Several hours later, their morning frolic was just a fond, distant memory for Mother. It had all been fine, with Leo and Felix returning from their ride and Vasily tending to their horses while Mother supervised the rest of his staff. But then one of the young grooms in the general stables had left a gate open. Before Mother could do anything other than shout a warning, a newly purchased and untrained yearling had bolted without so much as a leading rope. Mother hadn’t hesitated to take off after it on horseback before it got away completely.
It had taken him, Vasily, and Ollie an hour to corner the yearling, and it had still been the devil’s own job to catch him and get a rope on him. In the end it had been Ollie, with his calm approach and gentle demeanour, who’d managed to slip a halter onto the trembling, wide-eyed horse, making soft, soothing sounds all the while.
It was further proof that Ollie would make an excellent groom, and Mother decided he’d talk to the boy about apprenticing him.
He slid from his horse, hissing between his teeth at the sharp ache in his arse when his boots hit the ground. If he’d known he’d be riding today, he might not have let Vasily plough his arse last night—generally, they’d learned to account for such things. Although then again, he might have. It always felt so damnably good, and when Vasily flashed his wicked smile, Mother found him impossible to say no to.
He walked his horse back to the yard to find Vasily in the stables, his freshly groomed mount already in her stall. His face lit up when he saw Mother. “I wondered where you’d gotten to. Why didn’t you ride back?”
Mother raised an eyebrow, and Vasily tried and failed to keep the satisfied smile off his face. But he also took the reins from Mother and removed his horse’s saddle, waving away Mother’s offer of help. “You sit. I’ll do it.”
He wanted to object but his aching muscles won, and Mother sank gratefully onto a low stool and watched as Vasily groomed the horse with long, sweeping arcs of the brush, giving Mother a most pleasant view of the planes of his back flexing under his shirt. Vasily moved expertly, and it didn’t take him long to finish the task. He petted the horse’s nose and murmured sweet nothings that would have made Mother jealous, if he hadn’t had the man in his bed just last night.
Vasily checked the water and bolted the stall before turning to Mother. “This is going to sound terrible,” he said, “and I’d never hurt anyone deliberately, but part of me likes that you can feel where I’ve been the next day.” He wrinkled his nose, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks. “Like you’re…you’re mine.”
He was earnest and apologetic all at once, and Mother’s stomach swooped pleasantly at the wordmine.
He strode over to Vasily, wrapping his arms around him and resting their foreheads together. “Iamyours,” he said, his heart full to bursting as it tried to contain the depth of his feelings, “and I always will be, no matter what.”
Vasily’s breath caught. “No matter what?”
“No matter what,” Mother said, and in that moment he meant it utterly.
Vasily’s face did something complicated and he stepped back. “I like you, Mother. More than like you, I think. But there are things you don’t know about me.”
Mother had a momentary flash of unease, but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that he’d always known that Vasily had secrets. Whatever it was, how bad could it really be?
Vasily was sweet and caring, and so charmingly naïve in so many ways that Mother found it difficult to believe that whatever he was hiding could be anything too terrible.
“It doesn’t matter what you tell me. It won’t make a difference,” he declared.
Vasily bit his lip. “I can assure you, it most definitely will.” His voice shook, and he looked so lost, soresigned, that Mother desperately wanted to prove him wrong. Whatever it was, he wouldn’tletit change how he felt.
Not when he’d fallen so utterly for his groom.
“Tell me, Vasily,” he said quietly in the same soothing tone he’d use on a spooked horse.
Vasily opened his mouth to speak, then glanced around. “Not here,” he said. “I’d like to tell you in private. Can we go to mine?” He had a point. They were alone for now, but there were sounds of activity out in the yard, and Mother knew that any minute now one of his stable boys was bound to come wandering through.
“Of course,” Mother said. As they walked through the stable yard, he paused long enough to rattle off a string of instructions to one of his more competent grooms before they made their way to Vasily’s cottage.
They went inside and Vasily sat at the small table, his hands twisting around each other and one leg tapping nervously. Mother sat opposite him. When Vasily remained silent, Mother reached out, took one hand, and waited.
“My family—" Vasily broke off, heaving in a great shaky breath. “I don’t even know how to say it.”
For one terrible moment, Mother was convinced that Vasily’s family ran Koroslova’s infamous criminal network, the one known for bloodshed and ruthlessness that was only ever mentioned in low whispers in shadowed corners. He dismissed the thought almost immediately because Vasily was made of sunshine and laughter, and the idea of him being involved in anything murderous was preposterous.
Still.
“Your family aren’t…they’re not the Valnakovs, are they?”
“What? No, of course not!”
“Then what, lad? What’s so terrible that you can’t tell me?” He gave Vasily’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
The click of Vasily’s throat as he swallowed was audible. He took a deep breath, straightened his spine, pushed his shoulders back, and declared, “You need to know who I am. My name is Prince Vasily Anatoly Alexei Pasha Petrov, and I am the fourth son of King Alexei and Queen Irina of Koroslova.”
His heartbeat thundered in Mother’s ears, and he felt all the blood draining from his face, one word standing out among all the others.
