“Are you injured?” Vivienne asked and Erik felt her leaning over him. Whether her solicitude was genuine or not, it was welcome. Indeed, the press of her breasts against his chest and the tickle of her hair on his face—no less his body’s response to both—persuaded him that he was not as near death as he might have thought.
He opened his eyes and regarded her, noting that she was disheveled and pale. He was immediately concerned. “Are you?”
She shook her head, loosing that cloud of hair over him. “Of course not, for you took the brunt of the fall.”
“But?”
“But I was surprised. I have ridden horses all my life and never have I been thrown from the saddle.” She grimaced as she sat up, then rubbed one knee. “It is not a new experience to be welcomed.”
Erik realized then how fully Vivienne
