Spring Blossom by Jill Metcalf Page B

your own?” The lad nodded, reaching for the reins.
“I’ll be back. And make certain you hold him well. There is about
to be a ruckus and I don’t want him frightened into running.”
    The boy nodded his head nervously and slowly
coaxed the anxious animal across the paddock, away from the area in
which the Downings stood watching outside the fence.
    Hunter moved with a strong, assured gait as
he crossed the paddock and left the gate wide open when he rounded
the fence toward the two who stood watching. His gaze remained
determinedly fixed on the blue eyes that were growing larger with
each step he took in her direction. When he had only a step or two
to take, Margaret sensed his purpose and bolted; but not quickly
enough. Hunter seized her upper arm and spun her around to face
him. “Come with me,” he said evenly.
    Margaret fought against the strong fingers
that commanded, as much as his deep voice. “Let me go!” she
snapped. And when that failed to influence her captor, she called,
“Papa!”
    Alastair stood by, his arms crossed over his
chest as he watched the proceedings. Hunter Maguire would not harm
his daughter, he knew, and, since he was at a loss as to what to do
with her, he remained mute and unmoving.
    Hunter started to move back toward the
paddock but with that first step, Margaret dug in her heels. “I
said let me go!” she demanded and dragged backward against his
force.
    Knowing he would bruise her if she insisted
on being dragged, Hunter changed his tactics, and Maggie quickly
found his arm around her waist as he hauled her against his hip. “I
want to show you something,” he said firmly and grunted when one of
Margaret’s flailing, booted feet caught him soundly on the shin.
“Stop that,” he ordered.
    “Put me down,” she cried in panic as she
continued to kick and struggle, hoping for any chance to escape
him.
    “I said stop that!” He was breathing heavily
from the exertion of trying to control her; the woman was twisting
and bucking like a harnessed mustang. Thinking of Passion’s Pride,
standing a few feet away and already snorting, fearing the wild
creatures coming in his direction, Hunter snapped, “You’ll get us
all killed!”
    When she continued to kick and strike out
with her hands and feet, Hunter set her roughly on the ground. “Now
stop,” he ordered. Glaring into eyes that expressed her shock at
being so roughly handled, he tightened his grip on her arms for he
could see the explosion coming just as surely as the sun would set
that night.
    “How dare you,” she spat as she tried to
raise her hands to scratch his face.
    Hunter captured both wrists in one hand and
wrapped his arm around her waist again, drawing her against his
side where she could do less damage. “How dare I?” he muttered. “I
dare because, by God, you are going to see what you have done.”
    Margaret was beginning to weaken, and she
knew, physically, she would lose in a battle against him. She was
no match for this man’s strength, but her fear of being held so
close against him made her struggle until her last ounce of
strength gave out.
    When finally she sagged against him, Hunter
set her on her feet once again, and he noted that she took a deep
breath as his arms loosened their hold even while he continued to
offer support with his hands at her waist. He stared down at her,
her head bowed in defeat, wondering why she had continued to
struggle against him when he had posed no real threat. “Why did you
fight me?” he asked softly. “Do you fear me so much?”
    Maggie’s head snapped up, and her beautiful
pale blue eyes narrowed with loathing. “You act like a madman,” she
snarled, “and you have the nerve to ask?”
    “I was angry, yes, but surely you cannot
fear me so much that you felt you had to fight to the ends of your
strength. We were once great friends, Maggie.” He tried to study
her face but his softened tones had her looking away from him. “You
had no fear of me then.