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nearly threw her arms around him. But this time reason prevailed. There would never be anything between them.
    “I am trying to hoist you onto your blasted horse so I can get you into a bath!” Riverton did not respond at once and the moment of silence stretched out so long Emma thought he might have lost consciousness again.
    “Nice of you to oblige,” he said at last, his tone as dry as desert sand. The thread of humor underlay the pain that shadowed his voice. “Although at this point I might prefer that you get me into a bed.”
    Emma’s cheeks heated again. Could he possibly suspect how intimately she had touched him? How much she ached to explore his body still? Yes, he knew. She reminded herself of Riverton’s rakish reputation as a ladies’ man, forged long before he’d marched away to war. Even if he were aware of her clandestine caresses, her clumsy fondling would not have made a very strong impression upon him.
    The knowing gleam in his eyes made her shiver now. And bristle. She threw back her shoulders and faced him with as much bravado as she could muster.
    “Bold words for a man who cannot sit a horse, my lord.”
    As if her taunt presented a gauntlet he could not fail to take up, Riverton hauled himself upright. His features twisted into a grimace as he surveyed his mount. The large gelding stood a good seventeen hands high, Emma guessed. She linked her hands to offer Riverton a leg up.
    His brows veered darkly downward. “I’d sooner put my neck in a noose than my booted foot in a lady’s hand.”
    “So bloody stubborn,” Emma sighed.
    “Such salty words from so gently reared a miss.”
    Despite an accompanying fanfare of grunts and groans, Riverton managed to insert his foot in the stirrup and boost himself into the saddle unaided. This was a man never to be underestimated, Emma recognized.
    He grinned at her with an expression so triumphant Emma felt another inner icicle thaw around her heart. He leaned down and extended his hand to her.
    “I know it’s not quite the thing, Miss Whiteside. But would you mind riding with me?”
    Beneath his lightly drawled words, a more somber bedrock lent gravity to his tone. Speechless, Emma studied Riverton’s face. His smile had vanished again. He was still deathly pale, his blue eyes dull with pain.
    “You believe you will pass out again.”
    “Distinct possibility.”
    “Where do you wish to go?” she whispered, taking his hand without a thought for consequences.
    His sure, firm grip locked on her forearm, shocking her. He hauled her up with masterful strength and set her astride the chestnut gelding, her skirts bunched nearly to her knees.
    “I leave that to you, Miss Whiteside.”
    Riverton placed the reins in her hands and slumped against her back.

Chapter Three
    During their journey, Adam drifted in and out, but the scent and softness of the young woman curved against him left him in a constant state of semi-arousal.
    “Emma,” he murmured.
    He wrapped his arms around her narrow waist, the tops of his fists deliberately brushing the curved undersides of her breasts through layers of clothing. One day he’d peel every stitch from her. The sooner the better.
    “Please, my lord.” Her feeble, half-hearted plea could be taken either as protest or encouragement.
    Adam chose the interpretation that suited him best. His hands roved more freely. When the wind pushed the hood of her cloak away, he nudged the material still further with his chin, hunching over to rest his head in the curve between Emma’s neck and shoulder.
    He knew he was behaving abominably and taking outrageous liberties with a gently reared maid. But with Miss Emma Whiteside snuggled in his arms, he felt more alive than he had since all the bloody losses and suffering he’d witnessed at Albuhera. The memory of the way she’d returned his kisses and set him ablaze made him hard as marble.
    As a battle-scarred man with a frozen heart and numbed soul, he had little to offer a