Warmth slid through her veins as she remembered her hand was locked in his grip. Then a whiffle and a snort alerted her to the presence of a horse. Rounding a tree, they came bang upon a huge chestnut. Tiger? He was not even tethered. Giff must have a strong connection to the animal.
He was taking the reins. “Up you get, Delia. Can you put your foot in the stirrup?”
Not without displaying far too much leg. It struck her then and she felt a flush mounting. “You saw me getting out of the coach!”
His lips twitched. “If you mean, have I seen it all before, the answer is yes. It’s only a pair of legs, when all is said.”
Heat flared in her cheeks and Delia could not speak. A devil inside her she had not known existed took possession. She moved to the horse and, without looking at Giff, grabbed hold of the saddle above and set one foot in the stirrup. It felt alien without a riding boot, but she had no time to indulge this thought.
Before she could gather her wits, two strong hands seized her by the waist.
“Jump!”
She thrust up from the ground and Giff threw her into the saddle. Delia seized the pommel and held on, trying to get her balance.
Next moment, Giff landed behind her. His arms came about her and he shifted the reins into his right hand.
“Get your knee around the pommel. I’ll hold you on, never fear.”
Delia felt the powerful arm that held her pinned against his solid strength. Her breath caught, but she struggled to shift her right leg and hook it about the pommel, showing stockinged flesh as she did so. Once settled, she covered her bared leg, thanking fashion for the volume of her muslin petticoats.
Giff’s impatient voice came, close to her ear. “Ready?”
“No!”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m horribly uncomfortable!”
“I’m sorry for that, but it can’t be helped.”
The horse began to move and Delia found herself seething. It was all very well in a novel, but this was becoming more and more ridiculous. She had been stranded, and now to all intents and purposes, she was being abducted with no means of getting to her destination. When her people came back for her, she’d be long gone. And to crown all, she’d never been so uncomfortable in her life.
It was not merely the pommel that dug into her flesh, or the bouncing on the saddle she was unable to control. It was the perfectly unbearable sensations engendered by the proximity of the body behind and the arms encircling her as Giff held the reins.
If this was adventure, it was decidedly less romantic than the novels she’d read had led Delia to believe. Real life, with its attendant physical actualities, bore little resemblance to the fairy tale. And now she was perspiring, she was thirsty and the recurrence of hunger pangs stirred in her stomach. What was worse, the prince was turning out to be all too apt to want everything his own way.
Delia could not help a sneaking wish she was still in the coach, with no prospect before her but the drudgery she’d been outlining before all this began.
CHAPTER THREE
Giff cursed inwardly as he manoeuvred Tiger through the undergrowth, the stallion’s unshod hooves making little sound. The last thing he needed at this juncture was the burden of a petticoat. But what could he do? He could scarcely leave the girl to be found by his cousin’s incompetent tools.
It didn’t take a genius to guess what had happened. He’d seen the wench sneaking out of the coach, but the male servants clearly knew nothing of her absence. They’d no doubt collected the old lady and got themselves out of there in a hurry. And who could blame them? The girl had delayed getting herself back to the coach and that was that.
A good thing he’d not left the road before he saw her. He’d meant to keep Tiger at the gallop long enough to tire out the mounts chasing him. Then he’d have left the road and vanished into the trees with ample time to escape. Now their horses would’ve had enough rest and they’d be after him again if they caught a sight of him. Even Tiger couldn’t outrun them with the added weight atop.
Nothing for it. They must not be seen. Only he’d got to get back to the road and head west. He gave a whistle and Tiger’s ears pricked. The girl Delia winced and he grinned.
“Was that in your ear?”
“Yes! And ouch!”
“Beg pardon. I’m just warning Tiger I’m going to weave faster.”
She half turned to look at him, her brows knitting. “He understands that?”
“We have a number of signals. Tiger is a very intelligent horse.”