Page 14 of Last Knight (Knights Through Time #7)
“Of course. Why make a call and be efficient when you can send a man on horseback with a piece of paper? Why not send a pigeon or a turtle?” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I was talking to myself.”
Ashley was still trying to decide if the man who rescued her was some kind of commune-with-nature guy or an actor totally committed to his craft, when he lifted her up on the horse. A ridiculous shriek escaped, making her cheeks burn.
“Have I mentioned I don’t like horses?”
He finished tightening the straps. “’Tis a horse or we walk. My carriage is at home.”
Carriage? Okay. So Mr. Blue Eyes was definitely an actor, and he was obviously not going to break character.
The whole living in the woods with his sword reminded her of an article she read about the guy in The Lord of the Rings who did the same thing, probably where this guy got the idea.
Only an actor would be so single-minded and infuriating.
They were easy enough to recognize—she’d spotted them on the subway or out and about in the city, even dated one or two who’d had small roles in TV shows.
And the one thing she knew for sure? They were all the same. Annoying. Completely self-absorbed.
He swung up on the horse behind her, and as the beast started moving, she slid sideways. A big, warm hand steadied her, the heat searing her skin through the dress.
“Do not fear, demoiselle. I will not let you fall.”
The accent was like a cup of hot chocolate, wrapping her up in warmth and totally delicious.
The guy might be a self-absorbed actor, but she was totally buying the rough and ready yet super-hot knight character.
While an actor might let her fall off the horse, a knight would not.
As they rode out of the clearing and through the woods, she looked for any sign of other campers.
Not a single tent or faded wood building.
What kind of campground was this? The answer came immediately. Christian wanted to be far away from the other actors, camping rough with only his sword. It would explain the sword and authentic-looking daggers in his boots.
A snort escaped. Did someone from craft services leave food by a rock? In an effort to be discreet, Ashley twisted in the saddle to get a look at his ears. Nope, not pointed, so he wasn’t playing an elf.
“Have I seen you in anything?”
“You are seeing me now, Mistress Ashley.”
“Funny. I meant, what movies have you done? TV? Commercials?”
“Your speech is odd. I know not movies and TV and commercials. Are they food where you come from?”
“Never mind. I get it, you’re staying in character. Fine, I’ll play along.”
The horse jolted her to and fro as they cleared the woods. Odd. There were no houses or cars as far as she could see. Not a single paved road, nothing more than a path, and a muddy one at that. No sign of a movie crew. No lights or power lines or cell towers.
Holding her breath, Ashley listened. No sounds of planes, helicopters, or ringing phones.
It was unsettling, like waking up to find herself in the middle of an apocalyptic movie.
This is why she hated the country. There was nothing to do or see; they were in the middle of nowhere.
Had a helicopter dropped this guy off so he could be far away from everyone else? What a diva.
If they were in America, at least there’d be a strip mall or fast food joint by now. But here? A big fat nothing. They passed a man, dressed in similar clothes as Christian, on a rickety cart pulled by a horse.
Okay, she was going with the movie or TV set theory.
A theme park would have made the news, even if it was supposed to be a secret until it opened to the public.
Christian certainly had the model looks down pat.
Oh well, it didn’t matter if she was in the middle of a movie shoot as long as they made their way to people.
With phones. But no more camping. She despised camping.
Her idea of camping was a hotel with no spa services.
The horse shook its head, making her scoot back until she was pressed against her rescuer.
As if the animal knew he made her nervous, he twitched an ear and snorted.
Animals were unpredictable; give her a subway car any day.
She sniffed again, deciding she’d never complain about the smell of a subway station or the back of a cab again as long as she lived.
Smelly or not, she’d ride a horse or a cow as long as the beast got her to the office so she could find out what Mitch had been up to. No doubt he was sabotaging her at this very moment. The guy knew how to network with the old boys’ club, she’d give him that much.
Ashley always had a hair elastic around her wrist or in her purse.
While she’d been a grouchy snot to Christian, she’d grown tired of the wind blowing her hair in her face.
As she reached up to rebraid it, she caught sight of her bangle watch, the one she put on every morning.
Would he think she was weird if she buried it and said a few words?
It pained her to look at the frozen clock hands; it made her feel like time was on fast forward and she was stuck on slow.
Sighing, she coiled the braid into a low chignon.
The wind blew through her, the cold reaching inside of her, turning her organs to popsicles. As if he’d read her mind, he pulled his cloak around them both, the heat flowing into her, as good as any radiator.
The endless countryside combined with the motion of the horse made time stretch and slow. Ashley shifted, her thighs and backside sorer than they’d ever been after an extreme cycling class.
“I swear my butt is numb,” she muttered.
He chuckled but didn’t answer, which was just as well.
“I don’t know how long it takes by horse, but if we rented a car it would only take three hours to get to London, or four as lost as you were, stupid maps app —at least, that’s what I was told. This horse seems like it’s taking an awfully long time. Doesn’t he go any faster?”
“We’ll get there when we get there. You must learn to take the day as it comes.”
Right. First car she spotted, Ashley was stealing his sword and committing grand theft auto.