Lance cursed under his breath. He knew he was being played for a fool; Summer was no more about to faint than he was. She had reached into her bag of feminine wiles and pulled out the first trick that was likely to keep him from riding off. Well, by God, he would call her bluff! He would teach her she couldn’t manipulate him now the way she had so easily five years ago.
Hauling back the reins, he threw one leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. In two strides he had reached her and bent dow
n to catch her legs behind the knees. Bracing his other hand behind her back, he swung her up in his arms, forcing her to clasp him around the neck to keep from falling.
“Oh!”
He ignored her startled exclamation and stalked across the road, plunging down the rocky embankment without breaking stride.
“W-What are you doing?”
“Why, nothin’, Miss Summer, ma’am. Just takin’ you down to the creek. Have to get some water for your temples, doncha know? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for faintin’ women?”
His savage tone with its exaggerated drawl made a mockery of his chivalry.
“You don’t have to do that.... Lance, I’m all right, honestly.”
“Honest? You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word, princess.”
“Lance, please…you’re frightening me.”
“Good. Then maybe you’ll think twice before playing your damn tricks on me again.”
He shoved his way past a thicket of redbud and wild plum bushes and reached the bank of the slow-moving creek, low after the hot summer months of little rain. It was cooler here, shaded from the sun by the tall cottonwoods and hickories that grew along the creek bottom.
Without ceremony or much care for his burden, Lance bent a knee to the ground and roughly laid Summer on a bed of ferns. When she tried to sit up, he held her down with a firm hand on her shoulder and proceeded to unfasten the front buttons of her gown’s bodice, completely ignoring her shocked gasp.
“Lance…? W-What…?”
“Hush, princess, don’t try to talk. A woman in your condition has to save her breath.”
Her fluttering hands were frantically trying to close the buttons that he’d just undone, but he pushed them aside as a mere nuisance and finished his task. Catching her right wrist in his grasp, he drew the bowie knife he kept strapped in a sheath at his waist.
Her eyes widened in alarm.
“We have to loosen this contraption, ma’am, so you can get some air.”
Not waiting for her protest, he lowered the point of the knife to her waist and, with several quick upward slices, cut the laces of her corset.
The sudden freedom from restriction made her rib cage expand, allowing air to rush into her lungs, yet it only had the effect of stealing away what little breath Summer had left.
Frozen in fear, she could only stare up at him. Lance had guessed right; she’d only been pretending weakness before in order to gain his attention. But she truly felt faint now. Lance was leaning over her, his fierce black eyes boring into her, as if any moment he might lose whatever tenuous hold he had on his control, as if he might unleash his most violent primal instincts.
Then his gaze dropped suddenly to her bosom.
The soft white swells of her breasts, pushed up by the stiff buckram padding of her corset, practically spilled over the lace edge of her chemise, leaving her indecently exposed. Summer felt his hot gaze move over her like a burning brand, felt her nipples tighten in response. She wanted to cover herself, but she couldn’t move. Her lips parted as she tried to speak, but no sound came out.
Just as suddenly, he let go of her wrist and sat back on his heels. “Goddammit to hell!” In a furious motion, he snatched his hat from his head and flung it away.
Summer scrambled to sit up, to edge away from him, putting a safer distance between them.
Seeing her frightened gesture, Lance expelled a harsh breath and ran a hand roughly through his black hair. What the hell had gotten into him? He never let himself lose control like that, never let his anger explode. He’d learned the hard way how vital it was to keep a rein on his temper. Control often meant the edge needed for survival, and yet he had turned his violence loose on a woman, on her. And God help him, it was just one more proof of Summer’s power over him.
She was clutching the open edges of her bodice together, watching him with those tear-filled eyes, eyes edged with fear.
Cursing himself, he looked away.
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said finally, his voice low, gruff.