19. Heath
— ? —
Heath
The annual Newport Society Riding Event was a fixture I had attended every year since I was old enough to sit on a horse.
It was one of those traditions that existed purely to remind everyone how wealthy and accomplished we all were. The finest horses, the most expensive riding gear, miles of pristine trails through the kind of manicured countryside that only obscene amounts of money could maintain.
I had never particularly enjoyed it. But this year, watching Delphine pull on her riding boots with a determined expression, I found myself looking forward to it.
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” I asked for the third time.
“I’m fine, Heath.”
“The doctor said you need to avoid stress. Riding can be stressful.”
“The doctor said moderate exercise is good for me. Riding is moderate exercise.” She finished with her boots and stood up, planting her hands on her hips. “Stop hovering.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m expressing reasonable concern for my pregnant wife.”
“You’re hovering.”
I was definitely hovering. But I couldn’t help it. Every time I looked at her, I saw two people now. Delphine and the tiny life growing inside her. The thought of anything happening to either of them made my chest tight with fear.
“Fine,” I said. “But I have one condition.”
“What condition?”
“We ride together. One horse, both of us.”
She stared at me. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s practical. You’re fifteen weeks pregnant. I don’t want you on a horse alone.”
“I’ve been riding since I was twelve.”
“And I’ve been riding since I could walk. Please, Del. For my peace of mind.”
She held my gaze for a long moment, clearly weighing her options. I watched the frustration flicker across her face, watched her consider arguing, watched her finally sigh in resignation.
“Fine. But I’m sitting in front. I refuse to stare at the back of your head for two hours.”
“Deal.”
***
The event was well underway by the time we arrived.
The other riders were already gathered in the courtyard of the Montgomery estate, their horses prancing and snorting in the cold air.
I saw heads turn as we approached, saw the whispers start, saw the curious glances that followed us as I helped Delphine mount the mare I had selected for us.
Let them whisper. Let them stare. I didn’t care what any of them thought.
I swung up behind her, settling into the saddle with practiced ease. The mare shifted beneath us, adjusting to the extra weight, and I felt Delphine tense.
“Relax,” I murmured against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
“I know you do.”
I reached around her to take the reins, my arms bracketing her body, my chest pressed against her back. She fit perfectly in the space I created, the curves of her body molding against mine.
This was a terrible idea. I was acutely aware of every point of contact between us.
The warmth of her through our layers of clothing.
The scent of her hair, floral and clean, tempting me to bury my face in it.
The way she shifted in the saddle, her body moving against mine with every step the horse took.
“Comfortable?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
“Mostly.” She glanced back at me, her eyes catching mine. “Your arms are very... present.”
“Would you prefer I let go?”
“No.” She said it quickly, then seemed to catch herself. “I mean, for safety reasons. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
We set off with the rest of the group, the horses moving in a loose procession along the trail.
The morning was cold and clear, frost still clinging to the grass, our breath fogging in the air.
Delphine’s body relaxed against mine as we fell into the rhythm of the ride, her hands resting on my arms where they held the reins.
She had nowhere else to put them. I tried not to think about that too much.
The trail wound through open fields and into a stretch of dense woodland, the bare trees creating a canopy overhead. The other riders spread out, some pulling ahead, some falling behind, until we found ourselves alone in the middle of the pack with no one close enough to overhear.
“This is nice,” Delphine said softly. “I forgot how much I missed riding.”
“We should do it more often.”
“Maybe.”
My mouth had drifted closer to her ear. I could feel the soft strands of her hair against my lips, could smell the warmth of her skin beneath the cold air.
“You know,” I said, my voice low, “everyone thinks this is terribly romantic.”
“What?”
“Riding together. Sharing a horse. Very old fashioned. Very courtly.”
She turned her head slightly, and suddenly our faces were very close. Her lips were inches from mine, parted slightly, her breath warm on my skin.
“Is that why you suggested it?” she asked.
“I suggested it because I didn’t want you riding alone. The romance is just a bonus.”
Her eyes dropped to my mouth. I felt my pulse quicken, felt the familiar heat building low in my belly. We were so close. It would take nothing to close the distance, to press my lips to hers, to taste her again after the long nights of wanting.
The mare jolted.
A movement at the tree line had spooked her, a rabbit or a squirrel or some other small creature. She lurched to the side, breaking into a quick trot that carried us away from the main trail and into a thick stand of trees.
