A flash of motion at treetop height caught both their eyes.

“Look, a red-tailed hawk!” she cried. “Isn’t he beautiful!” Her head and body turned to follow the pale clean-cut shape, ruddy translucent tail feathers almost glowing against the washed blue of the sky, and her hot small hand came down to support herself. Directly on Dag’s aching erection.

His startled recoil was so abrupt, he fell off the horse.

He landed on his back with a breath-stealing thump. Thankfully, she landed atop him and not underneath. Her weight was soft upon him, her breath accelerated by the shock. Her pupils were too wide for this light, and, as she twisted around and thrust out one hand to support herself, her gaze grew fixed upon his mouth.

Yes! Kiss me, do. His hand spasmed, and he laid it out flat and stiff, palm up upon the grass, lest he lunge at her. He moistened his lips. The damp of the grass and the soil began soaking into the back of his shirt and trousers. He could feel every curve of her body, pressed into his, and every curse of her ground. Absent gods, he was halfway to groundlock all by himself…

“Are you all right?” she gasped.

Terror shot through him, wilting his arousal, that the fall might have torn something loose inside her to start her bleeding again like the first day. It would take the better part of hour to carry her back to the farm, and in her current depleted state, she might not survive another such draining.

She scrambled off him and plunked herself ungracefully on the ground, panting.

“Are you all right?” he asked urgently in turn.

“I guess so.” She winced a little, but she rubbed her elbow, not her belly.

He sat up and ran his hand through his hair. Fool, fool, blight you, pay attention…! You might have killed her.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I…thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, but it was just a trick of the light. I didn’t mean to shy like a horse.” Which had to be the weakest excuse for an excuse he’d ever uttered.

The mare, in fact, was less shaken than either of them. She had sidestepped as they’d gone over, but now stood peacefully a few yards off, looking at them in mild astonishment. No further excitement seeming forthcoming, she put her head down and nibbled a weed.

“Yes, well, after that mud-man this morning, it’s no wonder you’re jumpy,” Fawn said kindly. She stared around at the woods in renewed worry, then balanced a hand on his shoulder, pushed herself up, and tried to brush the dirt off her sleeve.