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Amazingly, he made her feel as if maybe she could.
She started to look to her right.
"Don't look."
She snapped her head back around. "That's good advice," she said, wetting her dry lips. "Good advice." Slowly, afraid even to breathe, she curled her aching fingers around the reins. Her eyes sought his. Their gazes locked, and somewhere deep inside him, she found the strength she needed.
"Use your foot first."
She nodded and swallowed hard. Then, with infinite care, she pressed her heel into the roan's heaving side. The horse sidled away from the drop-off.
Lainie's breath exhaled in a trilling little laugh. She pressed her foot against him again, and the horse re-
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sponded by moving closer to the safety of the sandstone wall.
"Good job," Killian murmured. "Now, draw back on your reins again."
Lainie nodded and followed his direction. The roan dropped his head and backed up. Lainie's left foot scraped along the rock wall, wrenching sideways at the motion, but she didn't care. They finally came to a small, oval clearing where the trail zagged in the other direction.
"Stop there," Killian said sharply.
Lainie reined her horse tight against the wall.
Killian backed up and pivoted fast, coming to a stop beside her. He looked down, and she saw in his eyes the same cold terror that sat in the pit of her stomach. "You okay?"
The quietness of his voice surprised her, made her feel strangely afraid all over again. She brushed the damp hair from her eyes with a trembling hand. "Yeah, sure."
He smiled. "You did good."
She gazed up at him, unable to look away. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he was going to reach over and touch her. Her skin tingled in anticipation, her pulse raced. All she could manage was a breathy little, "Thanks."
But he didn't touch her, he just stared down at her. All at once he frowned, and the look in his eyes changed completely. Gone was the compassion, the understanding of fear, the caring. Suddenly his gaze was intense and assessing. Once again, they were strangers.
She felt the loss of that moment, that connection between them, as keenly as a slap. She told herself it was stupid to feel hurt; she'd imagined the moment anyway. But she couldn't make herself believe it. For a sec-
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ond?no more than a heartbeat?she'd seen something in him, something real and important. Something she'd sought all her li
fe inside herself and never found. And she had no idea what it was, and no idea if he'd felt it, too.
Finally he looked away from her and whistled. It was a low, commanding sound that echoed off the sheer rock walls. The horses started moving again, picking their way one by one through the twisting, zigzagging path.
Once again, Lainie was bringing up the rear.
It took them the better part of two hours to make it back to the trailhead. They emerged onto the flat mesa top just as the sun was beginning its slow downward arc. Sunlight and shadows intertwined across the level copper-hued earth, writhing and dancing amid the sagebrush.
Killian reined the black to a halt and sat back in his saddle. Tilting his hat, he sopped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. Jesus, it was hot. He reached back and untied his canteen, taking a long, satisfying gulp.
The woman brought her horse up alongside his. He glanced at her and was just about to say something? when he realized what she was wearing . . . and what she wasn't. She was slumped in her saddle, her shoulders rounded, her chest caved in on itself. That ridiculous sweater was gone now, its sleeves tied around her waist. She was wearing only those old, faded jeans and that skintight black thing around her breasts. The skin above and below the black fabric was an angry red.
"You're in deep shit, lady."
She snorted and reached for her own canteen. "No kidding. I've been saying that since this stupid dream started."
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