he saw the horse charging towards them. It was clear the woman on the horse had no control of it, struggling not to fall off.
Tor realized that it was a runaway animal, a very dangerous situation in the midst of a busy village, and his knightly instincts kicked in. He was sworn to protect the weak and save the innocent. At the moment, it appeared to him that the woman on the horse very much needed saving.
As the horse charged in his direction, he swung both legs over his saddle. He was still sitting on Enbarr, waiting for just the right moment. As the white horse went sprinting past, he launched himself at the woman and they both went over the side of the white horse, crashing onto the street below.
It had all happened very quickly but Tor had been conscious of the position of his big body as they’d fallen. He thought he could land on his feet, but momentum had taken him sideways. Therefore, he purposely turned so he would hit the ground and she would fall on top of him.
She did, heavily.
But there was a fly in the ointment. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at the situation, he had ended up planting his face right in her breasts when he’d grabbed her. Literally, his mouth was on her tit.
But that wasn’t the worst – or best – of it. She had been wearing a cloak or a cape that had come up over them, entangling them both in the garment. He ended up laying on it, pinning it down and making it virtually impossible to move because of the way they were both laying.
Once they hit the ground, Tor lay there for a moment because the wind was knocked out of him. He shook off the stars, realizing there was the swell of a lovely white breast against his face.
“My lady?” he said. “Are you…?”
When the woman felt his hot breath and mouth against her bosom, she shrieked and began frantically pushing him away even as she tried to move. “You may release me,” she said, cutting him off. “I am not injured. Do you hear? Release me!”
He wanted to, but the cape had them tangled. He unwound his arms and in her panic to separate herself from him, she put her hand on his face and used it as leverage to push herself up.
Tor grunted in pain as she smashed his nose, but the cape began to come unraveled as she stood up. He could see that she’d managed to put both feet on the ground and she gave a good yank on the cape, pulling it off of his head but catching his left ear.
With a hand on his stinging ear and the other one on his smashed nose, Tor looked up at the woman he’d just saved from certain death. Instead of gratitude, all he saw was indignation.
“Although I am sure you thought you were doing me a great favor, I did not require your assistance with the horse,” she said, straightening up the cape that was part of her fine, and very expensive, dress. “Your heroism was unnecessary, my lord. In fact, it was presumptuous.”
Tor was sitting in the gutter, his enormous arms draped over his bent-up knees as he found himself looking at what was inarguably the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes upon.
She was petite in size, but curvy and big-busted. This was no fragile, slender female. Her hair was blonde, long and soft and wavy, and she had several small braids decorating her hair, all of them woven with strings of pearls or ribbons that matched her red damask dress. But her face… that’s what had his attention. She had delicately arched brows over dark blue eyes, a pert little nose, and full lips. But those eyes were blazing at him and he brushed himself off, rising to his feet.
“My apologies,” he said.
And that was all he said. He wasn’t going to stand there and argue with her, ungrateful wench. He didn’t care how beautiful she was because she had the manners of a boar. It wasn’t as if he’d expected her to fall at his feet with thanks, but a little gratitude might have been nice.
Maybe there was just a little wounded pride there.
Without another glance, he crossed the street where Nat was mounted, holding on to Enbarr.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Nat asked. “That was a hard fall.”
Tor grunted. “I am not injured,” he said,