“So they were of little use? You could have done this all alone?”
“Women birth their children alone all the time,” Martha said.
Peter’s expression turned hard. Brighit didn’t recognize him. In all the time she’d spent with him, all the things they’d shared, she’d never witnessed this side of him. He seemed a stranger suddenly.
“Well, I’ll certainly have none of that. Life is precarious enough without adding the threat of imminent death with every birthing. Fate will not decide for me again.”
A knife to her gut could not have pained her more. This valiant man, so powerful and strong, just announced he had no need of intimacy. The flash of a memory flooded her like she was drowning in it—his firm lips pressing against her own, his gentle hands grasping her flesh, coaxing her, flooding her with heat, his eyes hooded with his passion and desire. It was not to be. It was never to be. It was a cruel joke. A joke that she was bearing the brunt of.
Peter rubbed his horse down in the shadow of the Priory. He was glad to be away from the women.
“So happy to have you back, my friend.” The crisp air turned both his and the horse’s breath to vapor. “We’ve quite a trek ahead of us. ‘War have you waged, so on to war proceed.’ What say you?”
“Are you expecting the horse to answer?”
Peter jumped at Brighit’s question. He turned and faced her, the horse forgotten at the sight of her wrapped in a heavy, woolen cloak. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I must impose on you again, Sir Knight. Will you bring me to the inn down the road?”
Her words sounded like she offered a death sentence. He wasn’t sure why he felt a sudden chasm breaking out between them. “Is aught amiss?”
“I must send word to the Bishop. Martha has asked if you could take me there.”
“I would gladly do it but why would Martha need to ask? I would do it for you.” He moved closer to her.
“It was her idea. Not mine.” Her voice sounded flat.
In closer proximity, her wide, brown eyes hid their innocent spark and he wondered why that would be. “Are you distraught about the Priest? It was not your doing.”
Confusion covered her face before irritation set in. “Nor did I say that it was. Will you bring me? We need to leave anon.”
Peter opened one arm, directing her to his mount. “I am ready now, my lady.”
Brighit walked with stiff legs to the side of the horse. Peter mounted then offered his arm. She grasped it and was lifted onto his lap with little effort. She sat with a stiff back, refusing to lean against him for support and turned awkwardly to look ahead of them. Something was amiss but Peter refused to question her further. It was just as well. He would see her to the inn and return her. That would be the end of it. His time with this lovely lady would come to an end.
An arm on either side of her stiff body, he held the reins in his open palm and waited. She did not appear inclined to even brush against him. And certainly not to wrap her arm around his side as she had with Lachlann. So be it.
With a flick of his wrist andclickof his tongue, the horse darted forward. Brighit slammed into him, then nearly became unseated as the awkward gait made sitting erect nearly impossible. She wrapped an arm around his side and glanced up at him shyly. After a few more jostling moments, she relaxed and leaned against his chest. Peter smiled.
A light snow began to fall, covering the ground, as they moved down the path to the inn. The moon now hidden by the heavy clouds. One knee bent slightly forward, her bottom rested on his thigh. Firm and warm. His hips rocking with the movement of the horse, settled her over his growing hardness as she moved against him. He jerked his cloak tighter between them but it did little to remove his awareness of her breast pressing into his chest and the wiggle of her bottom every time she moved to secure her seat.
Peter took a deep breath and felt her do the same. Out of desperation, he shifted her bottom away from the heightened attentiveness of his male member. He settled his thighs more firmly against the beast and urged it into a gallop. They could not arrive at the inn quick enough.
Unfortunately the motion only increased his attentiveness to every nuance of her enticing form moving against him. From the scent of her long hair wafting to him as it slapped against his cheek, to her bottom’s rise up and down against his hardened shaft with the motion of the horse, his desire increased. Every breath that escaped her. Every touch that reached him. He thanked God the horse needed little guidance because his total attention was on her. He closed his eyes, struggling for composure, and opened them to the view of the small house he’d noticed as a blur on his way to the Priory. He reined the horse with a sudden movement. He jumped down off the horse, setting her on her feet, and quickly moved away from his all-encompassing passenger.
“We need to stop here. The snow is getting too difficult for my tired horse.”
“Can we go back then?”
“When the snow lightens up.”
He walked quickly to rap against the little, wooden door. These must be farmers but nothing nearby signified they worked for themselves. No place to store any grain or supplies. No animals to yoke or provide food. No answer to his knock. He repeated with more urgency. Brighit came up beside him without a sound. The snow covered her cloak and a few flakes were captured by her lashes.
“Is no one home?”
Damn. She may be correct in that. On further inspection, the little hut seemed to have been empty for a while. He glanced up at the heavy flakes falling from the sky and wondered when it had stopped being a light snowfall. Glancing at the cause of his lack of attention, he refused to ask and pushed the door open.
“Is anyone here?” he called out to an empty room.
