‘By accident.’
His sister leaned closer to Lyndal. ‘Defenders are notoriously violent.’
Lyndal smiled. ‘You are so much funnier than your brother.’
Astin shook his head and looked up at Rose. ‘Ready?’
The girl nodded.
‘One, two—’
‘Wait,’ Lyndal said. ‘Are we going on three or after three?’
He squinted across the bull at her. ‘On three.’
‘And we’re pushing forwards, not up?’ Lyndal asked, shoulder pressing into the bull’s rump.
‘Correct,’ Astin said. ‘We’re not trying to lift the fifteen-hundred-pound animal out of dense mud. We want him to walk himself out.’
Lyndal took a few breaths, readying herself. ‘All right. On three.’
Astin tried not to look at his grinning sister. ‘One, two, three.’
The bull groaned as they pushed. Eventually, the exhausted animal lifted one of his front legs and took a step towards the edge.
‘Good,’ Presley said, slumping against the bull. ‘Now we just need to do that over and over until he’s out.’
Lyndal reached for Astin’s hand once more. ‘Let’s not dilly-dally, then.’
The mud was knee deep, and her chemise had soaked up the layer of water sitting on top of the mud, making the fabric cling to her thighs. Astin tried very hard not to stare across the bull at her.
‘Are you still with us, brother?’ Presley asked, suppressing a knowing smile.
Heat crawled up his neck as he leaned into the bull again. ‘One, two, three.’
This time both of the bull’s back legs moved. The next time both front legs. Another back leg. Then finally, the bull was at the edge of the bog.
‘This is it,’ Presley said. ‘Once he feels that firm ground beneath him, he’ll go, so take the rope off now, Rose, and hop out of the way.’
Lyndal wiped the back of her hand over her sweaty brow, smearing mud over her face in the process.
‘What?’ she asked when she found him watching her.
‘Nothing. Let’s go. One last effort.’ He took hold of her hand again, enjoying the sensation of her clammy skin a little too much.
That would need to stop.
Presley counted them in this time. ‘One, two, three.’
They all gave one final mighty push, and the bull staggered up the muddy slope, falling to his knees before righting himself and trotting away with a defiant bellow.
Lyndal held on to her knees as she caught her breath. ‘Thank goodness. That’s all I had left.’
He had a clear view of her now, soaked from the waist down. He could not look away, even going as far as imagining the top half of her wet.
She straightened and brought a hand to her forehead, adding more mud. The hand fell away when she saw his face. ‘What’s the matter?’
Before he could think of a sensible response, Rose said, ‘Is that the king?’
