you know how many miles that is? What were you thinking? You could have hurt yourself or the baby.”
“I’m pregnant, not ill. It’s perfectly acceptable for me to walk. If anything, it’s a good thing for me to get all this fresh air and exercise.” Maybe she shouldn’t have wandered quite so far off onto the range, but she hadn’t been thinking.
Or maybe she’d been thinking too much.
He didn’t look the least bit convinced she wasn’t taking unnecessary risks. Well, too bad for him.
“You’ll never make it back to the house before dark on foot.” How did the man make every single statement out of his mouth sound like an accusation? Then again, she had to concede that he did have a point.
Heat flushed her cheeks. She’d left midafternoon. It had never occurred to her that she might be caught with the sun setting on her. She might be fine now, but she’d be completely helpless in the dark. Of course, she hadn’t planned to walk quite this far.
Or to get lost.
“You don’t even know where you are, do you?”
As much as she’d hated the accusatory tone he’d used on her earlier, at least she’d known how to respond to it. What she heard now was sympathy, with a note of kindness. Where had that come from?
She didn’t answer, shifting her gaze to somewhere over his left shoulder.
“You don’t.”
He didn’t have to sound so satisfied.
“It’s settled, then. You’re coming with me.”
She ignored his dictatorial attitude. She would argue all night about his high-handedness if it was just her at risk in the dark with no clear route home, but she had the baby to consider, and pride only took a pregnant woman so far. “All right, I guess. You’ve got your truck parked somewhere nearby?”
He laughed, a deep, rich rumble from low in his chest. “Something like that.”
“Why do I feel like I should be worried?”
He chuckled again and took her hand to steady her as they walked over the uneven soil. She allowed it, but only because the increase in her waistline made her steps ungainly. Laney might not be a country girl, but she was a native Texan and she knew the wild terrain was filled with treacherous bumps and hollows along the way.
As they crested the hill she saw why Slade was hedging. His mode of transportation was a horse, not a truck, contentedly grazing on the grassy knoll.
So much for a comfortable ride back to the house. Did he really expect her to get up on that thing, as pregnant as she was?
Slade whistled and the black mare lifted her head. A second whistle and she trotted to his side. It was the most unusual thing she’d ever seen.
“Let me introduce you to our ride,” Slade said, smoothing his hand over the horse’s mane as she nudged her muzzle into his shirt pocket. “This is Nocturne. She knows where I keep the sugar.”
Somehow the idea of Slade carrying sugar cubes in his pocket went against her image of him as an unfeeling, cold-hearted cowboy. Clearly his horse, at least, liked him, and that was saying something. Animals sensed when a human was the genuine article, didn’t they? Or maybe he just bribed Nocturne with sweets.
Slade checked the cinch. “You about ready to climb up here?”
Laney hesitated, then nodded. Mounting would be awkward with her rounded belly. Getting her foot into the stirrup would be next to impossible, but at least she’d changed into a pair of jeans before she’d left for her walk. It would have been considerably more awkward had she still been in the dress she’d been wearing earlier in the day.
She reached for the saddle horn, intending to attempt to slip her foot in the stirrup, but she never had the opportunity. Before she knew what was happening, Slade’s hands spanned her waist—or where her waist would have been seven months ago—and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he placed her onto the saddle.
“Are you gonna be more comfortable riding side-saddle or do you think you want to sling your leg over?”
Laney weighed his question in her mind. In her present condition, sitting on a horse period wasn’t the ultimate in luxury, but as to how she would ride—she supposed that had to do with a number of other factors, such as where, exactly, Slade intended to sit when he joined her. If, in fact, Nocturne could handle the extra burden of the two of them riding together. Slade wasn’t a small man.
She pictured herself being relegated to the “backseat” behind the saddle, clutching her arms around Slade’s waist and hanging on for dear life as he galloped home. Then again, if she was in front and he rode behind her, she would by default have those enormous, muscular arms of his wrapped around her. A wave of anxiety rolled over her just thinking about it. She didn’t know which would be worse. Certainly neither option even remotely appealed to her.
“I’m walking,” he said, answering the question she’d left unspoken. “So get comfortable. Whatever works for you.”
She sighed in relief. One less source of anxiety to deal with—for now. She thought she’d feel more comfortable riding astride so she swung her leg over the saddle horn.
Slade adjusted the stirrups for her height and then waited a beat for her to adjust her weight in the saddle before clicking his tongue to Nocturne. He strode forward without giving Laney so much as another glance. She noted that he followed the fence line, which would have been a good idea for her, as well. Assuming she’d found the fence in the first place. And even then she wouldn’t have known which direction to follow it. Still, it was something to keep in mind should she decide to wander off by herself again.
She tried to observe the countryside, to look for landmarks she could use on future outings, but there was nothing to hold her interest and her gaze kept returning to Slade. Thick black hair curled from under the brim of his hat. His broad shoulders sloped into a well-muscled back which then narrowed to a trim waist. He had the build of a perfect athlete and moved like one, too, his stride long and energetic, and yet with the easy country swagger that had clearly melted many ladies’ hearts.
Too bad his mouth and his attitude went along with that easy-on-the-eyes profile. Laney pitied the women who’d tried to take Slade on.
Thankfully, he didn’t realize she was staring at him. He appeared completely oblivious even to her presence, walking and whistling softly as if he were alone on the grassy plain. He held Nocturne’s reins in a loose grip but it was clear his horse would have followed him anyway, lead or not.
Sugar. It was the sugar.
Laney estimated they’d been heading back toward the house for about ten minutes when she first noticed the sky turning into a watercolor painting of pastel pinks and blues, with hues of yellow and orange undertones mixed into a breathtaking combination. The most gifted painter ever born could not have duplicated such a sight, and Laney offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for His handiwork.
Even as she breathed amen, she realized the flaw in Slade’s rescue strategy. While he’d thankfully saved her from the embarrassment of riding with her, he’d overlooked one important
