Page 45 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
She blinked. “How b-big you are!”
He gave a slow smile.
“I mean t-tall! Very tall!” She was chilled to the bone, her teeth chattering madly, but Ursula felt the tingle of heat rising to her cheeks.
“Six foot, five, ma’am. Corn-fed in the heart of Texas.”
He held out his hand. “Name’s Rye, and I’m mighty pleased to meet you.”
Ursula stared at his hand a moment before shaking it. Really, it was all most peculiar.
Texas? Wasn’t that where the cowboys lived? It would explain his attire: the most ludicrous hat, and oddly shaped boots—embroidered and heeled. His coat hung open, despite the frost in the air, revealing a checked shirt and soft trousers. There was a red kerchief, bright and patterned, at his neck, and he was unshaven and sun-darkened, like a bandit.
His hands, strong and firm, went to her shoulders, and it occurred to her that he was probably holding her up. Whether it was the cold or the shock of being near-trampled, she couldn’t feel her legs at all. They were utter jelly.
Trembling, she raised her gaze to his. His eyes were quartz grey, short-lashed and heavy-lidded, and staring right back at her.
“Miss Abernathy,” she said at last.
“Well, Miss Abernathy, it’s colder than a blue norther out here.” That drawl again, as if he were caressing her skin with every word. “If you’re lost, that makes two of us, what with this damned fog.”
Her breath caught, looking at his mouth. It was deliciously masculine.
“With this snow gettin’ thicker we’d best lit outta here. There’s a bothy roundabouts. The vapours shifted just afore I clapped eyes on you and I’m mighty sure I spied a red roof out yonder.”
Without waiting for her response, he picked up the bags and tied one to either side of the rear of the saddle.
“You’ll be safe up front, with me behind. I won’t let you slip.”
Ursula looked at his outstretched hand.
He wanted her to climb on the horse with him?
Was he mad?
She didn’t know him.
And he wanted to take her to a bothy—whatever that was—where they would be alone.
He must have seen her hesitation. “You’ve nothin’ to fear, ma’am. Charon’s a devil when he’s scared but he’ll hold steady now. As for me, I was raised to be respectful. I’ll have ma arm about your waist but I won’t take no liberties, however temptin’ that may be.” His mouth quirked up in a half-smile.
No sooner had her fingers touched his than she was launched upwards, her toes guided to the stirrup and her bottom plonked in the saddle.
As he settled behind, she was aware of his straddling thighs tucked around hers. With one hand taking the reins, he brought the other around her middle, pulling her into his chest, and gave Charon a gentle kick.
She’d only just met him, but he was just what she needed.
A source of heat!
Chapter Six
Rannoch Moor
Later that morning, 13th December
He slitheredoff the horse and, without a by-your-leave, encompassed her waist, lifting her down. She stood in the snow, shivering, watching him untie her bags before leading the horse into a lean-to at one end of the cottage.
Resting his forehead briefly to the stallion’s nose, he murmured a last endearment before shutting the half-doors.
