She batted his arm. “Not that. Carrying me down to town.”
“Right. So.” Tristan procured the same rag they used last night and cleaned them both.
She could get used to such attentions. It wasn’t at all like she’d heard coupling would be—none of the dread, lying in the dark, waiting for a new husband to pass the threshold as if he were fording the Rubicon. This was fun and playful, and she knew she should worry about her ruin, and consequences, but she couldn’t. Tristan made her feel safe above all else.
“This is going to be a bit complicated,” she said, standing.
“I’ve no doubt it will be. But let’s crack on, shall we?” Tristan pulled the oilskin tarp off the gully, the illusion of their love nest well and truly shattered. The wind found its way in immediately, causing her to slip into her now-dry coat. Both of them dressed fully, hats on and mittens at the ready.
Eleanor sat on the rock once more, unmolested this time, as she concocted an improvised webbing for her to sit on, leaving plenty of tail that would serve to tie around Tristan’s waist. After the seat was knotted, she bid Tristan come stand in front of her. She held the heavy rope up, visualizing where and how the rope would connect them. “This will take teamwork.”
“I’m excellent at teamwork,” Tristan said, standing stock still as she’d asked.
She looked at him, seeing his sly smile. “You know, I think you rather are good at teamwork.”
Tristan gave her an encouraging look. “Of course. I don’t lie. Everyone thinks I’m joking constantly, but it’s only because I tell the truth no one wants to say.”
“Like how good looking you are?” Eleanor teased, pulling him around, so he faced away from the rock.
“Exactly. Unless you’d rather argue about it?”
“Arms out,” she instructed, stepping up onto the rock. She handed him the long tail she’d left when she’d created her webbing. “Hold this.” She wrapped the other end of the rope around, feeding the long, heavy cable along with it. “I’m not arguing with you about anything. You, after all, are my ride.”
“Yes, I am,” he said with a certainty that made her blush.
She ignored his innuendo and instructed him to wrap the rope, helping to thread the rope, never twisting. By the end, the rope was diagonally wrapped around his chest, creating an X in front, and an X around her in back. “Ready?”
“Climb on,” he answered, backing up a little more. So she did, her legs at his hips, her skirts disgracefully tucked to cover as much of her legs as possible. And then they cinched the knot that she instructed him to tie at his chest level.
Her chin was on his shoulder, watching him tie, taking a few turns before, yes, there it was. He cinched, and the ropes creaked as she was pulled into him.
“It’s supposed to distribute the weight between your hips and your chest. Is it working?” Eleanor was not the lightest member of their expedition. And she was the type of girl that didn’t mind an extra scone at tea time.
He took a step, which made Eleanor feel mildly dizzy. “Yes, I think so. Quite.” He deftly tied an overhand stopper at the tail end of the cinch, to keep it from loosening. She was proud of him for that quick bit of thinking.
He climbed out of the gully, a dizzying experience that she shut her eyes against. And then he started down the mountain in a very confident direction.
“Do you know where the trail is?” She had to shout, given the wind.
He nodded. “Where do you think I got the rope from?”
The wind still bit at them, and she was glad for his body heat, though she was wishing for another set of wool stockings. He was sure-footed like a mountain goat, taking great strides when the rocks had dissipated into dirt. She kept her face buried in the soft wool knit of his cap, letting her ears take the brunt of the cold. The rhythm was mesmerizing and sure. Almost like being rocked to sleep. Neither of them spoke. Her ankle still hurt, the wind was still cold on her legs and her back, but she felt strangely at peace.
All of a sudden, he stopped and pointed. Eleanor peered over his shoulder and saw the barn where they’d stayed the night before the climb. She almost wept with relief. They continued the descent, losing sight of the barn, and then finding it again as Tristan fairly ran down the side of the mountain.
They were almost there when the barn door flew open, revealing Lady Rascomb. Her cane was at her side, but it was clear she’d heard something and come to investigate, not expecting to see her son with a woman tied to his back. Eleanor kept her eyes above Tristan’s shoulder, watching Lady Rascomb’s face as it tumbled from concern to joy and back to concern.
The woman whom Eleanor hoped to call mother-in-law waited until they were close enough to hear before she spoke, as she had excellent manners, and was not raised as a merchant’s daughter. Eleanor would have yelled, she just knew it.
“You are safe now. Who is hurt more?” Lady Rascomb looked them both up and down, awkward as they were with Tristan wearing her like a turtle shell.
“Eleanor is. Likely a bad sprain, but enough that she cannot walk on it.” Tristan moved towards a nearby rock. “Can you help with untying us?”
They set to work, finally reaching the point of Eleanor standing on her own foot again. But now, Tristan stretched his back, then picked her up, cradled in his arms. “You are much heavier like this.”
“That’s not how you say it,” Lady Rascomb said, leaving the rope where it slid to the grass.
“I don’t mind,” Eleanor said, “as long as there is something warm in that barn.”
