Doing her best to press on, convinced that the forest would eventually have to give way to a road or an open field or some manner of civilization, she cursed under her breath as a knot of brambles scraped past her legs. Ironically, if she had been sitting side-saddle, the thorns would not have been able to reach her, and her skirts might have protected her from the sharp points. The trousers, however, did little to shield her legs.
“I know, I know,” she soothed, as the gelding tried to walk backward, his demeanor jittery.
Allowing the horse to retreat from the thickets ahead, she waited until there was enough room on either side to turn the beast around. No sooner was she facing back the way she had come than the horse began to calm itself, and she, in turn, took a breath of fleeting relief. She might not have found the other gentlemen first, but she could surely find her way back to the hunting lodge or the manor if she just retraced their steps.
“Come on, sweetpea,” she told the gelding. “Let us make our way h—”
A flash of gray and brown bolted right in front of the horse, a broken tusk narrowly missing the gelding’s forelegs as it tore past, shrieking in indignation. It was enormous and clearly furious, vanishing into the bushes where it would either run further into the forest or turn around and come back to seek vengeance.
Olivia had no time to pray for the former as the boar shot out of the bramble thickets and darted right underneath the gelding. Terrified, eyes rolling back, the horse unleashed a piercing whinny and lurched onto its hind legs. It kicked out with its powerful forelegs, trying to hit the boar.
All of a sudden, Olivia slipped. She did her best to grip on with her thighs, but they were tired from the lengthy ride she had already endured, unaccustomed to the position. She grappled to twist the reins tighter around her hand, but it was no good. One moment, she was high in the air, sitting astride the gelding; the next, she was tumbling to the ground, her wrist still snagged in the reins.
Her shoulder jarred as she hit the forest floor, her arm burning as the terrified horse kept rearing, pulling her arm upward every time it did. All the while, the beast’s stomping hooves threatened to trample Olivia, her trapped hand making it impossible to roll out of the way and get herself to safety. Not to mention, the boar was still somewhere nearby, planning its next attack.
“Whoa there!” a voice shouted, accompanied by the beat of hooves.
Olivia tried to twist around to see who it was, but the gelding reared at that exact moment, squeezing her eyes shut in pain as her arm jolted once more.
“Easy, boy,” the voice urged, the leaves on the ground crunching as the rider jumped down.
Human legs blocked Olivia’s body from injury as the man reached for the gelding’s reins, taking control of the horse’s head to calm it. At the same time, her savior unraveled the reins from around her hand, freeing her from the splintering pain of almost having her arm wrenched from her shoulder.
“Go on,” the man instructed, smacking the horse lightly on the rump.
Without hesitation, the gelding charged forward and broke into an elegant gallop, dashing as fast as it could away from the threat of the boar.
“Evan?” Olivia croaked as she pulled herself into a sitting position, rubbing her aching shoulder.
He stood over her, his face bloodless, his legs trembling slightly as he kneeled in front of her. His hands were warm and clammy as they took hold of hers, his eyes wild with fear as he searched her face and said, “Are you well? Where does it hurt? I fell once and caught my foot in the reins. I have never known panic like it, before or since… until now.”
“My… wrist and my… shoulder,” she admitted, wincing as she attempted to roll her shoulder back. It was tender, and her arm muscles felt torn, but at least her arm was still attached.
Evan reached out, and, with a moment’s hesitation, he eased back the collar and sleeves of her riding jacket. She grimaced and held her breath through the pain as he helped her to remove the garment, sucking in a shocked gasp as he suddenly ripped the shirt sleeve of her injured arm.
“I have to see if there is bruising,” he said, by way of explanation, as he settled her hand, palm upward, on his thigh and began to press gently up the length of her arm, watching her with each increment.
“It all… hurts,” she rasped. “But my… wrist is the worst.”
Evan nodded, and from the sleeve he had torn away from her shirt, he started fashioning a sling.
Leaning into her, so close she could smell the forest uponhisshirt and something soapy from the warm skin of his neck, he looped the sling over her head and maneuvered her arm into the fabric.
“Keep your wrist against your chest,” he instructed. “I will make a better one for you when we return to Westyork, but it should prevent your wrist from jolting too much on the ride back.”
Olivia stared at him. “Where did you learn to do this?”
“I used to have to contend with many injuries, so I read books and taught myself,” he replied, omitting the important part: that he had been the patient. “I am pleased I remembered how, for it has been a long time. Can you stand?”
Olivia nodded uncertainly. “I think so.”
“Let me help you.” He did not wait for her permission as he scooped her up off the ground in his powerful arms, carrying her to his horse as if she weighed nothing at all. And she, in turn, did not protest. Being in his arms, she almost forgot that she was in pain, for she had never felt so safe.
At the side of the horse, he set her down on her feet, his hands resting upon her waist.
“What are… you doing?” she panted, gazing into his eyes as she braced her uninjured palm against his chest to stop herself from losing her balance. She was still shaky from the unfortunate turn of events, her legs threatening to buckle.
He met her gaze, his breathing as soft and frantic as it had been when he had held her in the gardens. His eyes shone with a hunger that scared and excited her, his brow furrowing as ifhewas the one in pain. With a deep sigh, he brought one hand up to her face, cradling her cheek as his thumb brushed her lower lip. Meanwhile, his other hand, still resting upon her waist, tightened its grip.
