“Many thanks,” she told him, then swept her attention over the men in the clearing. Several of them were still digging graves for the dogs, and it would take them some time. “Thank you all.”

Hugh lifted her onto his horse, and the beast shifted and pranced at her light weight. But she’d hardly settled on the back, riding astride due to her man’s breeches, when Hugh swung up in front of her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and prepared for a long ride back to Clarendon.

Mal rode at the head of the small contingent. Dirick of Ludingdon was next to him, but they trotted along in silence. Somewhere behind was Lady Judith, sitting on the back of de Rigonier’s horse, her hose-clad legs clamped around the beast in an unfeminine manner, her arms around the man. That, Mal found, was a mental image nearly as bothersome as the one he’d had on the journey to find her. And so he trained his attention on other matters.

They would be fortunate to reach Clarendon before sundown, but at the least they were a large enough group—as well as armed and armored—that they needn’t fear any threat from bandits or wild animals.

The group was less than an hour into its journey when a shout from behind caught Mal’s attention. He reined in Alpha and turned to see a cluster of his companions standing in the road. Some had dismounted and others merely gathered around de Rigonier’s horse. He could see Judith’s bright hair among the group. She was standing on the ground aback from the men, and though any other woman might be complaining or weeping about the delay, about being tired or cold or hungry…she was merely standing there watching.

Muttering a curse, Mal directed Alpha back to them.

“Horse threw a shoe,” de Rigonier’s squire told him as Mal and Dirick drew up.

“Bad luck, that,” Mal said, then glanced at Judith. She wouldn’t be riding on the back of that horse any longer. He firmly squelched his rush of glee when he noticed how her shoulders slumped. She looked bedraggled and exhausted. Yet she held her chin high and made no complaint, and Mal felt a niggle of admiration for her composure. He’d known squires—aye, and even men—who’d been through less trauma and spewed complaints.

Dirick dismounted, handing the reins to his squire. “Lady Judith, may I help you up? I am fair certain Warwick’s Alpha can easily handle another small weight such as yours.”

Judith’s attention flew from Dirick to Mal, her eyes widening as she took in the distance he sat off the ground. As if to emphasize his strength and size to the tiny woman, Alpha stamped and shimmied then gave a snort. Mal tightened the reins to check the beast, then before he could think better of it, reached down and scooped up Judith around the waist.

She gave a surprised squeak as she went airborne, clutching Mal’s arm as he plopped her firmly on the saddle in front of him. “Well,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That was unexpected.”

Dirick’s face was turned away as he took back his own reins, but Mal caught the hint of a smile curving his cheek. He grimaced, tamping down a burst of chagrin at his overeagerness to assist Lady Judith. Fool.

“Thus our party has shrunk yet again,” Dirick said to the group at large after vaulting into his saddle. “Warwick and I will continue on. Bethrel, Fredrick, Mark, come you with us. The others will catch up to you soon enough, once their task in the forest is done,” he added to the grounded de Rigonier, who was surrounded by his squire and two men-at-arms.

Mal was only vaguely aware of these arrangements as they were being made, for there were arrangements of his own that must be attended to. Lady Judith, once settled onto the saddle in front of him, had adjusted herself so she sat astride rather than sidesaddle. This meant that Mal, who sat behind and had an easy view down the front of her, couldn’t help but notice the way her widespread thighs gripped the sides of their mount…something that would never have happened if she’d been wearing a proper gown.

He felt mortifyingly lightheaded for a moment as a variety of fantasies galloped through his mind, then firmly redirected his thoughts—and gaze—upward to the road in front of them. But as Judith jounced along in the seat, her curvy behind nestled into his widespread thighs, Mal had countless other disturbing thoughts with which to contend.

He was required to ride with one arm banded around her middle and the other holding the reins, blocking her in on one side. Despite his arm settling over the relatively innocent span of Judith’s midriff, Mal couldn’t be more aware of the curve of her breasts just above. And since she’d thrown herself into his arms upon her rescue, he was fully aware of how soft and curvy she was…everywhere. Once, she bent to the side to adjust her shoe or boot and the underside of one breast came perilously close to brushing against his mail-clad arm.

And then there was the matter of her hair. Directly below his chin bounced her head with its fiery braid, smelling of flowers and pine and some other scent that made his insides tighten and shiver. Wispy curls freed from their moorings fluttered into his face.

