frightening encounter with a strange man, and now I was headed who knew where. I wanted to take the first ship back to Bolien. My job was done.
Now I just had to convince Colton to part ways with me now. Shooting a glance at him, I sighed. His jaw was rigid enough to break a fist on if I were so inclined. As long as he was suspicious of me I didn’t think he’d allow me to leave his side, much less the country.
Upon reaching the stables, Colton walked in as though he owned it. A stable boy rushed to get Brutus’ tack. Hearing Colton’s voice, Brutus’ head came out of a stall toward the middle of the stable and he neighed in greeting.
“At least someone likes him,” I muttered, watching as Colton slipped inside the stall with the tall stallion. Brutus appeared awake, alert and eager to be on our way.
Either Colton didn’t hear me or chose not to comment. In any case, he had the horse saddled and ready within minutes.
“Front or back?” Colton drew the reins over the horse’s head, and waited for my response. I must have looked blank, because he specified, “Would you prefer to ride in front of me or in back?”
Did it really make much of a difference?
Growing impatient, he said, “I’ll have more control if I ride in front.”
“Then I’ll ride in back.”
“Good.” Mounting smoothly, he extended a hand to me. Using the stable boy’s leg up, I found myself half on and half off the saddle. My skirt needed to be yanked high, as I was sitting astride, and most of my legs were bare.
The logistics of riding behind Colton were rapidly becoming clear. I’d never enjoyed rug burn, but it appeared I was about to get a major case, as my legs pressed behind Colton’s from thigh to heel. Oh, and perhaps I should mention that sitting on top of the back of the saddle was hardly comfortable. I suppose I could adjust my seat and slide off the saddle completely.
Gritting my teeth, I wound my arms tightly around his waist, knowing to do so would only increase my awareness of him. Did his stomach have to be so flat, I thought, gripping one hand in front of the other in front of him. Taking my actions for assent to move forward, Colton spurred Brutus into a trot.
It wasn’t until we reached the road that I remembered we hadn’t paid Mrs. Whitlock.
“We didn’t pay!” I’d never stolen anything in my life, and wasn’t about to start now, even if doing so averted a potential disaster in case we’d picked up unwanted companions from the bakery.
“We hardly had the time.” His tone was exceedingly dry.
“We should have made time. Don’t you feel dishonest?” Feeling myself slipping behind the saddle, I tightened my arms around Colton and yanked myself higher against his hips.
“Things happen. Mrs. Whitlock will understand.”
“What if we have to come back to Lisbon? We can’t just cheat her!” Again, being jarred by Brutus’ trot, I grabbed a handful of Colton’s shirt and tugged myself back into the saddle.
“If you feel so strongly about it, I’ll see she gets paid.” Colton pulled Brutus to a walk. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Why do you ask?” This time, I palmed his hip as I adjusted my seat.
“You are grabbing parts of my anatomy that have never before been grabbed.”
“Do not get any ideas. I am simply attempting to avoid sliding off Brutus’ hindquarters.” My tone was waspish. The heat of a blush was coloring my face because his words were true. I was displaying a lack of care for which piece of him I grabbed.
“I’m not complaining, sweetheart. If you are uncomfortable, we can change positions.” Brutus stopped.
“That might be best.” Relieved, I slid off the saddle, not caring we were stopped in the middle of the street. Only after guiding the horse to the side, did Colton dismount. “Where are we going anyway?”
“Mantle.” He named a town a few miles northeast of Lisbon. We would easily make it before nightfall.
I decided I had more
Now I just had to convince Colton to part ways with me now. Shooting a glance at him, I sighed. His jaw was rigid enough to break a fist on if I were so inclined. As long as he was suspicious of me I didn’t think he’d allow me to leave his side, much less the country.
Upon reaching the stables, Colton walked in as though he owned it. A stable boy rushed to get Brutus’ tack. Hearing Colton’s voice, Brutus’ head came out of a stall toward the middle of the stable and he neighed in greeting.
“At least someone likes him,” I muttered, watching as Colton slipped inside the stall with the tall stallion. Brutus appeared awake, alert and eager to be on our way.
Either Colton didn’t hear me or chose not to comment. In any case, he had the horse saddled and ready within minutes.
“Front or back?” Colton drew the reins over the horse’s head, and waited for my response. I must have looked blank, because he specified, “Would you prefer to ride in front of me or in back?”
Did it really make much of a difference?
Growing impatient, he said, “I’ll have more control if I ride in front.”
“Then I’ll ride in back.”
“Good.” Mounting smoothly, he extended a hand to me. Using the stable boy’s leg up, I found myself half on and half off the saddle. My skirt needed to be yanked high, as I was sitting astride, and most of my legs were bare.
The logistics of riding behind Colton were rapidly becoming clear. I’d never enjoyed rug burn, but it appeared I was about to get a major case, as my legs pressed behind Colton’s from thigh to heel. Oh, and perhaps I should mention that sitting on top of the back of the saddle was hardly comfortable. I suppose I could adjust my seat and slide off the saddle completely.
Gritting my teeth, I wound my arms tightly around his waist, knowing to do so would only increase my awareness of him. Did his stomach have to be so flat, I thought, gripping one hand in front of the other in front of him. Taking my actions for assent to move forward, Colton spurred Brutus into a trot.
It wasn’t until we reached the road that I remembered we hadn’t paid Mrs. Whitlock.
“We didn’t pay!” I’d never stolen anything in my life, and wasn’t about to start now, even if doing so averted a potential disaster in case we’d picked up unwanted companions from the bakery.
“We hardly had the time.” His tone was exceedingly dry.
“We should have made time. Don’t you feel dishonest?” Feeling myself slipping behind the saddle, I tightened my arms around Colton and yanked myself higher against his hips.
“Things happen. Mrs. Whitlock will understand.”
“What if we have to come back to Lisbon? We can’t just cheat her!” Again, being jarred by Brutus’ trot, I grabbed a handful of Colton’s shirt and tugged myself back into the saddle.
“If you feel so strongly about it, I’ll see she gets paid.” Colton pulled Brutus to a walk. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Why do you ask?” This time, I palmed his hip as I adjusted my seat.
“You are grabbing parts of my anatomy that have never before been grabbed.”
“Do not get any ideas. I am simply attempting to avoid sliding off Brutus’ hindquarters.” My tone was waspish. The heat of a blush was coloring my face because his words were true. I was displaying a lack of care for which piece of him I grabbed.
“I’m not complaining, sweetheart. If you are uncomfortable, we can change positions.” Brutus stopped.
“That might be best.” Relieved, I slid off the saddle, not caring we were stopped in the middle of the street. Only after guiding the horse to the side, did Colton dismount. “Where are we going anyway?”
“Mantle.” He named a town a few miles northeast of Lisbon. We would easily make it before nightfall.
I decided I had more
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