Her Grace's Stable: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 2 (4 page)

“The same as with me?”

He nodded but didn’t lift his face. “I wanted to be taken by a man. It was everything I’d hoped for, but now, I feel emptier than ever. Does that make sense? I got exactly what I wanted, but now I realize that it wasn’t enough. It might never be enough.”

Without you.

He didn’t say those last words, but the accusation and agonized longing slipped between them like a knife, cutting her just the same. “You still need a mistress.”

He tipped his head back, his eyes narrowed with intent and his tone steely. “I’ll always need you, whether Violet or Mistress or Her Grace. I’m your man and always will be.”

Sometimes she forgot how determined he could be. Cole was submissive in all ways that mattered, but he knew exactly what he wanted and went after it with single-minded purpose. It’d taken all her considerable self-control to refuse him until she was sure he was old and wise enough to understand what he was getting himself into after he’d first hired on as her stable hand. Once he caught a glimpse into her private stable, he’d pursued her as diligently as Her Majesty’s Ravens protected their Queen.

“I’ll find you a new mistress.”

His luscious bottom lip firmed into a stubborn slant that would have amused her if she wasn’t crying on the inside. However, he knew her well enough not to protest. In fact, on the surface, he appeared to go along with her plan. “She must be willing to take on Arthur too. He’s quite a handful. I don’t think just any mistress could handle him. Let alone me.”

“You’re easy to handle.” She tried to keep her voice light despite the bewildering surge of fury that threatened to turn her into a raving lunatic. Another woman running Cole around the ring, learning what he liked, demanding her pleasure whether he wanted it or not? Another mistress earning his affection and trust, luring his heart away?

Even if he didn’t end up hating her for removing her collar, he’d eventually forget their early days of play, where they’d both learned how to please each other. What it meant to step into the ring together. When he’d first come to Blackmyre, it was the innocent desire shining in his blue eyes that she’d found so irresistible. He’d been eager and willing to do anything in order to reach her bed. Once there, he’d gained confidence, growing into a deep, complex man who knew exactly how to challenge her with just enough affection and daring to earn another piece of her heart every single day.

It’s too much to bear. I’m losing everything I ever cared about.

Her fingers tightened in his hair hard enough to make his eyes water, but he didn’t protest. He merely looked up at her, letting his eyes darken. His lips parted on a low, ragged sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan that he knew full well would stoke the fire raging in her.

He wouldn’t demand explanations. He wouldn’t rage at her for breaking his heart. He wouldn’t swear to prove her wrong and fall hard for a new mistress. No, that wasn’t Cole’s way at all.

He’ll smolder and surrender and ache with every fiber of his being until I can’t bear to deny him.

She forced her fingers to uncurl from those sandy-brown locks. “It’ll take a day or two, but I’ll invite some friends over for you to meet.”

Cole quirked his mouth to reveal his adorable dimple. “What an excellent idea. Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone and Arthur will recognize someone from the auction.”

She murmured some meaningless response that he must have taken for acquiescence. He settled onto her breast with a happy little sigh and promptly went to sleep. While her mind reeled at how quickly she’d gone from comforting him to the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that she’d been led into a trap.

Can I honestly bear to hand his collar to another mistress while there’s breath remaining in my body?

Chapter Four

Dottie peered over Violet’s shoulder, studying the viewscreen. “Have you figured out where the auction house is located?”

“Not yet.” Violet pointed to the red dot. “This is where we were, near Vauxhall’s. Cole said another pony he knew mentioned a big event happening down on the Thames, so he wandered along the docks, hoping to find someone who might…play with him.”

Jealousy pierced her heart so viciously she couldn’t breathe.
I freed him as soon as I knew I was dying, but that doesn’t mean I’ll like seeing him running in the ring for another mistress.

“There are dozens of warehouses in that district,” Dottie mused. “The streets are full of thugs and prostitutes trying to scrape together a meager existence off the docking trade. I’m surprised your man was brave enough to go alone.”

The Thames provided the main docking station for all trade flowing into Londonium. Ships from all over the universe queued up outside the shields, going through extensive logging, tracking and gold-paying procedures for the chance to trade inside the Queen’s lucrative city. Naturally there were thousands of lowlifes haunting the winding channel of docks, hoping to chance upon some unwary alien or fat merchant and take some of that gold for themselves.

“Which is why Cole was hurrying and not exactly sure where he was,” Violet said. “It was a large building, but in the dark, he’s not sure of the address or any identifying features.”

Dottie helped herself to a brandy—thoughtfully pouring an extra snifter for her hostess—and propped her hip against the desk. “How’s the man doing?”

“Much improved, as far as I know. I’ve kept my distance to give him time to recover, so all I know is what Cole tells me.”

“Are you going to keep him?”

Surprised, Violet choked on her drink. “Of course not.”

“One pony’s enough for you?”

Carefully, she set the glass aside and busied herself flipping through her correspondence. “One pony’s plenty.”

“But I thought you said Cole was out looking for…action.” Dottie waggled her eyebrows dramatically. “Was he looking for you, or for himself?”

“Himself. I’ve actually decided not to play with Cole anymore. He’s looking for a new mistress.” Pleased that she’d actually managed to get the words out without grinding her teeth, Violet forced a bright smile. “I’m getting too old for him.”

“Nonsense. You’re still in your prime, certainly not too old to churn out a few heirs for Blackmyre. You’re only thirty-four.”

“Thirty-five in a few months,” Violet added, not that Dottie listened.

“And don’t blather on about your old war injuries. You know the lads think that wretched scar makes you all the more dangerously attractive.”

