Her eyes narrowed. “Whyever nae?”
“Because,” he said, loosening his grip on the reins, “ye’ll be riding with me.”
“With ye?” she sputtered, as if the thought alone sickened her. “Is this a joke?”
“It isnae. We are husband and wife, are we nae? Nay matter how hard ye try to deny it. Thought it made sense.”
She scoffed. “A laird comes all the way to fetch a woman and doesnae think to bring a spare horse?”
He smirked. “I thought ye’d enjoy the closeness.”
“Well, I willnae,” she snapped. “If I’m to be kidnapped, I should at least be granted a little dignity. A bit of freedom.”
“Ye’re nae being kidnapped,” he said, his voice calm. “Ye’re nae being taken to a dungeon. Ye’re being escorted to yer rightful place. Ye need to relax.”
“Relax?” She stared at him, her lips parted in disbelief. “Ye drag me from the market, call me yer wife, toss me on a horse, and now I’m meant to relax?”
“This doesnae have to be as hard as ye seem intent on making it.”
“I’m nae the one who rides into a village with men and takes an unwilling woman now, am I?”
Alasdair let out a slow breath. “Fine. We can argue all day, but we need to leave before nightfall. So, ride with me.”
A tense silence settled between them, and out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Nathan fight a smile.
“Fine. I will,” she eventually said, much to his relief. “But I’m sitting in front.”
“In front?”
“Aye,” she uttered. “I want to see what’s ahead. I need to feel like I’m in control of something.”
“Ye cannae sit in front. I’m riding the?—”
She arched an eyebrow.
Alasdair hesitated, his jaw tight, then nodded once. “If that is what it takes.”
She walked toward the horse, pulling her skirt up enough to place her foot in the stirrup. When he reached out to help her, she shoved his hand aside.
“I daenae need yer help,” she said.
He let his hand fall, saying nothing.
Once she was settled, he swung up behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he settled in. He lifted a hand and called out to the men ahead. “Go on. We’ll follow behind.”
With a nod, the others urged their horses forward and vanished along the trail.
Alasdair adjusted his grip on the reins, trying not to notice the scent of rosemary and lavender on her. She was warm, and her body pressed against his with every step the horse took. He tried not to think about it, but failed miserably.
They rode in silence, the trail leading up to hills and thick forest. The air was cooler now, and shadows stretched across the path. Her dark hair brushed his chin, her back rising and falling steadily.
Then, she shifted. It was slight and subtle, but enough to awaken the lower part of him.
He cleared his throat. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Moving like that against me.”
