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Her stare whipped to him, her eyes icy once more, her words dripping with superciliousness. “For heaven’s sake, let me up, Rune. This is beyond ridiculous.”
So she wasn’t about to admit to what a ridiculous burden she’d been back at the carriage. For a woman willing to carry a cursed box, she was deuced horrendous in an emergency.
Rune pulled up on the reins. As much as he delighted in holding his hand just above her rather shapely backside, even he had to admit this was torturous to the woman. Plus, they were approaching the village and he didn’t want any undue glances in their direction. Best to slide up to the coaching inn unnoticed, if possible.
Foreign kindness reared in him and he alighted his saddle, then grabbed her at the waist, slipping her off the horse.
She stood, jabbing a wobbly step away and looking at him as though he were dung in her pathway. Her hand brushed across the box hidden solidly in her skirt, pausing for a moment, and then her fingertips moved upward, pressing into her ribcage and belly, her face wincing every time she touched a sore spot.
The slightest flicker of compassion fluttered across his chest, almost unrecognizable. Draping her over the horse had been regrettable, but also his only option in the moment.
Still, he wasn’t about to feel poorly about it. He had just saved her life, after all.
He looked away from her death glare to the village of Ilminster at the bottom of the hill unfurling downward before them. He squinted slightly.
There. The coaching inn. Just at the edge of the town.
Digging deep into one of six pockets he had lining the inside of his tailcoat, he pulled free a black kerchief and handed it to her. “Put this over your head, covering your face the best you can. Your hat is still in the carriage.”
She gave him a withering look.
“Do it.”
Her dark blue eyes narrowed at him for long seconds, the color either deepening because of the anger boiling in her veins or the waning daylight about them.
“I just saved your blasted life, Lady Raplan. Put on the damned kerchief.”
An exaggerated sigh slipped past her lips and, with both palms pressing hard across her forehead, she shoved back all the loose tendrils of chestnut hair that had fallen from her upsweep. She snatched the kerchief from his hand, turning away from him as she wrapped her head, pulling it deep along her forehead and tugging the ends across the lower half of her face.
Good enough.
He motioned in front of her. “Back onto the horse.”
“I can walk down to the village if that is where we are going.”
He shook his head. “Onto the horse. I’ll not draw more attention to us and you walking into the village will do that.”
She glanced around. “There isn’t anyone out here to see us.”
“I don’t know who is close by and who isn’t. I’ll not take the chance.”
She looked at him, her blue eyes hardening, stubborn.
She wasn’t convinced. Blasted woman.
“I’m not about to toss you over the front of the horse again, Lady Raplan. Ride in front of me, ride behind me, I’m not partial. Though riding in front will hide you all the more, so I guess I am partial.”
Her hand flipped into the air. “Fine.”
She stepped in front of him and hiked her leg upward, sliding her foot into the stirrup. Before he could move to help her, she’d heaved herself upward and thrown a leg over the horse, settling astride onto the saddle. Not exactly proper, but her movements were simple and in control—more practiced than most of the sailors he knew.
She flicked her foot out of the stirrup and started arranging her skirts about her legs. After a few moments had passed her motions paused and she glanced down at him. “Are we riding? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind again and are inclined to order me about some more.”
Rune shook his head, then grabbed the reins, reaching into the front of her mess of skirts to grasp the pommel, and he lifted himself onto the rear of the saddle.
A tight fit, both of them on the leather. Tighter than he had imagined and his hand had been far too close to the heat of her crotch. He should have just let her ride and walked himself down to the village, leading the horse.
Too late now.
