The tone in his voice sent ripples of excitement rushing through her. She ran a hand along the horse’s neck. “Did you remember anything?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I found that I knew how to saddle him.”
She nodded. Yes. As a knight, he would know that. And as a knight, he would know how to command a horse.
“Are you ready to accompany me to the inn?”
His voice was a rich timbre that sent vibrations through her body. He knew how to command more than just a horse.
“We can ride there.” He extended a hand to her.
She faltered.
“I want to go!” Kit called.
“This is work for adults,” Eoos told Kit. “Your mother and I will return.”
“Alice will have work for you,” Mercy added.
“Awww,” Kit grumbled, kicking a pebble.
Mercy lay a hand on Kit’s head. Yes, Eoos knew how to command. Armies as well as children. She pressed a kiss to Kit’s head. “We shan’t be long.”
Kit slowly moved toward the cottage, his head hung as he shuffled and kicked the dirt.
Mercy looked at Eoos. He extended his hand to her again. Mercy balked as tremors of delight ran up her spine. Still, she resisted the temptation he offered. “I should saddle my mare.”
“My horse is already saddled. A ride into the village will not over tax him.”
Mercy glanced at the barn in hesitation. She didn’t feel it appropriate to ride with him. So close. Together.
“What are you afraid of?” He pushed his hand at her.
That did it. She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid.” She placed her hand into his.
In one movement, he pulled her up before him. She squirmed as her hip hit the saddle.
He slid her over his legs more comfortably.
“This saddle isn’t meant for two people,” she complained softly.
He grinned, his lips quirking to the side; his eyes danced in merriment. “No, it’s not.” He spurred the horse.
She fell back against his strong, solid chest, having to hold onto the pommel of the saddle for balance. His arm slid around her waist, steadying her. She couldn’t help but notice the comfort and ease with which her body molded to his. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to be held in his arms. Safe. Wanted. Desired. Oh, wicked, wicked thoughts. She had not felt or imagined these feelings since Dean had passed. Why now? When love should have been the farthest thing from her mind.
“The ride is not far?”
“No,” she answered. “The inn is just up ahead and a little off the road.” She pointed the way.
He guided the horse with ease, as if he had done it a thousand times before. “Still no memories?”
“No.”
He followed her directions, and when the inn came into view, he reigned in his horse. The horse danced nervously, and he did not urge it on.
Mercy looked over her shoulder at him.
“It is as if there is something there, something I can’t quite grasp but just out of my reach.”
