"Nay," she blurted, her face still pale.
Cyrus cocked his head, observing her. "Are you certain?"
Her gaze darted to him once, then away. "Aye."
He didn't believe her, but he admired her brave front. He needed to see if she truly could ride before he took the drastic measure of putting her on Goliath behind him. Just imagining her arms wrapped around his waist and her hands on his stomach caused his body to quicken in a fiery and disturbing response.
Of course, she was a beautiful and desirable woman, but one he could never dally with if he wished to secure the most advantageous marriage possible.
∞∞∞
Her stomach knotting, Elspeth watched Cyrus stride purposefully away from her and pause to talk to a skinny kilted man who was about a foot shorter than he was. His clansman appeared none too pleased when Cyrus took the reins of his small gelding. If she had to ride that horse, she prayed he possessed a docile nature.
She did, in fact, fear horses, for one had tossed her into a ditch when she was learning to ride. Because she'd been born a merchant's daughter, she hadn't learned to ride as a child the way most ladies did. It wasn't until she'd married the baron that she'd been required to ride.
Fortunately, she had sustained no broken bones from the horse throwing her at sixteen summers, only a few bruises. So, 'twas not so horrible. But she was especially leery of large stallions like the one Cyrus rode.
Still, she didn't wish him to know of her illogical fear. She would show no weakness before the imperious earl.
In total, she had ridden a few dozen times, but not in recent years. Surely, she hadn't forgotten how. She could endure anything, even riding a horse for a few hours, if it meant she could get home quickly.
If she couldn't ride on her own, she well knew what would happen—Cyrus would make her ride with him. She did not want to be in such close proximity to the distracting and domineering man. She had barely slept last night after he'd invaded her room. Touching his hand or arm was all she could tolerate. Something about his magnetic presence affected her in profound ways. But, never again did she want to be at a nobleman's mercy.
She glanced down at her own clothing, realizing 'twas not a riding habit she wore. Likely, this gown, one of her favorites, would be ruined or torn by the time she arrived home. If so, mayhap she could have it repaired and cleaned. More importantly, she had to get home and resolve all the problems.
Cyrus strode toward her, leading the small gelding. Before she could say a word, he grasped her around the waist and briskly lifted her into the saddle. Unintentionally, she blurted a squeal of surprise. Saints, he was a force of nature, a tempestuous storm wind that lifted her into the air and deposited her where he wanted. She caught her breath and tried to calm her speeding heartrate.
Apparently, he was a trial by fire sort of man. Blast him!
The horse lowered his head, picking vibrant green grass from the roadside. She tensed. Goodness, she hated when horses kept their heads down, for it made her feel as if she would topple forward onto the ground.
Cyrus tugged at the reins, prompting the animal to lift his head, then placed the thin leather straps into her hands. "Are you well?"
"Indeed." She spoke with more confidence than she felt and looked into his midnight eyes. She would ride this horse or break her neck with the effort.
When she had started out this morn, she had certainly not expected a coach accident, and then participating in her least favorite activity. But, fortunately, she had an escort home. "I thank you for your willingness to help me," she added.
He bent his head, hinting at a bow, then hoisted himself into his own saddle upon the massive black horse. For a tall, brawny man, he moved in a quick, nimble manner, whether dancing or dealing with horses. 'Twas clear to her that he didn't simply command his men; he trained with them.
Would he grow lazy and slovenly now that he had his title in hand? She doubted it. He didn't seem the idle sort. In fact, he was constantly in motion. During the times when she had noticed him standing still, 'twas clear by the alert look in his eyes that his cunning mind was spinning like a speeding cart's wheel.
"Ready?" His inquiring gaze lighting on her, he headed his horse onto the muddy road.
She nodded and guided her borrowed horse after his, thankful that she remembered how to maneuver the horse using the reins and her legs.
Cyrus waited for her until she caught up. She had not wanted to ride beside him, for he unnerved her. At all times, his dark eyes were intense, and she could never tell what he was thinking. He was the most unreadable person she'd ever met. Prior to late last night, she had been more comfortable around Fraser, with his smiling blue eyes and easy-going nature.
But now her perceptions were changed somewhat. Cyrus had been the gentleman trying to protect her, while Fraser had requested entrance to her room in order to seduce her. Likely both men had indulged in too much drink, though this morn they appeared their normal hale and hearty selves.
Did Fraser even remember knocking at her door? If he did, he was pretending not to.
She glanced back, finding him and three guards trailing behind. The other three guards led the procession. Riding amongst so many men, she felt far safer than she had before, with her own driver and guard.
Even though she didn't know these Highlanders extremely well, from what she'd seen, they were trustworthy. And they were Rebbie's friends.
Once she was safely at home, she would ask Cyrus to send Bernice, Vance and Jenkins home in the coach, along with her trunks of clothing, as soon as the wheels were repaired. She need not see Cyrus again. Though when she considered that, she did not like the feeling of dullness that filled her.
