Her Grace's Stable: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 2 (8 page)

“No. I’m punishing him much more severely.”

“I hope I didn’t offend you with my ignorant comment. Of course you wouldn’t hurt him.”

Violet let out a husky laugh. “Oh, I would certainly hurt him under the right circumstances. If he wanted me to give him pain for his own gratification, I’d be perfectly willing and able to deliver his most painful wishes.”

“You would enjoy it?” Dottie asked in a small voice, lacking any sort of condemnation but revealing only honest curiosity.

“Yes, I would, if he were enjoying it too.”

“Then why didn’t you whip him just now? I don’t know a thing about horses but even I could tell he was deliberately disobeying your commands.”

The hair prickled on the base of Violet’s neck. Although she didn’t hear his stealthy approach, she didn’t need the faint quiver of her friend’s glance behind her to know he was close. She could almost feel his body heat burning her back. “If he looks me in the eye and begs me to whip him until he cries like a baby, I’ll give him exactly what he requests. But I won’t be manipulated into giving him anything. He doesn’t want me to hurt him so he can enjoy it. He wants me to hurt him so he can lump me in with every other woman who’s betrayed him and I shan’t do it.”

He bumped her with his shoulder, not with his full weight, but too playfully to win her favor. He certainly wasn’t apologetic enough. Unrelenting in her silent disapproval, she turned her back on him again, shifting so she could still look at Dottie. “If you’re sincerely interested in learning how to handle a pony, I’ll talk to Dain and see if he knows of a pony who’s able to instruct as well as run.”

Violet had known he’d be a real challenge. Not just physically, but mentally. He was a strategist, a line crosser, and too headstrong by far to settle into an easy routine like what she had with Cole.
Which is regrettably why I’m so attracted to the big beast in the first place. He won’t be easy by far.

Add to that challenge the knowledge that Cole desired him, and she ached to bring the two men together in her ring…and her bed. However, she couldn’t sit down with Arthur and get him to communicate his true name, let alone whether he’d be interested in sharing a man with her. Frustration made her voice sharper than usual, and her tongue willing to throw barbs that her heart couldn’t face. “I’d offer Cole’s services but he’s rather busy at the moment. Lately he’s developed a taste for men which makes keeping him exclusively mine impossible.”

He’ll never be exclusively mine ever again.

Reflexively, she touched her chest, although the pain radiating from her heart had nothing to do with her disease.

Arthur growled, deep and vicious in his throat like that first night of his rescue. Not because she was ignoring him, Violet decided, nor even because he was afraid she might spill his secret with a stranger. He didn’t like the idea of her farming out her pony to other partners. Because if she’d send Cole to another woman’s bed, then someday, she might send Arthur, and he was making his displeasure known here and now even though she couldn’t—and perhaps never would—call him hers.

He’ll never willingly run the ring for another mistress once I’ve fully won his trust.

And then what am I going to do to ensure his safety and happiness once consumption eats away my lungs?
Sorrow pierced her so viciously she touched her chest again, unable to draw breath.
In that regard, perhaps I should leave him with Cole. At least they’ll have each other once I’m gone.

“Are you well, dearest?” Dottie pressed the back of her hand against Violet’s cheek as though checking for a fever. “You’re clammy and pale.”

She mustered a smile. “I’m just a little weary. I’m not used to running two horses about the ring, let alone one as fiery as my new stallion.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.” Violet held her friend’s gaze and winked suggestively, hoping she’d play along. “So have you enjoyed what you’ve seen so far? See anything you’d like to try out yourself?”

Bless dear Dottie, she accepted the gauntlet effortlessly. “How about this big stud you keep teasing me with? I’ve never seen such a delicious brute running about the ring before.”

Perfect.

Arthur snorted again, whether in disbelief or disgust Violet couldn’t tell. But the effect was the same. He crowded close against her back and hung his head over her shoulder. Whether he was claiming her or hoping she would claim him, she wasn’t sure.

“Well…” He nickered again and swung his head toward hers, bumping his chin on the top of her head. “That’s up to him. He won’t even speak to me, and without his approval, I won’t offer his services. They’re not mine to negotiate.”

Tension leaked out of his body until he leaned into her.

She took that moment of surrender by seizing a handful of his hair and dragging his head around so she could glare into his eyes. “If you desire true punishment, you must ask me. I won’t deliver pain to you without your request. So help me God, if you disobey my commands again, I won’t step foot in this ring with you and that’s final. Do you understand?”

He lifted his head enough that she had to exert force to keep him where she wanted, showing what kind of pain and force he’d like from her hand. But then he relented enough to dip his head in acquiescence. Not Cole’s fond head-to-head affection, but for now, it was enough.

Chapter Seven

“I have some information about our special guest.” Cole didn’t look at her and pitched his voice low for her ears only.

Dressed in his best livery, he stood at attention beside Violet’s chair. Other staff moved throughout the parlor offering trays of various finger foods to the richly dressed visitors.

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

A broad lady with remarkably short, stocky legs—regretfully encased in tight breeches—approached. The grim expression on her sagging, heavily jowled face promised to accomplish a most dreaded deed forthwith. Only those who knew her would recognize that as her normal expression.

Lady
was not exactly how one referred to the Countess of Eagleton despite her title, for the woman always wore manly garb unless the threat of the Queen’s presence forced her to don more acceptable garments. In pony circles, everyone referred to her as Basset, for she truly did resemble the long-bodied, short-legged hound.

During her apprenticeship years ago in the ring, Violet had called her many less charitable names, though she grudgingly had to admit the woman was a fantastic mistress.
She’d have Arthur harnessed and begging to lick her toes in a jiffy. While he still refuses to give me a single word.