I tightened my grip on the reins, guiding her away from the commotion, calming her with soft words and a steady hand. When she finally settled, we were well behind the rest of the group, screened by trees, invisible to the other riders.
“Is she okay?” Delphine asked, her voice slightly breathless.
“She’s fine. Just startled.”
I should guide us back to the trail. I should rejoin the group, maintain propriety, behave like a gentleman.
But Delphine was still pressed back against me, and I was hard enough to hurt, straining against my breeches with the entire riding party half a mile up the trail and absolutely nowhere to put it.
Eleven years. That’s the arithmetic of it. Eleven years, one wife, and a woman shifting her weight in a saddle can still do this to me inside of ninety seconds. It’s never gotten smaller. People keep promising it gets smaller.
She shifted in the saddle, and I heard myself groan.
“Del.” My voice came out strained. “Hold still. You’re killing me.”
She shifted again. Deliberately this time. I felt her press back against me, felt the friction of her body against my arousal, and my hands tightened on the reins.
“Am I?” she asked, her voice innocent but her eyes anything but.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Maybe.”
She did it again, a slow roll of her hips that made me see stars. I dropped the reins, trusting the mare to stand still, and let my hand slide down from her waist.
“You want to play?” I put my mouth against her ear. “Fine. Let’s play.”
My fingers found the waistband of her riding pants. She gasped, her body going rigid, but she didn’t stop me as I slipped my hand inside.
“Heath.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Someone could see.”
“No one can see.” I got my hand into her underwear and found her soaked.
Absolutely soaked, from nothing, from twenty minutes of a saddle and my arms around her.
“We’re behind the trees. The others are half a mile ahead.
And you’re dripping, Del, you’ve been sitting in front of all those riders like this. ”
I found the spot that made her breath stutter and worked it in tight little circles, unhurried, cruel about it, while the horse rocked us both forward and drove my fingers deeper than I meant to and she had to swallow the sound she made.
“Quiet,” I breathed against her neck. “You have to be quiet.”
She bit her lip, her head falling back against my shoulder. I could feel her thighs clenching, could feel the tension building in her body, could feel her getting closer with every slow circle of my fingers.
“That’s it.” I pressed my lips to her ear. “Come on my hand with half of Newport riding half a mile ahead of us, sweetheart. Nobody’s looking. Only me. Only ever me.”
She came with a shudder, her whole body convulsing against me, her mouth open in a silent cry. I felt her clench around my fingers, felt the waves of her pleasure ripple through her, and I held her through it, my arm tight around her waist.
When she finally stilled, I pulled my hand free and brought my fingers to my lips.
She turned her head and watched me lick them clean, her eyes dark and heavy.
“Your turn,” she said.
Before I could respond, her hand slipped behind her, finding me through my breeches. I hissed at the contact, my hips jerking involuntarily.
“Del...”
“Fair is fair.” Her fingers traced the outline of me, pressing and stroking through the fabric. “You made me feel good. Let me return the favor.”
She worked me with the ease of a woman who’s had nine years to learn exactly what undoes me. Her grip was firm, her rhythm perfect, her thumb finding the sensitive spot at the tip that made me groan through clenched teeth.
I buried my face in her hair, breathing her in, every muscle in me straining to keep silent. The horse walked on, oblivious, and the rest of the world fell away until there was nothing but her hand and her scent and the pleasure winding to a point I could not hold.
“Come on,” she breathed, her hand not letting up. “You did it to me in front of the whole ride. Your turn. Let me feel what it does to you.”
It tore out of me silent and violent, my whole body locking against her back, and I spilled into my own breeches like a teenager while she stroked me through every last pulse of it, merciless, delighted with herself, wringing me out.
We sat there for a beat, both of us breathing hard, both of us wrecked by what had just happened.
Then Delphine laughed softly, a sound of pure satisfaction.
“Well,” she said. “That’s one way to make a riding event interesting.”
I reached for the reins with shaking hands, guiding the mare back toward the trail. In the distance, I could hear the other riders, their voices carrying through the cold air.
No one had seen. No one had any idea what had just happened in the shadow of these trees.
“We should catch up with the others,” I said, my voice still rough.
“Probably.”
But neither of us moved to urge the horse faster. We just rode slowly through the winter woods, her body warm against mine, my heart full of a feeling I was afraid to name.
“Heath?” she said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Always.”