“I just left her. It was funny—the way she rushed me off after you. As if there weren’t two—”
Was it Glenn’s eyes or the movement of his hand that checked her utterance? His gaze pierced her soul. His hand slid along her arm to her waist—around it. Her heart seemed to burst.
“Kick your feet out of the stirrups,” he ordered.
Instinctively she obeyed. Then with a strong pull he hauled her half out of the saddle, pellmell into his arms. Carley had no resistance. She sank limp, in an agony of amaze. Was this a dream? Swift and hard his lips met hers—and again—and again....
“Oh, my God!—Glenn, are—you—mad?” she whispered, almost swooning.
“Sure—I reckon I am,” he replied, huskily, and pulled her all the way out of the saddle.
Carley would have fallen but for his support. She could not think. She was all instinct. Only the amaze—the sudden horror—drifted—faded as before fires of her heart!
“Kiss me!” he commanded.
She would have kissed him if death were the penalty. How his face blurred in her dimmed sight! Was that a strange smile? Then he held her back from him.
“Carley—you came to wish Flo and me happiness?” he asked.