Page 14 of Sinbound to the Highlander
Freya grabbed at the pomel as the horse shifted under her. “Zounds,” she exclaimed, pale-faced and white-knuckled. “Do they move so much?”
The Laird chuckled, “Aye, they do, and they go faster when spurred on. I ken its best nay to gallop with ye then. Hold still,” he said as he handed her the basket, which she held close to her chest.
With one hand grabbing the pommel, and the other on the back of the saddle, he stuck his foot in the stirrup, and heaved himself up to sit behind her.
When he did settle behind her, Freya inhaled sharply when his arms came around her and grasped the reins. “Ye’ll be all right,” his low, throaty voice uttered in her ear. So close, she felt the heat from his body and the faint, woodsy scent from his skin, and her chest went tight. Never had she been so close to a man before, a milestone now claimed by her Laird.
With the first step, Freya’s back sagged back on his chest, and her heart began pitter-pattering in her chest. She clutched the basket tight, and hardly realized when the Laird asked her which direction to take. When he reiterated the question a third time, she twisted her head to his, and was rendered mute. His eyes, so close and so bright, eclipsed her vision.
“P…pardon?” she stuttered.
“Which way?” his lips twitched.
“Straight ahead, just follow the path,” she directed—miraculously as her heart was in her throat. “At the crossroad, ye’ll take a right toward the village.”
“All right,” he said, and the horse ducked into the thick coverage of the forest.
His arms were loose around her body, but she felt they were a close, warm circle around her. And when she dared rest her back on his chest, her breath had stilled, waiting for him to push her off. He didn’t. She began to breathe again, but began to worry.
Worry about how he would react to the tiny, rustic village with wooden homes, dirt roads, and a single stone church, or her modest home made of wood and thatch? And how would her parent receive him and his ridiculous suggestion?
Me being the sister of a Lady and the daughter of a Laird… pfft. And pigs will sprout wings and fly.