“My knee—”

“Has been fully reconstructed and you hardly even limp any longer. With all that long, mahogany hair and perfect skin, you make all the young bucks slobber as soon as they see you stride into the ballroom. Bloody hell, even your eyes are gorgeous. Not blue, not green, but
aquamarine
.” Only Dottie could manage to make a compliment sound like an accusation. “Plus you’re so damned wealthy even Houses highest in the instep would be willing to ignore your scandalous past in order to dip into those funds. You’re a catch, Your Grace. So what’s really bothering you?”

Violet sighed. Sometimes having an intelligent and true friend was a damnable inconvenience.
Especially when one’s trying to hide a life-ending illness.

Only a nugget of truth would satisfy Dottie’s bloodhound sensibilities. “Cole has decided he’d rather have a man.”

Her friend’s eyes went as round as saucers. “Oooooh, I see. So he brought home that big stud for himself. But he’s so wild, I guess he needs you to help him control him?”

“Evidently, yes.” She sighed again, putting on a playful pout. “I wouldn’t normally mind helping break in a wild stallion like that, but to break him for Cole,
my
pony… It’s too much to ask.”

In truth, she’d normally have leaped at the chance to bring such a stallion into their relationship permanently. Arthur was too much a pony to be satisfied with another pony alone for long. They’d both need a mistress’s whip and firm hand to be fully happy.

The thought of watching Cole and Arthur together made her squirm.

“Of course you’re going to do it anyway.”

“Naturally. I can’t deny someone I care about so deeply. But before I can hand my pony over to someone else, I need to make sure this stallion is going to take care of him. For that, I need to know who he is.”

“He hasn’t told you?”

“No.” Genuine irritation flashed through Violet. The few times she’d stopped by just to ensure the man didn’t require medical attention, he’d simply glared at her and refused to utter a single word. While Cole swore the man could and did speak to him regularly. “So I must ferret out who this wild stallion is on my own.”

“I’m up for an adventure on the Thames.” At Violet’s arched look, Dottie had the grace to flush. “In the daylight hours, of course.” Then she turned a glare on her that few would dare, confident in their long friendship. “And if I hear of you going alone at night to that foul district, I’ll… I’ll…”

Violet laughed. “Horsewhip me? You’re welcome to try.”

Dottie thought a moment and then grinned triumphantly. “I’ll tattle on you to Queen Majel.”

Violet blanched. The last thing she wanted was for the Queen to know about Blackmyre’s fondness for the stable. Although with Majel’s legendary spy network, she probably already knew. “That was certainly uncalled for.” Dottie tipped her chin up, refusing to back down. “Very well. I’ll call you if I decide to go to the Thames myself. For now, I’m hoping Cole can weasel more details out of our guest on his own. He can be very…convincing.”

“Mmmm, sounds delicious.” Dottie accepted her hat and gloves from Mr. Chumlee. “If you decide to take that new pony out for a spin, do give me a call. I can’t wait to see you put him through his paces.”

“How’s our patient, Cole?”

Arthur tensed at Lady Blackmyre’s voice, his body on instant full alert. He swung his head around to keep her carefully in sight, even though she didn’t step foot inside the room they’d given him. It galled to know that he owed his life to this woman, this
mistress
, who’d given him everything from the roof over his head to the clothes on his back.

Nothing of his own remained. The schoolmistress had made sure he’d learned that lesson all too well. Not even his body was his own any longer. All he could deny this new mistress was his voice. He’d drawn a faint but crucial line in the sand where he could hide one small thing for himself, aloof and protected.
My voice is mine alone.

Worries tumbled through his mind, especially at night.
How long have I been gone? Aren’t people looking for me? What’s happening at the front?

The only way to find out would be to betray himself to Lady Blackmyre. Not only would he lose that battle of keeping one small thing for himself, but the resulting scandal would also put Grandmama in her grave. There’d always been bad blood between their families, though he didn’t know why. Since Grandmama had arranged to send him to the school in secret, he suspected no one even knew he was missing. Perhaps it’d been her plan all along to have him simply disappear. The war wouldn’t matter to her as much as protecting her House from scandal.

But the main reason he remained silent was his own fear. He couldn’t explain to his soldiers why he’d disappeared into a slave auction. If authorities came asking about a certain woman’s death, what could he say? How could he expect his House to stand behind him, let alone his regiment, when he was guilty of murder?
I’m trapped, stranded behind enemy lines with no hope of escape. In all honesty, I may never see my home—let alone my regiment—ever again.

The room she’d given him was infinitely better than a prison cell. Small but clean and well furnished, it was his oasis of privacy, at least as much as a typical servant could claim in a large house. The maids had too many other things to dust and shine to bother him.

As if she knew his own space was important to him, Lady Blackmyre never set foot inside his room. That she understood—and respected—that need terrified him at a base level he couldn’t even explain. How had she known? If their positions had been reversed, would he have known to give her such consideration? He was terribly afraid that he wouldn’t, and that made her formidable indeed.

“He’s doing better every single day, Your Grace,” Cole replied cheerfully. “The injuries are healing nicely. He’s eager to get to work as soon as you assign him a position.”

“No infection?”

“No fever, no redness or swelling.”

“Very good.” Her gaze settled on his groin and he went ramrod straight with alarm. She’d allowed the other man to doctor him, thankfully, but now he feared she might demand to see evidence of his recovery with her own eyes. “Any other lingering issues I should know about, other than his refusal to speak to me?”

He clamped his teeth harder just to spite her.

“Not to my knowledge, Your Grace.”

What she wasn’t asking was whether his manhood had been compromised in any way.

He’d used that particular body part last night and the memory of his roughness shamed him to the core. He’d never used any person so violently before. Cole had rescued him and then been subjected to the basest of Arthur’s desires. Not that the man had complained. Not at all. Even this morning, the man didn’t seem to bear him any grievance.