Page 65 of Tusks & Saddles
Welborn squirmed. “Really?”
“Yes.”
The cleric pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Welborn knew he should say something, but his stomach was just too uneasy. He had grown up in a cabin—in the mountains! His father and Boone had hunted animals for their food before. He had seen the dead deer slung over his father’s shoulders from the safety of the cabin windows. All normal, all natural. He could even hear his father’s voice in his ear, explaining why it was so important to properly dispose of a dead animal as it tended to attract even bigger animals, but…
Welborn bit his lip.
Another sigh escaped Miss Eaves.
“I’ll do it. Get on the horse, Welborn.”
“I—”
“What did Isay about following my lead?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He hauled himself up onto the horse and tried not to wince at the aching muscles of his backside. Welborn had slept in worse places than a desert, but his body was still unhappy with his new way of traveling. Apologetically, he ran his hand through Sandy’s mane and tried to direct her to face away from Miss Eaves. The horse seemed to understand his intentions as she shifted her weight to face away from the boulders.
There was a soft rustle, than a snap, and before Welborn knew it, he could smell something burning. Something that smelled a lot like—
“Scoot back.”
Welborn jerked, eyeing Miss Eaves who was in the process of mounting the horse. For a moment confusion covered his face before he realized exactly what she meant. It was better not to protest, but Welborn still tensed as he pushed as far back on the saddle as he dared. It was a bit crowded with Miss Eaves large suitcase strapped to the back.
“Are you sure Sandy can handle all our weight?” Welborn asked.
Anything was better than the awkward silence and at least if he was talking, Miss Eaves wouldn’t hear the soft ‘eep’ that nearly escaped his mouth as she sat firmly onto the saddle. With her body so close to his own now, Welborn immediately dropped his hands backward. The last thing he wanted was for Miss Eaves to think he had ill intentions—
I do not have ill intentions!Welborn panicked.
“Welborn, whatare you doing?”
“Nothing!” he exclaimed, raising his hands far behind his head.
Miss Eaves didn’t turn, but her sigh was exasperated.
“You need to hold onto me. The last thing I need is for you to go ass over tea kettle once we start moving.”
“I—”
“Put your fucking hands on my waist and shut up,” she barked.
“Yes, Miss Eaves!” Welborn squeaked, dropping his hands to the rounded curve of her hips.
The moment his hands settled, they were off. Sandy was fast, but as their journey through the Searing Wastelands continued, Welborn could tell the animal was not meant to carry two for such long distances. Or perhaps his perception of time was heavily influenced by the fact that he wastouching a woman’s hips.The novelty should have been enjoyable—at least, he hoped it would be—but all it did was make Welborn increasingly more anxious as they rode on.
Where was Boone when he needed him?
After his mother had died, Boone had been quick to pack up and leave in search of coin. Coin that his family had desperately needed for healers and Welborn’s injuries. Needless to say, Larok had never grown close with a woman after his mother’s death. Which meant Larok hadn’t really given Welborn much advice when it came to courting.
Courting? Is that what this is?
No.
He had listened to the plights of many of the denizens of Port Vurbali. Many of whom came from families who were eager to marry them off. Courting was a part of many rituals that ended in marriage, but Welborn had never experienced it himself. It hadn’t even crossed his mind given how devoted he was to dedicating his life to the All Seer.
Welborn’s cheeks were already flushed from the sweltering sun, but he grew a tiny bit warmer. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t deny that he was very much smitten by Miss Eaves. He couldn’t explain what exactly drew him to her as the wind blew her veil against his face. The scent of sweat and the faintest note of sandalwood filled his nose. Her smell, her voice, herbody—
