Brinn blew a hot breath against her neck, her teeth closed around a snarl of Alex's curls.

"No, Brinn. Come on, we have to move. Please." She batted the damp warmth away and rocked to her knees. Still no word from her legs, and the trotting horse was nearly upon them. "Move!" she whispered and crawled toward the ditch. She pulled Brinn's reins with her and felt her follow.

Five feet of road scraped beneath her knees in a space of seconds, and Alex felt the dirt give way to crunchy grass just as the air stirred with a rider's passing. He didn't slow, didn't see her in the black night and, luckily, did not careen into Brinn's hindquarters. Relief slid over her, spiced with the terror that she had lost a chance for help, but her first instinct had been to hide and she could not change that now.

Just as she relaxed, a jerk on the reins pulled her off bal­ance. Brinn strained forward and her sharp neigh pierced Alex's ears just after the mare's intent cleared the fog of her owner's muzzy brain.

"Shh. Quiet!"

Brinn whinnied again, happy and eager, calling after the disappearing horse. Alex heard a snort of a call from far ahead and squeezed her eyes shut in denial, even as her heart gave a pitiful leap. Saved!

The rumbling slowed, stopped altogether. Vacillating wildly between relief and horror, she listened to the muf­fled clop of hooves.

Another hard snort from the horse ahead, a joyous reply from Brinn. It was then that a paralyzing thought crept into Alex's mind. No. It couldn't be. Even with the setback of Brinn's injury he could not possibly have come after her yet. No.

The silhouette of a huge centaur loomed out of the black. The silver moon peeked out and flitted its light off a buckle.

"Who's there?"

Her soul fluttered at the sound of that voice and a weight pressed against her tongue. Brinn's reins slipped from her fingers and the mare pushed away to nudge her favorite stallion. Alex refused to do the same. She only tucked her arms close and wondered if Collin might miss her in the dark.

"Alex?" The word conveyed a dozen things, the strongest of which was fear. "Alex, where are you?" He slid from the saddle and his boots crunched closer on the ice. "Alexandra!"

This was not how she'd planned to meet him again, curled up and freezing wet. She'd woven a scene of sorts, but the confrontation had taken place in the elegant draw­ing room of Somerhart. beneath the painting of her beau­tiful mother. She had planned to injure him with her scorn, to send him back to Scotland with the knowledge that she neither wanted nor needed him. She had definitely not planned on hiding in the grass at his feet, hoping he might just stumble past her.

Her paralysis ended when his knuckles brushed against her hair, and only her pride kept her from falling to her face and weeping. She fell, instead, to her backside, a grunt of shock rushing from her mouth even as his fingers reached to cup her chin.

"Alex?"

"Keep your hands to yourself." "Alex, love, are you hurt?"

"No!" she protested, denying so many things at once.

"What are you doing here then?" Collin hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her up onto numb legs. Oh, she tried her best to stand, wanted so badly to press him back and stand away from him, but her legs did not re­spond to her wishes. They simply folded until her body lurched into his.

"Caitein" Collin gasped, catching her, pressing her into his chest. "What have you done to yourself?"

Those damned steady arms of his wrapped around her, held her like something precious, and stole her hatred away. Tears warmed her cheeks as she fell into the scent of him.

"You're wet through." Lilting her, he set her down near Thor. still taking all her weight as his own. She didn't protest the treatment until she felt her cloak fall away and the freez­ing wind against her damp dress.

"My cloak!"

"Shh." His hands unwound her scarf and set to the but­tons of the riding habit.

"Don't." She meant to curse him, but her jaw occupied itself with chattering teeth together.

"You can't keep these things on. Just a minute and we'll have you warm again."

Her skin burned cold, then colder still, until only her shift and boots still covered her icy flesh. She felt some­thing dry fall over her, then a heavier warmth that settled on her shoulders with delicious weight. Collin scooped her up and curled her body into his, hands chafing over her back until her shivering gentled.

"Is Brinn lame?"

"Yes."

"Thor's worn out. We'll have to go slowly." Scooting her up to perch on the front of the saddle, he mounted behind her and draped her over his lap, pulling another blanket tight to her legs. She was so warm by then that she noticed the twinkle of lights ahead, just over the push of a hill. She was just thawed enough to prickle with anger.

"The inn?"

Tags: Victoria Dahl Somerhart Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net