Page 23 of Captured by the Billionaire Cowboy (The Secret Billionaires #7)

Ciara gasped as something caught her – something big, something strong .

Instinctively she struggled against the unrelenting hardness, perhaps some wild animal or some mythological monster.

No, that didn’t make sense, or did it? The world had grown hazy, the only sensation pure coldness.

Yet then another sensation came, a low murmuring voice, a familiar touch and scent.

Rowan.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, pulling her tightly against a muscle-bound body. “You’re safe.”

She sagged against him, relief flowing through her like the never-ending rain. The powerful storm hadn’t lessened, yet it felt different. With Rowan’s arrival, everything would be okay.

No… not everything. Ciara put a hand on his wrist, touching the skin just under his jacket. He was as soaked as she, but so very warm. “Snowflake…”

“Is safe at the ranch,” he assured her. “She was a little riled up, but now she’s dry and warm.”

Thank goodness. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them to a blurry world. Her horse was all right. “I was going after her.”

The man holding her stiffened. “You were following her in this?” He gestured to the mottled gray skies, the clouds etched in charcoal. As if daring a response, lightning struck near, thunder following rapidly in its wake. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?”

“I hoped she’d find her way back home, but I wasn’t sure.” She parted her lips, gazed up, up, up at the commanding man holding her, even as his frown deepened. Was she about to get a lecture in the middle of the storm? “How are you here?”

His featured tightened, his dark expression confirming the issue wasn’t over. “We were worried when Snowflake arrived home without you. I’m part of the search party.”

Newfound warmth soothed the cold. He would risk these conditions just to find her?

“Spencer and Quinn are out here, too. I’d better call them.” He grabbed his cell phone and dialed, telling Quinn the news and asking him to contact Spencer. He hung up just as another white-hot bolt flashed, a giant lattice spanning half the sky. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Yes, please.” Only she took a hard step… right on her bad ankle. When she gasped in pain, his expression melted into alarm. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.” Except for the massive pain and unknown injury. “I just sprained my ankle.”

Hopefully, the overprotective man would take her word for it. Yeah, right. “Are you sure?” His voice was low and fierce. “It could be broken, possibly in more than one place. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

“It doesn’t feel bad enough to be a fracture. It’s much better than when Snowflake first threw me.” She winced. No chance the perceptive man would miss that.

“Snowflake threw you?” His gaze darkened. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine, really. The ankle is just sore. I just reinjured it a bit when I slipped in the br-brook.”

“Now you’re shaking. Here.” He shrugged out of his heavy jacket.

She shook her head, but he wrapped the massive garment around her shoulders.

Soft and supple, the thick coat engulfed her, reaching all the way to her knees.

His white shirt was soaked in an instant, outlining every muscle on his expansive chest, large biceps and powerful forearms. He looked so handsome, his hair wet from the rain, droplets glistening on his tanned skin.

Even in the midst of calamity, desire flared.

“Let’s go.”

She smothered a startled gasp as he hooked one arm under her back and another under her legs, capturing her in his arms. He lifted her, held her against his warm chest, tightly, securely, possessively .

“This isn’t necessary,” she protested even as she clutched at him. Pressed against his hardness, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

“Let’s go home.” Suddenly, he was tramping through the pouring rain, moving far faster than she could walk even if her ankle hadn’t been hurt.

He carried her as if she weighed nothing at all, easily handling her in the bulky jacket.

They traversed flooded paths and swampy forests, a watery world as unfamiliar as it was familiar.

It seemed only moments before they were walking onto the ranch’s land, just as the storm finally lessened in intensity.

Frank was waiting by the front door. Heedless of the rain, he rushed out to meet them. “Thank goodness you’re back. Let’s get you inside.”

“We should dry off under the covered walkway,” Ciara protested, even as she longed to escape the relentless elements. “I’ll get the whole house wet.”

“I don’t care about the house.” Rowan held her closer, as he strode under the long porch. He crossed the threshold into the foyer, but still did not put her down. “We have to decide whether to call a doctor.”

“A doctor?” Uncail Frank stiffened. “What happened?”

“Snowflake threw her.”

Ciara cringed, shifting in his arms. His hold never loosened. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m sorry I worried you, but there’s no cause for concern. The only thing I need is a change of clothes and Snowflake.”

Unfortunately, Rowan wasn’t done. “She twisted her ankle, spraining it at best or breaking it at worst. When I found her, she was limping through the storm chasing Snowflake.”

Frank emanated stern disapproval. “Oh, Ciara.”

