Lone Star Heiress. Winnie Griggs

      She closed her eyes again. Sometime later she heard Mr. Parker talking, though she couldn’t quite make out the words. His tone was soothing and a bit distant.

      Prying her eyes open, she watched him approach Jubal. The mule eyed him suspiciously, ears flicking forward. Gradually, though, the animal relaxed, and by the time Mr. Parker attempted to stroke his nose, Jubal seemed ready to eat from his hand.

      Satisfied, Ivy let her lids fall shut again.

      “Miss Feagan.”

      The voice seemed much closer this time and when she opened her eyes he stood over her, a worried look on his face. His horse stood just behind him.

      “I’m okay,” she assured him. “Just resting my eyes.”

      If anything, the concern in his expression deepened. “This is Seeley. He’s a well-behaved horse with an easy gait. I know you’re probably not feeling up to a ride, but the cabin isn’t far and I don’t know of any better way to get you there.”

      She tried to focus on the animal. He was big—probably had to be to carry such a rider. But how did the man expect her to mount? “I can ride, but getting into the saddle might be tricky.”

      His lips quirked up at that but he nodded solemnly. “I think we’ll be able to work that out.” He offered his hand. “Do you think you can stand for just a moment if I help?”

      “Of course.” At least she hoped so.

      He placed his hand under her elbow and gently guided her into a shaky standing position. Unfortunately, her legs felt more like limp rope than bone and muscle. If he hadn’t been supporting her she probably would have toppled over. Still, if she could get a good grip on the saddle and he formed a stirrup with his hands, she might be able to—

      Before she could complete the thought, he’d scooped her up in his arms.

      Caught by surprise, her arms reflexively slid around his neck. “What in blue blazes do you think you’re doing?” The man, for all his well-meaning kindness, was much too high-handed for her liking.

      He hefted her, pulling her unsettlingly closer against his chest. “I’m helping you into the saddle.”

      The ease with which he lifted and held her was impressive. She wasn’t a petite woman, but he made her feel almost dainty. And the sensation of being held in such a way was unnerving. Though, strangely, she felt completely safe.

      He looked down at her uncertainly. “It would be best if you rode astride rather than sidesaddle.”

      Ivy shrugged, or at least what passed for a shrug in her current position. She shook off her irritation at the same time. This was merely an expedient way of getting her on the horse, nothing more personal. “It’s my preferred method of riding, anyway.”

      He stared into her eyes, and she felt the full power of his gaze. He seemed to be gauging her strength and her resolve. Would he find her wanting?

      As she stared back, the flecks of gold in his deep brown eyes drew her in with surprising intensity.

      She finally blinked and the connection—if it had ever been there—disappeared.

      He cleared his throat. “Once I get you up there, do you think you can keep your seat?”

      “Of course.” She’d have to, wouldn’t she?

      Was he really planning to lift her bodily into the saddle?

      As if in answer to her question, he did exactly that. Mr. Parker kept a supportive hand at her waist until she’d grasped the saddle horn and swung her leg over.

      “How are you feeling?”

      Was he concerned for her or just for the trouble her passing out would cause?

      She’d felt dizzy for a moment, but that had settled into a merely foggy sensation. “I’m fine.” Then she frowned. “How are you planning to travel?” Would he try to climb up behind her? How did she feel about that?

      “As I said, it’s not far. I’ll walk.”

      He turned the horse and led it toward Jubal, but his gaze rarely left her. It was disconcerting to be the focus of those very direct brown eyes. He quickly tied Jubal’s lead to his horse’s saddle then moved to her left. She noticed Jubal only carried a saddle, and realized he’d loaded her things onto his own horse. It was more kindness for her animal than she’d expected.

      “Still doing okay?” he asked.

      She forced a smile. “I’m ready when you are.”

      “I’ll be right here at your side. If you start feeling the least bit faint, let me know. Better to delay us than to risk your falling over.”

      She nodded and he patted the horse’s side and clicked his tongue to set the animal in motion.

      As they headed down the road, Ivy smiled drowsily at the thought of what an odd procession they made. She was in the lead on his horse, he walked on her left, Jubal followed on the right and Rufus alternately led and padded alongside.

      The pounding in her head was amplified with each step the horse took, but she was determined not to worry her self-appointed caretaker more than necessary. She would remain conscious and she would stay in this saddle until they reached this cabin of his.

      Because the alternative wasn’t only dangerous and inconvenient.

      It would also be altogether mortifying.

      Chapter Three

      Mitch kept a close eye on his injured charge as they traveled back to the cabin. He hadn’t been fooled by her assurances that she was okay. He’d seen the tremble in her hands, the glaze of pain in her eyes, and the way she fought to maintain focus. The sooner he got her to the cabin, the better. But jarring her too much wouldn’t do, either. He only hoped she had enough sense to let him know if she needed to stop.

      The trip, which had taken only twenty minutes on his way out, took nearly an hour on the return. He paused their little caravan a few times to give her a rest from the jarring movements and make her drink some water, but otherwise he kept them moving at a slow, steady pace. At least there was no sign of fresh blood seeping from underneath her bandage. Perhaps the worst really was over.

      Throughout that endless trip he tried to keep her talking, to make certain she was both conscious and aware. Fortunately, talking seemed to be something she enjoyed. Not that they had a coherent conversation. She mostly rambled and his contribution was limited to an occasional question whenever the pauses drew out.

      Mitch learned she came from a small town called Nettles Gap and that she lived with someone she called Nana Dovie. He also learned the life history of her dog and her mule, and what great companions they’d been on this trip.

      She continued to assure him she was all right whenever he inquired, but by the time he called for the third rest stop he could see she was starting to droop. So when the cabin finally came into view he wanted to shout, “Hallelujah.”

      “Almost there,” he said bracingly.

      She straightened and he could almost see her gather her strength as she squinted ahead.

      He directed Seeley right up to the front porch before he called a halt. “Now you’re going to have to let go of the saddle horn and slide right down into my arms. Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

      To his surprise, she displayed none of the suspicion she’d exhibited earlier. Perhaps it was because she was exhausted and hurting, but he hoped it was at least partly because she had begun to trust him.

      A moment later, she’d half slid, half fallen into his grasp. And for the second time he thought how nice she felt in his arms, how he wanted to protect her from harm.

      “If you’ll set me down, I can walk from here.”

      He