Page 29 of Almost a Bride
“But riding intimately with a corpse is acceptable?”
She shuddered. “You’re right; I’ll walk.”
“Don’t be a fool; that would take most of the night. And you aren’t going alone. What if a ship is at anchor out there, waiting? Then you’d need my help.”
She hadn’t considered that there might be a Spanish ship hidden nearby.
He grasped the pommel, then pulled himself high enough to get his left foot near the stirrup, but it kept bouncing out of his reach.
“Will you help me?” he demanded, his voice strained.
Shaking her head, Roselyn guided his foot into the stirrup, and he swung up into the saddle. By the light spilling out of the cottage, she saw him grimace in pain.
“This is not a good idea,” she said. “You might aggravate your injuries.”
“I’m not letting you clean up a mess that’s my fault. Go close the cottage door.”
So he thought he was heroic, helping the poor maiden in distress?
She pulled the cottage door closed. “There isn’t room for me—I’ll walk.”
“Put your foot in the stirrup and give me your hand.”
“No.”
“Give me your hand,” he repeated firmly.
“The poor horse will—”
“Roselyn!”
He reached for her, and with a sigh she clasped his hand and put her foot in the stirrup. She didn’t realize until she was straddling the saddle that he meant her to sit before him. She was pinned between the pommel and his body, and she watched in growing worry as he placed his arms around her to reach for the reins.
“I can guide the horse,” she said swiftly.
He didn’t answer.
“You can’t even use your right foot.” She was mortified to hear her voice rising.
“I’ll make do.”
His voice rumbled with amusement, and to her surprise she could feel it against her back. She had been resting against him, and she straightened so fast he chuckled.
Thornton guided the mare away from the cottage.
“You’re heading for the village, not the shore. You were barely conscious the last time you came this way.”
“Very well,” he said, allowing her to take the reins.
That ended up making matters worse—he rested his hands on her waist. She could feel the heat of him through her clothes.
“Please let go of me.”
He spoke softly into her ear. “I’m feeling dizzy. You wouldn’t want me to fall.”
She hated his sarcasm, his superiority, especially the way he enjoyed tormenting her. It only made her more aware that he was not a gentleman. She had to distract herself—and him.
“Earlier you said this soldier would be going to hell, but perhaps he was just doing his duty. Surely you have followed orders as well.”
