Chapter 6
Jensen
I wake early again and decide to explore the grounds a little more thoroughly.
I enjoyed my walk yesterday, and I’m positive the fresh air did me good.
I find a large vegetable garden and a small maze on my outing today.
And yes, I do stop briefly to have a nice little daydream about being hotly pursued by a dangerous masked man as I run naked through the maze late at night. But I don’t waste much time doing it.
I have other things to do.
I think it’s much more important to stretch my legs in earnest and get my heart pumping. Exercise is essential, especially in a place like England. You never know when it’s going to rain here, so it’s good to get out when the sun is shining.
Not that the sun is technically shining yet. It’s up, but it’s weak. A soft, filmy light that casts an almost mystical glow around me.
I stretch my legs all the way to the bottom of the front garden, around the bend, and to the paddock that houses the stable.
Then I decide I’ve done enough exercise for one day, so I find a hidden spot and burrow into the shadows behind one of the stable doors.
The day slowly comes to life around me. The light changes from hazy to pinks to bright blues. The glint of frost that adorns the landscape gradually thaws, giving everything it touches a glossy sheen.
It’s warmer today than it was yesterday, but still cold. I lift my collar around my neck and huddle closer to the door to stay out of the worst of the chill, trying not to think about what I’m doing.
I’m successful for quite a while, but when the ridiculousness of my being here becomes impossible to ignore, I get ready to head back to the house, hoping like hell that it isn’t too late to get away without being spotted.
As I peer out from my hiding place, I hear the thunderous sound of hooves pounding the earth. I don’t just hear it. I feel the rhythmic drum of a four-beat footfall under my feet. It shakes the ground beneath me, leaving me a little off kilter.
Lord Augustus appears in my field of vision like something out of a movie. His shirt is untucked, flapping behind him. There’s wind in his hair and he’s moving at speed, at one with his horse.
Dust flies into the air behind him. Hard muscles ripple.
Raven hair is blown back.
A dark mane takes flight.
Black eyes flash wildly.
His eyes, the horse’s - it’s hard to say which because right now they’re one and the same - are laced with whatever it is that makes some things wilder than others. They move like they’re magic. Like they are speed. Like they’re made of air and wind and muscle and bone.
Like raw power, uncaptured and unharnessed.
Like pretty words on a page.
Like poetry written by hand.
I tuck myself tightly behind the stable door as they approach and don’t look out again until I’m positive he hasn’t scented me. I’m downwind of the lord, and I can smell the horse from here, but as usual, I can’t smell the man.
When the horse comes to a stop, he gathers the reins in his left hand and places his right on the pommel. He leans forward slightly and swings his right leg up and over. His feet land on the ground with the agility of someone who has performed the action many, many times.
Lord Augustus unsaddles the horse and loosens the reins, gently prying the bridle from its mouth. When he’s done, he takes a couple of steps toward the hose.
He’s less than twenty yards away from me. My pulse quickens, and so does my breathing. The first flickers of fear flit around me, dancing lightly over my skin. Waking the old, familiar confusion that makes my dick thicken.
I cross my arms tightly over my chest and keep my eyes peeled on the man and the horse.
As he walks, the horse follows him. I don’t know much about horses, but I didn’t know they did this. It looks deliberate. Like an attempt to connect. Like an attempt to have fun. When Lord Augustus becomes aware of it, he stops and smiles before turning to face the horse.
“Gregor,” he says, voice velvet and fond. “Do you want to play with me?”
To my endless shock, it seems that yes, Gregor, the horse, the massive black stallion, does want to play with his human.
Lord Augustus takes several fast paces backward, and the horse nickers and trots after him without hesitation.
He jumps to the side, running a few steps, and the horse follows, kicking its hind legs out behind it playfully as it moves.
Lord Augustus darts back to where he started, and the horse seems to know what to expect from the game because it almost beats him there.
When they meet in the middle, Lord Augustus raises his hand calmly, gently, and the horse follows. It shifts its weight onto its hindquarters, lifting its front legs, and rears, throwing its head back and shaking its glorious mane in a million different directions.
Gregor remains on his hindquarters for a couple of seconds, almost vertical.
Almost mythical. The moor and the paddock are resplendent behind him, dewy greens and chocolate browns.
A stallion and an alpha dance together. The stallion lets out a sharp, shrill sound that should be upsetting, but isn’t.
Instead, there’s something majestic about it.
Something bone-chilling and beautiful. The alpha’s face transforms. Hard lines give way to soft ones.
A gentle, barely there smile tugs at his lips.
A few seconds later, Gregor drops gracefully back onto all fours, and the magic is broken.
As it happens, a comforting scent wafts my way.
An earthy mix of musk, leather, and hay.
I know I said I didn’t like the smell of horses, but this is no ordinary horse.
Gregor is lovely, and he doesn’t smell like other horses do.
Lord Augustus rises to his feet as I enter the dining room and takes his seat again when I take mine, quietly resuming eating his breakfast without a word.
I thought the meal would be less uncomfortable because of the sweet interaction I witnessed between him and Gregor this morning, but it isn’t.
It’s as uncomfortable as always, maybe more so.
His eyes are darker than ever too. Slow to move and dull.
To distract myself, and possibly to prove to myself that I didn’t imagine the playful moment with Gregor, I turn my head when he isn’t looking and inhale quietly.
I’m hoping for a horsey lungful that will remind me that Lord Augustus isn’t the most intimidating man I’ve ever met and is capable of smiling when the planets align.
Sadly, he’s showered and changed, and all of Gregor’s musky goodness has been replaced with plastic nothingness.