The Tiger Lily by Shirlee Busbee Page B

pleasurable. The first
clue they had that they were not alone in this seeming uninhabited wilderness
was when, like a creature gone mad, the golden mare with her slim, boyish rider
suddenly exploded into their view and began to race crazily across the meadow.
Never once dreaming that anyone would deliberately ride with such a disregard
for life and limb, assuming that the horse had escaped the control of her
inexperienced rider, Brett tossed the reins of the pack horse he'd been leading
to Ollie. With a muttered curse under his breath about the stupidity of young
males, he dug his spurs into his stallion's side and shot away after the
disappearing horse and rider.
     
    Sirocco
was fleet and light-footed, and at four years of age she was just coming into
her full strength, but Firestorm, Brett's stallion—a son of Flame's—was at his
peak, and with his longer legs and more powerful strides, Firestorm swiftly
closed the distance between them. Still unaware that he was not rescuing a young
boy, as Firestorm raced alongside Sirocco, Brett leaned over in his saddle and
made a desperate attempt to catch the silver bridle that dangled so uselessly
against Sirocco's extended, lathered neck.
     
    Sabrina
hadn't been conscious of anything but her own enjoyment of this wild ride, but
the instant the lean brown hand made a grab for Sirocco's bridle, she was
alerted that she was no longer alone. Catching only a glimpse of a hard, dark,
bearded face beneath the wide brim of a hat, she took immediate evasive action,
jerking the reins and causing Sirocco to swerve sharply in another direction.
She heard the other rider curse furiously, and glancing over at him, she saw
that his own horse had already changed direction and was once again coming up
fast alongside Sirocco.
     
    Her
heart beating painfully in her breast, certain she was about to be attacked by
one of the many brigands who had been drifting into this area, Sabrina
tightened her mouth, and during the following minutes she did her damnedest to
escape. But it was all to no avail—the other horse was too powerful, the other
rider too determined, and in an open field there was no place to do more than
let Sirocco have her head and pray the mare could outmaneuver the big chestnut
horse.
     
    It
still hadn't occurred to Brett that the boy he was attempting to rescue didn't
want to be rescued. The erratic movements of the mare he put down to
inexcusable handling, and by the time he was again in position to attempt to
stop the runaway horse, his temper, never the coolest in the best of
situations, was boiling. And this time he made no move to snatch at the reins.
Instead, with the suddenness of a striking snake, he reached out and roughly
plucked Sabrina from Sirocco's back. With more force than necessary, he flung her
facedown across the saddle in front of him.
     
    Sabrina
was not at all grateful for her supposed rescue, and being handled like a sack
of meal, the breath momentarily knocked out of her, did nothing for her frame
of mind. Furious that this lawless creature would dare to attack the daughter
of Don Alejandro del Torres on his own land, she didn't even wait for the
galloping horse to slow down before she began to fight.
     
    The
Toledo steel blade her father had given her for her birthday was neatly
sheathed in the top of her boot, and if she could only reach it . . . Quickly
recovering her breath, she twisted and squirmed, trying uselessly to escape
from the iron hand that pressed down so forcefully in the middle of her back as
her captor gradually reined in his horse. Determined to get away, she continued
her wiggling, hoping that if she couldn't use her knife, she could shift her
weight to the side her feet dangled from and then slide down the side of the
slowing horse and possibly make it to the protection of the nearing forest.
     
    Brett
didn't exactly realize what his unwelcome burden was up to, but he was aware
that if the confounded boy didn't stay still, the young