Page 15 of Kilty as Sin
Horse jerked sideways and put one foot down in a hurry to keep from falling. Grace decided she was happier with her eyes closed and wrapped both hands around Barclay’s belt once more. Sheknewhe was taking the shorter vertical route in order to join the path above, but ‘twould be easier for her if she couldn’t see—
This time the horse gave a shrill whinny when the scree shifted below his left rear leg, causing it to buckle. Of course, Grace didn’t know the reason at the time. All she knew was one moment she was safe atop the animal, and the next, she was toppling sideways.
She kept her hold on Barclay, causing him to twist in the saddle.
“Grace!”
Instead of catching her, though, Grace’s frantic scrabbling for purchase merely took him over as well.
They both tumbled off the horse, who suddenly seemed impossibly tall.
Barclay curled around her as they fell, so that he was the one to hit the ground first. Nay—hisheadhit the ground first, with a sickening crunch, and they began to roll.
They might’ve rolled to the bottom, had Grace—one arm now around his waist—not dug in her heels and flattened her palm against the scree, desperate to keep them in one place. It worked, and she dropped her head back to stare up the slope to where Horse now was staring down at them.
“Blessed Virgin,” she whispered, although she wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or a curse.
Her heart was pounding too fast and her hand burned. Now she knew they weren’t going to go sliding down the slope, she lifted her palm and was surprised to see a few drops of blood from the abrasions. What would her feet look like, since she’d lost her shoes in the bog?
This has been a hell of a day.
A groan at her side had her whipping her head about, guilt spiking hard and clear through her chest. Barclay! He’d fallen on his head!
Now he lay supine, his arm flung out to his side and his legs spread. She rolled to hover over him.
“Sir Hunter?” No response. “Barclay.”
He wasn’t dead. She could feel his heart beneath her damaged palm, hear his breathing. Was he unconscious, then? He’d landed on his helmet.
“Barclay?” she whispered again, her fingers going to his jaw. She was getting blood on his chest, but it seemed irrelevant, somehow. “Barclay, answer me!”
He groaned.
Not good enough.
Frantic now, Grace reached for the edges of his helmet and pulled upward, being careful to catch the back of his head with her uninjured hand so it wouldn’t slam against the rocks. As much as she wanted to toss away the helm, she knew it had special meaning, and thus tucked it up against his side.
Only then did she turn her attention back to him.
And sucked in a breath of—of surprise? Joy? Pleasure?
He wasbeautiful.
He was perfectly formed, exquisitely constructed.
Dark hair cut short but tending to curl around his ears from the sweat.
A chiseled jaw, shaded with stubble.
High cheekbones, dark brows, perfect lips.
His lips…
Grace’s fingers hovered above them, even as she levered herself over him. “Barclay,” she whispered, her breath seeming to caress his face. “Open yer eyes, Barclay.”
Her fingertips lowered to his lips, marveling at their feel…and his eyelids fluttered.
“Grace?” he whispered against her fingers.
