Chapter 20

“Put your arms around my shoulders,” Miles says. When I comply, he wraps his arms around me and lifts me. He begins carrying me back the way he came. Over his shoulder, I glance once more at the dead boar that so nearly killed me.

And at Miles’s weapon that he left sitting in the dirt.

“Your gun…” I say.

“It’s served its purpose,” Miles replies.

“But…”

“I’ll send someone back for it. Later. Once we’ve had you checked out by a doctor.”

I curl into his chest, chasing the warmth of his body. Now that the adrenaline has all but worn off, I feel so cold.

“I’m fine…”

“You could have internal bleeding.”

There’s no arguing with him, it seems. His mind is made up that I will see a doctor, then that’s what I’m going to do.

We continue through the brush until we reach a small clearing where Miles’s horse grazes on the tall grasses.

He lifts me up onto the back of his horse. Once I’m settled, he hops up behind me. His thighs cradle the curve of my backside. He slides his arms around my sides. One hand reaches for the reins, the other presses flat against my stomach, keeping me locked and secure against him.

Heat floods my cheeks as embarrassment shoots through me.

Squirming, I say, “Let me down, Miles. I can walk.”

“Absolutely not,” Miles snaps. His hold tightens on me, pressing me even more firmly, my back to his chest.

Something hard nudges against the meat of my ass. I stiffen at once.

“Stay still,” Miles commands, and I nod, not wanting to make his situation worse.

Miles veers the horse toward a track he clearly recently made through the brush, and we begin the walk toward the country club.

We’re quiet for a while, and I listen to the songs of the birds in the trees and the far off gunshots.

Then I ask, “How did you know something was wrong?”

“Your horse raced down the trail, all the way to me, without you on it. I started to ride back, and that’s when I found Cynthia. Through her hysterics, I was able to glean enough of what was going on to know that I had to find you.”

“And you did.”

“I did.”

Thank God for that. Sparkle Heart is going to have so many sugar cubes when I make it back to the stables. For Cynthia, I’m going to buy her a whole case of wine.

“I don’t understand how this could have happened at all,” I say. “Mr. Carver told me that they had taken precautions to ensure the safety of our guests. Every inch of this forest had been thoroughly searched for any wild animals. And a boar, besides. They aren’t indigenous to this area. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“There was something wrong with that boar,” Miles adds. “It seemed as if it had some kind of disease, frothing like that and behaving as it did.”

Perhaps in its illness, the boar could have ventured far from its usual habitat. Even so, the staff should have seen some sign of it when they searched the grounds this morning. They checked and found nothing.

“This is worth looking into,” Miles says. “Later.”

I turn my head to glance behind me, up at his face. He appears thoughtful yet troubled, with a furrowed brow.

“Miles?” I’m desperate to know what he thinks, what he suspects.

“Later,” he tells me, and it’s a clear dismissal. End of conversation.

I turn myself forward again and focus on our path. The horse moves with steady, confident steps, even though every inch of this forest looks the same to me.

We could be lost for all I know, and Miles is keeping it secret. I’d have no idea either way.

A jolt of fear strikes me, and I shiver.

“Are you cold?” Miles asks.

“A little,” I admit. I don’t want him to know how weak I am, so I won’t tell him I’m afraid.

He lifts his hands and covers mine with his own. Like this, his warmth seeps down into me, skin to skin. Being held like this feels intimate in a way, with this closeness.

I shiver again, but this time it has nothing to do with the cold, and everything to do with the inch after inch of muscled strength covering me, supporting me. That our hips are jostling with the movement of the horse only makes everything worse.

If I lean forward… If he presses up into me…

God, Esther! What are you thinking?!

I can blame the shock of a near-death experience for my sudden bout of horniness, right? Because all I want to do right now, as crazy as it is, is guide his hands lower so that he can rub me while I lean back into him.

Miles’s hands squeeze around my own, lacing our fingers together. Can he read my mind? Does he know what I want? Does he want it too?

How reckless of me. Anyone can happen upon us at any minute and still my desire runs over, drowning me.

My skin is burning now. My panties dampen and my nipples ache. God, I want him to touch me more, anywhere, so long as it is skin to skin.

His dick throbs against my ass again. We’re both barely holding on, it seems.

He lowers his head down to my shoulder, then, turning, ghosts his mouth across the tender skin on the side of my neck.

“Esther…” he says. It almost sounds like a question.

Whatever he wants, the answer is yes.

Yet, just as I open my mouth to sigh or plead or moan – I’m not sure what – a rustling of leaves and branches snaps us both out of our lust-addled stupor. Both of our attentions snap to our left.

Through the trees pushes a new horse and rider. I don’t recognize them at first glance.

The rider is a woman with a well-fitted beige leather jacket over her white shirt and matching pants. Her dark hair is done up in a tight bun that somehow, miraculously keeps its perfect shape even as she ducks under tree limbs and bats away leaves.

“Amber?” Miles says, confusion in his voice.

This woman – Amber – brings her horse into our direct path, forcing us to stop. Her horse whinnies and stomps at the ground. It’s a beautiful horse, black with white patches, obviously well cared for. But its impatience seems to match that of its owner, who is gripping the reins like she means to throttle them.

“What are you doing here?” Miles asks.

“I arrived late,” Amber says. She sits tall and proud in her saddle. “Imagine my surprise when they said you had darted into the woods. I knew someone had to go after you.”

“And that someone had to be you?” Miles asks.

“Naturally.”

She takes in the sight of us both on the back of Miles’s horse. As she looks at me, her gaze narrows and her lip curls. She hasn’t spoken one word to me, has no idea who I am, and already I know with 100% certainty that she hates me.

“Who are you?” she spits at me. “And what do you think you’re doing sitting atop of Miles’s horse?”