Free A Perfect Hero by Samantha James Page B

ears.
    It was going to be up to her, she realized, to at tend to their needs—their essentials were food, water, and warmth. It was spring, and while the days were warm, the nights were cold. She’d have to keep the fire going, she decided. If she let it die out, she was half-afraid she’d never get another started. She was rather ashamed to admit that never in her life had she started one herself, from tinder and kindling.
    There was a stack of wood just outside the door, so she carried in enough wood to last through the night and into the next morning. She found Percival in a small building attached to the cottage. Half of it had been transformed into sev eral stalls. Her eyes widened as she laid eyes on the towering black stallion. She approached cau tiously, stopping a few feet away.
    He was a beautiful animal. He watched her with attentive scrutiny, his eyes large and expres sive, his ears pricked forward. His coat was like black gloss, shiny and sleek, gleaming in the eve ning light. He stood with quivering skin, his sleek, powerful muscles bunched.
    Julianna had the sensation of being weighed and measured, and hoped she passed judgment. Slowly lifting a hand, she ran her nails gently down the sleek lines of his neck. His skin quiv ered beneath her hand. Julianna could feel his power beneath her touch, but he displayed no hint of aggression.
    “My, but you’re a big fellow, aren’t you? Just like your master.” He snorted and gave a proud shake of his head. She continued to stroke him, talking to him in low, soothing tones, letting him acquaint himself with her scent and presence.
    Before long, the animal bumped his nose be neath her free hand. Soon he did it again.
    Julianna chuckled. “What, are you looking for a lump of sugar? I’m sorry, Percival, but I’m afraid I’ve nothing for you today.”
    Looking over, she saw a door near the outside wall. In the small room within, she found what she was looking for—a bag of feed. Seizing the bucket next to it, she filled it to the brim. With no more hesitation, she let herself inside the stall, for she sensed that the mighty animal had accepted her—at least she hoped he had!
    He nickered as she poured the feed into a bucket. Patting his neck, she withdrew, picking up another that was half-full of water. Across the clearing, she discovered what she was after— a well.
    Filling the pail from Percival’s stall with cool, clear water, she saw that Maximilian had wan dered outside as well. He and Percival stood nose to nose, huge black beast to tiny black beast. The sight made her smile. Clearly the pair were al ready well acquainted with each other.
    Her smile slipped. An odd little ache speared her heart. She was perilously near to tears... again! Memory surfaced, unbidden. She felt horrible about pretending to be ill. Deceit was not in her nature. What was it Dane had said before she shot him?
    I was worried about you, kitten.
    Had he been? Had he really? And afterward, when she had returned inside...A piercing shaft of guilt rent her breast. It wasn’t himself he’d been concerned about, but her. What kind of man was he? she wondered. And why did she even care? What little she knew of him had little to commend him. He was an outlaw, a robber.
    Yet everything inside told her he was not a man without heart, a man without a soul.
    As she was not a woman without conscience.
    Biting her lip, she glanced at Percival, slurping thirstily from the bucket. She could leave. She should leave. She now had the means to leave. She had only to ride away, to leave him and be free.
    But she no longer had the will. She could not abandon Dane. She simply could not.
    Maximilian was sidling around her feet. Sud denly he bounded toward the door of the cottage, which stood ajar. He stopped, gazing back at her with huge, slanted eyes. As if he were waiting . . .
Julianna
sighed.
“Yes,
Maximilian.
I’m
coming.”
***
    Throughout the night Dane alternated between burning hot and