“You did it,” she breathed. “My heart nearly stopped when I saw you go under. Now I know how you felt standing on shore all those years ago. I felt so helpless watching you. All I could do was pray.” He looked into her eyes. “Did you?” She nodded. “How I prayed you would live.” And then she was in his arms, leaning into him, pressing herself against his sodden chest, her cheek against his shoulder. He knew he ought to keep her at arm’s distance—she would get soaked, catch her death. Instead he wrapped his free hand around her waist—her very small waist—and drew her nearer. For several beats of his heart they stood like that, still. Savoring her warmth, her nearness. His other hand still lay on Major’s neck, in a strange triangle embrace. Man, woman, horse. Then sounds from around them broke into his awareness, and perhaps into hers as well, for she slowly righted herself, pulling away, her color high with embarrassment. “I am just so glad you are all right,” she murmured in excuse, head ducked.”