Elizabeth Lowell by Reckless Love Read Free Book Online Page A

familiar sound of a horse cropping grass nearby. As he turned to check on Blackbird, pain brought back all the memories—his horse’s death and his own capture, Cascabel and the gauntlet, pain and running endlessly, and the gray-eyed waif who had patched up his wounds. Vaguely he remembered getting on a zebra dun and riding until he was certain he had died and gone to hell.
    Except that this wasn’t hell. True enough, the overhang he lay beneath was hot red stone, but the canyon floor was lush with the kind of vegetation that only came from water. Definitely not a flaming hell. In fact, with the sun’s warmth and the lazy humming of insects and the calling of birds, this could only be a slice of heaven.
    Automatically he sat up to have a better look around. Pain and dizziness struck, chaining him in place, forcing him to revise his opinion of where he was. Eyes closed, his weight braced on his elbows, he decided that the valley might be in heaven, but his body was indeed in hell.
    “Lie down, Ty. You’ve been sick.”
    He opened his eyelids. Gray eyes watched him with concern. Without thinking, he shifted his weight until he could raise his hand to touch the cheek that was so close to his. The skin was smooth and fine grained, as soft as an angel’s wing.
    “It’s all right,” he said fuzzily “I’m fine now.”
    “Lie down,” she said, pressing against his bare shoulders.
    It did no good. He remained as he was, propped half-upright on his elbow.
    “Please,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “Lie down. The fever’s broken and you’re much better, but you need to rest.”
    “Thirsty,” he mumbled.
    Instantly she grabbed a canteen, poured a stream of amber, herbal-smelling tea into a tin cup and helped him to drink. The taste of the liquid brought back other memories. He had drunk from this cup many times, with slender hands holding him upright and then easing him back down and stroking him until he fell once more into feverish sleep.
    Sighing deeply, he allowed Janna to help him to lie down again.
    “How long?” he asked.
    “How long have we been here?”
    He nodded slightly.
    “Four days.”
    His eyes opened.
    “You’ve been sick,” she explained. “You caught a chill riding through the rain. That, plus your injuries from the gauntlet...” Her voice died. Automatically she reached forward and brushed back the slightly curly lock of black hair that had fallen over his forehead.
    Ty flinched from the touch and looked Janna over with narrowed green eyes. “You don’t look so good yourself. You’re skinnier than ever. If you don’t take better care of yourself, you’ll never get tall and put on muscle.”
    “Not all men are built like a side of beef,” she retorted, hurt because he had refused her touch. She reached into the herb pouch, brought out a twist of paper and sprinkled the white powder into another cup of the herbal tea. “Here. Drink this.”
    “What is it?”
    “Poison.”
    “Fresh as paint, aren’t you, boy?”
    “You’re half-right,” she muttered, but she said it so softly that Ty couldn’t hear. She silently vowed that she would make him see which half of the truth he knew—and that he would be crazy with desire before he figured it out.
    He drank the contents of the cup, grimaced and gave his companion a green-eyed glare. “Tastes like horse piss.”
    “I’ll take your word for it, having never tasted that particular liquid.”
    He laughed, grabbed his left side and groaned. “Damn. Feels like a mule kicked me.”
    “It won’t be so bad in a few minutes,” she said, standing up. “Then I’ll unwrap the bandages and take another look.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “To check on the soup.”
    The thought of food made his salivary glands contract in anticipation.
    “Hungry?” she asked wryly, recognizing the look.
    “I could eat a horse.”
    “Then I’d better warn Zebra to stay away from you.”
    “That old pony would be too tough to eat,” he