Her Grace's Stable: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 2 (19 page)

“Only that you would explain everything.”

Violet sighed.
Of course, she’d leave me to do all the dirty work.

Wellington cleared her throat. “First, I must offer my sincere regrets with some explanation about my recent deplorable behavior.”

To hide her shock, Violet picked up her cup and concentrated on sipping it with a hopefully guarded but not antagonistic look.

“It seems that I may have misjudged you.”

Violet clenched her jaw and fought to keep the angry retort from blurting out.
I’ve never met you, I’ve never done anything to you, but you’ve done nothing but spread gossip about my family and me ever since I can remember.

“You see, my argument was actually with the late Dowager Duchess over a rather…delicate matter. I assumed that you knew all the horrible details, but I fear that may not be the case. Garret assures me that you’ve been nothing but honorable in all dealings with him and even saved him the other morning. Not to mention Her Majesty’s trust in you and assurances that you’ve been instrumental in finding Arthur. If you’re truly ignorant of my old dealings with Blackmyre, then I sincerely apologize, Your Grace.”

Schooling her face, Violet tried not to show how absolutely lost she was. “You argued with the Dowager?”

Wellington sighed. “This isn’t known by anyone else to my knowledge. I doubt even the Queen knows of it, though her Ravens flock to every scrap of innuendo or inflammatory situation. How much do you remember about your father, Blackmyre?”

“You’re not going to try and tell me that Arthur’s descended from my father through some illicit affair, are you?”

Wellington roared with laughter. “Only if my husband were able to bear children.”

“What?”

“Some said the late Duke of Blackmyre was too fond of his stable.” Wellington stared down at her hands, twisting her signet ring on her finger. “My husband enjoyed the Duke’s stable as well.”

“Oh, dear,” Violet replied faintly.

“Indeed.” Wellington laughed grimly. “Your mother couldn’t just tell me that our husbands were having an affair. She set me up to catch them in an unfortunate act in the stable.”

Violet couldn’t help but wince. She could well imagine what sort of equine scene Wellington might have caught them in.
The same kind of scene she’d catch me in with her grandson and Cole.

“Naturally, I feared the scandal, even after all these years. Then you hit Town and the scandals and gossip around Blackmyre continued. I assumed the worst, that you knew every gory detail about my family and so I foolishly did everything in my power to continue the negativity centered about your House. It wasn’t until the Dowager attempted to disown you that I realized you might have been wrongly maligned, and if so, I sincerely apologize.”

“In that regard, I’m far from innocent. I earned my nickname, Wellington. My mother hated my father, and since I took after him, she hated me too. After my father’s death, I was determined to do everything I could to ruin her House. I very nearly succeeded, until the Queen refused to allow the Dowager to disown me.”

“So when Arthur came to me with his unique
problem
…” Wellington glanced up, and tears shone in her eyes. “I should have contacted you immediately. You of all people would have been perfectly capable of assisting him. Instead, in my pride and fear of scandal, I sent him to a private school, from which he promptly disappeared. Only after I threatened to level them to the ground did someone finally admit what had happened to him.”

Violet fought to keep her emotions reined in, but her eyes filled with tears too and her hands trembled so badly that she very nearly sloshed tea on her gown. “They almost killed him. They very nearly destroyed him. If I hadn’t gotten to him…”

“I know,” Wellington whispered, her voice breaking. “I should have simply swallowed my pride and contacted you. By the time I knew he was in danger, it was too late. You did…are…helping him?”

“Yes.” Violet cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, determined to do this right with all the formality and honor he deserved. “In fact, in helping Mr. Wellesley, I discovered that I’d fallen in love with him. Lady Wellington, I’ve come to ask for your grandson’s hand in marriage.”

Wellington’s mouth fell open and she looked from Violet to her other grandson beseechingly. “You love him? Despite… I mean, well, I mean no offense…”

Violet smiled and the other woman blanched.
Hateful woman. Despite knowing her pride nearly killed him, she doesn’t think he’s worthy because of a physical need that she can’t understand.
“He’s promised to overlook my unfortunate reputation as the Black Duchess, for which I’m eternally grateful.”

Garrett rushed over to kiss Violet’s hand, and this time she didn’t mind the lack of her gloves. “I knew he’d like you, Your Grace. May I be the first to offer my congratulations?”

“Here now, boy, I haven’t consented to let Arthur marry Blackmyre.”

Smiling so hard her face hurt, Violet stood. “Queen Majel has some news for you pending our engagement. Perhaps you should give her a call. In the meantime, considering your fear of scandal—and counting the number of nights he’s been in the Black Duchess’s wicked clutches—you may decide to reconsider. It’d be a shame if we were forced to marry by the army’s edict before all the marriage settlements could be finalized and you lost out on all my money.”

From the sudden wash of paleness on Wellington’s face, Violet had aimed that blow true.

“I intend to marry Mr. Wellesley tomorrow evening at Blackmyre’s…” She hesitated, narrowing her gaze. She very nearly said
stable
just to see Wellington’s reaction. “…chapel. I’m sure he’d appreciate his family’s public support.”

Chapter Seventeen

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Arthur looked up from his work. Her Grace’s saddle was spread across his lap and he lovingly polished every inch of the leather until it gleamed. Lady Blackmyre smiled warmly at him, but he noted the tightness about her mouth and her high color. “Are you feeling well, Your Grace?”

“I’m fine.” She waved off his concern. “I’ve just returned from Wellington’s.”

“Ah, that explains why you look like you need to smash something.”

She picked up the riding crop he’d already polished and thoughtfully twirled it in her hand. “I’d actually like to beat something. Or perhaps chase a pony around the ring.”

Heat flooded him. Pausing until he was sure he had control of himself, he carefully set the saddle aside and stood. “Is that a promise, Your Grace?”