“You would’ve done the same!” she said to both of them, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a shiver. She may be out of the rain, but the ranch’s air conditioning was blowing full blast. “Like I said, I’m f-fine. Just a sore ankle and a bit of a chill. How is Snowflake? I want to see her.”

“No.” The voices came simultaneously.

“Snowflake is uninjured.” Rowan softened his voice, yet the words were firm. “Right now, we need to focus on you.” Then he was once more in motion, striding through the house with purposeful steps. He called back to Frank, “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

Her uncail’s distant grunt of approval drifted after them, and he didn’t even question why Rowan would take charge like that.

She should demand he release her, but instead she reveled in his hold, warm and secure and simply right.

A memory flashed, a half-woken dream of being in the same position.

Was she remembering the night he carried her to bed?

If she wasn’t so cold, she’d be enjoying it.

But actually, she was enjoying it.

He tightened his grip. “I bet you’re expecting a lecture.”

“I’m quite shocked you’re not giving one.”

“Oh, I’m going to give one.”

“I should have known it was inevitable.” She waved a shaky hand. “Get it out of your system.”

He didn’t hesitate. “If you’re riding alone, tell someone where you’re going. Share when you’ll be back, so they know if you go missing. Tell them where you plan to stop.” He ticked off his demands. “If something happens, it’ll be easier to find you.”

It made sense, and after this afternoon, she’d already planned to be more cautious. But she couldn’t let him think he could dictate her actions. “I don’t always know where I’m going,” she hedged.

His expression darkened.

She sighed. He was only trying to help, and his suggestions were logical. Commonsense precautions wouldn’t be bad. “But if I have a plan, I’ll let someone know.”

He seemed to accept that. “Can you please check the weather report before you go riding?”

“That’s one promise I can make,” she admitted wryly. “Believe me, I learned my lesson. No more limping through thunderstorms for me.”

“Good.” He shifted, bringing her chest flush against his. Now that was something she agreed with. “And don’t go riding without a phone. You could’ve called for help after you fell instead of setting out on your own. Even if you can’t use it, we could track you after an accident.”

“That was unintentional,” she protested. “I didn’t mean to leave it behind.”

“But from now on you’ll check?”

She hesitated, but then nodded. Likely he would refuse to release her until she agreed to his demands.

“I promise.” She exhaled, not nearly as annoyed as she should be with his high-handed mandates.

They were reasonable, smart even. Any rider, no matter how skilled, should let someone know when riding alone, and one should most certainly carry a means of communication.

Rowan was only looking out for her, just as she would do for him.

How effortlessly he took the role was not something she would question.

Or why it felt so right.

She allowed herself a small smile. “No time-out?”

“No, but you have to write ‘I will not fall off a horse and scare Rowan’ a thousand times.”

She laughed. “Deal.” Her smile faded as she shivered again, instinctively pressing closer to him as he traversed the spacious hall.

He didn’t stop at her bedroom as she expected, but continued into the expansive master bedroom, past large cherry wood dressers and the king-sized bed she somehow noticed despite the situation.

She inhaled the woodsy scent that was entirely Rowan. In his territory, it was even stronger.

When he carefully placed her on a recliner outside the bathroom, she tried to get up. “I’m going to ruin the chair. I can stand.”

“It’s just rainwater. It will dry,” he said with quiet firmness, “Please stay seated.”

She should rebel and rise, yet her ankle throbbed and chills wracked her. Thus she did as he said, and sank into the plush velvet fabric. She couldn’t stop the small sigh.

“Be right back. Don’t try to walk,” he warned.

She wouldn’t because she didn’t want to, not because he demanded it. She resisted the urge to make a face at him as he disappeared into the bathroom. Then she stopped resisting and stuck out her tongue.

The reply was immediate. “You realize I can see you in the mirror.”

Well, darn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The tap suddenly sprang to life. A moment later, Rowan exited the bathroom. It was the first time she’d gotten a good look at him since they’d returned.

She stared.

And stared some more.

It wasn’t really her fault when he was the perfect example of masculinity. The wet clothing revealed everything. Tanned skin. Taut, powerful muscles. A large, towering man borne of power. With his skin still damp and his hair slipped back, he looked like Neptune, the mythological king of the sea.

Heat raced through her.

She forced her gaze up. “A-are you taking a bath?” Her voice came out slightly breathless; hopefully he would attribute it to the ordeal and not the desire burning through her. Yet everything froze at his next words:

“No,” he rumbled. “You are.”