Exerilla’s brows were up as she chewed her lips when she was suddenly thrown as though she were no more than a satchel of feathers across to the long seat facing her. She caught herself, and pushed herself back into position she turned and grimaced as she said, “Oh yeah, nothing shall happen to me, you’ll make sure of that. Yeah right!” Her words were no sooner out when the coach lurched precariously around a bend in the road and as she landed in her companions lap. Once again, a spark shot through her. She was sure he must have felt the same thing, like static electricity, but he gave no sign of it. She glared disapprovingly at him and scrambled back onto her seat.
He regarded her oddly and said, “I am sorry, lass, but I am hoping he will tire of this soon enough and we can get on with our journey and let ye be.”
“If he doesn’t overturn us first,” she answered irritably.
He regarded her curiously and asked, “Are ye American then?”
“Born and bred,” she answered without thinking and then realized that even so, she was in another century. Manners, her mother had warned her, you must watch your speech as well as your actions. Yeah well, she didn’t think these guys were very mannerly, taking over a stagecoach at gunpoint just because they wanted to. She was about to tell him so while her mind went about the business of rebuilding itself when the coach swerved badly, tilted onto one side and came down hard on all four wheels as they took yet another turn in the road at a speed she was certain was going to exhaust the big cob horses.
Exerilla’s arms went out and a slight scream escaped her as she was thrown from her seat with some violence. She found herself caught and steadied by sure hands and was aware of a pair of muscular arms around her as the Scotsman balanced her more on his lap than not.
“There love,” he grinned playfully. “I’ve got ye, so doona worry yerself.”
“Thank you, but, I can manage from here,” she said as she tried to clamor out of his embrace and right herself while changing to take the seat across from him. Getting out of his arms and off his lap was more of a challenge during the bumpy ride than she had imagined and as she grunted and groaned, while his smile broadened.
“Och aye, but I think ye would do better to stay right where ye are,” he said softly.
“You could help me get resituated, you know,” she grimaced at him.
“Now why would I be wanting to do that, when I like ye right where ye are,” he said and his blue eyes were alight with mischief.
She eyed him and thought, he may not have magic, but he was way different than any of the men she knew from her century. She suppressed a smile and said, “Arrogant rogue! Is that what you call it, seeing that no harm comes to me? Ha.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time someone has called Hunter MacTorry an arrogant rogue,” he said with a grin.
“Hunter MacTorry, I find your Scottish manners lacking. In addition to that you appear to be pleased to wear the title of rogue.” She managed to resituate herself in spite of him and turned her head away to stare without seeing out the window at the quickly passing countryside.
Her first week in the year 1815 had proved complicated and unsatisfactory. She was stuck in another century, without friends or family or even enough money to go off on her own and lease a place. How was she going to last until Samhain? If that wasn’t enough, now she was on a ‘joy ride’ against her will!
This is why women of this century went around slapping men.
And then as the coach swerved yet again, he caught her and held her close and safely in place.
She shoved at him, and righted herself back onto the seat across from him and glared. He surprised her then by crossing over and as he sat down beside her, he put a steadying arm around her and said, “Hold tight, lass, I think we are in for a bit of a ride, and I do believe what we have experienced will get worse before it gets better.”
“Let go of me! Did you hear me? Let go.” She didn’t know what was wrong with her or why she was behaving like this. She was so angry. She didn’t know why he didn’t just stop his friend, or knock him out or something.
“If I let go of ye, lass, you will get hurt. A gentleman would never allow that to happen.” He held her tighter.
The coach’s speed made its progress a rumbling ride. It created a swaying motion that sent it and them from side to side as it bumped over the badly rutted road. She admitted to herself that if he wasn’t holding her, she would have gotten tossed about. “Tell him to stop! This vehicle wasn’t made for this speed! You could stop him, so why don’t you? You are bigger than he is!”
“Here is the thing, lass,” he paused. “If I take matters in hand, he will be worse when he comes aboot. I doona wish him to coom after the coach, and I canna keep knocking him out without doing him serious damage, if that is what ye mean by I am bigger than he is. I doona want Swit in that sort of mood. Best to let the man have a go with the reins and be done with it.” Hunter had pinned himself against a corner of the coach with her nicely tucked into his embrace, and she could see the frown on his face. It occurred to her that he was actually trying to keep her safe while his friend drove the coach.
She said, “Please sir, then just ask your friend to stop and turn the reins over to the coachman. What he is doing is wrong, not to mention rude. I am a passenger on this co
ach and should not be treated in this manner.”
“My friend, as you deem him, though I would not, will not be satisfied until he becomes bored. Surprisingly enough, he can drive, to an inch, in fact. Ye are quite correct though, this is not fair to ye lass, but I see that we are nearly at the Red Bull, where we will be stopping and yer ordeal will be over.”
“We are not supposed to stop at the Red Bull. I shall be very late…” she fretted.
“I am sorry, but the horses are no doubt in a sweat and will need to be rested, hayed and watered before they can go the remainder of the journey. These big cobs weren’t built for such speed.”
“It’s all your fault!” she snapped as the coach had slowed and she managed to pull out of his arms. “You should have stopped him from the start,” she wagged a finger vigorously in his face.
“Ye are exquisite in yer temper,” he said on a low note and then sighed.
“And you, all three of you are loony tunes!” she snapped.