“You called it grooming,” he reminds me.
“I did,” I say, “and maybe it is. Or maybe it’s just an act of kindness toward a little boy who wants a toy sword so that he can play with his friends.”
It infuriates me to no end that he seems shocked by my declaration. What must he think of me if such a simple act surprises him? I decide I don’t care and lift myself off the boulder, slipping the letter opener into the dagger sheath sewn into the thigh of my leathers, clutching the sword in my other hand.
I scold myself when his eyes follow the movement of my hand as I slide the dagger home without so much as a glance toward it. I don’t give him time to ask any questions and step toward the cover of the forest.
“Now where are you going?” he demands.
I sigh, not wishing to explain myself any further. “To deliver the sword.”
“On foot?” He sounds even more surprised than he had about the gift.
The male clearly finds me incapable of even walking a short distance.
“On foot,” I confirm with a nod.
“You won’t make it back before dawn,” he says.
I shrug, relieved that if the journey does in fact keep me out until dawn, I will have avoided my demon for one more night.
“For the love of the veil.” He snatches the sword out of my hand and strides toward his horse.
“What do you think you’re doing? Give that back!” I yell, chasing after him.
He ignores me, strapping the sword to his saddle as he says over his shoulder, “I’m taking the sword to the orphanage, and you’re coming with me.”
I come to a stop behind him, my eyes narrowing on his back. When he turns to face me, his brow is etched in hard lines of determination as he points at me and says, “I’d like to get some sleep tonight, and that’s not going to happen as long as you’re galivanting all across A’kori, unaccompanied.”
I open my mouth to protest but my breath leaves my lungs in a woosh when he grips my waist with both hands and lifts me onto the horse, sidesaddle. He swings himself up behind me, and before I can slide back to the ground in protest, he clicks his tongue and the horse leaps into the dark of the woods.
Wind tears my hood from the crown of my head, settling it between my shoulder blades. The general hooks my waist, pulling me tightly against him until I can feel the hardened cut of his chest on the side of my arm.
I’m not entirely sure he can see me glaring at him as we race through the forest, but I don’t let it stop me. When the mount cuts a tight corner around the base of a towering cedar I begin tipping forward, my balance precarious to say the least.
The general’s arm hardens around my waist, and he slips me more snuggly between his thighs. The act would be entirely unnecessary if he’d given me a chance to position my legs on either side of the mount. I will never understand why ladies prefer sidesaddle, dress or no.
After briefly considering throwing myself off the horse to make my displeasure perfectly clear, I decide against it. There is no need to risk an injury to make a point the male is already well aware of. Instead, I let my body settle against his. I can do little but trust his arm around me as the horse runs through the night, and remaining rigid in my seat won’t serve me, it will only wreak havoc on my muscles, which I would regret in the morning.
With a light tug on the reins the horse slows to a walk when we break from the forest. Again, I debate throwing myself to the ground but smother the thought when my eyes find the orphanage just ahead. We have emerged behind the building, out of the woodland where I’d seen the children at play. I hate that I’m a little impressed that he found his way so easily through the thick overgrowth of the forest, but it isn’t something I’ll ever admit to him.
The general doesn’t dismount when he unstraps the toy sword and leans it against the front door of the building.
“I’ll send a letter in the morning, explaining that you carved it for the boy.” The heat of his breath is a soft caress on the shell of my ear when he says it.
“Why not just send the sword with the letter?” I ask, as he turns his horse toward the cobbled streets of A’kori.
“I didn’t think you’d agree to it. You seemed rather determined to deliver it tonight.”
“You could have asked,” I say, clearly annoyed despite the fact that I would have absolutely insisted it be delivered tonight.
“I’ll try that next time.” He chuckles, and the sound glides down my spine like a featherlight touch, sending a rippling wave of goosebumps across my skin.
I shudder at the feeling it provokes, and he wraps the length of his cloak around me to buffer me from the cool evening air. It seems we are both content to ride in silence. I take in the view of the harbor, the light of the city after dark twinkling on the rolling waves of the sea. Firelight flickers in empty windows and not a single soul walks along the well-lit stone streets.
“Why did you carve the sword for the boy?” His voice is near a whisper.
“I already told you.”
