“Neither do I.” He smiled. “That’s why Colban was kind enough to put me on his.”
They wanted her to ride a horse. Of all the would-be scenarios her SEAL training had prepared her for, this particular act had not been among them. James, on the other hand, was having no problems. Having grown up on a ranch in Montana, horse riding came naturally to him. Octavia had never felt so inept in her life.
They’d made it thus far without incident—mostly by avoiding soldiers. They’d gotten back the Highlanders’ swords, made it to the stables, and none of the Scottish peasants had given them away—probably because they considered the English knights their occupiers. Everything had been going quite well until it became apparent the huge man wanted her to ride on a damn horse.
“We’ve got to go, Com—Octavia!” James said quietly, but heatedly. “Our luck can only hold out for so long.”
“I don’t know how to ride,” she bit out. Octavia ground her teeth together when she overheard the doctor translating her predicament to the Highlanders.
She was about to give mounting the horse another college try when the giant plucked her from the ground, causing her to yelp. He plopped her down in front of him in the saddle and took off with urgency. Her heart slammed against her chest as the other two horses and three riders followed in their dust.
Suddenly, they weren’t invisible anymore. Four English soldiers gave chase, following them into the thick forest. She could see the giant raise his sword, preparing to strike one of the knights down while simultaneously riding the horse. Octavia was impressed despite herself. Nevertheless, she aimed her SA80 rifle at the soldier and took him out before he got too close.
The giant grunted. She couldn’t be certain, but he seemed to be pleased with her contribution. For some weird reason, that knowledge made her want to smile, though she didn’t.
She got the second knight in her sight and fired. She missed his head, but the bullet he took in the arm was sufficient to knock him from off his horse. She aimed and fired at knights three and four next, watching as both men fell to the ground, dead.
Another grunt. This time she was certain it was the barbarian’s method of displaying approval. She’d never been pleased with herself before by a common aspect of her job performance, but today was different.
The coast was now completely clear. Trying not to think about the weird effect the Highlander had on her, she kept her rifle close, but settled into the saddle for the first time. Of course, that only served to force her body closer to the giant’s, which he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he grunted again.
His body radiated warmth—a fact Octavia couldn’t help but notice. What she should have been able to overlook was how good he smelled despite having spent the night in a dank dungeon. He should have smelled of filth and grime, but his scent was a pleasant mix of rain, earth, and maleness. She mentally groaned at her fanciful thoughts.
There was nothing feminine or romantic about Commander Octavia Benatti. She would do well to remember that.
They rode for hours, his avenging angel now sound asleep in his lap. It pleased Angus immensely that she trusted him already. She might not have understood this to be a fact yet, but he did.
What he didn’t know what to make heads or tails of was the wench’s death stick. He could see when she raised it that it wasn’t the wand of a sorcerer, but a contraption of some sort that allowed her to zero in on any part of the Englishmen’s bodies she’d wanted to. He was more than a little curious to ask her about the stick and knew that he would put the question to Doctor for him to translate as soon as time allowed.
Until then, Angus was enjoying the feel of this foreign woman in his arms. Her scent was clean, heady, and distinctly feminine without being overly perfumed. From the way he’d been obliged to hold her as she slept he could also tell she was lush of form. Full breasts, wide hips for bearing children, and a narrow waist. She was a might too skinny, but he’d see to it that she was better fed from now on.
“We’re out of the English-occupied part of the Lowlands,” Colban said as he brought his charge up to ride beside the laird. “What think you of making camp for the eve? My horse could use the rest.”
“Soon,” Angus muttered. “I want to get a wee bit further from the bluidy English and then we’ll stop.”
Colban inclined his head. He fell back into line behind his laird.
The Karrik kenned they were in friendly terrain, but he wanted to hold the wee wench a bit longer. Something told him her stubborn nature would be far less accommodating whilst awake than ‘twas whilst asleep.
Once their party had erected a makeshift camp, Octavia walked out the cramps she’d acquired from being in the saddle so long. She couldn’t recall having ever been this sore. Her ass, her legs, even her lower back…
She had a new respect for cowboys. And for certain medieval Highlanders who managed to ride for hours while brandishing their heavy swords. As she walked out those cramps, horseback riding became a skill she determined to learn and master. It took some of the dent out of her ego to see that Lieutenant Bellamy and the doctor were having as difficult a time adjusting to walking on their legs again as she was.
The two people who were having no trouble at all on the heels of the day’s journey were the Highlanders. In fact, they were so unbothered by it that they’d gone off and hunted a deer while the three who didn’t belong here hissed and moaned over their aching bodies. Even now the venison was being roasted over a fire. She had to admit it smelled quite good.
“We need to talk,” Octavia said to the doctor as she came to a halt. She removed her cloak—an action she could see in her peripheral vision which caused the Highlanders to still. She supposed they weren’t accustomed to seeing women in breeches, much less ones that were all but molded to a female’s skin. She ignored their stares as she busily rubbed out the ache in her lower back. “Now.”
“Forgive me, lass,” the Scottish doctor whimpered. “I’m having a bloody time of it, trying to get my circulation going again.”
“Shit, me too,” James commiserated. “Give me a second.”
Octavia inclined her head. “Five minutes. Not a moment longer.”
Angus was trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Judging by their similar dress, all three of the Outlanders came from the same place.Wherewas the question. In truth, he had many questions, not the least of which being why did women dress the same as men where they heralded from?
Not that the laird was complaining. Nay. The skin tight breeches and equally brazen tunic the wench wore made it easy to ascertain that she was as curvy as he’d suspected. Mayhap more so. Leastways, what he was seeing Colban was seeing too—the one part of this bizarre scene he hadn’t a care for.
Angus was a wee bit surprised the rest of his men hadn’t tracked him and Colban down yet. ‘Twas a state of affairs that had best be remedied the soonest.
