The Saxon Brides: Mistaken Mistress. Tessa Radley
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“What the—” Joshua broke off as they were met by the sight of the black stallion racing up and down along his paddock fence, his tail held high like a banner and his nostrils flared so wide that the inner red tissue showed. In the adjacent paddock horses whinnied frantically, milling around in a tight bunch.
“What’s upset them?” Joshua nudged his horse into a trot.
Alyssa followed more slowly.
The black horse, still galloping along the length of the fence, slammed to a halt at the gate and trumpeted with rage. It was then Alyssa saw the two youths in the paddock, half concealed behind the trunk of a gigantic oak.
“Hey,” Joshua yelled.
The pair took one look at Joshua and ran across the field, vanishing round the back of the stables. A moment later an engine roared and a motorbike came racing out from nowhere.
“Look out!”
But Joshua’s warning came too late. The stallion came catapulting over the paddock fence, rushing headlong toward them. Breeze had gone rigid between her legs. Alyssa snatched at the mare’s mane. At the last moment the black horse swerved around Breeze, so close that Alyssa could smell his sweat, and galloped past, his iron-clad hooves ringing on the ground.
Unsettled by the motorbike, the enraged and screaming stallion, the mare shied violently to the side.
Alyssa lurched in the saddle. For a moment she thought she might stay on, but then she felt herself tossed skyward. She hung suspended in the air for a moment, conscious of the plunging distressed horse below her. Then she was spinning toward the ground, sound and colour rushing past.
“Let go of the reins.” It was a frantic yell.
Alyssa opened her hands. Breeze bolted free. The impact of the cobbles was bone-numbing. Alyssa sobbed with pain, which turned to fear as she discovered that she couldn’t breath.
“Lie still.”
Joshua’s voice boomed above her. His black boots came into her line of vision and then he crouched down beside her. She caught a glimpse of dark, worried eyes.
She gasped, trying to speak.
“Hush, you’re winded. Don’t talk.”
A moment later a sound escaped her throat. Agony.
“Does your head hurt?” His voice was urgent.
She shook her head again. “My back,” she sobbed.
He went white, his lips pale. “Don’t move. I’m going to call an ambulance.”
There was the sound of light feet running on the cobbles. Caitlyn? Joshua turned his head and barked out a terse order.
Then a fresh stab of excruciating pain stopped her thinking. “My hand!”
“Breeze must have stepped on you.” Joshua touched her fingers.
“Ouch!” She nearly blacked out.
He pulled his hand away. “The ambulance won’t be long.”
Alyssa was barely aware of the ride to the hospital as she shifted in and out of consciousness. But even as everything closed in and went dark, Alyssa knew that Joshua sat beside her, his eyes full of concern, never leaving her face.
After her examination in the emergency room had been completed, Joshua entered the curtained-off area where Alyssa lay.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Terrible. She hated the hospital. The sterile smell, the hushed sounds all brought back the nightmare of Roland’s accident—of Joshua breaking the devastating news that her brother had died.
“Sore,” she said finally, coming back from the hellhole to find his gaze fixed on her face.
“They’ll operate on your hand soon. Is there anyone you want me to call?” Concern etched deep lines into his face. And there was something more. Something that made her heart tremble.
“To call?” she said stupidly, closing her eyes so that the gorgeous features with the misleading concern would go away. Joshua didn’t give a damn for her. He thought she was the kind of woman who seduced men for career gain. Allowing herself to build hopes on his concern for her would bring nothing but heartache.
“Your family. Your friends. To let them know what has happened.”
Her editor.
It reflected the barren state of her life that the only person who came to mind related to her work. Her boss … not family … not a friend. But David could wait until after the operation.
Thankfully the emergency-room doctor had confirmed that there was no damage to her spine—only some bruising on her back, and damage to her fingers where the reins had wrenched the ligaments and the fracture of her thumb where Breeze must have trodden on her. It would need setting. And perhaps a pin, the doctor had said. Nothing life threatening.
No, there was no one who desperately needed to know. No one who would drop everything and rush to hold her mangled hand. A tear slid out the side of her closed eye.
Alyssa turned her head away, reluctant to let Joshua witness her bout of self-pity. The silence lengthened. He—her nemesis who was being so unexpectedly kind—was waiting for her reply. She moved her head from side to side against the regulation hospital pillow.
“No one?”
Was that disbelief she heard? Swallowing the lump in her throat, she opened her eyes. “My father lives in Australia with his new wife and her children,” she murmured huskily, her throat raw from suppressed tears. She gave him a tremulous smile. “He’s taking his retirement from the bench seriously.”
“I’m sorry you’re alone.” Joshua sounded more subdued than she’d ever heard him, no sign of his usual take-charge arrogance remained.
Clearly he’d remembered that her mother was dead, that she was an only child.
“What about friends?” he asked. “Can I call anyone?”
“They have their own lives … families, children.”
“They’re all married?”
“Yes. All except Lanie, my best friend, but she recently moved to Christchurch.”
Emotion flashed in Alyssa’s eyes. An emotion that caused Joshua to blink. Pain? Vulnerability? Loneliness? He looked again. But her eyes were already closing.
“I’m tired,” she whispered.
And Joshua wanted to kick himself for interrogating her when she least needed it.
“Rest,” he said feeling utterly powerless to do anything about her misery. “It shouldn’t be long until they operate.”