Yet he appeared in harmony with the huge steed beneath him. Confidence radiated from the pair as firm hands held onto the reins. He clasped the sides of the animal with his thick legs, his back remaining straight as the horse climbed the steep trail.
Keeping this man at arm’s length was going to prove a challenge. To his way of thinking, she was his wife.
Yes, many more saints.
Anne frowned. Praying was all well and good but she needed a firm plan if she was going to give her father time to discover her plight. Her belly grumbled as her horse was tugged further along the trail. Warwickshire Castle grew smaller as the sun moved over them in an arc toward the west. The corset dug into her hip where it was too long. Shifting about only moved the pain from spot to spot until her entire side throbbed. She tried to keep her motions small or at least to mask them by adjusting her seat when the horse moved. Every man accompanying the earl found a reason to look her way. They were clever about how they did it, looking over the trail beyond her or inspecting their dirks sheathed in the top of a boot.
Their curious eyes found a reason to look her way.
Yet she was as drawn to them as well. Their bare knees mystified her. Warwickshire was on the borderlands and considered chilly by English standards. The last pair of English knees she’d seen outside the bathing room were on one of the young groomsmen in the stable, who was still more of a boy and prone to forgetting to dress appropriately. Every man with her now didn’t even have their doublets closed. The edges of the leather flapped open, allowing the afternoon air to ruffle the linen of their shirts. The protective sleeves attached to those doublets were tied behind their backs, obviously unneeded to ward off the chill. She shivered just looking at their bare collarbones.
But none of them looked cold. That drew her attention. Each man seemed at ease, most of them eager to be heading home. Their mounts took to the rocky trail expertly. Each horse confident as it picked its way. Not that she might blame them for being jovial. Knowing that you were returning home must be a wonderful feeling.
One she wished she knew. Envy took root in her chest. She hadn’t even been allowed to bid farewell to her family.
She resisted the urge to look behind her. Gazing on Warwickshire so far in the distance just might be more than her composure could bear. At least she might keep herself from tears. Crying would be useless. She had so often considered Lady Mary to be weak for all her sobbing. That doubled her resolve to remain calm as the day drew longer. The earl only drew his men to a halt twice. Both times he did it near a river so that the horses might drink.
Her feet were asleep and dismounting sent prickles of pain up her numb legs. She had never sat on a horse so long. There had never been any need to. Horses were expensive and they generated further cost in stables and feed. Besides, her life had been Warwickshire. The villages and the castle proper. Her feet served her well enough for traveling between them. She didn’t earn enough in an entire year to even buy a horse as fine as the one she was riding today. Giving the mare a pat, Anne smoothed her fingers over its shiny coat.
“She’s a fine animal, to be sure.” Turning her head, Anne found one of the McJames’ retainers a few feet behind her. He studied her with eyes the same shade as a summer sky. He was fair-haired as well; quite the opposite of the earl.
“Indeed, she is very beautiful.”
He lifted a hand to firmly pat the horse on its hindquarter. “Strong. That’s what matters.”
Releasing the reins, Anne let the mare have her freedom. With a soft nicker, the mare followed the other horses toward the edge of the river.
“My brother bred her from his own stock. McJames’ horses are the best in Scotland.”
“I can see that.”
The Scot peered at her trying to see past her face veil. When she didn’t lift it, his gaze slid down her frame, inspecting her exactly as he had the mare.
“I thought English ladies wore gloves to keep their hands soft.”
Anne was grateful for her veil because it hid the sudden widening of her eyes. She curled her frozen fingers into fists.
“I forgot them this morning.” She cringed because she made yet another error. As a lady, her maid should have seen to the task of fetching her gloves. “When you were spotted approaching, I became flustered.”
A grin appeared on the Scot. “Now don’t go telling my brother that. His ego disnae need any stroking.” He actually winked at her. The playful expression stunned her because she’d never quite pictured Scotsmen relaxed.
“Well then, you’d better take care of your needs before we mount up again.” He pointed to a large outcropping of boulders and her face burned scarlet.