Her eyes looked luminous, and the breath that had been cinched tight in his chest finally found its relief. It sawed out of him as he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
She let him hold her there for a few moments and then cleared her throat.
He let her go. Straightened to his full height and offered her his hand. She took it and stood.
There were a million things he wanted her to know, a million thoughts bouncing in his mind, but words failed him.
"Scared you for a minute?" She touched his forearm. "Me too."
He exhaled roughly again. At least she had some sense of her own mortality.
He didn't answer. It didn't seem necessary after what he'd shared last night. She knew that he'd flashed back to those awful moments when Reggie had fallen from that horse so many years ago.
She paused. "You know, if Iwashurt, it wouldn't have been your fault."
He was mired in the frozen darkness inside. "That's not what it feels like."
Her gaze was frank and curious. "If you fell, would you blame me?"
He'd chased her out here across the plains. Maybe he could blame her, but of course he wouldn't.
He stared at the ground as he tried to wrap his mind around the twisted problems of his past and what Breanna was telling him now. He shook the thoughts away.
"I wouldn't fall," he joked.
"I wouldn't have either.” She leveled her gaze at him. "That scoundrel pushed me. I thought I saw a knife—that's how he unbalanced me."
Anger coursed through him. "Did he say anything?"
She brushed off her pants and walked toward her horse, gingerly at first, but then her stance relaxed. She seemed unharmed, but how was that possible?
She shook her head, now settling the horse with one hand at its neck, bending to check each hoof.
"Ride down?" she asked.
"I think I'll hike." It would take him at least that long to regain his composure.
She accepted a hand up into the saddle and then began picking her way down the hillside. He did the same on foot.
Why would Scar-face have pushed Breanna? He'd winded his horse just to get close. She was one of the top competitors. That much was evident by her daily rides. Maybe the man had wanted her out of the race?
Whatever his reason, Adam wasn't going to let this stand.
The race master hadn't taken action when her stirrups had been cut, but Adam would see to it that the man did now. Or maybe even the nearest sheriff. As far as he was concerned, pushing her off her horse on a hill was attempted murder. And no one threatened his woman and got away with it.
He joined her at the bottom of the hill, and they walked their horses to the creek. He was still so furious, he couldn’t think of a word to say.
By now he knew the routine. Pour water on the horses. Check their tack. Check their hooves. Good thing he could do all that without needing to pay much attention.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
He glanced at her.
She added, "You look a little..."
"Murderous?" he supplied when she didn't seem to want to name the emotion boiling just beneath his skin.
She laughed, but he wasn't joking.
