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“I do not approve. This dwelling will not provide a comfortable environment for a delicate female.”
She rolled her eyes.
“The last thing I am is delicate. And compared to the delights of Ma Cantor’s Cosmic Boarding House, my home is more than comfortable.”
“You were living there?” An unmistakable look of horror crossed his face before it was replaced by the now familiar scowl. “Foolish female.”
She didn’t entirely disagree, but she hadn’t exactly had a choice. She turned to go back into the house, but he reached out and grabbed her hand. His fingers around hers were big and warm and oddly comforting, and she suppressed a not unpleasant shiver.
“Are you ready to visit the main house?”
“I suppose so.”
“You do not wish to make some alteration to your appearance?”
“What the hell is wrong with my appearance?”
Annoyed, she tried to pull her hand away but she might as well have tried to escape an iron manacle.
“If I were criticizing you, you would know it, fojii.” His expression was solemn but she was sure she caught a trace of amusement in his voice. “I was merely suggesting that you would probably prefer to refresh your garments after such strenuous cleaning activities.”
His gaze traveled down over her shirt and lingered. She couldn’t be entirely sure if he was looking at her breasts, or the streaksof dust that discolored the fabric. Her uncertainty didn’t prevent her nipples from stiffening under that intense scrutiny but she did her best to ignore them. She tugged on her hand again and this time he let her go.
“Fine. I’ll go and change. I assume you’re going to put your clothes back on?”
That was definitely amusement, although it was quickly masked.
“Unfortunately,” he agreed, and she headed back into the house with her cheeks burning.
A few minutes later she returned wearing a clean pair of jeans and a pretty pale blue blouse with a wide neckline that brought out the blue in her eyes. Although dresses still seemed to be more acceptable in Wainwright, she only had one other dress and she didn’t think Rosie would care. She chose not to think about why she’d opted for her prettiest blouse.
Borgaz was waiting at the bottom of the porch steps, his shirt back on, but it fit snugly enough that it did little to disguise his muscular frame. His tail flicked behind him and his eyes gleamed amber as they swept over her, but his voice was gruff.
“Better. Come, let us leave before darkness falls.”
He put a hand on her back to steer her towards the barn. She ignored the warmth radiating from his touch, and the little tingle that went all the way down her spine.
“Where are we - Oh!” A big, black stallion was waiting patiently beneath the crooked roof. “What a magnificent horse. What’s his name?”
She held out her hand, letting him snuffle it and wishing she had a carrot.
“I don’t know. He came with the ranch.”
“Matthew was a bastard, but he had good taste in horses.”
She stroked the soft nose, murmuring to the horse, then suddenly realized the implication of a single horse and stepped back.
“You’ll make better time than I will, but I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
He was frowning again. “Do not be foolish. You will ride.”
“You mean you’re going to walk?” she asked doubtfully.
“Of course not. We will both ride. The animal is quite capable of carrying us both.”
Before she could state her objections in a way that didn’t sound ridiculous, he picked her up and placed her on the horse’s back as easily as she would have lifted a pillow. His big hands spanned her waist, more of that intriguing warmth spreading from his touch, and for a second they seemed to linger. But then he released her and sprang easily into the saddle behind her.
She tried desperately to hold herself a little apart from him, but he only sighed and tugged her back against him as he urged the horse into motion. Deciding a struggle would be undignified - as well as useless - she didn’t fight him, but she glared up at him over her shoulder.
