Dark Horse: Bad Boy Cowboy Romance

I clutched at the reins, even as the wet leather slipped through my fingers. Lightning flashed directly above me, and for a split second everything around me was illuminated in stark relief.

An instant later, as the thunderclap immediately followed, I thought to myself, this is it. This is how I die.

And a second later, just to help support my point, I felt myself flying through the air. For that instant, gravity pulled down at my stomach before the rest of me, making my heart drop into the pit of my stomach as I saw the rapidly oncoming ground.

I hit hard, feeling my shoulder twist. I managed to roll over somewhat onto my back, but that only helped me to look up as, illuminated by another flash of lightning, Merlot's hooves reared wildly as the poor horse panicked with the loss of his rider.

"Merlot! Easy, easy!" I tried to shout out, but the fall had knocked the wind out of my lungs. Even if I'd been able to draw breath, however, I don't think that my horse could have heard me over the howling wind and crashing thunder.

"Yep, this is it," I admitted to myself. "I'm about to die. Crushed by my own horse's hooves, out here in the middle of a storm, before I've even turned thirty."

In that split second of peril, I expected to see my life flash before my eyes.

Instead, much to my annoyance, I found myself thinking about how my obituary would read in the Gazette.

Oh, there would certainly be plenty of sad comments - I was still so young, still had so much of my life to live, a sad loss of a proud member of one of the region's oldest families. It was true, I knew. The Monteclaires had settled the region even before the United States became an official country. Our roots stretched back further than anyone else's.

But there would also be some less savory remarks, I was sure. Of course they wouldn't be mentioned directly in the obituary, but there'd surely be some veiled little reference to how my family had "fallen on hard times," or perhaps how "this was another disappointing legacy." As if it was my fault personally that most of our family money was gone, my personal fault that there was little left to the Monteclaire name besides an aging farmhouse, several hundred acres of rented-out land, and a single, precocious, headstrong daughter who still hadn't produced an heir.

Oh yes, and there'd probably be something in the obituary about my grieving fiancé, I noted to myself. Poor Marsden. He did love attention, but he would hate that none of the reporters who called asked him about his own job, his own achievements. He'd probably try and make himself look like the hero by telling the reporters how he'd urged me to give up my horse, to not live out in my family's home all alone.

Although now, he did have a point, I thought to myself as I watched the hooves of my horse descend down towards where I lay, helpless, on the ground. And Marsden usually did have a point. He could be rude in how he presented that point, but it never made him any less correct.

Goodbye, cruel world! Say farewell to Jillian Monteclaire, beautiful headstrong lady of high society, struck down before her time by a tragic fall from her horse in an unseasonably strong thunderstorm!

I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain of those striking hooves.

I heard Merlot whinny.

I felt the rain falling down across my face, almost a full sheet of water, cutting through my riding clothes and soaking me to the skin.

I felt.... no hooves?

Still wincing, expecting to die at any moment now, I cracked one eye open.

For a moment, all I saw was the blackness of the storm. I blinked furiously, trying to adjust to the darkness - and then lightning flashed again, ruining what little night vision I'd managed to acquire.

In that flash of lightning, however, I saw Merlot. He was standing off to the side from me, all four feet on the muddy ground. His eyes were still wide in that lightning flash, but he wasn't rearing over me. I considered that an improvement.

The reason that my horse was no longer about to kill me stood beside him, holding Merlot's reins in one hand. I blinked, trying to make out details. I saw the dark shape of a man outlined against the background of trees, but I couldn't see any details or features of his face. Who was this?

"Hello?" I called out, trying to sit up. I winced as my arm moved, and I suspected that I'd managed to pull or tear something in my shoulder.

The mud squelched underneath me, and I knew that my clothes were totally ruined, but I managed to climb up to my feet. I took a step closer to my horse and the dark figure, mentally wishing for a flashlight, or even another lightning strike. "Hello? Do I know you?"

"Are you hurt?"

It was a man's voice, at least, but I didn't recognize it. I started to shake my head - but paused as even that motion sent another burst of hot red pain through me. "Yeah. Kind of. I think I hurt my shoulder."

