Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

shoulder, too, from sleeping on the ground with no padding beneath her.  To make it even worse, her head throbbed from her impulsive affair with Laird’s skin of whiskey.   She definitely wasn’t accustomed to roughing it.

Nor was she used to this frazzled, fidgety restlessness she had been left with since waking in Laird’s arms that morning.  Or rather, waking fully to the touch of his fingers against her still throbbing core.  She had been left wanting… whether she actually wanted the bastard or not.

A splash of the cold stream water over her face and head had done much to revive her.  It looked and tasted clean enough so she had enough presence of mind to refill a half-empty Highland Springs water bottle she had found in her purse, since she knew hydration would be key to her recovery.  A deeper search of her bag had turned up some painkillers but no doubt it would be awhile before she felt a hundred percent again.

Even longer if she had to get up on that gargantuan horse again.

Laird’s men were already mounted and waiting nearby but Scarlett just stared balefully up at the horse awaiting her.  Her guard from the previous day, Cormac, stood by patiently to help her mount again but the task seemed akin to scaling at mountain that morning.  She was so sore, she wasn’t even sure she could lift a foot to the stirrup.

Neither did she want to.

They’d traveled only a handful of hours the day before.  Today’s journey was to be more than twice as long!  It was a daunting thought.  “All of the burpees in the world couldn’t have prepped me for a day on horseback,” she muttered under her breath, taking a resigned step forward.

Something warm and soft squished around her sandal and Scarlett stilled with a grimace as her stomach revolted again.  “Oh, that’s just great. This all just gets better and better.”

“Mount up, lass,” Laird snapped impatiently, drawing his own mammoth horse up close by.

“Do you see this?  Do you see what I’m standing in?” she snarled, lifting her skirt and foot to show him the mashed horse dung covering the bottom of her sandal before swiping it furiously across a tuft of grass.

“My apologies,” he said sarcastically with a sweeping gesture.  “Please take your time.”

Scarlett shook her head, finding a rock to scrape off the rest of it.  “All the time in the world won’t make a bit of difference, Laird.  I’m not sure I can get up on that horse again anyway.  My legs are like jelly.”

“Ye can ride wi’ me if ye like, Scarlett,” Rhys offered, though he was watching her efforts with amusement.  “I shall take ye… despite yer current dilemma.”

“God bless you,” Scarlett sighed sincerely.  His mockery would’ve only managed to piss her off more if she weren’t so thankful for the offer.

Rhys patted his thigh with a roguish grin.

“Really?”

With a laugh, Rhys extended his hand and she stepped forward to accept his help but Laird cut her off briskly.  “She’ll ride wi’ me if she cannae ride on her own.”

“Believe me, that’s not necessary,” Scarlett assured him.  “You know I won’t run.  I couldn’t run at all this morning, even if I wanted to.”

Of course, she knew she needed to stick with him and that sword, but after their wake up call that morning; she didn’t want to be wrapped around him for hours to come.  Rhys, for all his flirting and naughty smirks, was far safer.  His gray eyes – so similar to Laird’s yet so different – stirred her not in the least.  He had all the beauty but none of the magnetism.

“Hey!” Scarlett screeched as Laird caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground before she could reach Rhys.  For several long agonizing moments, she hung there, feet dangling, hoping he wouldn’t let her fall to the ground before he lifted her with obvious ease and dragged her across his lap.

“I’m in nae mood to take that chance.”

“Are you crazy?” she berated him. “You could have dropped me.”

With a snort, Laird shook his head.  “Unlikely.  Ye weigh no more than a sack of flour.”

Scarlett pinned the still-laughing Rhys with a glare.  “Thanks for nothing.”

He raised his hands innocently.  “Dinnae blame me, lass, ‘twas no’ I who dared to rouse the dragon wi’ the dawn.”

“Yes, the mighty dragon is pretty angry at being roused, isn’t he?”

Laird cast her a dark look that told her he didn’t appreciate her innuendo and Scarlett cast him a falsely sunny smile.   Rhys only laughed and rode off.

Irritated at them both, Scarlett shifted across Laird’s thighs awkwardly, grabbing handfuls of the horse’s mane to steady herself since Laird seems disinclined to hold her there himself.

“Sit still!” he hissed in her ear.

“I’m trying!” Scarlett ground out, moving her rear from side to side in search of a stable position.  “It’s not like it’s that easy, you know, with nothing to hold on to.”

Laird sucked in his breath and finally lifted a hand but not to come to her aid.  Instead his fingers wrapped around her throat and Scarlett instantly stilled.   Now he was going to kill her?

“Enough,” his voice was deadly, close to her ear, “or I’ll drop ye in the bluidy dirt.”

“Then do it, for Christ’s sake,” she shot back, her fleeting fear gone with his feeble threat.  “I’d rather ride with Rhys anyway.”

She shifted in his lap again and Laird picked her up, depositing her not on the ground but on the horse’s rump behind him with a solid thump.  It was an even more precarious position than before and he hardly gave her a moment to get settled before he kicked the horse into motion.  Scrambling for purchase, Scarlett had no choice but to hold him or fall as her already sore behind slapped against the bony rear end of the horse with every step.

Could this whole catastrophe get any worse?

“You know, Rhys says you’re a real bastard,” Scarlett ground out against his broad back.