Free Waterfall by Lisa Tawn Bergren Page B

back as he mounted, trying to find a secure seat on the horse’s rump by bringing my right leg slightly up beneath the skirt and tentatively wrapping my arms around his torso.
    I tightened my grip as he grabbed the reins and turned his horse around. He was strong, with not an ounce of fat on him. I could feel muscle beneath his tunic. He smelled of wood fire and leather and earth and sweat. All … man. I shoved down a sudden, silly, stupid, insufferable shiver, of all things, and focused on the men in front of him, again atop their own steeds, my horse tied to the back of Lucas. They openly gaped at me, behind Marcello.

    Paratore’s men had receded into the wood, fifty feet off, watching us. Making sure we were leaving as promised, I guessed.
    Luca frowned at Marcella “M’lord, unless you wish for tongues to wag, mayhap it’s best she ride with me.”
    “Nay. She rides with me. At least until we are out of these woods.”
    Luca’s face eased, and I steeled myself as Marcello moved his horse into a light trot. I glanced back at Paratore, searching his face. He was hurting, curious, but that was all I could read in his eyes. If he had Lia, would he not have said something? Taunted us with it?
    In twenty minutes, we were out of the woods and at a crossroads, presumably leading to either Siena and Firenze-the Italians’ name for Florence. Marcello dismounted and then raised his hands to my waist, lifting me down. I kept my eyes averted, for some reason feeling suddenly shy. Maybe it was because his men stared at us.
    “We’re out of Paratore territory,” he explained as he took my hand and led me to my own horse. I saw that one of his men, riding behind us, had retrieved the cursed sidesaddle from its stash in the forest and had once again firmly settled it atop my gelding.
    Marcello gave me a small smile and handed me a leather band. “At least bind your hair behind you,” he said lowly. “It won’t do for the women of the castello to see you riding through the gates, hair loose as a maid’s on her wedding day. You’ll never find a moment’s peace. Nor shall I.”
    I looked up into his warm eyes, searching for a glimpse of judgment. There was none. Only warning. And a tinge of .. admiration.

    I took the band from his fingers. He lifted me to the stupid sidesaddle and helped me lodge my feet-now totally filthy, I saw with a grimace-into the hidden stirrups. He handed me the reins with one more lingering look. Our fingers touched briefly, and heat seared my cheeks. He smiled ever so slightly-okay, now what was that about?-and then returned to his own horse.
    I shook my head a little, staring at the hoofprints in the sandy soil. I finally meet a guy who’s interesting, and who seems to have a half-interest in me, and it is TOTALLY the wrong time and place. I glanced up at the sky. If You’re out there, God, this is COMPLETELY unfair.
    The men were falling back into line, preparing to set off, and I did the same. But my eyes kept crawling back to Marcello. Do not fall for him, Gabi. It is impossible. Impossible! Wrong, on so many levels.
    I could see my friend Keisha back home in the States giving me the oh-no-you-didn’t finger wave and shaking her frizzy head. I always tried to do it, but could never pull it off in quite the same way.
    Keisha. Hannah. Steph. Images of my friends’ faces from home flashed through my mind, making me take a sharp intake of breath. I had to get back. To my own time. To my family. To my friends.
    But first I had to find Lia. Make sure she wasn’t trapped here too. We had to return home… together.
    I cleared my throat. “Sir Marcello?”
    He glanced back at me.
    “Were we to stop in town? Inquire to see if anyone has seen my sister? Or my mother?”
    He looked at me for a long moment, his eyebrows lowering, and then his eyes quickly scanned his men whose expressions said I’d stepped out of bounds. Apparently people didn’t ask a young lord his plans. Ridiculous! I was