At least a half hour went by, before Ian stilled his horse after crossing a wide creek, the cool water licking the edges of her skirt and the tips of her boots. She glanced up and down the winding, shallow water, half expecting to see an army down the length pointing at them and issuing a charge.
Ian dismounted with Goosie leaping down to chase something. Ian reached for Rhiannon, and considering her legs were numb, she allowed him to put his hands around her waist once more and lift her into the air. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she wobbled unsteadily. Ian held her upright, and she was grateful for his attentiveness. Tingles prickled her muscles as they started to return to life. And finally, she told him he could let go.
“Why have we stopped?” she asked.
“Canna run poor George into the ground. He’s a damned fine horse but not a god.” Ian winked, the expression teasing and enticing all at once.
Rhiannon laughed to cover up how he made her feel—out of body, out of sorts. “No mystical creatures for you? I’m shocked.”
“George thinks he’s a unicorn, but he’s just a horse with a lot of energy.”
“He’s beautiful.” Rhiannon stroked her hand over George’s soft neck, the hair of his mane tickling the back of her hand.
Ian grunted. “Take care of any business ye need.” He pointed to a tree that was barely wider than her leg. “I willna look.”
“That’d be awkward for us both,” she said with a little snort before taking off to find a bigger tree.
4
Ian stared after the retreating figure of his charge. Wild red-gold hair that reached down to hypnotic swaying hips. He had to force himself to look up, tantalized not only by her beauty but by the feistiness of her personality. Rhiannon wasn’t a woman who took direction—and he admired that. He admired a lot about her—including her delicious backside. However, to keep staring was highly unfair, given there was nothing he could or would do about his unexpected desire for her. He’d been brought down by a woman before and didn’t intend for that to happen ever again.
It wasn’t even a great love. Not really even love at all. A woman he liked, a woman he’d lusted after. And when his defenses were down, she’d duped him. Led him right into an enemy’s trap which had kept him locked up in a dank dungeon for nearly a fortnight before he’d managed to escape. Ian didn’t harbor resentments. Doing so wouldn’t help anything. But, he had learned his lesson. He was a man who looked to the future rather than ruminating on the past.
When Ian had finished his business, and George had some water, he gave him little nibble of oats from his hand, waiting for Rhiannon’s return.
There was a slight limp in her step as she approached, and he realized that she must have been overly exerted from their run earlier. Surprising that she would lack stamina. He knew from gripping her arm that she was not a weak woman. She had well-formed, if not petite, upper body muscles and even her waist had been trim but tight. Undoubtedly, she had some strength about her. Though perhaps her strength was not the kind gained by running.
The lass flashed him a grim smile as she placed one foot before the other. He could tell by the tightness of her eyes she was in pain, though she tried to placate him with the subtle curve of her upturned mouth.
But Ian wasn’t the type of man to ignore a problem when it looked him in the eye. “Are ye all right, lass?”
“Perfectly.” The word was spoken tightly with a clear “do not ask me anything else” edge.
Again, he didn’t ignore her. “I do apologize for the…uncivilized way we’re traveling.”
“Uncivilized?” She picked up her cat and nuzzled its neck while the animal purred against her, equally pleased to be reunited.
“One horse, all the running.”
“Oh.” She waved his concern away dismissively as if the worry were a fly over her soup, though he wasn’t too obtuse to miss the apprehension in her eyes.
“Once we cross the border, I’ve got another horse waiting for ye at an inn. The rest of our journey will proceed with more comfort. ’Twas just now, to escape from Dacre, a single horse was necessary.”
Some of the worry faded then, and he could tell she was relieved. Though he’d enjoyed the feel of her riding behind him, he could also understand why a woman would not be impressed by having herself in that position.
“Well, that will be nice. Won’t it, Goosie?” She tickled the cat’s chin.
Ian watched their interaction with interest, only mildly jealous of the attention. Not that he wanted to be tickled on the chin, but watching how she cared for the wee creature made him realize how nice it must be to have such attention. And wouldn’t that be nice if someone centered their attention on him? Nay! Mo chreach…
Ian turned back to George, trying to distract himself. “Why is your cat’s name Goosie?”
Rhiannon let out a soft chuckle. “When I first found her, she was nothing more than six or seven weeks old. A wee kitten, but with the heart of a lion. She was chasing geese, meowing at them with this tiny, fierce howl. I fell instantly in love, and the geese rushed off, unwilling to be harmed by the miniature cretin.” She laughed, the nostalgia of memory flashing over her features. “I took her into the castle and gave her some milk, and we’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”
“Does she still have a hatred for geese?” Ian imagined how Goosie would get on at Buanaiche, where Douglass and Noah lived, and the geese who resided on the loch, the seagulls who dove for fish by the sea. Plenty of waterfowl and seabirds to chase.
“Very much so. They are her worst enemies.” She gave Goosie one last cuddle before the cat gaped out of her arms in search of a prize in the brush.
“She is lucky to have found ye, lass.”
