The Warrior's Runaway Wife. Denise Lynn
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a few hours due to her inexperience and that was something he couldn’t afford to let happen tomorrow. She wasn’t going to be pleased, but they needed to make up some time and would only be able to do so if she rode with him.
The thought of holding her before him, his arms around her, his chest a platform for her back, didn’t seem as unappealing as he might have expected. Granted, she would argue and put up a fuss at first, but she would soon become accustomed to the feel of his body against hers. After all, it wasn’t as if they would be doing anything unseemly.
He groaned softly at the image that thought had conjured.
Elrik shook the vision from his mind. What was wrong with him? Had a comely body and pretty face made him suddenly lose the ability to reason? She was Brandr’s daughter. Hadn’t that family already caused him enough trouble?
Besides, a woman was the last thing he needed in his life—no matter how attractive he’d found her. Experience had taught him that women were not worth the time, expense or heartache they brought along with them.
Hadn’t Muriel given him enough grief to last two lifetimes?
No. Holding her in front of him would not do. He needed to come up with some other way of keeping her securely on the horse.
Avelyn swayed on her seat again, but caught herself with a jerk that brought her upright once again.
When she once again swayed on the log, she’d been slower to jerk herself awake.
Elrik pushed away from the tree, knowing that this next sway would not be stopped as successfully. He caught her in his arms a heartbeat before she hit the ground.
Cradling her against his chest, he carried her to the makeshift pallet spread out not too far from the warmth of the fire and placed her on the blanket. Without waking, she instantly rolled on to her side, curling into a relaxed ball with a hand beneath her cheek.
He grabbed his mantle, which, after it had been dried by the fire, had been laid alongside the pallet, and covered her with the fur-lined garment. After tucking the edges tightly around her, he rose and stared at a wayward ebony lock of hair resting against the paleness of her cheek.
He had to give Brandr credit for one thing at least. The man could be a traitorous viper at the best of times, but he had produced a very lovely daughter.
Elrik joined his men near the fire.
Just as he stretched his legs out to get comfortable, Fulke asked, ‘How are you going to deliver her to King David if she falls from her horse and breaks her neck first?’
Not one to let a question go without comment, Samuel said, ‘It isn’t her neck we should be worried about. At the rate we are travelling, it’ll be our own necks in danger.’
Sometimes, like now when complaining seemed the current activity of choice, Elrik had to remind himself that these were more than just childhood friends, they were his two best men—they could both sleep in the saddle while still retaining control of their horses, both were handy with a blade be it a sword or a dagger and both men would always protect his back if the need arose. So, enduring their complaints was usually bearable.
This was not one of those nights. ‘The pace will pick up tomorrow and she’ll not break her neck.’
When Samuel opened his mouth, Elrik glared at him. The dark look gained him the result he’d desired—the man closed his mouth without saying another word.
To Avelyn’s relief, she’d slept well on the hardness of the ground. It was more like her old pallet at her mother’s than the over-soft, lumpy mattress in her shared chamber at her father’s keep. For the first time in what seemed ages, she’d awakened feeling rested, although a bit stiff, and ready to continue their journey.
She did wish, however, they could do so on foot instead of on the back of a horse.
Well aware that her wish would not be considered, she studied the horse being led in her direction. It was the one she’d ridden yesterday, the smallest of the four, but as far as she was concerned the only difference size made was in the distance to the ground—the fall would still hurt as much.
What did catch her attention was the saddle. The one she’d used yesterday—with the shorter pommel and cantle—had been placed on Roul’s animal, while his saddle, with the high front and back meant to help keep him seated during a battle, was on her horse. Lashed to the inside of both the pommel and the cantle was a rolled-up blanket.
That wasn’t the only difference. The stirrups had been cinched higher so that she’d be riding with her knees slightly bent, instead of hanging straight down, and a lead string had been secured to the reins.
Roul held his hand out. ‘Come, we need to make up for lost time.’
She hesitantly took a step forward and grasped his hand.
The fingers closing around hers were warm and a smile curved up the corners of his mouth, lending Avelyn a small amount of courage as she joined him alongside the horse.
He stroked his free hand the length of the animal’s nose. ‘I didn’t properly introduce you yesterday as I should have. Avelyn, this is Little Lady and she’s helped train more guards than I can count.’
‘You brought her along to train a guard?’
With his fingers still woven between hers, he raised their hands to the horse’s head. ‘No. I was uncertain if the runaway I sought could ride or not.’
He stroked the animal’s neck with their entwined hands. ‘And since I’ve discovered that she cannot, I am giving Little Lady here a task she is well suited to perform.’
From the way the animal eyed her, Avelyn got the impression she was not exactly a welcome task.
Roul nudged her shoulder with his. ‘Relax. She’s never bitten or thrown anyone.’
Under her breath, Avelyn muttered, ‘Yet.’
His laugh let her know that her comment had been heard.
It wasn’t until he grasped the lead string with one hand and rested the other hand on her shoulder that she noticed she was stroking the horse alone—his hand no longer covered hers. Avelyn frowned.
How had he managed that without her knowledge?
From the solid wall of warmth at her back she knew that while he might have released her hand and moved behind her while she’d remained unaware, he’d stayed close enough to prevent anything from happening. She stiffened her spine.
He lightly squeezed her shoulder. ‘I’ll be this close for the entire journey. Nothing is going to harm you.’
She wasn’t certain what bothered her more—the heated breath rushing against her ear, his nearness that made her feel protected yet threatened at the same time, his words promising her she’d come to no harm, or the sudden realisation that he wasn’t going to give her any chance to escape.
‘Ready?’
As much as she wanted to tell him no, she knew they weren’t going to stand here for ever. ‘I suppose.’
‘Up with you.’ He lifted her on to the saddle before she could change her mind and handed her the reins. ‘Lady will follow my horse’s lead. You need do nothing to guide her.’
He adjusted the roll of blankets behind her, wedging it tighter between her body and the cantle, then did the same with the roll in front. ‘These should keep you from sliding around on the saddle. If you feel unsteady, hang on to the pommel.’
After checking the length of the stirrups, he rested a hand on her knee and looked up, assuring her, ‘You will be fine. Just try to relax.’
Through the layers of her tunic and chemise,