When she turned into the barn, she tried not to show how much his appearance affected her. Elijah had changed into riding clothes, and even furious with him, she couldn’t deny that he cut a magnificent figure. The way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the confident way he held himself made her stomach flutter with feelings she had no business having for a man who’d just proven how little he thought of her judgment.
He was holding the reins to one horse. “I can ride me own horse,” she snapped immediately.
“Maybe next time.” Before she could protest, his hands were on her waist, lifting her onto his stallion like she weighed nothing. “Today, ye ride with me.”
“This is ridiculous. I’ve been ridin’ since I was five.”
“And today, ye ride with me,” he repeated, swinging up behind her.
The moment his body settled against her back, every thought in her head scattered like startled birds. He was warm and solid behind her, his chest pressed against her shoulders, his arms coming around her to take the reins. She could smell him—all leather and male in ways that made her head spin.
This is a mistake.
“Comfortable?” His breath was warm against her ear.
“Fine,” she managed though her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears.
They rode out of the castle courtyard at an easy pace, but every step of the horse pressed her back more firmly against Elijah’s chest. She tried to sit straight, to put distance between them, but there was nowhere to go.
“Relax,” he murmured. “Ye’re too stiff.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ye’re nae fine. Ye’re practically vibratin’ with tension.” His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her more securely against him. “Better?”
Worse. So much worse.
Because now she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back and could feel the strength in the arm that held her steady. Her body was responding in ways that had nothing to do with the horse’s movement and everything to do with the man behind her.
“Why are we goin’ to the river?” she asked desperately, needing to think about something other than how perfectly she seemed to fit against him.
“Ye’ll see.”
They rode in silence for a while, following a path that wound through trees and over gentle hills. The late afternoon breeze was calm. Under different circumstances, it might have been romantic.
Daenae think about that.
But it was hard not to when Elijah’s thumb was unconsciously stroking along her ribs where his hand rested or when he leaned forward slightly to guide the horse around a fallen log and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.
“Here,” he said finally, bringing the horse to a stop beside a wide, slow-moving river, and Iris finally breathed.
The spot was beautiful. There were willows trailing their branches in the water, smooth stones along the bank, and the sound of water flowing over rocks. Wildflowers bloomed in patches of sunlight, and somewhere, a bird was singing.
Elijah dismounted first then reached up to help her down. His hands spanned her waist easily, lowering her slowly until her feet touched the ground. For a moment, they stood so close that she could see gold flecks in his brown eyes, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
“What are we doing here?” she asked softly.
Instead of answering, he moved to the horse and began unbuckling his sword belt.
“Elijah?”
“I come here to swim,” he said matter-of-factly, draping the belt over the saddle. “It helps me think.”
Swim.
The word was so unexpected that it hit Iris like a blow. “I’m nae swimmin’ with ye.”
“Why nae? Can ye nae swim?”
