Page 48 of Wolf's Keep

“Knowing what you have told me, I am better prepared for what we will face. Thank you.”

He leaned closer, her lips so close, so tempting. She pushed at his chest, struggling to get out of his grip, and he let her go. With a startled squeal she lost her balance, overcorrected, and before Gaharet could catch her, she slid feet first off the horse and landed on her bottom on the ground.

“Erin, are you hurt?”

He pulled his horse to a halt—his foot out of the stirrup, ready to dismount, to go to her aid—but the scowl on her face stopped him. Staring at her, sprawled on the ground unhurt, indignation burning bright in her eyes, he stifled a chuckle. Laughing now would not endear her to him at all. Her scowl deepened, her lip curled up in a snarl, and he gave into the impulse and threw back his head and laughed.

She gaped at him, then her features softened and a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. She looked down at herself sitting in the grass and started laughing, too.

“Yes, all right. I guess it is pretty funny.”

“I am sorry, Erin,” he said, still chuckling. “I should have caught you. You are testing my commitment to keeping you safe already. Come.” He reached his hand out to her. “I will not let you fall again.”

She got to her feet and dusted herself off. He moved the horse in close, intending to pick her up, but she dodged away from him.

“Erin, we still have a long way to go,” he said, bemused. “Come, let me reseat you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and thrust her chin out at him. Was she still angry with him? He sat on his horse, willing to wait her out. She could not possibly think to walk back to his keep. Could she? They had come too far.

“Clearly I can’t ride like that,” she said.

“Like what?”

“With my legs on one side. I’ll fall off again.”

“Not unless you struggle against me. You were doing fine until then.”

She remained silent, arms across her chest, refusing to budge, a direct challenge in her green eyes. She looked adorable.

“How do you want to ride?” At least she planned to continue the journey with him, but howdidshe want to sit on the horse?

“Like you.”

Startled, he stared at her. “You want to ride astride?”

“Yes. Is that so bad? It’s the way it’s done in my century, and it’ll be much easier for me to balance. Besides,” she said, emphasizing her point by placing her hands on her hips, the pert thrust of her breasts nearly unseatinghimfrom the horse. “I’m sure it’s much more comfortable for a woman to ride astride than a man. I’ve never understood the logic behind forcing women to ride side saddle while men could ride astride. It’s not like we have any”— she gestured to her groin area—“dangly bits to get in the way.”

Dangly bits?He grinned.L’enfer, his little filly is a bold one.

Said dangly bits approved, and they sat up and took notice. He moved his horse closer for another attempt at reseating her on his horse, but again she stepped out of his reach. He reined in his horse, staring down at her.

“Erin, you cannot ride astride with a long dress.” Aside from that, he did not think they would make it very far with the sweet curves of her behind pressed against his bits that were in immediate danger of no longer being dangly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. Reaching down, she tucked her dress up. This action brought the hem of her dress up to above her knees. Gaharet stared at the pale expanse of skin such a move revealed. What was worse—tight-fitting men’s breeches or bare skin?

She held her arms up. “Now lift me up.”

Mesmerized by her calves, he obeyed. Placing her in front of him, she swung one of her legs across the horse’s neck until she sat astride, the hem of her dress inching higher, to mid-thigh. She leaned back against him, the backs of her knees resting against his kneecaps, his thighs snug against her near naked ones, and suddenly the aforementioned dangly bits were downright hard. All thoughts of skeletons, excavations and silver shackles evaporated, and he could only think of her. Their journey to Langeais would be a long ride indeed.

Chapter Nineteen

Erin groaned, relieved beyond all measure, when Gaharet reined in the horse beneath a small stand of trees on the edge of a clearing. A gently flowing stream meandered over mossy rocks. Remnants of summer wildflowers poked up through the grass, and the fronds of weeping willows swayed in the afternoon breeze. An idyllic spot for a break, but all Erin cared about was getting her two feet back on the ground. Her butt ached and her legs were dirty, sweaty and covered with horsehair. If she never rode another horse again, it would be too soon. She also had to answer the call of nature rather urgently.

They’d cantered across the countryside in silence, skirting around villages, passing through postcard worthy meadows, and cool, peaceful forests. Their bodies forced together by the motion of the horse, every thought, every emotion burned away, but one. Her mind full of the way his knees pressed into the back of hers, his chest flush against her shoulder blades, and her bottom fit snug against his groin, her desire for him eclipsed everything. She hadn’t thought it through when she’d insisted on riding astride. The intimacy of it took her breath away.

Gaharet dismounted and secured the horse to a tree. Lifting her from the horse, he slid her body down his before placing her feet on the ground. Her nipples hardened to painful points. Catching the same heat mirrored in his eyes, she broke away, stumbling past him.

“I have to pee,” she mumbled, heading along the stream to find a convenient tree behind which to relieve herself.

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