Page 22 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
The only answer she ever came up with in answer to that was a simple one: she couldn’t. Luke was worlds apart from her family, from her lifestyle, and though her father had a kind soul, Alison knew he would not understand a love such as theirs.
Marriage, he would say—as he often had, is not so much about love, and more about living an easy life. It’s about accepting your lot in return for wealth and the continuation of your family name.
But for Alison, marriage was not that at all—or at least, she hoped it would not be. For Alison, marriage was about love and passion. It was about finding your true love and spending the rest of your life with him. And that is what she hoped for—perhaps redundantly—with Luke.
“Shall I never be able to marry the man I love?” she asked. She spoke both to the horse and the wind, for as they picked up speed, the air rushed past Alison’s face, cooling her tear-stained cheeks.
Thiswas what she so dearly loved about riding. The freedom, the anonymity. A rider was one with their horse and with the air, but with nothing else. She was tied to nothing, concerned with nothing but her horse and herself. She was free of the constraints of society and of the words of the world.
It was Alison and Bess, and nothing more.
She pushed Bess further, faster, as her hooves pounded over the grass of the Manor grounds. And all the while, Alison whispered soft, encouraging words to the horse as the two flew across the expanse of land.
Her hair, in their effort, flew behind her, as wild and free as she craved to be, and her tears dried as she felt such a thrill of passion for the ride.Thiswas how she wanted to live her life, and she wanted Luke to be riding by her side.
The horse slowed automatically, knowing their route around the grounds, and knowing they approached the stables again. It took them less than an hour to do a tour of the grounds, and often Alison would push Bess on, without even stopping, for another round.
Today, though, she felt a stab of pain as she approached the stables and she knew she had to deal with whatever was bothering Luke. If she did not, she would regret it until the next time they spoke, as it would niggle at her until she finally sought him out again.
When Bess finally stopped trotting, Alison dropped to the ground, landing lightly on feet that were used to such a jump. She turned and nuzzled into the horse’s neck, a physical thank you for a physical ride.
“Let’s go see Luke,” she whispered, a nervous smile on her face.
She led the horse back across the threshold of the stables and at first, Luke was nowhere to be seen, only the rows of other horses—all of which Alison had ridden, but none of which she had developed such a rapport with as she had Bess.
“Come on, Bess,” she said, tugging on the reins, and Bess followed easily. Once she had backed the horse into her pen, Alison turned to leave, disheartened that she had not had a chance to speak to Luke.
But then he popped up from behind a horse and she gasped, jumping back in surprise.
“Goodness, Luke,” she cried, a hand on her chest to protect her beating heart. “There is no need to sneak up on me like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke said with a shrug, then he turned back to his work.
“It’s all right,” she said, laughing but not fully, not as she normally would. She felt a pinch of concern.
She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. Normally he would laugh with her, joke about how silly it was to be so jumpy, but he simply looked down to the floor, fiddling with the saddle straps in his hand. She knew instantly that something was wrong.
Alison stepped out of her mare’s bay and back into the central aisle. Luke was in the next bay, but she looked up and down to check no one else was there.
It was a long stable, with over twenty horse bays, ten on one side, which were kept for the Salsbury stock, and the other ten opposite reserved for their guests’ horses. Luke made a point of taking each horse out of the stables at least once a day, giving them a little exercise and some sunlight. But while they remained inside, each had their own personal bay, and Luke had carved their names into boards to put above each.
The walls were a dark-brown wood with the occasional high window, and the large double doors at the front were opened fully until nightfall and then reopened at dawn, making the light spill in and spread throughout. At the far end, the hay stock tumbled from its housing, and covered the floors.
“Luke,” she said softly once she realized they were alone. He didn’t look up, and anger pulsed through her in time to her heartbeat. “Luke,” she tried again. “What has got into you? Why are you being like this?”
He looked up at her from under his brow, his eyes heavy with sadness, and Alison did not know whether to be worried or hurt by the way in which he looked at her.
“Are we not friends? You are treating me less than even a stranger! Whatever is the matter?” she asked. She took another step forward. They were separated by the wooden stable bay, but she reached over to it and touched his arm gently, hoping to coax him out of his sullenness.
“I…” he faltered, caught his breath, and she was certain she felt him flinch under her touch. That was not like him at all. They normally touched, if not freely, then as close as possible to that. Alison loved that about their friendship—that neither one of them was too scared to put an arm around the other or touch their arm in comfort.
He turned away from her, squeezing past the horse and out of the bay, then he went to the high stool in the far corner of the stable, looking again at the hay-strewn floor. She watched him go, watched him perch on the seat with his feet hooked around the bar, but she was tentative to follow. There was something wrong, she knew it, and she felt herself begin to panic.
“What is it, Luke?” she asked. “Whatever is the matter?”
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to put her arms around him and calm his woes. She wanted to see him smile and laugh, she wanted him to tease her as he normally did. Seeing Luke with such a heavy heart pulled at her own heart until it felt taut and twisted and wrung out. She took a step towards him, but he didn’t look up.
“I just have a lot on my mind, nothing more,” he said
