The Art of Stealing Time: A Time Thief Novel by MacAlister Katie

Author:MacAlister, Katie [MacAlister, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-09-02T22:00:00+00:00

NINE

“How’s your behind?”

Gregory pulled his thoughts from the dark place they’d gone ever since the scene some hours earlier, and experimentally flexed a butt cheek. “It’s better. No thanks to that carnivore you’ve been riding.”

Gwen stifled a giggle, but he heard it nonetheless, and he managed to share a sour look between both her and the horse she led, all the while adopting a martyred air.

“Sorry,” she said with contriteness that didn’t for one minute fool him. “I know that being on the receiving end of those teeth isn’t funny, but if you could have seen the look on your face when he did it . . .”

Her words trailed away again, leaving her throat working as she fought to keep from laughing out loud.

He thinned his lips and looked straight ahead. They were walking the horses in order to let them have a break from constant riding, and he had found the exercise beneficial to his thoughts. If nothing else, marching across the landscape made it hard for one to be aroused. “It’s not the bite I object to so much as it is the interruption. I can now attest to the fact that it’s impossible to seduce a sweetly ripe maiden when one’s ass has been manhandled. Or in this case, horsehandled.”

Gwen lost her fight and whooped with laughter.

“Sorry,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “‘Horsehandled’ pushed me over the edge.”

“Delighted to provide amusement.” He tried to preserve his injured mien, but failed. Even if his posterior was the one that had suffered the abuse, it had been a very funny—if wholly frustrating—moment.

“Ugh.” Gwen pulled her mail shirt out from her plump, tempting breasts and tried to generate a breeze. “Not to be gross, but I’m just a giant ball of sweat in this mail. I don’t suppose there’s an afterlife hotel around here where I can take a shower?”

“I doubt that any such facility exists. However . . .” He squinted into the distance. “Yes, the woman at the stables said we should let the horses have a rest at a small lake. We are more than halfway to the camp, assuming that water ahead is the lake she mentioned.”

“A lake.” She made a face that turned into a shrug. “It’s no hot shower, but if there aren’t leeches or water moccasins or anything icky like that, it sounds like heaven. Ha. Afterlife. Heaven.”

He looked at her.

She gave him a wry smile that made his stomach turn over. “Sorry. My jokes are suffering the effect of the heat, too.”

“I find you nothing but delightful.”

“Yes, but that’s because you want to get into my pants.”

“That is highly offensive.” He frowned, wondering if he had given her that impression by his actions or if she just held misguided notions about men. Perhaps it was both. “If I have led you to believe that I desire you simply for your ample, lush person, then allow me to disabuse you of that notion right now. I believe I’ve mentioned the fact that my cousin’s wife claims I could be a model.

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