But there was a chance Tyr might be preparing to ride out. Dawn and dusk had always been his favourite times to ride too, because dawn was so beautifully still and silent, while dusk was cool.
Talking quietly to her horse, Jazz led her magnificent stallion into the yard. ‘You are a bad boy,’ Jazz breathed as the stallion threw back his head, resisting her attempts to calm him, ‘but you’re very handsome,’ she soothed as she sprang lightly into the saddle. The stallion was impatient for his morning run and skittered sideways until she brought him back under control. Shifting her weight, she coaxed him forward at a controlled canter, rather than the flat-out gallop Spear was aiming for.
Having passed beneath the stone archway that divided the safe, controlled environment of Sharif’s racing stables from the desert beyond, they entered the wild, unpredictable frontier, as Jazz always thought of her desert home, and, drawing in a deep breath of joyful anticipation, she lightened her grip and gave Spear his head.
The wind ripped her veil off as she galloped across the dunes. She was at one with the powerful beast as he surged forward, and that was the best sensation in the world. Spear had exceeded all her expectations and anyone who said she couldn’t ride him because he was too strong for her was so wrong. She could do anything if she put her mind to it, and Spear was perfection. It was just a pity about the wind. Blowing from the east, it gave her only one option, which was to head in the direction of Wadi village.
She decided to take a short cut. It was a riskier route than going round the dunes, but much quicker. The climb up the final dune was the most testing, but when she reached the top she could see the oasis where she had used to swim with Tyr, and Wadi village, spread out like a twinkling toy city in front of her.
* * *
The cold water of the oasis hitting his heated skin was a pleasure Tyr had anticipated since the moment he woke up. There was nowhere else on earth like this; nowhere that assaulted his senses quite so comprehensively with such contrasts of hot and cold, shade and light, and sheer vastness. Everything was extreme in the desert. That was why he liked it. There were no grey areas. There was just constant challenge and danger. Easing his shoulders, he prepared to dive in.
And was stopped by a shriek.
Swinging round, he saw the stallion’s legs buckle beneath it as it started the long slide down the dune. It was a relief to see the rider instinctively kick away the stirrups and leap off its back to avoid being crushed beneath half a ton of horse. Recognising the rider, he grabbed a towel and began to run.
‘Jazz!’
He powered up the bank of the oasis. The next few seconds passed in a disorientating blur of sand and spinning horse as Jazz and her stallion rocketed down the slope. He jumped clear as the horse skidded past him with its legs pounding uselessly at the air. Jazz took a little longer to arrive, before landing at his feet in an untidy sprawl. Hunkering down, he made a quick assessment. She was winded. She was shocked. She couldn’t speak. Apart from that, her colour was good and she was breathing, always a plus.
‘Tyr?’
Letting go of her hand, he sat back on his heels.
‘My horse?’ she gasped out.
‘Unharmed.’ He glanced at the banks of the oasis, where he could see Jazz’s horse sucking in water. ‘Are you okay?’ He sounded gruff and guessed he was probably more shocked than Jazz. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be swanning around in Italy, buying next year’s thrift-shop donations?’
‘Sorry?’ She gave him a look that came straight from the old days. ‘Did I get off at the wrong stop?’
Hiding a smile, he stared sternly down at her. ‘This could have been a really serious accident, and we still don’t know if you’ve been hurt.’
‘Only my pride,’ she admitted, struggling to get up.
He pressed her down. ‘You’re not going anywhere until I check you over for injury. And, apologies in advance, but I will have to touch you.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Jazz flashed, doing her best to roll out of reach.
‘For purely medical reasons,’ he said, patiently bringing her back again. ‘Believe me, I have no wish to do this.’
Much. His fingers were on fire at the thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JAZZ BRACED HERSELF as she prepared for Tyr to conduct his examination. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away, as if to show him that if she must endure this personal invasion, she would do so while distanced from him in both thought and response. This was something new for him, and he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused by a woman who didn’t want him to touch her. He made the exam swift, gentling his big hands as much as he could, but Jazz felt so good beneath his touch, he found it almost impossible to remain clinically objective.