“Probably not,” he admitted, “but it’s late and I’m tired and wet. Now let’s go home.”
“That log monstrosity is not my home!” she shot back, frustrated and angry that he’d caught up with her twice. Why, when it was so hard to leave him, didn’t he make it easy for her and just let her go?
“Not your permanent home maybe, but for now—”
“Don’t you know I’ll hate you forever for this?” she hurled down at him, glaring.
Moonlight washed his face, and a sliver of pain slashed through his silvery eyes. “So hate me,” he replied, his mouth tightening at the corners. “But while you’re hating me, get down.” When she didn’t budge, he glanced up. “Okay, have it your way. You can ride His Majesty all the way back in this damned rain while I lead him in the Jeep, or you can enjoy the relative comforts of a heater, radio and padded bucket seats. Your choice.”
“Get in that Jeep with you?” she challenged, though it did sound inviting, and she wished for just a second that loving Zane were simple. “That’s what got me into this mess in the first place!”
“Fine.” He tugged on the reins, and His Majesty followed docilely.
“Traitor,” Kaylie whispered to the horse, and Zane rolled down the driver’s window, climbed into the Jeep and fired the ignition.
His Majesty sidestepped. Kaylie patted the stallion’s sleek neck. “It’s okay,” she said, lying, as Zane rammed the vehicle into gear.
“Last chance,” he called, and Kaylie, though she longed to climb down from the saddle and sit in the warm interior of the Jeep, didn’t move. Zane shook his head in disgust as the rig crawled slowly forward.
Kaylie grabbed hold of the saddle horn as His Majesty started the long trek back at a fast trot. The brisk pace jarred her, and the cold, wet air seeped through her jacket, but she’d be damned if she’d complain! Gritting her teeth, she tried to keep her mind off her discomfort, though her muscles were already aching, her teeth chattering.
As the incline grew more steep, Zane slowed, letting the horse walk. Kaylie was chilled to the bone, and her arms and thighs burned mercilessly, but she refused to call out and ask Zane to stop. Rain dripped down her nose and neck. Clenching her teeth, she endured the painful journey, head high, jaw thrust forward.
After about twenty minutes, Zane muttered something unintelligible, then stood on the brakes. The Jeep ground to a halt in the gravel and mud. “This is insane,” he growled, opening his door and splashing through the puddles to His Majesty’s side. “Maybe you don’t give a damn about yourself, but you could give the horse a break!”
He pulled her from the saddle, and she landed on the ground so hard, her knees nearly gave way. Zane kept a strong arm around her. “A little wobbly?” he mocked, but there was a kindness in his features as he helped her to the Jeep. And the rain seemed to soften the hard lines surrounding his mouth. He touched her forehead, shoving a wet strand of curling hair from her eyes. “Come on, Kaylie,” he whispered, his voice so tender it nearly broke her heart, “give it up for the night.”
“I—I can’t,” she stammered.
“Sure you can.”
“But—”
“Please, love,” he insisted gently, opening the door. “It isn’t worth it.”
“How would you know?”
He rolled his eyes, and a self-effacing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “When it comes to stubborn pride,” he admitted, “I think I wrote the book.”
His unexpected kindness pierced her pride. Tears filled her throat, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from crying as he gently lifted her into the Jeep. She sagged against him. The warmth of him, the fact that he so obviously still cared for her, perhaps loved her, caused more tears to burn in her eyes. She wanted to cling to him and never let go. Inside the Jeep, she could barely stretch out her cramped, cold muscles.
Before he slid behind the steering wheel again, Zane unsaddled the horse and tossed the saddle and blanket into the back. He found a clean, thick towel, and a worn sheepskin jacket. “Here, dry off a little,” he said, handing her the jacket and towel and turning up the heat as he shoved the rig into First.
Kaylie glanced his way as the vehicle rolled forward. Blotting her face with the towel, she leaned her head back against the seat and tried to ignore the cramps in her shoulders and legs as she fought back tears and the overwhelming urge to fall against him and be held and comforted; to let him take control.
His narrowed eyes were trained on the winding gravel road. Every so often he would glance in the side-view mirror, checking his stallion. It was romantic, in a way, she thought, how he kept chasing her down, swearing to protect her, saying he loved her. If only she dared believe him…trust him a little…love him a lot.
“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Zane asked, as the silence grew thick around them and the gloom of the forest seeped into the interior.
Shivering, she rubbed her arms, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. “I thought it was worth a shot.”
“You cold?” He worked with the knobs of the heater, then, still driving, eased out of his own jacket and laid it across the blanket. “I’ll probably end up taking you to the hospital.”
“I’ll be fine,” she replied, still chilled to the bone.
Zane sighed. “And what would you have done if you had, by some miracle, found the freeway? Ride the horse down four lanes?”
“No,” she said, her spine stiffening involuntarily, “I intended to stop at the first house and call.”