Chapter Five #2
No. She was too aware of him, too conscious of his hand upon hers.
Slowly, she extricated her fingers from his palm and turned to face him.
His gray eyes met hers, and there was no anger in them.
Instead, she caught a glimpse of another reaction, before he masked it.
It was as if he’d suddenly grown aware that he was holding her.
He took his hand from the horse, still holding the reins. “We’ll walk alongside Francis for a mile or so. Then I’ll let you hold his reins. Perhaps later, when you’re more comfortable, we can try again.”
She wasn’t ever going to be comfortable, but she wouldn’t tell him so. Instead, she gave a nod and began walking beside him.
But with every step at this man’s side, she realized that there was something even greater to fear than an animal—her own unspoken desires.
They walked alongside the horse for the next hour, and eventually the cat jumped down from the basket, trotting along behind them. Killian started to hand her the reins, but she declined. “Not yet.”
He didn’t force it, but his greater worry was getting her to shelter before it turned dark. Walking was not a wise move, and he had to find a way to help her ride.
But he understood the haunted fear in those blue eyes. She had lost her brother in an accident, and the grief had never left. He feared that he would share that same pain, unless a miracle cured Carice.
“When was the last time you rode a horse?” he asked. “Have you ridden at all since that day?”
“I tried to ride a few years ago.” She turned to face him, and there was a strange glint in her eyes. Almost as if she were angry. “I know how cowardly I must seem. But I cannot stop myself from feeling this way.”
He reached out and took her hand, warming her gloved fingers in his palm. “We have to reach Laochre before nightfall. For now, we will walk, and if there is a wagon we can borrow, you may ride in that.”
She squeezed his palm in agreement. “Thank you.”
He didn’t want her to be utterly reliant on that possibility, however. There were few structures nearby, save an abandoned abbey that they had already passed.
“King Patrick and his brothers will welcome us, for I know them well,” Killian continued. “They also might know more about what happened with your father and the uprising.”
Taryn was nodding in agreement and appeared more relaxed now.
But he wanted her to understand the necessity of using a horse.
“If we cannot find a wagon, we will have no choice but to ride. We must find a place to stay, and it will take hours to reach Laochre on horseback. If we walk, we will never reach their boundaries before night.”
And it wasn’t safe to remain outside in the cold. Killian sensed snow was coming, from the clouded sky above, and daylight was growing short. Best to coax Taryn by building her trust with the animal.
He guided her hand to the reins. “I’m not letting go of the horse,” he told her. “All I want is for you to hold the reins with me.”
Taryn hesitated, her lips tightening. The fear was still evident in her eyes, but she nodded. Slowly, she exhaled and grasped the reins beneath his hand. He kept his grip steady, letting her walk alongside him.
After a time, he asked, “Shall I be letting go of the horse now? Would you like to lead Francis?”
She looked up at him, and in her blue eyes, he caught a glimpse of a woman who wanted to be braver than she was. “I’ll try. But if he pulls away from me—”
“Then I’ll be taking him back from you.” He waited to release the reins until she lowered her head in agreement.
“All right.” For a short while, she led the animal, her grip so tight upon the reins, her knuckles were white.
“You don’t have to hold him so firmly,” he told her. “Trust that he won’t harm you.”
She sent him a wry look. “My backside does not believe you.”
“’Twas only because you fought. A horse like this one is used to pulling a plow or a wagon. He’s a gentle one, I promise.”
Killian ran his hands over the gelding’s neck and then spied Harold falling further behind.
“Keep walking. I’m going to get the cat.
” He left her briefly to pick up the gray animal, before he deposited the feline in the basket on the horse’s back.
Harold curled up inside the dark space and was content.
“Why did the cat follow us instead of staying with Carice?” she asked.
“Harold believes he’s my cat. He goes where I do.” And he rather liked the animal. “He sometimes brings me mice, in case I’ve nothing for dinner.”
The appalled look upon Taryn’s face was almost laughable. “You...you don’t get that hungry, do you?”
He sent her a mischievous smile. “Not often.” He let her make of that what she would, though he’d never dined upon mice in all his life. “But it’s good that Harold wishes to take care of me.”
Her steps were slowing, and he knew she was growing tired from all the walking. A lady was not accustomed to such a long journey, and he wanted her to attempt riding once again.
