Her Private Bodyguard. Gayle Wilson
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or defined. And she was equally unwilling to pursue a discussion of that physical contact. Grey Sellers would be gone in the morning. She would see to that, even if she had to drive him into town herself and then send someone out here to tow his truck off her property.
When she had, she’d talk to Wallace or to the insurance company, and all of this nonsense would be over. Maybe she had overreacted this afternoon—she wouldn’t deny that—but there was no need to continue to do so. Grey Sellers had chosen to ignore the fact that he’d touched her, and she would, too.
“And thanks for bringing the tray out,” he said, his voice low. “I figured the invitation to dinner had been rescinded.”
Rescinded. As strange a choice of words for the man he seemed to be as untoward had been. But the soft sincerity in his voice made her conscious again that she didn’t feel threatened by him. She hadn’t, not even when he’d shaken her. His action had been only a reflex, a reaction to her anger and her accusation.
“Good night,” she said, deliberately breaking the connection that was growing between them. She didn’t want to know any more about Grey Sellers than she already did. She didn’t want to think about him any more than she already had.
She limped across the room, conscious that her footsteps echoed unevenly on the old boards. Conscious that his eyes were on her, even if she couldn’t see them. Let him watch. Let him get a good look, she thought, suddenly angry and unsure why.
After tomorrow, she told herself again, things would go back to normal. At least, as normal as they could be until she had gotten rid of the albatross that was Av-Tech.
And the sooner she did that, the better, she decided, shutting the door of the bunkhouse firmly behind her. All the way back into the house, however, it seemed she could feel the force of those silver eyes, still watching her.
“IT’S OKAY,” Valerie crooned to the stallion, keeping her voice low and soothing. “Easy now. Easy, boy. Everything’s okay now, you big old bad boy.”
This on top of everything else, she thought, feeling the tension, which she had spent most of the nearly sleepless night trying to destroy, seep back into her neck and shoulders.
Being tense wasn’t a real good thing, of course, when you were dealing with a spooked horse. And despite her continued attempts at reassurance, the black was still upset, head up and ears forward.
One reason she had chosen Kronus as her first stallion was because of his disposition. For a stud horse, he was remarkably well behaved. She had watched him work, and his previous owner had vouched for him. And since she had owned the stallion, he had never given her any cause to question that reputation.
Until today. As soon as she’d come out of the house this morning, shortly after dawn, she had heard him banging in his stall. He had even splintered one of the rails, which meant she didn’t want to leave him in the tiny holding pen until she could make repairs.
Probably better to put him into the corral, she had thought. The other horses were all in the pasture that surrounded the spring, so there would be nothing to bother him out there. Nothing beyond whatever it was that had made him so edgy already.
He’d be in a less confined space and less apt to do himself damage. She took her eyes off the black long enough to glance back into the stall she had just led him out of. It was inside the simple enclosure that she had built herself when she decided she needed to buy her own stud. Granted, the building was very small, but it had seemed plenty secure, and it was far enough from the barn that he didn’t cause problems with the other horses.
She could see nothing in the stall to provoke this kind of display. However, a lot of things could spook a horse, from an unexpected or unfamiliar noise to a piece of plastic blowing along the ground.
Maybe Kronus sensed there was a stranger on the property. As she led the jittery stallion by the bunkhouse, her eyes focused briefly on the door, still closed against the growing light. She realized that she had been aware of that door the whole time she’d been in the yard.
Anticipating when her uninvited guest might open it? she wondered, leading the stud toward the corral. If so, it was an anticipation she didn’t want to feel. Despite her resolve, however, she remembered the impact of Grey Sellers’ eyes. And that small tug of amusement at the corner of his mouth.
She had been momentarily distracted by that memory, but her attention was abruptly brought back to Kronus, where it should have been all along. He had been nervous throughout the short journey. Now he threw up his head, jerking against the lead, and jigging to the side.
She shortened the nylon rope by changing the position of her hand, intent on controlling his head. She was by his shoulder, right where she needed to be. Even so, she could sense the gathering of muscle in those powerful hindquarters, his front hooves even seeming to lift a fraction from the ground.
Val knew that he just wanted to be gone, just to get away from whatever was frightening him. That flight instinct was highly developed in horses, and that’s exactly what Kronus wanted to do. Just get the hell out of here.
Although she was talking to him the whole time, she could feel his tension building. And she still couldn’t understand why. There was nothing—
He jerked his head up, pulling strongly against the lead she held, the whites of his eyes showing. She stayed with him, fighting to keep control. They were so near the safety of the paddock. If she could just get him through that gate and inside.
She reached for the gate with her free hand, and Kronus crow hopped, trying to pull away. He dragged her a few inches away from the fence before she was able to get his head back down.
She could feel her bad knee beginning to tremble, however, as it always did under strain. She ignored it, gritting her teeth against the pain, and grimly hung on as he jumped to the side again.
It would be dangerous for the horse to let him get loose, as crazy as he was acting. Although her land was fenced around the perimeter, there were too many ways he could do damage to himself if he got away out there.
Where it wasn’t covered with the dust he’d kicked up, Kronus’ ebony hide gleamed, his eyes still showing white. He reared again, and she held on for dear life, grateful for the leather gloves that kept her hands from being burned by the nylon rope.
When he came down, she was forced to back up a little to get out of his way. Her bad knee buckled, throwing her to the side. As she tried to regain her balance, the stallion lurched into her. The move was not deliberate, but it was effective. Still off balance, and hanging on to the lead for dear life, she fell, banging the side of her head on one of the rails of the corral before she hit the ground.
Even with the impact of her skull against the wooden post, she didn’t lose consciousness. The air around her thinned and darkened, however, and as she fought to stay conscious, she realized that she was still clinging to the lead. Instinct, maybe, but probably a foolish one, given the horse’s panic.
She couldn’t seem to will her muscles to release it and let Kronus go. Her only thought was that he could be seriously injured out on that rock-strewn terrain.
Of course, she could be even more seriously injured lying almost under his feet. She edged to her right, hunching her shoulder, as the horse reared again, almost jerking the lead out of her hand. Just then, a flash of long, blue-jean-clad legs appeared in her peripheral vision.
“Let it go,” Grey Sellers commanded, as the horse reared again, totally panicked now.
Knowing she had no choice, she released the rope. Grey had already wrapped his arm around her body and now he lifted, pulling her up and back, just as the horse came down, hooves striking the ground, too close to where Val had been only a heartbeat before.
Then the stallion whirled and took off toward the open and away from the two humans who were still on the ground. It took a second or two for Val to realize the potential for danger in what had happened. Another couple to become aware that she was practically sitting in Grey Sellers’ lap, her back against the solid muscle