“Ride… Ride with you?” she stammered, each word sounding more absurd than the last. “On a single horse?”
Her heart skipped a beat, and heat flooded her face at the mere thought. Getting on a horse together implied a certain closeness, and she was immediately scandalized by the impropriety of such an agreement.
And yet, Lachlan only stared at her with a blank expression, as though he could not fathom why it would trouble her at all.
“My Laird, you have to understand that I am a?—”
“A proper English lady, aye,” he said dryly. “I daenae wish to ride with ye either. It was yer idea to visit the Murrays, and ye can very well choose nae to go.”
Marian’s cheeks burned hotter at his words. “Of course,” she blurted. “I was not thinking...”
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she swallowed, acutely aware of his gaze lingering on her throat.
“Of course, my Laird,” she tried again, forcing some steadiness into her voice. “I was only wondering if we might… consider a different arrangement.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He fell silent for a moment, long enough to make her regret the suggestion before he spoke.
“Aye,” he replied quietly. “If ye daenae wish to ride with me, ye can ride with any soldier of yer choosin’.”
“I did not mean—” Marian stopped herself.
What am I doing?
She glanced at Lilly in frustration, but her maid offered a tight smile that did nothing to ease her growing discomfort.
Ride with a stranger? It is far worse than…
She drew in a breath, lifting her chin just a fraction higher despite the unease coiling in her chest.
Absolutely not.
“I cannot ride with men I do not know, my Laird,” she declared, her voice quieter now. She hesitated, curling her fingers into the sides of her dress before adding, “I suppose I shall have to… ride with you.”
The words felt like a concession she would later regret.
Lachlan gave a small nod and then turned toward his horse without a word.
Is that it?
She watched him for a moment, catching a hint of uncertainty on his end, too. But his expression did not falter.
Lachlan extended a hand toward her, and she stared at it, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
“Ye need to mount,” he explained, gesturing at his horse with a tilt of his head.
It can certainly bear the weight of two people.
Marian nodded slightly before carefully placing her hand in his. His palm felt larger than she’d expected, and his grip was firm on her hand, causing a shiver to run down her spine despite her gloves.
She stilled, glancing up at him again. He did not meet her eyes.
“Left foot,” he instructed, nodding toward the stirrup, and she followed his gaze.
She gathered her skirts awkwardly as she tried to lift her foot high enough. The mere action took more effort than she had expected, and her balance faltered as the sole of her leather shoes finally found the stirrup. She tightened her grip on his hand, drawing in a breath as she pushed herself upward.
Suddenly, her foot slipped slightly, and she dropped back down with a small, frustrated yelp.
Lachlan’s hand tightened around hers, steadying her before she could lose her balance entirely.
