Page 14 of Kilty By Association
“Nay, I can—” Elspeth began weakly, but Brigit was already reaching for the bairn.
“Go! Send Robbie back here with us for a little rest. Ye ride his horse, feel the sun on yer cheeks and the fresh air in yer lungs.”
Elspeth might’ve objected more, had that not sounded so…so…wonderful. “Aye,” she sighed dreamily. “That sounds…lovely.”
“Aye, I ken it.”
Glancing sharply at the maid, Elspeth tried to restrain her fussy bairn. “Doyewant to ride—?"
“Go!” Brigit commanded with a laugh, already bouncing Mary. “I dinnae love the outdoors as much as ye do, and besides, ye pay me to keep watch over these little angels, aye?”
Since the “angels” were currently screaming with hunger and demanding instruction on disembowelment, Elspeth chose not to answer. Instead, she stuck her head out the door and demanded the carriage slow.
When it did, she climbed down, and dear lord in heaven, she hadn’t realized how stiff her legs and back were until she tried to walk. Laughing at herself, she hobbled toward where Robbie was swinging down from his horse.
“Everything well, Mother?”
She wanted to hug him. She wanted to press him to her chest the way she’d just been holding Mary, and remind herself that he was her precious little lad and would always be safe. But he was also poised on the cusp of growth and leadership; in a few years he’d have complete control over the men who rode with them, and she would do naught to harm his reputation in their eyes.
So, she limited herself to placing her hand on his shoulder briefly. “Aye, Robbie. I just needed some air and to stretch my back.” How to send him to rest in the carriage without causinghim to bristle with defensiveness? “Would ye mind if I rode yer horse for a bit? Yer sisters have been asking for ye.”
A few white lies, but hopefully Brigit would keep him entertained with her made-up stories about disembowelments.
For certes, they must be made-up, aye? How would a castle maid ken aught about such violent matters?
Her son, meanwhile, had handed her the reins and stifled a yawn. She again had to resist the urge to kiss his forehead. Mayhap later when his men weren’t looking.
“Thank you, honeybear.”
Perhaps the endearment was a bit much, judging from his eyeroll, but he still offered her a small smile as he trudged toward the carriage.
She turned to his horse and was eyeing the stirrup when she felt a presence behind her.
“May I help, Lady Elspeth?”
The low rumble sent a shiver down her spine, and she didn’t need to turn to guess the speaker.
“Thank ye,” she blurted a bit too brightly. “I was going to lead the gelding to that rock to mount but—”
Her words bit off with a squeak when massive hands closed around her waist, lifting her. Craig held her as if she weighed naught at all, and time seemed to slow. She was flying, free and gentle, in a way she hadn’t felt since she’d been a young lass, galloping across the Sinclair valleys.
When she was finally settled into the saddle, she realized she hadn’t inhaled in a while. Craig’s hands were still on her waist, waiting for her to settle, and her hands were on his wrists. She should be doing something with her hands, shouldn’t she? But all she could manage was to stare down at him, amazed at the sensation of being in his arms once more.
“Milady,” he began softly, and she found herself leaning forward to hear what he’d say. Something lovely? Somethingabout the kiss they’d shared? He was just watching her expectantly.
“Yes?” she breathed.
“Milady, ‘tis customary, if ye want to ride, to reach for the reins.”
Elspeth burst into laughter.
Her laughter warmed him.He liked the way she didn’t blush or stammer or worry about what people thought—‘twas the same instinct which sent her into that tavern to find a man to help her. ‘Twas the same instinct which meant she’d do whatever was needed to protect her children.
When she finally reached for the reins, Craig pulled his hands from her waist, fairly certain his wrists were branded from where she’d held him.
As he swung into the saddle of his own horse, he realized he was going to have to apologize. Not for helping her atop her horse, but the way he kissed her the night before last. He’d kissed her as if she’d been some common wench, not the mother of an Earl.
At his signal, their train started up again, and he was surprised—and impressed—by how well Lady Elspeth handled her son’s horse. She rode as if she were used to it, and he began to suspect the Earl’s horse might actually be hers.
