Her thighs and groin pressed closely against the pommel and his long, powerful thighs and boulder-hard belly were tight against her back and rump. She could feel his arousal and was savagely pleased that he too suffered. “Tell me your name,” he said as each jolting step of the horse shivered up and down her spine and rocked her intimately against him. “I am Edith.” She fought not to rub herself against his lap. “Edith of lilies. Hush, now!” He ran his hand down her trembling arm, kissing her ear through the cloth of her head-and-face covering. “I swear you have nothing to fear from me. Let us be at peace this evening.” Edith wet her parched lips with her tongue. Before she had closed her eyes, the better to savor his embrace, she had glimpsed a cross and garlands of dying flowers set into a tall bank of soil. “Did we not just pass the shrine?” She felt his laughter throb against her back. “Well spotted. I thought you too distracted to notice, as in truth am I.” He brushed her other arm with his other hand.
