Divine by Mistake

by P. C. Cast

  “No.” Now he looked like the damn Cheshire cat.

  “Well, then how?” What the heck was he thinking?

  “You will ride me.” He gave a little mock bow, then spun around (like any good cutting horse) and headed to the other campfire.

  For once I was rendered speechless—utterly devoid of speech.

  Ride him? Well, I already knew he was a biter.

  I just hoped he didn’t buck, too.

  Wonder how the hell the Duke would handle this one?

  CHAPTER 8

  Wine, food and warmth worked their magic, and by the time ClanFintan set Epi’s soft saddle next to me for a pillow and nudged me off the rock, I was barely able to mumble a thanks before I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  It seemed as if I had only just closed them when the wonderful fragrance of frying meat forced open my undoubtedly bloodshot eyes. I stretched and was immediately sorry I’d done so. How was it possible for every single muscle in my body to be sore? I think my hair even hurt.

  “Ahhh.” Getting to my feet was a noisy affair. In the middle of trying to straighten my old, abused body, I made the mistake of glancing up, and saw eleven pairs of centaur eyes and one pair of Epi eyes watching me. Eleven of the twelve looked amused. Epi’s eyes, I was pleased to notice, showed only her usual horsey adoration.

  “What?!”

  “Nothing, my Lady…” At least they had enough sense to look semi-embarrassed

  “Damn men.” Mumbling under my breath I gave Epi a pat before heading down to the river’s edge. I really, really wished I had a toothbrush. Bending over was decidedly not fun, but I did feel better after washing off my face and swishing water around my mouth (and using my finger as a toothbrush—yuck). Now, to top off an already lovely morning, I had to pee. Again.

  I started marching purposefully downstream (but it’s hard to march purposefully, or any other way, when your thighs are screaming like Richard Simmons in a candy store—good God, stop the madness). I came to an abrupt halt. And turned to see twelve pairs of eyes staring at me—and one centaur, decidedly the most handsome of the group, and just coincidentally my mate, obviously getting ready to follow me. Oh, no. No toilet paper is bad enough. Mr. Ed could just keep his hairy butt there, no matter how cute he was.

  “I’m just going to—you know…” And I nodded toward the forest edge.

  “Call if you have need of anything.” ClanFintan and the rest of them tried unsuccessfully to hide smiles.

  “Not in this damn lifetime,” I muttered as I hobbled toward the bushes, scratching at various bug bites.

  Have I mentioned how much I loathe camping?

  Exercise is supposed to loosen sore muscles and as I climbed down the bank and made my gimpy way back to camp, I waited for my thighs and butt to uncramp. Of course, my muscles didn’t know the loosening rule. They were screaming things like Are you crazy? Do you know we’re thirty-five years old? Sit down and feed us a Twinkie!

  It was going to be a long day.

  The centaurs had put out the fire I had slept by, and as I walked up to the group surrounding the remaining fire, they made way for me, and one of them (an adorable palomino) handed me another hard bread and meat sandwich.

  “Thanks.” I smiled my appreciation and he gave me a sweet little bow. These guys were awfully cute.

  ClanFintan joined us, and his centaurs made room for him next to me.

  “How are you feeling this morning, my Lady?” ClanFintan asked sociably.

  “My butt hurts like hell.”

  I thought the palomino was going to gag on his sandwich, and several other centaurs had sudden coughing fits. I smiled at them. They seemed relieved, and I could feel them studying me with new eyes. I kept forgetting what a bitch Rhiannon must have been.

  ClanFintan’s eyes were sparkling at me.

  “Anything I can do to help you?”

  A good, firm ass rub would be nice, but I didn’t want to mention that in front of the herd.

  “I don’t think so.” I glanced pointedly at his broad back, where shortly I was going to have to sit my sore butt. “Unless you can shape-shift into my bed and your friends here can drag us to MacCallan Castle.” I looked inquiringly at his men, including them in my joke.