“You’d like to be beaten? Or chased?”

“Both, if it’s you doing it.”

Without another word, she left the tack room and headed toward the private stable at the rear. Arthur followed, his boots ringing on the wood floor, but his head already heard hooves. He tossed his head, simmering with growing need.
Now that I’ve surrendered the battle, I intend to enjoy every single torturous pleasure she’ll give me.

Still dressed in the formal calling gown of pale green silk, she was the epitome of a privileged lady of the
ton
. She certainly wasn’t dressed for riding, but with that crop in her hand and the formidable sense of presence and will that radiated from her, she was all mistress.
My Mistress.

Locking the door behind him, she hesitated and dropped her head against the wood for a moment.

“Your Grace? Shall I call Dr. Miles?”

“No, no, I’m fine, truly. Whatever the Queen did to me has been miraculous.” Her voice was tight, though, vibrating with strain, and she kept her gaze averted. “I need to know what your limits are, Arthur. What do you want me to do, and what do you need me to avoid?”

Concern tempered his need. “I want it all, Your Grace, but if you’re not up to it…”

“Bloody hell,” she retorted, whirling around to face him. She slammed her hand holding the crop into his chest and pushed him back against the wall. “I’m so up to it that I don’t want to undo our hard work and destroy the trust I’ve finally earned. Tell me now what you need me to avoid so I don’t cross the line.”

His heart pounded, blood singing in his veins, but he couldn’t help but marvel at her strength. This dainty-looking lady had slammed him against the wall with one hand. “You’ve been holding back on me, Mistress.”

“Of course I have. The last thing I wanted to do was earn your hatred.”

“That’s a very pretty gown.”

She narrowed her gaze and slid the crop up under his chin, pinning his throat. “So it is. I foolishly thought I’d wear my best to meet your grandmother. If you’re so interested in my wardrobe, I’ll give you a tour later after I whip your arse for not answering my question.”

“If you value it, perhaps you should go change into something you won’t mind me tearing off you.”

She pressed the crop harder, letting him feel the pressure on his windpipe. He could still breathe, but it was definitely a warning. “What else?”

“I want it all,” he repeated, letting his voice go smoky with lust. “I want you to shove that tail inside me. I want your bridle, your harness, your whip, the grimmest, meanest mistress in Britannia driving me around the ring as hard as I can go. And when I can’t control myself anymore, the stallion is going to try his best to split you apart.”

She stepped back and lowered the crop. “Remove your clothes.”

“You’re magnificent,” Violet whispered, smoothing her oiled palms over his chest. “So much power, so much strength. If I didn’t need you so badly, I’d simply rub you down for hours.”

He made a low nicker and brushed his cheek against hers. Affection, but also a reminder to hurry. He’d already sunk into his pony role. She suspected he’d find it difficult to speak words. Perhaps that was why he’d been able to refuse to speak to her for so long.
He sinks so deeply into his pony mind that words no longer matter.

She poured more oil into her hands and trailed her fingers in a slippery path down to his groin. He groaned deep in his throat and thrust his hips forward, begging for a deeper caress. She gripped his cock in a firm squeeze. “I think this needs some ornamentation.”

He pushed harder against her hand, not withdrawing or showing any fear after the horrible contraption in which they’d found him.

“I have a cock ring that might suit you. Delicate chains attach to it.” He quivered, another low, rough sound escaping his chest. “Another day when I want you to show me your stamina, I’ll use it. Today, I don’t care how many times you release. In fact, I want to see how many times you can climax and then recover. So no rings today to help you hold back.” Leaning against him, she trailed her oiled hand down the crease between his buttocks, preparing the way for his tail. “Besides, I don’t want anything in the way when you’re ready to come inside me.”

His tack jingled as he shifted in place, not moving exactly, but showing his impatience and excitement with the slight movements of his body.

“Have you ever had anything in this tender hole?”

He quivered again and tossed his head in a decidedly negative fashion.

She gave him a low chuckle. “Then you’re in for a treat, my boy. We’ll take it slow and easy. Nothing like when you took Cole.”

Rubbing her hand up and down his buttocks, she simply massaged him while spreading oil, getting him used to her touch in such a foreign place. She kept her left hand on his cock, holding him steady but also giving him the distraction of pleasure to mix with the discomfort and unease. For he was uneasy. He gave a little side step to one side and then stepped back, as if he couldn’t stand still, but was determined to stay too.

Circling her index finger in easy strokes, she whispered to him. “There, now, my mighty stallion. This feels good, yes? I know you want that glorious tail, but this is very different for you. It feels shockingly good, doesn’t it? So dirty and yet so, so good. Imagine what Cole felt as you surged into him, filling him up.”

His cock gave a mighty surge in her hand, so she picked up the tail. Strands tickled the backs of his thighs and he quivered, his body painfully alert and tense. Pumping him in her hand, she deliberately played with him, letting the tail swish against him, up and down his buttocks, his knees, even flicking it up so it fluttered over his shoulders and back. Sweat dripped from him and he was so hard and swollen in her hand that she knew he was close to release.

Slowly, she began to push the plug into him. He blew hard, a low growl rattling his chest. The first pulse of climax tore through him. He strained against her grip, head thrown back, arching into the dual pleasures surging through him. The tail slid into place and he let out a wordless roar of release. But he didn’t tremble and sag against her like Cole.

Arthur leapt away in a dead run.

Like that first day in the ring, he simply ran, relishing the newfound freedom he found in the pony role. He might wear her harness, but he was no slave. No submissive. He thundered around the ring with the bit in his teeth, his tail streaming behind him, and took her very breath.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. For the first time, he was complete and whole. A man who’d nearly been destroyed, who’d fought to keep his secrets hidden for fear of losing his family and position of command. Now he was free. Free to be who he was.