Page 56 of The Scars Within
“Short,” he said wryly.
“I am not that short.”
He huffed a laugh. “What are you? Like five-foot-four?”
I narrowed my eyes. He was right on the money, but I wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. “And a half.”
“And a half?”
“Yes,” I replied, turning my chin up defiantly.
Rhodes grinned, biting his bottom lip to suppress a chuckle. He stepped back, gesturing toward Dahlia with a playful wave.
I inhaled deeply and looked at the beautiful mare. I haven’t been on horseback in years, not since long before I was taken. Even on my journey to Mageia, I avoided the public transportation provided, leaving my home village weeks earlier than most cadets and making the entire journey onfoot. Now, as I stood here, my stomach twisted into a thousand knots. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my nerves.
My next inhale was filled with the calming scent of cashmere sandalwood and vanilla. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Rhodes holding out his hand to me once more. Swallowing my pride, I placed my hand in his. He pulled me closer and pivoted my body to face the saddle. His hands settled on my hips, and I could feel his warmth as he stepped closer, towering over me slightly. There was barely an inch of space between us.
“Grab the pommel and place your boot in the stirrup. I won’t let you fall,” he whispered, his warm breath grazing my neck and sending chills down my spine. I shuddered.
Signal of safety.
Or lure of a trap?
Rhodes’s hand trailed down my side until his hand wrapped around mine. He lifted it, guiding it to rest on the pommel. His other hand tightened on my waist. And with one smooth motion, he lifted me onto the saddle without letting me go. He looked up at me in silent question before removing his hands from my body. I nodded.
I adjusted myself on the saddle as he pulled himself up to sit behind me. My body molded into his, fitting perfectly. The sensitive spot between my thighs was pressed tightly against the curve of the saddle. And every minor move he made as he settled in made me want to squirm.
He leaned into my ear. “Comfortable?”
“Yep,” I squeaked.
He grasped the reins with one hand, his other arm wrapping around my waist as if to fulfill his promise of not letting me fall. He nudged Dahlia forward as his hold on me grew firm.
As we left the college grounds, Dahlia walked at a slow, steady pace that would be easy enough for a child to manage. Despite the gentle movement, Rhodes’s protective hold on my waist never wavered.
After a few miles, I finally asked, “Where are we going?”
“The tavern,” his voice dropped.
I shot him a sideways glance over my shoulder.
His lips quirked into a grin, revealing a hint of his teeth. “You didn’t ask which tavern.”
I turned back to face forward, feeling a flicker of annoyance but keeping my mouth shut—surprisingly.
Rhodes cleared his throat, and I felt the rumble of his chest against my back. “It’s in a small village between Mageia and Jysper,” he explained. I didn’t mention that I knew Jysper was his hometown. “I used to help out the owner there before I was accepted into the war college. It’s not as rough as some other taverns I’ve seen. This one’s run by a good man.”
We rode silently for a few minutes when Rhodes tapped me twice on the side of my head with his finger. “Yes?” I asked, confused.
“You didn’t have a response.”
Throwing his earlier words back at him, “You didn’t ask me for a response.”
He threw his head back and laughed—a deep, genuine sound. I’d heard him chuckle before, but this was the first time I’d heard him truly laugh. It was contagious, spreading from him to me. I let go of any restraint and joined in, laughing with him.
I laughed so hard that my eyes were nearly shut, and I almost missed the older man passing us on the cobblestone path. He looked to be in his fifties, and as he rode by on his horse, he gave us a look that clearly said we were two weirdos laughing at nothing while riding down an empty road. And honestly, I’m sure it did look odd.
I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, blinking until my vision cleared. Tall sconce poles dimly lighted the path, each casting a soft glow every ten feet.