He couldn’t bear to think about her warmth seeping into his thighs and groin—burning even through the hauberk, mail sherte, and chausses he wore. Or so it seemed. His cock responded accordingly, filling and straining uncomfortably inside his hose. But there was naught he could do to relieve the situation without announcing his condition to the very person who caused it.

Hell. He should have insisted she ride with Ludingdon, who hadn’t even noticed another woman since his betrothal and wedding to Maris of Langumont. Yet at the same time, Mal realized this was the closest he’d likely ever be to the wench who’d taunted and teased him—knowingly and unknowingly—for more than a decade.

“Did you fall off your horse?”

Judith’s question snatched Malcolm’s attention abruptly from his private, tortuous musings to the present. “Fall off my horse?” he repeated, sure he hadn’t heard her properly. “By the rood, what nonsense do you speak?”

She turned to look up at him, her hips sliding mercilessly around his inner thighs. Her hand reached across as she twisted so she could grip the arm he held alongside her. “When you first came into the clearing, you were on your horse. Then you came back without him. I bethought you fell—”

“Lady Judith,” he interrupted, hardly able to keep his voice from a bellow, “I do not fall off my horse. Ever. I have not fallen from a mount since I was ten summers. And even that ’twas because I took too high a jump.”

“Oh,” she replied. She was silent for a moment—not nearly long enough, in his estimation—before she said, “Now I understand. You didn’t wish for Alpha—is that his name, then?—to be injured by the dogs. And so you sent him away and came back on foot?”

“Aye,” he replied tightly.

“But how did you get him back? He might have been lost in the forest, and you without a horse.”

“Alpha—aye, that is his name—is trained to come at my whistle.”

“I heard a whistle when I was still in the tree, and then a horn, but—”

Mal drew in a long, Judith-scented breath, then exhaled slowly. Could she not just sit and ride silently, leaving him to his private musings? “If you must know the entire tale, I caught a tree branch and let Alpha run out from beneath me.”

“You did?” she said, her eyes widening in wonder. “At such a speed?”

He could not allow himself to indulge in the internal warmth that came with her admiration and responded brusquely, “Aye. Then I whistled a call to Gambert so that he and Nevril would know where I was—they were some distance behind me. He blew the horn to notify de Rigonier, Castendown, and the others, for we had divided ourselves into groups in our search for you. Did not you have this conversation already with de Rigonier?”

“Nay,” Judith replied, still half-turned on his lap. Her mouth was tantalizingly close. Not to mention the sweet curve of her bottom. Mal forced his attention to the road ahead. “Hugh spent much of the journey thus far assuring himself that I was well, and then lecturing me about riding out with such little protection. I hardly was able to speak at all.”

“De Rigonier had the right of it,” Mal said sternly. “I dare not ask how you thought to be safe with a single man-at-arms at your side.” Irritation flared, then he reminded himself he had no reason to be overly concerned with her safety. At the least, no more than he would be for any maiden.

“I have done so many a time,” she retorted flatly. “And as I was dressed thusly, never would I have been mistaken for aught other than a boy riding with his father.”

Mal gave a derisive snort, but forbore to point out that her long braid—not to mention the not-at-all-hidden curves—would have betrayed her gender in an instant. He was trying valiantly not to think about those curves. Man, you have been without a woman for overlong.

“We could not have expected the danger we found. How many packs of mad, wild dogs have you encountered in your journeys?” she demanded. “Wild boars, mayhap—and Piall could easily have evaded those lumbering creatures. But wild dogs? And a whole pack?”

“Not a one but for today,” he admitted. “But one must remember that dangers are never expected, Lady Judith. That is why they are called dangers.”

She hmphed, jolting in her seat. Then she turned back around toward the front.

Mal had hardly relaxed when she twisted to face him once more. This time, her breast came even more dangerously close to bumping his arm. And he was not going to think about where the pressure of her hip and bottom was. How close it was to hi—

“How did you come to find me? How did you even know I was in distress?”

“Your mare,” he said, his voice thick. He swallowed, put the dangerous thoughts firmly from his mind. “Somehow she knew to return to Clarendon. She was recognized and we gathered our search party together. ’Twas mostly luck that I found you so quickly, but the birds of prey circling above the trees helped.”