  They repaid me with outright laughter and several of them slapped ClanFintan on the back saying, “She has you there.” ClanFintan took their good-natured teasing well. Their laughter included me and made me feel part of them. I began to realize what Rhiannon had missed out on by being such a bitch.

  “Forgive me, my Lady, but I cannot shift into a being that does not have the breath of life within it,” he said.

  “You are forgiven, my Lord,” I teased. “Just be gentle with me.”

  “Always.” His hand reached out and brushed an errant curl from my face. Over his shoulder I saw the centaurs smile knowingly at each other.

  And I found myself feeling very glad that Rhiannon hadn’t done irreparable damage here. I really wanted them to like me. Okay, I’ll be honest. I wanted their High Shaman to more than like me. But these were good guys/horses/whatever and their friendship was something I would like to earn.

  “Can you finish breaking your fast as we ride? We need to get started.”

  “Yes.” I hesitated.

  “Is something wrong?”

  I looked over his shoulder at my mare. “I’m just worried about Epi.”

  “She will rest comfortably while we are gone.”

  “She’ll be safe?” A picture of the creature-things sprang into my mind.

  “Any of us would give our lives for her, or for you.” He certainly sounded serious. I didn’t want anyone to die for my mare or for me, but his declaration was giving me goose bumps and causing me to have a John-Wayne-leading-his-marines-through-danger moment.

  I didn’t know what to say. Again. My students would be thrilled at me being rendered speechless twice in such a short period of time (of course, they wouldn’t know what the word rendered meant, but you get my drift).

  “Perhaps you would like a moment to say goodbye to her and to tell her you will return soon?” He was just so dang considerate.

  I mumbled some kind of thanks, and took my sore-butted sandwich-eating self over to my mare, who was grazing contentedly. She pricked her ears and gave me a soft nicker of welcome.

  “Hi there, sweet girl.” I rubbed her jawline and cooed wordless love noises at her as she nuzzled me. Resting my forehead against her neck I spoke softly so that she had to cock her ears back to hear me.

  “I have to leave for a couple of days. ClanFintan is going to take me to the castle.” She craned her head around so that she could look into my eyes. “Don’t worry, he’s leaving a couple centaurs here to take care of you. And he won’t let anything happen to me.” She seemed okay with that. I continued, lowering my voice even further, “I have to tell you, I’m a little nervous about this riding-him stuff. I mean, please, how am I supposed to keep my hormones in control with him between my legs all day?”

  She gave a deep, horsey sigh that seemed to say, Well, don’t then.

  “Some help you are.” I gave her soft muzzle a quick kiss. “Behave yourself while I’m gone.” She lipped my hair briefly then went back to grazing.

  I felt a little like a mother whose four-year-old had just toddled happily off to preschool without her.

  “Lady Rhiannon?” ClanFintan’s voice held an edge of impatience.

  “Coming,” ready or not. Mostly, not.

  The centaurs had been busy while I was snoozing. The eight who were going with us were loaded and ready to move out. I guess it had been too dark last night for me to notice that each of them had a couple sets of saddlebags draped over their horse backs, as well as dangerous-looking long swords, a lot like claymores, strapped over their chests and resting across their human backs. How confusing. Anyway, the saddle packs were obviously where the food and blankets had materialized from. Wonder what other goodies they were hiding. ClanFintan w
as standing apart from the rest of the group, his torso twisted around as he strapped my saddle blanket to his back. I finished my breakfast in one fast gulp.

  Well, I might as well take the bull by the horns. So to speak.

  At the sound of my approach he finished cinching the girth and flopped the stirrup down.

  “Ready?”

  “Sure.” I stood there—staring. He was bigger than Epi, and I had had problems getting aboard her without help.

  “Do you need help mounting?” He seemed to be enjoying himself. I glanced at the rest of the centaurs, but they were suddenly oh so busy studying the local flora and fauna.

  “Yes.” I paused and smiled teasingly, hoping I didn’t have a big hunk of biscuit between my teeth. “This one time.”

  He grinned back at me as he reached down with his left arm and grabbed me firmly under my left elbow.

  “On three…One…two…three!”