“Lady Taryn, do you want to try to ride now? If I hold on to you and lead the horse?”
She was already shaking her head. “No, walking is fine. I’ll be all right.”
He ignored her and scooped her up into his arms, continuing the walk. “You’re weary. I can see it in the way your pace has slowed.”
“Killian, put me down,” she protested. “This isn’t necessary.”
“You walked from Ossoria to Carrickmeath,” he reminded her. “I was wondering where your horses were, but now I know. If you made that journey, then likely your feet are raw from all the walking.”
She said nothing, which only confirmed his suspicions. “You should not walk another great distance, my lady.”
“But you cannot carry me to Laochre. It’s too much of a burden on you.
” She held on to him with her arms around his neck, and he was quite conscious of her softness pressed against him.
Her black hair fell across his shoulders, and the scent of her body was like a spring meadow.
He wondered what it would be like to feel her hair falling upon his bare skin.
She was blushing being this close to him, but he didn’t mind her weight at all.
“I’m going to lift you onto Francis’s back, but I won’t take my hands off you,” he said. “I’ll be holding you and can take you off at any moment.”
She was about to argue again, but he met her gaze. “Trust in me, Lady Taryn.” She held his gaze, and he saw the worry in her eyes. “I won’t let any harm come to you, and I won’t be letting go.”
Again, he waited. She was studying him as if trying to decide whether or not to believe him. “I know I should try,” she said. “But the very thought makes me tremble.”
Her honesty reminded him of a wild creature that was too afraid to come near. He needed to build her trust, to coax her to believe in him.
“I won’t let go,” he said again, lifting her up. She had her eyes closed, and sure enough, he saw her hands shaking. He kept his hands upon her waist, and she gripped his wrists with both of her palms.
“If you lift your leg over, you’ll feel more balanced,” he advised.
She was biting her lower lip, but eventually, she managed to adjust her skirts and lift her leg over.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “I’m so far from the ground. I already fell once before, and it feels like the horse knows how afraid I am.”
In that, she was right. Francis was obediently walking, but there was a tension in him, as if the horse sensed Taryn’s distrust. Killian needed to ride behind the lady, to take command of the horse and increase their pace.
“Move forward on the saddle, and I’ll ride with you,” he said.
“I’d rather not,” she confessed. “If you get on, he’ll throw us both off again.”
He suspected nothing would talk her into it, and if they wanted to reach Laochre by nightfall, they had to ride. Killian moved her foot from the stirrup and stepped into it, swinging up behind her.
“I said—”
“I know what you said.” But he had to take charge of this situation, before they lost more time. He held Taryn around the waist and told her, “Relax and let me control Francis. Don’t fight me on this.”
Her hands dug into his knees, and when he leaned in, he saw that her eyes were tightly closed. Francis could sense her discomfort, and if she continued to hold herself in this way, the horse might fight back.
“Breathe, my lady.”
She nodded, but her knees were tense around the animal, her body rigid with fear. “I’m trying.”
It wasn’t enough. He kept both hands upon the reins, her body between his legs. “Relax your legs. Let them go loose around Francis’s back. He can feel how nervous you are.”
“I am nervous,” she said. “And I can’t simply stop feeling this way.”
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “Look at the woods surrounding us.” The morning light cast beams across the barren branches of the trees. In the distance, he heard the noise of a stream trickling across stones. It was cold, and a bitter wind swept over them as they rode.
Taryn lifted her face upward, clearly trying hard to set aside her fears. He touched her right knee. “Stop trying to hold on with your knees. Let them be.” He kept his hand there, but when she pressed her bottom back against his groin, his reaction was swift.
By the gods, she smelled good. Her hair rested against him, and her neck was bared. He wondered what it would be like to taste that delicate skin, to touch her. Her earlobe appeared soft, and he imagined taking it into his mouth while he reached around to cup her breasts in his palms.
Her scars marred that perfect skin, but her black hair and blue eyes were striking. He kept his hands frozen in place, forcing back the attraction he didn’t want to feel.
“Calm yourself,” he said quietly. “Breathe slowly and watch the trees. Let your arms and legs relax and trust that I will control the horse.”
Her shoulders lowered, and it did seem that she was trying. Even so, he kept his arms around her waist while he held the reins.
“How far are we from their castle?”