He turned and gave her a piercing stare. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't ride?"
"You didn’t ask. I thought we were going to Eileen Donan by ship! I didn't know you meant for us to ride there! Why did you expect me to know how to ride? In London I did not need to."
"I am sorry, Kes, my mistake. But unless you want to walk to your uncle's, you’ll have to learn. 'Tis not difficult. I’ll show you." He turned toward the horse and began undoing the leather strap holding the saddle. He pulled it through the leathery mass and it slid to the ground. "You won't need that. I'll send Campbell back for it. Now, gather your skirts between your legs-"
"What? How-"
"Fold them somehow. I am going to teach you the astride way. Before you say it's improper, let me tell you Isobel rode this way all the time at Broadmoor. 'Tis the easiest way, since I'm going to be behind you. Now when I lift you over, grip the horse with your knees.."
"B-but what do I hold on to once I'm up there?" Kestrel interjected, staring at the horses’ broad neck.
"Hold onto his mane 'til I'm there. I won't let you fall, I promise."
Kestrel cast him a doubtful look. “Belike I should have kept on your breeches.”
A slow heat churned in Devon’s eyes and he shook his head. “Nay, my lady. Belike it would be easier, but I’ve seen your legs and I’d get fair tired of challenging every man who gazed at them.”
Heat flooded her face, and she bent to the embarrassing task of splitting her full skirts without letting any ankle show. Luckily, the material was light, and easy to wrap around her legs.
She stood in front of Devon with her left foot cradled in the palm of his hands ready to be hoisted onto a horse for the first time in her life. Cold fear slicked through her. Devon's golden gaze found hers and held. “You’re brave, Kestrel. I have faith in you.”
Her stomach bunched at his words. Determined to prove him right, she balanced herself against one of his strong shoulders.
"Grab the mane with your left hand and fling your right leg over. Remember to grip with your knees."
“Aye.” Kestrel nodded. It happened quickly. One good lift and Kestrel gripped the solid back of the horse as if her life depended on it. She buried her fingers in its coarse hair and held her breath. It seemed time stood still until Devon's steady form slid behind her. He placed an arm around her waist and urged the horse forward. The motion rocked Kestrel and she leaned into Devon as if his presence would keep her from falling.
"Relax, Kes. Look at the scenery." Devon's warm breath caressed her ear and she tried to focus on the beauty around her. They started down the steep incline into town. The grey roofs and weathered cottages sat against a backdrop of royal blue rippling with silver clouds. Far off in the distance, the shadow of Dunollie Castle sat like a silent observer.
Kestrel inhaled a deep breath of heather scented air and sighed, her happiness overshadowed by Devon's physical nearness. His manhood pressed intimately against her lower back reminding her of that night in Westleigh. She closed her eyes remembering its velvety length against her fingers. What would have happened if she'd done what he'd wanted her to? What if she had given in?
"And then you take them in your hand Kes, like this-" His long fingers entwined with hers and the reins. A hot flush crept up her cheeks, and she stared down at their hands in silent mortification. What had he said about the reins?
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