Sam’s Creed by Sarah McCarty Page B

what she was doing. Her mother had warned her that there would come a time when she would not be able to run anymore. She had finally reached it with this man, in this wild place. And it felt right. “You think I’m running away.”
    “Yes.”
    “I am not.”
    “Then what are you doing?”
    She curled her fingers over the hand that cupped her cheek, holding on. “For once, I am taking what I want.”
    “And you want me?”
    She had never been more sure of anything in her life. “Very much.”
    His eyes narrowed. “For how long?”
    She would not ask him for more than he could give, and he was not a man who gave a woman promises. “As long as it lasts.”
    His big hand settled on her thigh, weighing heavily. The utter stillness with which he touched her implied more significance than a caress. She sorted through the notion, trying to understand what it meant, but came up with no answers. Just more questions. Finally he gave her thigh a squeeze and pulled her skirt down over her legs, causing her to look at him again. Did he want her or not?
    “Hold on.”
    As the horse broke into a canter, only one thought perked through the conflicting messages he sent her. To what?

6
    I sabella held on as long as she could, but by the time they reached the small hollow in the side of the cliff where Sam decided it was safe to spend the night, she could barely hold her head up.
    “You awake?” Sam asked as soon as Breeze came to a halt.
    “Sí.”
    “Your legs feeling strong enough to hold you?”
    “Of course.”
    His hand wrapped around her upper arm. “Then slide off, and we’ll get settled for the night.”
    Nothing had ever sounded so good. Grabbing Sam’s wrist with both hands, she turned her body and slid off Breeze. It was not her most graceful moment. She kicked the horse’s shoulder and then his knee on her way down. Beyond a snort, he made no complaint. Even when her knee hit his stomach, he didn’t move. By the time her feet touched the ground she was extremely grateful for his training. Every muscle from her ankles to her shoulder blades screamed a protest. She collapsed against Breeze’s side. If it hadn’t been for Sam’s hold, she would have fallen to the ground.
    “Whoa, there.”
    She glanced up, wanting to cry with the sheer frustration of being so weak at a time when she wanted to be so strong. “Maybe I am not feeling so strong as I thought.”
    “It looks that way. Grab on to the saddle for a second.”
    She did, wrapping her fingers in the rawhide straps that dangled off assorted leather decorations. Sam swung down behind her. Immediately he wrapped his arm around her waist. Letting go, she let him drag her against him. His shoulder knocked her hat. It fell over her face.
    She pushed it back and off. “I hate this hat.”
    Before it could slide off her head, he tipped it right back. “Unless you’re fond of mosquitoes in your hair, you might want to leave it on.” With his free hand he untied the bedroll from the back of the saddle. Propping her against the wall, he made short work of rolling out the blankets. Locking her knees, she leaned against the warm rock, too sore and too tired to care anymore how weak she looked to him.
    He motioned to the bedroll. “Here, sit.”
    It was a long way to the ground. “I think I will stand, thank you.”
    “You’ll be fine once you sit down.”
    How would he know? She didn’t even turn her head, just stayed propped against the wall. “That is easy for you to say, but much harder for me to do.”
    “Are you saying you need help?”
    “I am saying I need a whole new body.”
    He chuckled, more a vibration of his chest than actual sound.
    “Don’t go ordering it until I get done appreciating this one.”
    She glared at him. “You have a very inappropriate sense of humor.”
    “Seems to work just fine for me.”
    “This explains why you are alone.”
    “I am not alone. I’m Hell’s Eight, remember?”
    He held out his hand. She placed her