He lifted Abigail from the horse and held her in his arms. “Is it really you or am I dreaming again?” He pulled away and stared into her gaunt face. Barely a wisp, she appeared as frail a newborn foal. “It’s really me.” She tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and her delicate touch sent tingles through his body. He pulled her close again and kissed her forehead. Feeling as if a great weight fell from his shoulders, he sighed into her hair. “Are you all right? You're so thin. Did they hurt you, my angel?” “You mean other than holding me hostage, drugging me and starving me half to death? No, it was a blast.” She smiled, but it never reached her eyes. She had clearly faced trauma. The thought pierced him. Avant’s heart leapt within him to hold her in his arms. He'd nearly lost his mind with worry. That treacherous animal had imprisoned her. Seething rage bubbled in his veins. “I did not know if I'd ever see you again….
