He pulled her into his arms. “Ye will ride with me. We nay have any extra horses.”
She nipped his chin with her teeth, then kissed it. “You are forgiven, then.”
“The little one can ride with me,” Valan offered.
“Thank you, my lord,” Gerdy whispered, then gave him a proper curtsy. She turned to Adellis. “With your permission, my lady?”
“Of course, Gerdy.” Adellis rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Courage and hope. Remember?”
The frail lass brightened, dipped another curtsy, then obediently fell in step behind Valan and Ross.
“Has she told ye the horrors she has been through?” Thorburn asked as they left the cinder- and ash-filled shore and headed to where his men stood fast until given the signal to charge.
“Some.” Adellis stared downward, holding tight to his arm as she picked her way across the rough terrain.
He noticed her labored breathing and struggling to keep pace. Without a word, he swept her up into his arms, cradling her like a babe. Before she could argue, he cut her off, “Haud yer wheesht, woman. Haste is a must, and it isna that far to the horses.”
When she didn’t argue and instead rested her head on his shoulder, he knew her to be more weakened from her ordeal than she admitted.
“Besides,” he continued. “I need ye back in my arms. Dinna deny me this simple pleasure, aye?”
“I missed you, too, my Scottish bear.” Her quiet tone echoed with relief. The contentment in her sigh warmed his heart, giving him the strength to carry her to the ends of the earth if need be. She brushed a tender kiss to his neck. “Are you certain we can reach Duart before Alrek?”
“If we knew whether he took the route to the north or to the south around Ben More and Dùn da Ghaoithe, it would help.” Southward of both mountains was the swifter path to the east side of the isle, but would Alrek know that?
“Always before, we went to the north.”
“Why?” That made no sense at all. Even one who didn’t know Mull would veer southward because of the terrain.
She tensed, then shifted in his arms. “Because Alrek is a fool. He always goes to the north. Says it brings him good fortune and blessings from the gods because of our blood.” She straightened and pressed her forehead to his cheek. “How much farther, my bear? Surely, my weight grows heavy for you.”
“Ye insult me, m’lady.” And he meant it. How dare she think him weak. He wasn’t even out of breath. “Just beyond yon ridge await the men and horses.”
“I meant no insult,” she said, her voice strained. “If you must know, the pressure of your arm against my back pains me.”
Guilt flooded him. How could he be so thoughtless? Especially when she had mentioned her injuries earlier. With the greatest ease, he set her to her feet. “Forgive me, m’love. I am a selfish brute who thought of nothing other than the pleasure of holding ye.”
“There is nothing to forgive.” She leaned into him and patted both hands on his chest. “Were you bare rather than covered in mail, I would enjoy your embrace a great deal more.” With a suggestive smile, she tickled her fingertips through the stubble of his beard, sending a shiver down his spine. “We have much pleasuring to enjoy once we have bested Alrek.”
Avoiding her wounded back, he cupped the firm, full roundness of her bottom in both hands and pulled her closer. “That we do, m’love. That we do.” It was all he could do to force himself to release her, but they had yet to cross the ridge and descend into the glen below. With a reluctant groan, he set her an arm’s length away, turned his back to her, and dropped to one knee. “Yer ride, m’lady.”
“What?”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “Get on, ye ken? Straddle my back. I can hold yer legs whilst ye wrap yer arms around my neck and hold on. ’Twill make the last of the way to the glen easier on ye. Surely, ye did this when ye were a wee bairn?”
She stood there, staring down at him. Arms folded. Head tilted to one side. “You jest.”
He gave her a teasing wink. “Are ye scairt?”
“I am not.” Her offended tone rang loud and clear.
He faced forward again, knowing the dare would goad her into doing it. Arms akimbo, he waited. “If ye’re nay too scairt, then come, m’lady. We must be on our way.”
After snorting like a bull about to charge, she clambered aboard and wrapped a choke hold around his neck.
He allowed himself a smile and patted the arm she held under his chin. “Now, now, dinna be cross. Loosen up a wee bit, or yer fine stallion canna breathe.” He hooked his arms behind her knees and stood. He patted her tunic-covered rump before taking off at a brisk pace. “Now then, is this nay easier on yer back?”
“On my back? Yes. But your chain mail threatens to gnaw into my legs—among other things.” She hitched herself higher, clamping her bare legs tighter around his sides.
