Elizabeth Lowell by Reckless Love Page A

difference in the sounds—to Zebra, it was a call as clear as a trumpet’s. Within moments the mare was cantering through the grass towards Janna.
    “Hello, pretty girl,” Janna murmured. She stroked the mare’s neck and pulled weeds from her long mane and tail. “Show me your hooves.”
    She worked slowly around the horse, touching each fetlock. Zebra presented each of her hooves in turn, standing patiently while Janna used a short, pointed stick to worry loose any mud or debris that had become caught between the hard outer hoof and the softer frog at the center.
    “It would be easier with a steel hoof pick,” Ty said.
    Janna barely controlled a start. On the meadow grass his bare feet had made no more sound than a shadow.
    “If I bought a pick, people would wonder what I was planning to use it on. Only one other human being knows that I’ve tamed...” Her voice died when she realized that Ty as well as Mad Jack knew that she mingled with Lucifer’s herd. “Could it be our secret?” she asked as she looked at him, her voice aching with restraint. “It’s bad enough that I turn up from time to time with raw gold. If some of the men around here knew that I could get close to Lucifer, they’d hunt me down like a mad dog and use me to get their hands on him.”
    Ty looked at the face turned up toward him in silent pleading and felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. The idea of using her to get close to Lucifer had been in the back of his mind since he had realized that Zebra was part of the big black stallion’s harem.
    They
’
d hunt me do
wn like a mad dog and use me
...
    Before Ty realized what he was doing, he cupped her chin reassuringly in his hand.
    “I won’t tell anyone,” he said quietly. “I promise you, Janna. And I won’t use you. I want that stud and I plan to have him—but not like that, not by making you feel you had betrayed a trust.”
    The heat of her tears on his hand shocked his, but not as much as the butterfly softness of her lips brushing over his skin for an instant before she turned away.
    “Thank you,” she said huskily, her face hidden while she resumed working over Zebra’s hoof. “And I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You’re very much a gentleman, no matter what you’re wearing.”
    His closed his eyes and fought against the tremor of sensation that was spreading out from the palm of his hand to the pit of his stomach and from there to the soles of his feet. Before he could prevent himself, he had lifted his hand to his lips. The taste of her tears went to his head more quickly than a shot of whiskey, making him draw in a sharp breath.
    You
’
ve been without a woman too long,
he told himself as he fought to control a combination of tenderness and raw desire.
    Yes—and the name of the cure is Janna Wayland.
    “No,” Ty said aloud harshly.
    “What?” she asked, looking up.
    He wasn’t watching her. He was standing rigid, his face drawn as though in pain. When she spoke, he opened his eyes. She wanted to protest the shadows she saw there, but he was already speaking.
    “I’m not what you think,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m too woman hungry to be a gentleman. Don’t trust me. Don’t trust me at all.”
     

Chapter Ten
     
     
    Under Janna’s watchful eyes, Ty sprang onto Zebra’s back with a flowing, catlike motion. The mare flicked her ears backward, then forward, accepting him as her rider without a fuss.
    “I told you she wouldn’t object,” Janna said. “You’ve ridden her before.”
    “Don’t remind me,” he said. “I’ve had nightmares about that ride every night since.” He leaned down and offered her his left arm. “Grab just above the elbow with your left hand, pretend I’m a piece of mane, and swing up behind me.”
    She followed his instructions and found herself whisked aboard Zebra with breathtaking ease. She lifted her hand instantly, too conscious of the heat and power of his bare arm. And then she found