The Time Traveler’s Christmas (Guardian of Scotland Book 3) by Amy Jarecki

Author:Amy Jarecki [Jarecki, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gnarly Wool Publishing
Published: 2020-07-12T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Lachlan was totally convinced the obstreperous horse Hamish had given him couldn’t walk a straight line if there were walls encroaching on either side. And Lachlan had no doubt the bull-headed guard leading this medieval diamond formation was chuckling right down to his toes. The more Lachlan pulled on the reins, the stroppier the nag became. If he squeezed his knees, the damned mule-brained gelding reared.

Is the beast even broke?

The horse must have had some training, because Lachlan managed to mount without much difficulty. It wasn’t until he tapped his heels that the mangy, bird-brained donkey decided to be a shit. He hadn’t had this much trouble riding to Norham. At least the horse he’d borrowed from Boyd had been reasonably well-behaved.

They’d been riding for five hours with nine or so to go until they reached Leith where Christina said the de Moray birlinn was moored, which would save them weeks of riding, according to her ladyship. When given the choice of riding or sailing, Lachlan decided he’d rather sail. He’d be comfortable manning an oar, though he didn’t know much about sails.

Doubtless I’ll learn.

“Ease up on the poor bugger’s mouth,” said Andrew, riding alongside Lachlan, with Christina on his other side. The lady had decided that, as her champion, Lachlan should be responsible for riding with her and the lad. She wanted to make Andrew feel an important part of the twenty-man retinue, but kept him in the center of the formation partially for safety, though mostly to ensure he didn’t try to run.

“Huh?” Lachlan asked, rubbing his fingers over the annoying stitches in his chest.

Andrew gave him an adolescent guffaw. “The harder ye pull on the reins, the more your mount will try to resist ye.”

Lachlan dropped his hands to the horse’s withers and the gelding immediately lowered his head and began to amble like the others. “You seem to know a thing or two about horses.”

“Indeed, I do.” Andrew almost smiled as he patted his mount’s neck. “A squire would not be worth his salt if he wasn’t sure of his seat.”

“Where did you learn?”

“From Lord de Vere’s stable hands—he hires the best horsemen and owns the best destriers in England.”

“Destriers?” Lachlan asked.

“Do ye not know anything?” Andrew rolled his eyes like a typical teenager. “Destriers are the best warhorses in all of Christendom.”

“Aye, I’ll agree to that,” said Christina.

Lachlan gave Andrew an appreciative nod, an idea forming in his head. He knew kids and they all craved respect.

Hmm.

Riding across a burn that cut through a picturesque lea nestled between rolling green hills, Lady Christina cupped a hand to the side of her mouth. “Hamish,” she hollered. “We shall take our nooning here.”

“Verra well, m’lady.”

Lachlan had never been so glad to have a break. He had to pee, the stitches in his healing chest itched like he’d been bitten by a hundred mosquitoes, and he was so hungry, he could eat half a cow—not that he wasn’t accustomed to pain, it just he’d been afflicted with one too many complaints at the moment.

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