“What?” she asked, shouting over the sound of the rain.
“One of my horses! He’s frightened by the rain! I have to recover him! Can you—”
He looked at the sky. There was no help for it. He could hardly leave her in the middle of the storm. He’d have to take her to his camp and then recover Zeus.
“Can you run?” he shouted.
“What? Run? I suppose I can—yes.”
He took up her hand and set out at a sprint.
Chapter Six
Ryan tried to keep up—truly. She’d engaged all remaining strength, ignoring the pain in her leg, her fatigue, her unsteadiness on dark, slick, unfamiliar ground. But his strides were longer, and he knew the way. He’d pulled her behind him for only a few yards before he turned back, swept her off her feet, and tossed her over his shoulder again.
Ryan made a yelping noise but honestly, she was relieved. Given the choice between being dragged through the mud or carried, she preferred to be carried. Little known fact: it wasn’t terrible to be foisted up by a tall, broad-shouldered man and carried about. After the night she’d had. And in the rain. And bythistall, broad-shouldered man.
For the second time that night, she found her head dangling down his back and her legs pinned to his chest. Her bottom stuck up to the sky, and he held her securely in place with an arm to the back of her knees. The contact just missed the wound in her leg. She was getting better at holding on. She clasped both hands around his middle and pressed her cheek into his spine.
Her eyes were closed, but she felt the rise and fallof the terrain, heard thethudof his boots, smelled wet leaves. He splashed through a puddle and cold water splattered her face. She’d gathered up her hair with a hand, trying to keep it from trailing through the mud.
He said something over his shoulder—some growled request that she couldn’t understand.
“What?” she asked.
“Close your eyes,” he repeated.
“They’re closed!” she called back.
But now she blinked them open and added, “Why?”
“My camp is ahead,” he said, “and it’s... it’s very private. I prefer it to stay hidden.”
Hidden?she repeated in her head. As if she wouldreturnto this terrifying forest on purpose andintentionallyseek out this man’s camp.
“They are closed,” she assured him—although now she felt compelled to open her right eye, just a crack. Not that it mattered; the world was a blur of wet vegetation and the flapping corner of the man’s coat.
Five minutes later, he grunted “here” and fell sideways against something hard and unmoving.
The relentless peck of raindrops had stopped, and she heard them tapping against an overhang above. A barrier protected them on one side from the wind. Ryan opened both eyes and looked around. He was leaning against a wall made of rough-hewn timbers, the gaps between the wood sealed with plaster.
“Can you stand?” he asked, sliding her toward the ground.
“Probably,” she managed. She left his body in a controlled fall. Her feet were numb and the wound on her leg ached. She staggered when she landed. Large hands caught her around the waist, shoring herup. Ryan’s sodden hair clumped in her face, and she smoothed it back, trying to see.
“Put a hand to the wall,” he said.
“Thank you.” She reached out, trying to look around withoutseemingto look around.
“You can look,” he said. “It’s a camp—nothing more. There’s no time for a tour and honestly, nothing to—”
He exhaled deeply but didn’t finish.
“Go,” she said. “Your horse—please go. I’m perfectly happy to wait”—she looked around trying to identify where he’d propped her—“here.”
With no warning, two large dogs emerged from the mist, plodding to them. Ryan reacted without thinking, gasping and shrinking against the wall.
“Careful,” he said, frowning at her wariness. He made a clicking noise and held out his hand. In unison, the dogs stopped walking and sat, tails wagging. “Have you a fear of dogs?”
