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AMANDA was determined not to wilt. By late afternoon it was sheer willpower that kept her in the saddle.
They had ridden hard and fast. She was certainly not spared. The mountain trails were rough and became narrower and narrower. There was no such thing as an easy walk, let alone a canter. Galloping, thank heaven, was too dangerous to attempt on this terrain.
Every bone in her body was jolted. Every muscle screamed in protest. It was just as well that the black mare followed the white stallion without any urging. Amanda was reduced to hanging on. How much further? she longed to ask, but pride would not allow her any confession of weakness.
When they’d stopped for lunch, hours ago, she had still felt fine. The morning ride had been a lot faster but not nearly so arduous. They had emerged from the forest to slopes that were terraced for agriculture. There were apricot and apple orchards, fig and olive trees. It had been quite pleasant, climbing to the high pastures which were dotted with flocks of sheep.
That was all behind them now. Scattered stands of green oak and juniper trees grew between outcrops of bare rock, but vegetation was sparse this far up amongst crumbling gullies and limestone ledges. Amanda was in no state to appreciate the scenery anyway. She figured she was going through the hell part of the path they were set upon, and the heaven part had better make up for it.
At last they came to a resting place. It was like an oasis in a mountain desert. For a few moments, Amanda wondered if she was hallucinating. She blinked several times but the natural rock-pool was still there. So was a glade of pine trees and grazing grass for the horses.
‘We’ll camp here for the night.’
It was a welcome announcement. The only problem was, Amanda didn’t think she had strength enough to get off her horse. She watched Upgrade dismount with an easy fluid action. His legs weren’t seized up. His arms weren’t limp.
Mind over matter, she sternly advised herself.
It didn’t help. The messages from her brain simply didn’t penetrate to her booted feet. They remained stuck in the stirrups. She did manage to unclench her fingers from the reins and grab hold of the pommel of her saddle.
‘I’m afraid I’m incapable of moving,’ she declared ruefully. ‘I’ve never been riding this long. It’s not that I’m weak,’ she argued. ‘I’m simply all used up.’
She didn’t realise the words came out slurred. She thought they were very precise and her logic was perfectly reasonable.
Amanda wasn’t quite sure how he got her off the horse but his arm around her waist certainly assisted. She was glad he didn’t try to set her on her feet because she had the feeling her knees would buckle. It felt extremely comforting to be cradled securely in his arms. He carried her some distance and laid her gently on the grass.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said.
‘Mmmh,’ she answered, overwhelmed with fatigue.
She closed her eyes and let herself float above the aches and pains. She felt her riding boots being eased off her feet and vaguely thought that was a good idea. Loosen up her toes. Her jeans were another matter. When he unfastened them and started pulling them down, Amanda jolted out of her daze of exhaustion. Undressing her to that extent was distinctly inappropriate. She was in no condition to feel or respond to anything.
‘Not yet,’ she mumbled.
‘I’m going to massage your legs with liniment.’
‘Sensible,’ she agreed, relieved that nothing was expected of her.
He had wonderful hands. Wonderful liniment. It spread tingling heat deep into her muscles. Or so it seemed. Amanda thought she could take a lot of what he was doing to her. Her legs were beginning to feel as though they belonged to her again.
When he started working on her toes, there were definitely messages working up through her body to her brain. Squirmy, exciting, little messages. She had read somewhere that women could have orgasms from having their toes fondled. She thought it would be interesting to check it out.
‘I’ll do your back now.’
With that assurance, Amanda saw no reason to resist being further undressed. He unfastened the burnoose, unbuttoned her shirt, lifted her a little to draw the sleeves from her arms, then gently rolled her onto a rug that he must have fetched from one of the packhorses.
He covered her legs, keeping them warm, then removed her bra and swept her hair aside. She still had her panties on and she had lain on many a beach like this, so there was really nothing to feel self-conscious about. The fact that she was alone with a man halfway up the Atlas Mountains didn’t change anything. He was the right man.
Besides, he was being very professional, like a nurse, and it was undoubtedly for her own good. His slow, deep, control
led breathing indicated nothing. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help wondering how much he liked what he saw, how really physically appealing she was to him, whether touching her was pleasurable, exciting...and where it would stop. If it did.
He moved to kneel astride her, his knees pinning the rug on either side of her thighs. Amanda’s eyes were closed but the image of him poised directly over her supine body burned into her mind, stirring an exquisite sensitivity to his touch. It wasn’t until he had worked over her back and shoulder muscles for some time that Amanda could relax completely and simply let the soothing motion flow through her.
She drifted off into a sensual dream where she was floating on a gentle sea and delicious waves rolled around her bottom, making her feel especially soft, buoyant and feminine. Then utter oblivion swallowed the dream and she was aware of nothing until she awoke to a range of little noises; horses snuffling, the crackle and spit of a camp fire burning, the soft crunch of footsteps.
She became conscious of other things. She was warmly and softly cocooned in a sleeping bag, a makeshift pillow under her head. It was dark. The sky was ablaze with stars. There was the smell of coffee with a touch of cloves. Her body, when she moved it, was slightly stiff in the joints, but no longer aching. She turned herself slowly towards the sounds and the smell.
He was crouched beside the fire, his body still cloaked in the burnoose, but with the hood thrown back. The flickering light threw his profile into sharp relief. Again she thought he had the kind of strong, noble face that was struck on ancient coins. Its ageless quality suggested an endurance that could suffer and rise above any adversity. Indomitable.
