“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, his strong touch sending a shiver up her spine. It was only to steady her, only to keep her safe while she was on the saddle, but her mind didn’t seem to grasp that.
“I’m helpin’ ye get on the saddle,” Halvard said simply. “What daes it look like I’m daein’?”
“Touching me.”
“Aye. How else will I manage?”
Elsie bit the inside of her cheek, keeping herself silent. When she finally managed to swing her leg over and settle on the saddle, Halvard gave her mare a gentle pat on the flank.
“There ye are,” he said. “Now try ridin’.”
Elsie was not used to distributing her weight on the saddle like that and, though at first glance it might have seemed more natural to an observer, to her, it seemed impossible. She held the reins tightly in her hand, fearful that her mark would start galloping too fast, her thighs tensing as she tried to keep herself steady on the saddle.
“Ye’re too stiff!” Halvard called, cupping his hands in front of his face to shout at her. “Relax! The more ye relax, the more the mare will relax under ye.”
Of course, it was easier said than done. Elsie cursed under her breath as she tried to loosen up her muscles, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing it through her lips. If there was one thing she was not going to do that day, that was ridiculing herself when she was so confident in her riding skills.
It was only a matter of surrender, she told herself. She knew how to ride, she only had to get used to the new position.
Ever so slowly, she began to gain more and more confidence. With every stride of the horse, she got used to the motion, to the stance, to everything she needed to do to stay upright on the saddle, and by the end of it, Halvard was cheering for her as she sped past him in a circle, easily maneuvering her horse.
“That’s it!” he called from where he stood in the middle of her imaginary circle. “See? It wasnae so difficult after all.”
Elsie couldn’t quite say she agreed, but she was glad to have him cheering for her. She couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks hurting with the intensity of it, with the joy that coursed through her.
Halvard rushed up to her as she brought her horse to a halt, grinning from ear to ear. “See? I kent ye could dae it.”
“Oh, I knew it too,” said Elsie in a teasing tone. “I’ve told you I’m a good rider. No one seems to believe me when I say it, though.”
“Ye’re a good rider, aye,” said Halvard. “Fer England.”
Elsie frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means here, in the Highlands, the roads are far more treacherous,” said Halvard, not for the first time. “It means ye must be far more careful An’, well… it means the Highlands breed better riders.”
“Is that so?” Elsie asked with a scoff. “Very well, if you think you’re such a good rider, how about we race?”
“Race?” asked Halvard with a chuckle. “Ye? Nay.”
“Why not?”
“Because ye will lose an’ ye might hurt yerself,” said Halvard.
Nothing was more infuriating to Elsie than a man who told her what she could and couldn’t do. She stared down at him, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line, and then shook her head.
“If you’re afraid of losing to a woman, then you can simply say that.”
Another chuckle, this time with a harder edge to it. “Afraid? I’m nae afraid.”
“Then race me.”
It was a challenge from which Halvard couldn’t back down, and they both knew it. It wasn’t that his pride would be wounded or that they had an audience—rather, he was simply too stubborn to believe she could win.
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I ken a place on the way we can race. But the question is, what daes the winner get?”
Elsie raised a curious brow. ‘I wasn’t aware there was going to be a prize.”
“All bets need a prize,” said Halvard. “Or a punishment.”
