She dug her nails into his thighs. Trying to hold her was worse than wrestling a wildcat. Did she want to get them both killed?
He pressed his weight against her and gave one final yank. Her foot slipped free of her stirrup.
Goggle-eyed, the Thoroughbred slacked its pace and veered away.
“Whoa.” Devon pulled back on his reins.
An elbow jammed into his gut as his mare slowed. “Unhh.”
His grip loosened, and the woman jumped.
He yanked his horse to a full stop and hopped off.
Scratched and dirty and dress torn, she rolled to her feet and jerked her head toward the sound of hooves.
She looked familiar. No. It couldn’t be?—
“Keep her there,” the man in the red shirt yelled as he charged toward them.
She spun toward Devon with eyes blazing. Morning Fawn. With honey-blond hair, not dark brown.
His mouth dropped.
Recognition dawned across her face. “You’re one of them.” Her face contorted. “You. Ruined. Everything.” She screeched, hitched her skirts, and ran at him.
The impact almost knocked him off his feet. Her fists struck him in the chest, the shoulders. Devon gripped her wrists.Their gazes locked. Specks of gold in a sea of brown-green glared at him, as fiery as a branding iron. A spark sizzled through him and buried deep, awaiting ignition.
She shoved him. Both of them toppled to the ground. He fought to escape her fists and feet. Rolling on top of her, he pushed himself up on all fours and pinned her down.
“Get your hands off me.” She spit out the words, clear English, not the Spanish and Comanche she’d been confined to when they’d snatched her last year.
It’s good to see you.He pressed his lips shut against the idiotic pleasantry, but other words bubbled out. “What happened to your hair?”
She scowled at him. “What are you talking about?”
“It used to be dark?—”
“You’re destroying my life”—Morning Fawn’s breaths came in short huffs like a steam engine—“and you’re worried about my hair?”
“I—”
A horse drew up to within a few feet of them, saving him from further stupidity.
Devon blinked at the spray of dust.
“Let me help.” The red-shirt man swung down off his mount and hitched his trousers. “Mighty obliged to you. We can take it from here.”
“I can handle her.” Devon moved off her legs and shifted his body weight to the ground without letting go of her hands. He scoured the man with his gaze. “Why are you chasing her? What’d she do?”
“I did nothing.” Morning Fawn squirmed beneath his hold. “You animals?—”
“Ran away. Stole the finest horse in Colorado County.” The man bent down and aimed his thick hand at Morning Fawn’s arm.
“I said I’ve got her.” Horse thieving could be a hangingoffense. Devon grabbed her and pulled her back against his chest, away from the hefty man’s reach. Her mussed hair brushed his chin.
She stiffened.
He’d best make sure she didn’t slam her head into his jaw.
