“No, you can’t,” he interrupted her ruthlessly. “If you try to walk it will take us that much longer. Trust me.”
Her mirthless snort was answer enough.
The men left torches burning the way they’d come, and he followed the light, coming out into a large underground room that led off to an absolute rabbit’s warren of tunnels. Fortunately light only came from one, and he followed it, moving swiftly.
The sight of the steps leading upward was the best thing he’d seen in weeks. He took them two at a time, careful not to jar the woman in his arms, and then they were out in the late-afternoon sunshine again, at the far end of the ruins.
He cast a surreptitious glance down at her. Her eyes were closed, her face calm and slightly averted. So she was going to ignore what happened in the so-called “training room.” So be it. He wasn’t going to bring it up—it was up to her if she wanted to discuss it, and if she didn’t, so much the better. Women had a tendency to put too much importance on sex, and this had hardly been sex. Just a little treat for his partner in crime, to prove that she wasn’t the cold creature she thought she was. Harmless enough.
It took him a while to reach their tethered horses. The picnic was still spread out on the coverlet, and he simply wrapped it all up and dumped it in the basket, ignoring Melisande’s squeak of protest from the rock where he’d set her. Her ankle was swollen to twice its normal size, and he wondered if he’d been wrong and she’d actually broken it. It would be hard to tell beneath all the swelling—he needed to get her home so she could elevate it.
“You’ll ride in front of me and we’ll bring your horse behind us,” he said, coming for her.
“I most certainly will not. I’m perfectly capable of riding.” She didn’t meet his gaze, and it both amused and annoyed him. Then again, he didn’t want to discuss it, either, did he?
“I doubt it. It’s your right foot. How are you going to guide your horse?”
“I can manage. If you’ll help me mount.”
He sighed, reaching for her and carrying her across the clearing. He picked her up and placed her in the saddle, then vaulted onto his own horse, taking the reins in his hand. “Let’s go,” he said in a bland voice, and waited, letting her go first down the overgrown road that had first brought them there.
She made it about ten feet, then shrieked with pain as she tried to use her foot. He moved to catch up with her, all smug complacency.
There were tears in her eyes and pure irritation in her mouth. “You’re right,” she said briefly.
“I always am,” he said in a silky voice. He reached out for her, waiting to see if she’d cross the distance and come into his arms.
Clearly she thought about it for a minute. And then she held out her arms and he caught her, pulling her off her mount’s broad back and onto his. He settled her back against him, her skirt covering her legs with as much decency as he could muster.
“Don’t talk,” she said tersely. “Just ride.”
You mean you don’t want to discuss the pleasure I just gave you in the Heavenly Host’s depraved caverns? You don’t want to acknowledge that there’s a bone-shaking attraction between us, and sooner or later we’re going to do something about it, even if neither you nor I want it?
But he could give her her wish. He rode at a steady pace, trying to avoid jarring her ankle too much. She had it modestly tucked under the hem of her habit, but that was doubtless making it even more painful, and he wished there was something he could do. Teasing her would take her mind off the pain, but he suspected she’d rather have the pain.
She tried to sit in front of him without touching him, but he knew the effort must be costing her dearly, and there was a limit to how much he’d allow her to hurt herself. He hauled her back against him, clasping one arm around her waist in an unbreakable hold. “Relax,” he said in a cool voice. “I’m hardly going to molest you on the King’s highway, and you’re going to fall apart if you keep clenching your muscles like that. As soon as we come to a tavern we’ll stop