Ridiculous. All he did was lift her. But the feel of his warm skin sucked all the air from her. If she landed back in his bed now, she'd plead her ankle, her throat, head, running nose and probably fevered brow, as well. She had never felt more trapped in her entire life. It was really saying something. As was the fact she didn't want to plead any of these things. What she wanted …
"We'll see in a moment when I take a look at that foot," he said.
He set her down on the bed—where else? As if she were a piece of porcelain that might shatter too. "Breeches first though." He reached down and tugged them on.
Thank God for that. Even if they did sit so far down his hips, it was probably a waste of time.How the hell did he ride about the glen, doing all the things he did with them like that?
