Page 52 of Blood of the Thistle

No, surprise offered them the greater advantage. If the gelding burst from the trees at a full gallop, there would be precious little time for the guards to react. Instinct alone would compel most men to leap aside rather than stand before a charging horse, and if one or two proved foolish enough to attempt otherwise, he could deal with them as they rode past. Better to trust the gelding’s speed than to invite a fight whose outcome would determine not only his own fate, but Anastasia’s as well.

Chapter Fourteen

“I’m sorry—that’s your plan?” Anna asked. “Simply barrel over or through them on a galloping horse?”

Obviously, she must have misunderstood him.

“Aye,” he said.

She stared at him for a long moment, waiting for... more, but he said nothing else.

“Oh. That’s the entire plan,” she concluded.

He regarded her with the same calm yet dark expression he wore for almost any other conversation. “They’ll nae expect it.”

“Well... no,” she admitted. “I suppose they won’t.”

He gave a single nod, apparently pleased she understood—or rather, he believed she did.

Anna couldn’t decide whether to laugh or pull her hair out. “Um, quick question? What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I will fight to cross the bridge,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he tugged firmly on the straps holding the saddle in place, near Anna’s calf. Seemingly dissatisfied, he tightened the leather and then his gaze settled on her crossbody bag. He pointed to the buckle on the strap. “Can ye secure that more firmly against yer side?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically, and looked down near her left shoulder, where the buckle sat. It took her but a minute to shorten the fabric strap, which drew the overlarge purse against her right side.

Apparently satisfied, Bram nodded. “And now move back, lass. I need to be in front, to manage our charge.”

Anna complied without argument, though moving backward in the saddle proved easier said than done. She shifted awkwardly until Bram braced one hand beneath her shoe, giving her something to push against, and finally managed to settle farther toward the rear. “Thanks.”

With that, he placed one foot in the stirrup, swinging easily into the saddle, settling himself in front of her.

Crowded now, Anna reached for his sides to steady herself, but Bram found her right hand with his and drew it forward until it was near the middle of his waist.

“When I give the horse his head,” he said over his shoulder, “ye hold fast. Whatever happens upon that bridge, dinna release me.”

She nodded before realizing he couldn’t see this. “Okay.”

“And ye keep your head against my back. If they strike at us, I need ye still.” His voice remained as even as ever as he adjusted the sword at his side, advising her, “Keep your hands on me, as they are, and clear of the hilt.”

Anna nodded, this time against his back, feeling the firm warmth of him through the layers of wool between them. Her heart had already begun to pound, though Bram, if he felt any apprehension at all, concealed it well.

He might not trust her, as he’d plainly admitted, but she realized, perhaps more clearly than ever before, how completely she trusted him. Not that she believed his plan couldn’t fail—it very well could—but she also believed Bram would do everything in his power to see them safely to the other side.

He gathered the reins and turned the gelding away from the bridge, retracing the narrow woodland path they’d followed an hour ago.

Anna understood his purpose almost at once, supposing the horse would need space to build speed. They rode in silence for another minute or two before Bram gradually drew the horse around to face the direction of the bridge.

Anna instinctively tightened her arms about Bram’s waist just as the horse stepped forward at an easy walk, then a trot as they emerged from the trees. Bram remained perfectly upright in the saddle, neither hurried nor tense, waiting with remarkable patience until they reached the stretch of open road leading directly toward the bridge. Only then did she feel him shift his weight slightly, gathering the reins a little shorter in his hands as the horse sped up.

The ground rushed beneath them and Anna squeezed her eyes shut, but only briefly before she realized she didn’t want to be surprised by anything, a man or blade coming at her. The wind of the swift ride caught her hair and pulled it back from her face.

The gelding gathered speed again just as Bram lowered himself over his neck.

She bounced helplessly with the horse's stride, her feet threatening to slip from their awkward position, and concentrated upon the one instruction Bram had made unmistakably clear: hold on to him.

She heard warning shouts called out, and realized from her left side perspective, that they were nearly upon the bridge, the water almost directly below. Bram drew the sword from his hip, the metal hissing against the scabbard.

“Head down,” he ordered.