“Blackmyre,” the woman boomed. “A word with you.”

Violet sighed and marshaled her most serene expression.
It would serve me right if Cole asks for Basset as his next mistress.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Shocked, she stole a glance up at him, afraid she might have muttered that thought aloud. And worse, that he was agreeing.

He grinned at the appalled look that must be on her face. “Tomorrow will be fine, Your Grace.”

Irritated by the knowing look in his eyes as much as the relief surging through her, Violet stood to meet her old mentor on her feet. “Lady Eagleton, thank you so much for coming to Blackmyre.”

Eagleton gripped her hand in a punishing bear-like shake that almost buckled her knees. “Have you heard about some nefarious goings-on down on the Thames?”

She shouldn’t be surprised that news had reached Eagleton. The woman had the nose of a bloodhound, especially when it came to protecting their small community. Which was exactly why Eagleton had taken Violet under her wing after her father had died.
In some ways, she’s the mother I never had. And we have the angst-filled disagreements to prove it.
“Yes, I have.”

“So I can trust you to take care of it.”

Violet opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t refuse that hang-dog face. Not after everything the woman had done for her.
Besides, I fully intend to see Arthur avenged anyway.
“Of course.”

“Excellent. Dain tells me you took on a new project.”

“Yes,” Violet answered slowly, unsure where this discussion was going.

“That he’s quite the challenge.” Basset studied her appraisingly, cataloguing every betraying twitch of her eyebrows and tiny wrinkle about her tightened lips.

“And you think I’m not up to the challenge?”

Basset turned her attention to Cole. “I didn’t say that.”

Despite his impeccable discretion, staring straight ahead as if blind and mute, a faint wariness radiated from his tense shoulders. He was poised, whether to flee or attack, Violet couldn’t be sure. He could be very protective of her, even from her mentor. In the early days of their relationship, Basset had made it clear that she didn’t approve. A mistress shouldn’t be so completely devoted to her pony, nor the pony so blindly dedicated to his mistress. It wasn’t healthy, so she claimed.

Part of Violet understood that now.
When I die, it’ll break his spirit. He’ll never find the same kind of satisfaction and happiness with another mistress.

But mostly her heart refused to surrender its fierce grip on Cole short of death, and from the tension vibrating in him, so did his.

“Interesting,” Basset drawled, turning her attention back to Violet.

Barely, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes or stick out her tongue at that smug, knowing look. Irritated that Basset managed to reduce her to a recalcitrant toddler, Violet refused to respond.

“Now I know why you’ve set up this impromptu gathering. He’s not wearing your collar any longer.”

Violet couldn’t help but flinch and Cole’s hand rose toward his neck before he snapped back to attention. With his fine uniform in place, no one should have noticed the lack of collar, but Basset had managed to sniff out that little tidbit.

“I want to meet your new project.”

Blinking rapidly, Violet let a dozen fierce retorts fire through her mind until she settled on, “Why?”

“He’ll tell me what sort of problem you find yourself in.”

“I’m not in trouble.”

Basset smiled kindly. “Of course not. Shall we?” At the stupefied look that must be on Violet’s face, her mentor took her arm and started her walking toward the door. “Isn’t that why you invited us all anyway? To show us your fabulous stable? Come along, everyone. The tour’s beginning!”

Forking another dirty pile of hay into the wheelbarrow, Arthur straightened at the noise coming toward him. A woman’s booming voice echoed down the aisle, followed by the rising noise of chatter. Cole had warned him to keep a low profile today and to watch discreetly from a safe distance, but he hadn’t expected the party to make its way toward Her Grace’s private stable for at least another hour.

His first instinct was to hightail it to his room as quickly as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was meet a bunch of mistresses. Not that he was afraid of them.

If I kill someone again, Lady Blackmyre won’t help me. She won’t…

Teach me? Tame me to her seductive hand?

Could he actually look upon one of the so-called ladies who’d tormented him and not rip her limb from limb?
But that’s exactly what my mistress has ordered.

That thought froze him solid like a sheet of ice. Panting, he trembled, his mind shaking between blinding fear and choking dread and, most ridiculous of all, exhilaration. My
mistress? Have I already surrendered to her in my mind, the most dangerous place of all?

Leading the way down the aisle, Cole noticed Arthur standing in the stall and his step hesitated. The man shot a warning look and gave him a small shake of his head, and then quickened his stride toward the hidden stable at the rear.

Arthur drew back into the shadows as the guests began passing. Lady Blackmyre followed, arm in arm with a larger lady. He narrowed his gaze on her face. She smiled and chatted, apparently fine, but there was a harsh firmness to her features that told him she wasn’t entirely pleased to be in the woman’s clutches.

Pulling his attention to the other women, Arthur scanned each face, looking for anyone remotely familiar. Other than possibly vague social introductions, he couldn’t recall making any of the other ladies’ acquaintances. He let out a relieved breath as the last woman stepped into the rear stable.

He began to turn back toward his work, but the open door snagged his attention. What sort of party was Lady Blackmyre having? Was she going to demonstrate something with Cole? They hadn’t been dressed for pony play. In fact, that fine gown she wore would have been acceptable in any drawing room in Town. Of course the large woman had been wearing breeches, so surely it wasn’t a formal gathering.

Curiosity drew him closer. He crept up the aisle, hanging in the shadowed doorways until he was sure no one was paying him any mind. Guests milled about the ring and the box seats. Someone requested to see Lady Blackmyre’s equipment, so with her nod, Cole went trotting off to fetch some of the tack.

“Hello.”

A woman spoke into Arthur’s ear, that one whispered word echoing with wicked amusement. Startled, he stumbled back and came up hard against a stall door.