"Wait a sec." The next flash of lightning revealed the man turning away, leading Merlot with him.

Hold on. "Hey, don't leave me here!" I burst out, running as best I could after the man in the near-complete darkness. "Wait for me! Hey, you're stealing my horse!"

I thought I saw the man's shape glance back at me. He didn't reply, but he quickened his pace - and as I tried to do the same, I felt something suddenly catch at one ankle. Before I could catch my balance, I went tumbling down into the mud and leaves for the second time in as many minutes.

I managed to land on my uninjured side this time, at least. Unfortunately, my mouth had been open in another shout as I fell, and I ended up spitting out a mouthful of wet, half-rotted leaves. Ugh! This really was not my night at all!

I kicked out at the root that had snagged my foot, muttering a most unladylike curse under my breath. How had things gone so wrong, so quickly? I'd planned on taking Merlot out for a gentle evening ride as the sun set. I wanted to stretch his muscles, keep him from locking up after the race earlier today.

And yes, okay, I also wanted to go for a ride to give myself some alone time, time to blow off steam from my argument with Marsden earlier that day. Maybe that anger and annoyance had kept me from noticing the oncoming storm, but most of the storms that passed through my Virginia property were little more than light showers. I certainly hadn't expected a full-on thunderstorm!

But next thing I knew, I was down on the ground, about to be killed by my own horse. And okay, a stranger saved me from that, but then that same stranger made off with my horse and left me behind to die in this storm! I didn't consider that much of an improvement.

Squirming to pull myself up from the dead leaves and muddy earth that clung stubbornly to my clothes, I called out several other curses, no longer bothering to keep them under my breath. Who was around to hear me? The thief who had just stolen Merlot from me? Serves him right if he gets offended!

"That's mighty strong language."

I leapt nearly a foot in the air, spinning around. The man had spoken almost in my ear!

The next flash of lightning revealed him, standing next to me - and with a grin on his face? "If I was any bit a gentleman, I might be offended by that language," the man commented, his words slightly drawn out in a country drawl. "But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, considering that you just got bucked off your horse."

I had an angry retort ready and waiting on my lips, but the man had his hand out, offering it to me. Deciding begrudgingly to be the bigger person, I took the hand, and felt him easily lift me back up to my feet.

"Your horse is tethered up right over in the trees, next to my own," the man said as he set me back on my feet, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "I've got a fire going, under a tarp - it's a bit more out of the rain than here. Care to come warm up?"

I considered telling this ruffian, whoever he was, to get off of my property (where he was surely trespassing - I hadn't given him permission to camp here!), but a sudden shiver running through my entire body made me think otherwise. My clothes were thoroughly drenched, and I was liable to catch my death of hypothermia if I didn't get warm soon.

"Okay, fine," I gave in reluctantly. "Show me where you've stolen my horse off to, you..."

I stopped, unable to come up with a suitable insult. The man, much to my annoyance, just chuckled again.

"Lance," he said, as he led me towards the trees. "Lance Umbral."

Chapter two

"Lance Umbral," the man leading me towards where he supposedly had tethered my horse named himself. "And you?"

"Jillian," I replied reluctantly. I was devoting most of my limited brain power towards avoiding tripping over another tree root. "You can call me Gilly."

I stopped dead for a second, blinking. What was I doing? Gilly had been my childhood nickname, but no one called me by it any longer. Even Marsden, my own fiancé, likely didn't know that nickname for me.

Lance, however, just nodded, leading me onward.

I followed Lance into the little copse of trees that he'd indicated, only slightly mollified when I saw with my own eyes that, just as he'd told me, Merlot was tied up to one of the tree trunks. I noted with reluctant approval that the man had given Merlot plenty of free lead so that he could move around or lower his head without tugging at the tether, and that the tree was doing a good job of covering my horse from the continuing downpour.

The man's own horse was tied up next to Merlot. I ran my eyes over the animal, eventually forced to conclude that it was a good looking animal. Tall and black, it had strong withers and a broad chest that hinted at massive reserves of stamina and power in its frame. The black horse glanced at me once, and then dismissed me from his interest.

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