Chapter Six
They rode at a moderately quick and steady pace. From the corner of his eye, Cyrus watched the poised and lovely lady riding beside him. He could not get over the fact that even though Elspeth had not been born into the aristocracy, she had no less grace than a marquess's daughter. Somehow, she had learned to present a façade of elegance and sophistication, even while riding a fidgety horse through the mud.
The gelding snorted and shook his head. He was certainly not adapting to the new rider.
Maybe Cyrus should get her off the wee beast, just to be safe.
Noticing a swiftly flowing burn ahead, he announced, "The horses need a drink."
The gelding danced about, and Cyrus feared he would fling Elspeth into the stream. After stopping, he dismounted, grabbed her horse's bridle and attempted to calm the fractious animal.
When the gelding settled down, Cyrus lifted Elspeth to the ground.
The horse flung his head and trotted forward a few paces, as if glad to have her off his back.
"Blasted beast." Cyrus was unsure how she would respond when he told her he was not allowing her back on the irascible creature.
He led the two horses to the stream to drink, then stepped back to stand beside her. The faint but tantalizing scent of her perfume reached him, so out of place here among the scents of bruised grass and peaty soil. The fragrance stirred his thoughts and his blood, reminding him of last night when he'd staggered into her bedchamber by mistake. Miraculously, no one had learned of it yet. 'Twas a hellishly enticing memory and he knew not why. Naught had happened but a brief conversation. Still, the memory of seeing her kneeling upon the bed… and wrapped in the blankets. Her gazing up at him through the darkness with complete trust as he'd helped her dissuade Fraser's misguided affections.
That gave him a warm and welcoming feeling. He relished it when people trusted him. He simply had not known he'd wanted such from a woman.
What tamped down his reaction was Elspeth's lost look.
Clearly, she was trying very hard to be strong and independent in the face of unpredictable circumstances. Of a certainty, she was out of her element, here in the countryside on the edge of the Highlands, traveling with men she hardly knew after surviving a carriage accident. Not to mention how someone had broken into her home, injured one of her staff and stolen from her.
Was being on her own a new situation for her? How long since her baron husband had passed? Regardless of Cyrus's curiosity, now was not the time to pry.
"What do you think of the horse?" he asked instead.
"He hates me," she blurted.
He barely controlled the urge to laugh. "And you are not fond of him either."
"'Tis true." She shrugged. "I haven't ridden much recently. I had no need to. I've always lived close to town and used my coach."
"Ned MacKenzie is likely the only person who's ever ridden that horse, and the wee beastie is not used to the scent of Parisian perfume," Cyrus said dryly.
Elspeth's brows shot upward. "Oh. Well, I'm not going to apologize for smelling pleasant."
Cyrus felt a grin tugging at his mouth but squelched it. She smelled far better than pleasant. Her fragrance was damn near intoxicating. Regardless of the temptation, he had to protect her.
"You'll ride with me," he said.
Her startled gaze shot to him. "Nay, 'tis not necessary. I can manage the horse."
Did she fear him? Why would she? She'd had no problem dancing with him the night before. Of course, she'd probably wanted to bludgeon him over the head when she'd awakened to find him in her chamber. But, in truth, he had been on his best behavior. Now, he was simply trying to protect her and get her home safely. He saw no reason that would frighten her.
"The fractious beastie is too dangerous." Ignoring her protest, along with the stark alarm in her eyes and her blanched face, he strode toward Fraser. "Give me your blanket."
Fraser grinned, then dug into his pack. "She could ride with me."
"Nay." Cyrus felt himself bristling. Surely Fraser did not still think he had a chance with her. She'd already rejected his advances. Or could it be that Cyrus was jealous of Fraser's devil-may-care manner? Such a thought galled him. "Goliath is larger," Cyrus added.
"Of course." Fraser smirked.
Cyrus ignored him. Taking the wool plaid blanket, he returned to his horse, fashioned a cushion behind his saddle and tied it in place with a leather strap.
"Truly, I'll be fine riding alone." Elspeth approached from behind.
