She frowned uncertainly. His tactics were confusing her. As he’d intended. Tension still vibrated in the small, rounded body, but she was listening.
“Next time you go to punch someone—anyone—some poor innocent fellow who accidentally rides his horse over you in the dark and keeps saving you from falling off a cliff, for instance—hold your fist like this.” He showed her, rearranging her fingers. “And hit with the heel of your hand—not your knuckles—whack upward to the fellow’s nose.” He looked down at her and added, “Or his chin, if you’re too short to reach the nose.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am not short.”
“No, of course not,” he assured her solemnly.
“Better still.” He bent and picked up a stone and pressed it into her palm. “If you hit a man with that, it would really pack a punch. Make sure it is large enough that it fits in your palm and you can get a good grip, but not so small that your fingers can close right around it. Hit the man with the stone, not your hand. Next time you are in fear for your life, remember the stone.” He released her hands and stepped back.
She clutched the stone tightly, staring at him in baffled suspicion.
Gabriel repressed a smile. The look on her face was priceless. Surprise tactics always had been his forte.
“You know I’m not going to hurt you or the boy. So just be sensible and get on my horse.”
“I—I don’t like horses. I prefer to walk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s five miles and there’s a storm brewing.”
“I don’t care. I’ve walked much farther than five miles before.”
“Not in the dark and in a storm and with only one shoe,” he reminded her. “Come, madam, I’ll lift you up.”
She fended him off, one-handed. “No, no, I can’t!”
She was genuinely frightened, Gabe saw.
“It’s all right, Trojan is a very gentle horse. There’s really no need to be scared—”
“I’m not scared!”
“Of course you aren’t,” Gabriel agreed. She was terrified. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold on to you and you’ll be safe as houses. I’ll just lift you up—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!”
“That’s your last word?”
She gave him a stiff little nod. “It is.”
“Excellent,” said Gabriel and before she knew it, he lifted her by the waist and set her sideways onto the horse. Trojan, bless him, stood steady as a rock. Almost in the same movement, Gabe swung up behind her and wrapped one arm firmly around her waist before she could jump off. She gave a small, stifled scream.
In her hand she still clutched the stone he’d given her. She raised her fist and waved it, fraught with indecision. Gabe waited.
Trojan stamped his hooves and moved restlessly.
She gasped and dropped the stone. Her free arm flailed desperately, touched Trojan’s mane, recoiled, and then groped around for something to hang on to. She found Gabe’s thigh. And gripped it tight.
He held out his hand to the boy, perched on the rocky ledge, watching unhappily. “Come on, Nicky, take my hand.”
The child hesitated. Both of them were scared stiff of Trojan, Gabe saw.
“I promise you won’t fall. Just take my hand and I’ll swing you up behind me.”
Again the boy shook his head.
“N-Nicky can’t ride,” she told him through clenched teeth.
Gabe said patiently, “I’m not asking him to. I’ll do the riding. All he has to do is sit behind me and hang on.”