  Up I went—actually up and almost over the other side. He was a lot stronger than I had anticipated, or maybe I was lighter than he thought I was, because I had to grab his shoulders to keep myself from being tossed all the way off his back.

  “Ooof,” I said gracefully.

  “Oh, I am sorry.” He sounded anything but sorry.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. Not all horses can be as easy to mount as Epi.”

  “You might be surprised.” I was pleased to notice he had his own teasing tone in his voice.

  I busied myself putting my feet in the stirrups and acted as if I hadn’t heard him. I thought I felt his chest rumble briefly with a chuckle.

  “So, do I nudge you or cluck or something to get you to go?”

  “Just hold tightly to me, I will see that we move from here.”

  I gave Epi a quick wave goodbye as he started forward. The rest of the centaurs fell in behind us. Maneuvering up the bank made me grab for a nonexistent saddle horn. Which brought to mind the first Riding My Husband Dilemma.

  “Um, what exactly should I hang tightly on to?”

  He smiled back over his shoulder at me. He was having way too good of a time with this.

  “Put your hands on my shoulders, or grasp my waist. Basically, do what feels most comfortable.”

  I yanked on his thick ponytail (no pun intended). “How about here?”

  I heard muffled snorts of laughter from the centaurs closest to us.

  “I would rather you did not.”

  “Not a problem.” Score one for me.

  Once clear of the bank, he broke into a quick canter. I rested my hands on his shoulders, appreciating the feel of his muscles beneath my hands (and, quite frankly, my thighs). His gait was smooth and easy to sit, and I found myself relaxing and enjoying the speed at which we moved through the forest.

  I leaned forward and spoke into his ear.

  “How long can you keep up this pace?” It was a little like talking to someone while they were driving a motorcycle—except there was no engine noise.

  “Quite a while.”

  I leaned closer to his ear, liking the way his back felt against the tips of my breasts. (Give me a break, he’s my husband!)

  “This would have exhausted Epi in less than an hour.” I was delighted to see his bare arms break out in goose bumps as my breath tickled his ear. Or perhaps it was because my nipples tickled his back. My, he certainly was sensitive.

  “Centaurs have more stamina than a horse—” pause for effect “—or a man.” His voice had deepened and I felt a rush of pleasure, a little like electricity, pass down my spine, and for a moment I thought I was trapped in a steamy romance novel. Not that I’d mind.

  “Glad to hear it.” I breathed into his ear and squeezed his firm shoulders.

  And decided once and for all—Rhiannon was a fool.

  CHAPTER 9

  We didn’t stay on the small path I’d been following. Instead, ClanFintan led us away from the river and through the trees until we came to a well-defined road (obviously the one I had been avoiding). Shortly we came to a fork in the road, and we took the northwest branch, decidedly away from the river. I searched through my memory of my floating trip and decided that this must be a quicker route than meandering along the river road. Incredibly enough, the centaurs picked up the pace. ClanFintan and his buds seemed tireless as their gallop ate up the distance to the castle. Tracking me had obviously slowed them down.

  Traffic on the roadway was fairly brisk, but all were heading back the way we had come. The groups of travelers were mostly made up of large families, where the women rode in flatbed wagons and the men either walked or rode horses alongside, usually accompanied by a small selection of farm animals. I did notice that the people looked prosperous and well kept, not like I’d imagined peasants would look. They weren’t scraggly with rotten teeth and matted, parasite-infested hair. Honestly, they were uncommonly attractive people—almost as nice-looking as their horses. This land must really like fine horseflesh. All that day I didn’t see one nag.

  I couldn’t help but feel a little smug at the fact that my Epi was outstanding even among these great-looking horses. Actually, so was ClanFintan, but he didn’t fall in the strictly horse category, so I guess it was unfair of me to be smug about that.

  I wondered, before we had crossed paths with any of the locals, if I would be recognized. My answer was quick in coming. The first family we passed began politely greeting the centaurs, but stopped as soon as they noticed me. Their polite greeting changed abruptly into exuberance.

