Gallant Waif by Anne Gracie (the alpha prince and his bride full story free .txt) 📗

was still nervous of any other rider, and she was hampered by her long skirts, Kate managed to mount the big horse, using the stile as a mounting block. He reared up and snorted in fear at first, but Kate clung on tightly, and her firm hands and low, soothing voice soon had him under control again. Then, sidling and dancing under her unaccustomed light weight, the roan headed back down the narrow pathway at a brisk trot, shying skittishly at every falling leaf or shifting shadow.

For the first few moments, Kate was wholly engrossed in controlling her mount, then, as it became clear that the stallion accepted her mastery, pleasure filled her—it was so long since she had ridden a horse. And this was such a fine horse. She could understand why Jack had been unable to bring himself to sell the animal. The thought occurred to her that perhaps she could ask if she might exercise him. He certainly needed it.

As the path opened out, she saw a trail of hoofprints crossing the field nearest the house, and remembered her task. Someone might be hurt, even if it was a thief who deserved punishment! Castigating herself at her selfish pleasure in the ride, she urged the stallion into a canter. Rounding the back of the stable, she saw a prone figure lying on the frozen ground.

Kate’s heart missed a beat. No, surely not. She urged the horse closer, then flung herself off, retaining just enough presence of mind to tie it to a nearby bush. The figure on the ground was ominously still.

Breathing hard, she fell on her knees beside him, heedless of the cold, wet mud, and gently turned him over. Dear Lord, she prayed, let him not be badly hurt!

“Jack. Are you all right?” There was no answer. She laid her cheek to his chest. His heart was beating steadily. Thank God! Swiftly she ran her hands over his limbs. Nothing was broken. She gently examined his head but could find no extraordinary bump or cut. He was as white as a corpse, and almost as cold.

Kate whipped off her pelisse and tucked it around him, then eased his head and shoulders into her lap, abandoning all modesty, surrounding his body with her legs. She would ensure his warmth, at least. Later, if he did not regain consciousness, she would have to leave him and go for help. But while he was so pale and frozen and helpless she could not leave him.

She held him close, praying silently that he would be all right and that someone would come soon to help them. One hand cupped his rough, stubbled chin, tenderly cradling his head against her breast, the other smoothed his hair back off his forehead. She murmured soothing words in his ear, her breath mingling with his in the crispy air.

She was just deciding reluctantly that she might have to leave him to fetch help when Jack’s eyes flickered open. He stared up at her blankly for a moment or two and muttered, “You?” in a tone of bemusement, then closed his eyes again.

“How do you feel?” Kate asked softly, his head still against her breast.

“Bloody,” he muttered, still with his eyes closed.

“Oh, no, there is no blood,” she assured him.

One blue eye opened and regarded her sardonically. “Good.” He lay heavily against her for another few moments, then, seeming to become aware of just how intimately he was lying against her, he sat up, groaning. He swore as a sudden wave of pain shot through his leg, and he stilled his movements suddenly, bending to examine his leg more closely.

“You haven’t broken anything either,” Kate said reassuringly.

“And you’d know, I suppose,” he said.

Kate didn’t allow herself to rise to his bait. “Well, yes, I would know, but I don’t expect you to believe me. Now, it’s extremely cold on this ground and you’d better move if it’s at all possible.”

He glanced at her again, and a frown darkened his forehead as he noticed that she was shivering. Then his eyes fell to her pelisse, tucked securely around him. He swore, dragging it off him and almost angrily thrusting it at her. “Put that on at once, you little fool! Do you want to catch your death?”

Kate ignored him. “Do you think you can stand up?”

Jack moved his bad leg a little and groaned. “I think I can manage to walk, but the question is, can your ears bear the bad language that will doubtless result from the effort?”

Kate laughed aloud at this. As if he did not already curse with almost every breath he took! “Here, put your arm across my shoulder and see if you can stand.”

He sat up and she wedged her shoulder under his armpit. Using his good leg and herself as a lever, he slowly rose to his feet. His lips were tightly compressed, but he did not utter a word. By the time he was upright, he looked exhausted. White lines around his mouth told Kate he was in considerable pain.

“Do you really think you should be trying to walk on your bad leg?” said Kate hesitantly. “I could easily run for help and fetch someone to carry you on a litter.”

“I’ll be damned if I’ll let the blasted thing make me a cripple,” he muttered bitterly.

“Oh, well, that’s a relief,” murmured Kate provocatively.

He shot her a look of hard enquiry.

Her lips twitched with amusement. “I feared the strain would be too much for you.”

“I fail to understand what you find to amuse you in this situation,” he grated.

“Oh, nothing, to be sure, sir,” she said. “Only that I feared that your effort to refrain from cursing would be too much for you. However, I perceive that your tongue is in its usual fine form, so I need feel no anxiety on your behalf.”

He stared for a few seconds and then recalled his use of the word “damned’. Despite himself, his lips twitched. Leaning heavily on her, he began