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Belle slowed to a canter and then back to a trot.
“Good girl,” she said, petting Belle’s mane, which was now knotted and tangled from the ride. “That’s my good girl.”
“Angie, what the hell are you doing?”
Rafe’s voice. He galloped up on Adonis and stopped beside her. He wore no hat. His onyx hair had come loose and blew around his face. His forearms were clenched and sinewy. Lord, he was beautiful.
“Thank God. I’ve been worried sick.”
“Worried?”
“No one knows where you are. Catie and Chad are frantic, and when I saw Belle was gone—”
“I’m fine. You taught me well.”
His facial muscles tightened, and his lips formed a taut line. “Damn it, I taught you how to ride in circles. You were nowhere near ready to ride alone. That horse could have thrown you. It could have… God I can’t even think about it.”
“She’s a gentle horse. She wouldn’t throw me.”
“Look at you. You’re a mess. The horse is a mess. You’ve been running wild.”
“Yes, and it felt amazing.” She wasn’t about to apologize. Belle was her horse, after all. “Just what I needed today.”
He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Angie, I know you’re upset about your dad. I understand. I really do. But that doesn’t mean you should go out and kill yourself. Christ.”
She sighed and shook her head, letting her loose hair whip her cheeks. “It felt wonderful, Rafe. I can’t wait to ride more. I honestly don’t know why I ever stopped.”
“Fine. You can ride whenever you want. As long as I, or someone equally qualified, is with you. Never alone again. Not till I tell you you’re ready.”
“Please, you don’t own me.”
He ignored her taunt. “Follow me. Stick to a trot. I’ll lead you back to the stable.”
An hour later Belle was safely bedded, and Angie faced a still very angry Rafe.
“I ought to put you over my knee and give you a thrashing,” he said.
She smiled and arched one brow. “Whatever you’re into.”
“Damn it!” He pounded his fist into the wall of the stable. “I was worried sick. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I’m fine. There was never anything to worry—”
He slammed his mouth onto hers and forced her lips open. This was no gentle kiss. It was meant to chasten. An angry, punishing kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, drinking of her as though he were dying of thirst.
She melted into his anger, into his possession, into his punishment. The kiss drugged her with angry passion, fierce possession.
It was the kiss of a man who’d feared for her safety, who now reveled in her return.
The kiss of a man in love?
Could he love her?
Her life would be complete if he did. He’d marry her. Save her ranch. She’d have a real marriage, too, not a marriage like her parents’.
His assault on her mouth continued. With one hand, he gripped her breast like a vise. It hurt, but oh God, it hurt so good.
