I get to my feet and stand very straight. “Apologies,” I say with meaning.
He looks at me again, head tilting this time, and a flicker of something that looks a lot like humor dances in his eyes.
He gives me a nod and sees me out of the dining room. He opens the door for me, standing to the side to allow me to leave the room first. It’s a mannered gesture from the old days, the Old Ways, that shouldn’t mean anything. He’s probably been so brainwashed by his upbringing that he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. He probably treats everyone like this.
I highly doubt it means anything.
Still, it’s the closest I’ve ever been to him, and I can’t tell if it’s my imagination or if I actually feel a ghost of heat in the shape of a large handprint on the small of my back as I walk past him.
6
Jensen
Iwakeearlyagainand 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 theyarespeed. 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.