  “It is Epona!” The mother, who was driving the wagon filled with several adorable children and bags of supplies, noticed me first. Her children took up her cry and began waving enthusiastically.

  “Epona!”

  “Blessings to you, Lady Rhiannon!”

  “May your journey be safe!”

  I smiled and waved and felt foolishly like Miss America on a runway. But I’ve never been accused of being shy or timid, so I realized quickly that it was a feeling I could get used to. They were just all so nice! Guess Rhiannon’s people weren’t aware of what a bitch she was. Good thing for me. And that was pretty much how it went all morning. The centaurs kept up an amazing pace, and travelers headed in the direction of the temple kept trickling by.

  We didn’t talk much. I wasn’t convinced that this pace was quite as easily kept up as ClanFintan had boasted, and I didn’t want to bother him. I spent the time taking in the local scenery, waving to my adoring minions and trying my best to maintain a comfortable, well-balanced seat.

  The land was beautiful, lush and obviously prosperous. The countryside was covered with rolling vineyards interspersed with crops and cottages. Wildflowers decorated the meadows with splashes of orange and violet and yellow. We had to cross several clear, tinkling little streams that irrigated the green land. From the air and through the cover of night it had reminded me of the Umbria region of Italy. From up close it was more like England’s Lake District, except the hills were more tamed. And it was warmer. And it hadn’t rained. And, well, there weren’t any Brits. But all in all it was a land anyone would be proud to call his or her own.

  It was midmorning when I spied some lovely brush cover (and some soft-leafed plants) next to another stream that bisected our roadway.

  “Could we please take a pit stop here?” I admitted to myself, almost unashamedly, that I sincerely enjoyed any excuse I could find to lean against his body.

  “What type of stop is a pit stop?” ClanFintan’s arms were covered with a thin layer of sweat, but his breathing sounded normal. He was in seriously good shape. (Note to self: yum.)

  “It’s a stop that we use to recharge our energy and, well, to take care of necessary things.” Subjects like going to the bathroom get easier the longer you’re married. The fact that we hadn’t been married very long, coupled with the absence of even a nasty state-run rest stop, was awkwardness waiting to happen. No wonder I felt myself blushing again. “And I’m thirsty.”

  “Oh, of course. I should ha
ve thought of that earlier.” His pace slowed to a trot as we drew closer to the stream. He spoke over his shoulder to the centaurs. “We will take a short—” he smiled at me “—pit stop.”

  To their credit the centaurs tried not to look too confused.

  ClanFintan twisted at the waist and slid his arm around my waist, easily lifting me off the saddle. As my feet touched the ground, I was humiliated to feel them crumple under me and I grabbed for his strong arm. He was quick to understand the problem, and I found myself facing him, securely wrapped in his arms, my feet barely touching the ground.

  “I’m sorry. I think my feet have gone to sleep.” I looked up, waiting to see if he would make fun of my weakness.

  “You need not apologize. You did not complain, so I kept pushing the pace.” His handsome face reflected only concern. “I should have been more considerate of your needs. Here, sit on this felled tree and let me get the circulation moving in your feet again.”

  He helped me over to the skeleton of a fallen tree and lifted me to a seat near the broken trunk. My legs dangled down without touching the ground, and I grabbed at the dry branches to keep my balance. Thus seated I was almost level with his waist, which allowed him to easily pull my boots off one at a time. Then, starting with my right foot, he began firmly kneading and rubbing everything from my numbed pad all the way up my calf and back to my toes.

  I felt suddenly all Marilyn Monroe–like as my eyes went to half-mast and a moan escaped my lips.

  “Too hard?” He looked up from his work.

  “Shh, don’t talk. My leg is having a deep and meaningful experience with your hands. Let’s not interrupt them.”

  He chuckled deep in his throat.

  “Is the feeling coming back to your foot?”

  “All sorts of feelings are coming back to me. Which in particular are you asking about?”

  He just smiled and switched to my other foot.

  “Mmm. You’re very good at that.” I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that a man is much like a puppy—he needs to be praised and rewarded when he does well. “Thank you.”