Page 4 of Veiled Flames
All the air vacates my chest.
“Ready?” he asks.
Struggling against his hold and fighting for a hint of autonomy, I shake my head. “I prefer to ride astride,” I tell him. “And alone!”
“As you wish.” His arm scoops under one of my legs, and he lifts it across to drop me straddled over the steed. Then his arm straps around my waist, holding me against him, even more firmly than my tightest corset.
His other hand takes hold of Sky Stallion’s mane. The horse neighs, and the man leans forward, bending my body along with his. “Settle, settle.”
His tone is soft and deep, his words kind, and for a moment I’m not certain whether he’s talking to me or the horse. Perhaps both.
Heat builds inside me, a strange stirring I’ve felt only once before, on the day I learned what lies between a man’s legs. That day, I caught Gerard, one of the stable boys, bathing, and watched, captivated and shocked at how the shape of his bodydiffered from mine. I stood in awe as I gazed at the hard mounds of his bottom, at the prominent muscles of his back—and then my mouth turned dry as dust, when I saw a sausage and sack hanging between his legs.
The memory coils inside me, warming me with feelings at odds with the danger I’m facing. Dangers my mind believes, but my instincts seem determined to deny. I’ve not yet fully seen this stranger’s face, yet I feel safe in his arms, even as he raises dangerous new feelings inside me.
“Let me guide the steed.” I slide one hand into the stallion’s mane and lightly touch the leather covering the man’s forearm with my other. “I know the best route—and also the horse.” My hand lingers on his arm longer than I mean it to, and the muscles and tendons housed there flex under my touch. I suck in a ragged breath.
“Letting you guide us sounds dangerous.” His breath licks my ear.
My spine rolls and it moves my back like a wave against his firm body.What has come over me?
I fight to regain my wits. “It would be less dangerous than you using a single hand to control this mighty beast, while holding me captive with the other.”
He chuckles softly. “As you wish.” His breath bathes my throat, and then his lips move even closer toward my ear. “Just remember, it was you who asked me to use both hands to hold you.”
Two
Rosomon
Slipping my hands into Sky Stallion’s mane, I squeeze my flanks to guide him back to the narrow path. The stranger’s hands grip me, their expanse and heat encircling my entire rib cage and drifting dangerously close to my un-corseted bosom. The sensation of his hot hands on my body is wondrous, exciting, and somehow feels very right, even though I’m certain it’s wrong.
But there’s no time to debate his hands’ placement. The sun will soon set, and I lack the physical power to force his dismount. The danger housed in the stranger’s body is terrifying. Yet, as my cleft presses against the horse’s spine, and my bottom rocks against the man’s taut thighs as we move, a peculiar throbbing beats low in my belly.
The moment we cross the bridge and climb out of the gorge, I steer Sky Stallion away from the road. The stranger doesn’t object, as if he instantly understands that we should not be seen as we overtake the cortege from Khotor. Crossing the rollingexpanse of my father’s land, Sky Stallion’s pace is exhilarating, especially given the added excitement of having this dangerous man’s thighs pressed against mine, his entire body draped around me.
Together, our legs goad Sky Stallion far beyond the limits I’ve ever risked riding on my own, and the man’s power and heat rival the steed’s. His large hands meet around me, and I sense their strength, as his fingers flex to keep me secured. As forbidden and wrong as this seems, I’m grateful for the added security.
An undeniable heat builds inside me, and something continues to pulse deep between my legs, as if the insides of my body are trying to keep time with the horse’s gait. My cleft has turned damp, even though I’m less than a week past my last courses. I hope to Othrix that I’m not bleeding without rags.
Across the field, the royal cortege stands out in silhouette against the sun, now lingering perilously close to the horizon. When we’re well past the royal party, I nudge Sky Stallion back toward the main road. As our angle changes, the stranger’s body leans into mine, as if he had the idea to turn at the same moment. It’s like the three of us—man, woman and beast—are working as one.
The idea thrills me, and at our far faster pace, we will arrive at the gates safely ahead of the visiting royal party.
The stranger’s hold is at once firm and gentle, and his fingers pulse against my body to the beat of Sky Stallion’s hooves, amplifying the internal pulses between my legs. I long to look down at his strong hands, to view their grasp on me, but in the dimming light, I dare not take my eyes from our path. Ifdarkness weren’t imminent, I’d want to continue this ride for hours—for days. I’d want him to take me to far away places.
“Careful.” Using his legs against mine and the horse, the stranger guides us past a gully I failed to spot. Had Sky’s hoof landed inside it, his leg would have broken.
“We’re getting close.” The stranger’s voice rumbles through me. “Slow down.”
His thighs relax against mine, and the two of us work together to slow the horse to a more comfortable pace.
“I’ll leave you by that tree,” the man says, “before we are seen together.”
I’m grateful he’s thought of this. It’s too late in the day for me to sneak into the castle undetected—especially since that royal cortege is expected—and Nurse’s scoldings will be so much worse if I’m seen with a strange man. I steer us toward the massive stonewood tree that stands alone in the expanse of wild tymothy grasses not a furlong from the gates.
I discovered the joys of this tree when I had but ten years. Nurse told me that goblins live in the ancient tree’s roots, but I found none, and soon realized she’d only said it to deter me from climbing into the trees thick branches. I’ve spent countless days hidden in the crooks of this tree, reading books taken in secret from the royal library. Reading is another activity forbidden for young ladies.
But in the years after Mother’s death, I taught myself to read, and then, hiding behind a screen, I managed to gain an education, listening as the pedagogues instructed my younger brothers.
