her arms to her sides.

When he hooked his arm around the front of her waist, it was like grabbing hold of an icicle. Even through his jacket, he could feel her coldness. What lusting thoughts he’d possessed were overridden by concern for a person exposed too long to the river’s frigid waters. He was angry with himself, disgusted by his actions. The girl was nearly frozen, and all because his damned pride had wanted revenge. Chase hauled her kicking, twisting body onto the saddle in front of him.