The old horse neighed as Eoin walked toward him, offering him an apple to placate him until they rode out for the village.
Footsteps from behind caused Eoin to spin around toward the west entrance of the stables. Expecting to see Blaire, he couldn’t repress the look of disappointment on his face at seeing Kip make his way over to Sheila.
“Looks like ye did a fine job with Sheila. Her coat hasna shined so brightly in years. But I still doona understand why ye won’t let Blaire ride Angus. She’s good with horses; she will think that Sheila is too tame.” The old man shook his head as he loosened Sheila’s reins and went to tie her up by Griffin.
“Angus is only fit for racing through the countryside, not a trip to the village, and ye know it, Kip. Now, I know Blaire dinna treat ye well her first night here, but I wish ye’d ease up on the lass.”
“I’ll no be having ye tell me what I should do, laddie, laird of this keep, or no. But it doesna matter, my thoughts on her. She’s yer wife. Ye are the one that has to bed the ungrateful…” He was cut off by a cheery ‘hello’ at the end of the stables.
Eoin turned to see Blaire making her way toward him. She looked beautiful with her bright eyes and smile and her hair pulled up in a delicate knot at the base of her neck.
He watched as she bid Kip a good morning and was rewarded with a huff as he retreated from the stables.
“Doona let him bother ye, lass. He’s only hard on the outside.”
“Oh, it’s alright. Where are ye taking me?” She reached up and touched his shoulder, and he had to restrain himself from pulling her against him.
“To the village. There’s just a few things that need attending.” He walked over to where both horses were tied and gestured toward Sheila with his head. “Ye can take the brown one. Her name’s Sheila. Ye will have no problems with her, I’m sure.”
Blaire cautiously approached the mare, hesitantly reaching out her hand to touch the horse’s throat. Eoin watched, curious as to why she seemed so unsure. He’d always known her to be a fine rider.
“What’s wrong, lass? She’s got more fire in her than she looks. She’ll be a fine ride for ye.”
“How do I get on her?”
The question surprised him, but he ignored it as he bent to offer her his assistance in mounting the horse. No sooner had Blaire situated herself on the mare than the mare started whining and trying to pull at the reigns that kept her fastened to the edge of the stables.
“What do I do with her, Eoin?”
“Just stroke her, lean forward and whisper in her ear, calm her as ye would yer own horse.” He turned and climbed onto Griffin, leaning forward to untie the reins of both horses so that they could set off toward the village.
He rode ahead a short distance, waiting for Blaire and the mare to join him, but when he heard no hooves he turned to see Blaire and the mare sitting at the side of the stables where he’d left them.
Clicking, he steered Griffin back toward the stables. “What’s the matter with ye, lass? Do ye no longer want to go?”
“No, I do want to. I just don’t know how to do this.”
Eoin frowned as he pulled back on Griffin’s reins, stopping him next to Sheila. He knew Blaire could ride. He’d seen her do it many times, with many different horses. Why was she feigning ignorance now? Perhaps, she was afraid that he’d be angry with her for not wanting to accompany him. Or mayhap she wanted a reason to ride with him on the same horse.
While he wasn’t sure of the reason, he enjoyed the second possibility much more. “Would ye like to ride with me, lass? Griffin may be old, but he can carry ye and me together, easily.”
“Aye, I think that would be best.”
Ah, so she did want to ride next to him. He smiled inwardly at himself, pleased at the notion, as he lifted her from Sheila’s back and placed her snugly in between his legs astride Griffin.
*
I rode with my rear pressed firmly against him as we made our way down into the village. That had almost been an unimaginable disaster. I’d never ridden a horse in my life, and I had no idea what I’d been thinking when Eoin asked if I would like to go with him and to meet him in the stables.
I’d ignorantly pictured some fancy horse-drawn coach taking us into town, like a scene out of Pride and Prejudice; I was obviously not taking into account that things of that nature were from an entirely different century that was yet to come.
Still, I much preferred this method of transportation over any sort of pulled wagon, and I relished the feeling of his chiseled muscles pressing against my back. He rode with his hands around my waist, and the strength in his legs and arms as they surrounded me made me hope it was hours until we reached the village.