Free Only You by Elizabeth Lowell

temperament of a wolverine and the wariness of a wolf. Should anyone but Reno approach the mare, she flattenedher ears to her skull and looked for a place to sink her big white teeth into flesh. With Reno, however, the mare was all nickers and soft whuffles of greeting.
    Darlin’ was constantly testing the breeze for the scent of danger. At the moment her head was up, her ears were pricked, and her nostrils were flared as she drank the wind.
    Out in the sunlit meadow a bird called sharply and cut aside to fly into the forest. The silence that followed the bird’s retreat was total.
    Eve didn’t wait for Reno’s signal to go into hiding. As soon as the bird veered aside, she reined Whitefoot deeper into the cover of the forest and waited. Breath held, motionless, she watched the meadow through the screen of aspens and evergreens.
    A solitary mustang stallion walked warily into the clearing. The half-healed wounds of a recent fight were clear on the horse’s body. He lowered his muzzle into the creek and drank, stopping every few moments to raise his head and sniff the breeze. Despite his wounds, the stallion was fit and powerful, just coming into his full maturity.
    Compelled by the young horse’s muscular beauty, Eve leaned forward in the saddle. The faint creaking of leather carried no farther than Whitefoot’s ears, yet the stallion seemed to sense her presence.
    Finally the wild horse drank again, looked up, and walked slowly away from the stream. Soon he began cropping grass. His vigilance didn’t end while he ate. Rarely did a minute go by that the stallion didn’t pause, lift his head, and test the breeze for enemies. In a herd his constant checking wouldn’t have been necessary, for there would have been other ears, other eyes, other wary horsesto scent the breeze. But the stallion was alone.
    It occurred to Eve that Reno was like the mustang stallion—ready for battle, wary, trusting nothing and no one, completely alone.
    Eve sensed movement behind her. When she turned in the saddle, she saw the catfooted blue roan coming through the forest toward her.
    A breeze wound through the evergreens, drawing a sigh from their slender green needles. Whitefoot stirred, made uneasy by the scent of the stallion on the wind. Silently Eve stroked the gelding’s neck to reassure him.
    “Where are the packhorses?” Eve asked in a low voice as Reno rode alongside.
    “I left them tied up the trail a piece. They’ll raise a fuss if anything tries to creep up on us from that direction.”
    Reno stood in the stirrups and looked across the meadow. After a moment he settled back into the saddle.
    “No mares,” Reno said quietly. Beneath his mustache, his lips shaped a thin smile. “From the looks of his hide, that young stud just learned the first lesson of dealing with women.”
    Eve looked questioningly at Reno.
    “Given a choice between an old stud that knows where to find food and a young stud so crazy for a woman that he doesn’t know which end is up,” Reno drawled, “a female will take the old stud and comfort every damned time.”
    “A female that trusted the promises of every young stud with rutting on his mind wouldn’t last through the winter.”
    “Spoken like a true woman.”
    “Imagine that,” Eve shot back.
    Unwillingly, Reno smiled. “You have a point.”
    Eve looked at the stallion and then back at Reno,remembering what he had said as he pocketed the emerald and gold ring he had taken from her finger.
    “Who was she?” Eve asked.
    One of Reno’s black eyebrow’s lifted in silent query.
    “The woman who chose her own comfort over your love,” Eve said simply.
    The line of Reno’s jaw tightened beneath the stubble that had grown over the days on the trail.
    “What makes you think there was only one?” he asked coolly.
    “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who has to learn something twice.”
    The corner of Reno’s mouth kicked up. “You’re right about that.”
    Eve waited, saying