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When she stumbled and bumped her injured foot, she uttered an unladylike but very appropriate word. Ian was silent, but his shoulders shook, so she was pretty sure he was laughing at her. Beast.
Riding piggyback on a man was a very intimate thing to do. It was also mortifying. “I’m too heavy,” she said when she finally heaved herself onto him.
Ian reached behind and put his hands under her thighs. “Don’t be ridiculous. Ye’re little more than a sprite.”
Nevertheless, he grunted when he hefted her bottom a few inches higher and set off up the track. “I could probably walk,” she said. “If you put me down.”
Her Sherpa kept a steady pace. “I’ve run two marathons this year,” he said. “I think I can manage you.”
“Aren’t you a little big for a serious runner?”
His chuckle sounded strained. “All the men in my father’s family are tall and broad. It’s genetics, ye know. My ancestors carried boulders from place to place. Sturdy stock.”
When they at last reached the Jeep, Ian set her down gently. She leaned against the vehicle, balancing on one foot. He opened the door and helped her into the backseat so she could stretch out.
“Do you need me to hold things?” she asked suddenly, uncomfortable with her role as maiden in distress.
Leaning in, he captured her chin, found her mouth, and kissed her lazily. Oh, wow. The man knew a thing or two about kissing. When he was done, they were both breathless. He backed out of the Jeep and straightened. “I’ll no’ be needing you to hold anything, lass. At least not now. Quit distracting me, so I can get us back on the road.”
After that he raised the hood and she lost sight of him. Amidst the banging and male muttering, she zoned out for a moment. With her fingers on her lips, she tried to recall the breathless seconds when Ian staked a claim. The recollection made her dizzy. Although to be honest, that might be because her ankle hurt like all the devils of hell were stomping on it.
“Ian,” she called out. “Do you know what’s wrong?”
He appeared at her side, holding something in his hand. “I think ‘twas probably the heavy rain. The alternator cap is loose. Damp inside. We’ll need to leave it open for a bit to dry things out. Then I’ll try the engine again.”
“Okay.” She shivered. How long would they have to stay in the depressing, chilly dark?
Ian put the cap on the floorboard at her feet and shrugged out of his shirt. “Here. Sit up so I can put this on you. I don’t want to risk you going into shock.”
“I’m fine,” she protested automatically, but she had to admit the delicious lingering warmth from his body heat was wonderfully comforting. Ian had been wearing a thin, long sleeve striped shirt unbuttoned over a thicker traditional tee. Now he had only the tee. “Won’t you be cold now?” she asked.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “If I get too cold, I’ll just ask for another kiss.”
“You didn’t ask for the first one,” she called out indignantly as he walked away again.
His only response was laughter.
Fortunately, Ian’s knowledge of the internal combustion engine proved sufficient to get the Jeep going again. When the motor turned over and purred normally, Bella sighed. “Thank goodness.”
Ian sat in the driver’s seat. He flipped on the overhead light and turned to look at her. “Shall I drive?” he asked, his expression deadpan.
He was baiting her, pure and simple. Unwilling to be bested in a war of words, she pursed her lips and furrowed her brow to let him know she was thinking deeply. “Well, it is my left foot that’s damaged, so I should be able to get us back in one piece.”
Her statement was patently absurd. Ian gaped, incredulity in his gaze. “Are you serious?”
“Of course not, you big egghead.” She punched his shoulder. “Let’s go home. I’m inclined to let you pamper me for at least twenty-four hours.”
Ian turned back to the wheel and put the Jeep in gear. “God help us all,” he muttered.
