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“Go on,” she snapped at him.
“I can help.”
“That’s the last thing I want from you! Get out of here. I’ll see you at the hogan.”
Chase smiled briefly. Well, Dana was showing some pluck now. “Let me help.”
She jerked her head, and Chase saw loathing in her furious eyes. Good, he’d use that to train her with, too. He didn’t take her anger toward him personally. No, the Indian way of thinking was that the feelings a person had were his or her own—not someone else’s. Why should he take responsibility for how she felt?
Lifting her blouse, he delicately eased the barbed wire from the fabric. “A warrioress knows when to ask for help, too.”
What the hell was he talking about? This was the second time he’d made a reference to her being a warrioress. Chase was crazy!
The brush of his fingertips on her back sent a tingling feeling across Dana’s flesh. As soon as she was freed, she slipped through the wire fence and hurried away without even a thank-you. Gulping for air, feeling hurt winding through her, Dana walked with resolve toward the winter hogan. Right now, all she wanted to do was run—again. Away from this coldhearted bastard. Away from her mission.
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