A lesser man, one who was selfish or weak, wouldn’t have been willing to hold the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. Harthon had chosen to bear it, and he didn’t give himself nearly enough credit. I swallowed my awe, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate it.
“You’re a good man, Harthon.” The sentence felt inadequate.
His jaw only tightened. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You’ve only known me for a few weeks, Etarla. Don’t be so naïve.”
Okay, then.I retreated, clamping my mouth shut and staring straight ahead again.
There was only the rhythmic clopping from our horses, and then he sighed beside me. “That was harsher than intended.”
“It’s fine.”
His comment upset me, but we were speaking about an emotional topic. If I wasactuallynaïve, I would think his anger was due to me and not our conversation.
We reached the base of a hill, a tangled web of bare trees and boulders marking the steep incline. It was similar in size to the one we’d scaled when we first left on our trip to see Josenne, but the vegetation was denser.
“Do you still have the feeling?”
I nodded, worrying about how I’d navigate the landscape. This was terrain for a more advanced rider.
“We’ll leave her here, and you can ride up with me.” He gracefully dismounted and reached for the reins still in my hands.
Despite my worry, I tightened my grip on the leather. “I won’t get better at riding if I avoid the situation.”
“That’s why you’ll be riding with me, but steering the horse. This way you can get better without us staying out here until sundown.”
I frowned, even as my body perked up at the thought of sharing a horse with him. His stallion was massive, and I had no desire to be thrown from his back again. “What if your horse doesn’t like me?”
“You’ve been on him enough that he knows you.”
“But I’ve never steered him before,” I argued.
“I’ll be on him with you. He’ll be fine.”
I eyed the muscled animal, noting the power held in its body withanother frisson of apprehension. “What if there are wolves here, and we’re leaving my horse as a meal?”
He ran his hand down the column of his throat, reaching for patience. “There are no wolves here, and you’ll have to trust me on that. Anything else?”
He would have an answer for any other excuses I found. It wasn’t as if Harthon would let me die on his horse, anyway. I gave in and dropped to the ground, waiting while he secured the mare to a tree and only mounting the beast when he’d returned.
I gingerly grasped the reins as Harthon settled in behind me, and then nearly jumped out of my skin when his big hands came to the crease of my hips. They rested there comfortably, like they belonged there. Sensation flared to life beneath his touch, zipping straight to my stomach.
“Keeping my hands here will help me reach the reins quicker, if needed.” He offered the explanation with a tinge of amusement.
Get a grip.
I sent gentle pressure into the stallion’s side, and he jolted, shaking his head. My stomach vaulted directly into my throat.
Harthon closed the space between us, leaning in. “Easy. He’s just adjusting.” His whiskers brushed my cheek as he spoke.
Suddenly, a different kind of nerves were causing my belly to flip. “So am I.”
Why did I sound so breathless?
I squeezed my legs once more, and the horse loped forward. We delved into the trees, and he was surprisingly responsive to each light tug on the reins and shift of my hips. Harthon murmured instructions and the occasional approval in my ear as we went, settling my doubts. I halted when we came to a short but steep decline, figuring it best to slightly backtrack and skirt the section.
