Corset Diaries

by Katie MacAlister

  Still, things have gone pretty well. I’m beginning to worry. It’s not like life to suddenly be kind to me.

  It was touch and go there on Monday morning, the morning after the dinner party from hell.

  “Max, wake up; we don’t have a lot of time. We have to be down at the stable in ten minutes.”

  “Hmm?”

  I grabbed a shirt, braces, and pair of pants from the wardrobe, crossing the room to find socks, a pair of the long red underwear that the wardrobe had given Max, and his boots.

  “Come on, sleepyhead. Boy, you are a sound sleeper aren’t you?” I plopped down on the side of the bed and kissed Max’s nose. He squinted groggily at me.

  “Woman, are you after my manly body again? I thought I satisfied your lustful desires last night.”

  “Oh, ha ha ha. You’re the one who wakes up in a playful mood. Come on, we don’t have time to swap sexual innuendoes. You have to get dressed. Do you need to go to the bathroom first?”

  Max sat up, outrage clear in every line of his body as I got off the bed and poured some water for him to wash his face. “Why are you dressed? You always wait for me to wake up so we can play. Why do you have my clothes out? Why are you wearing—” He sucked his breath in as he realized I was in my forest green riding habit. “No!”

  “Aw, come on, Max, it won’t hurt you. I promise I won’t let you break your neck and die a slow, horrible death.”

  He glared at me, his eyes quickly changing from the heated blue that blared his desire to the cold, pale blue of an iceberg. “I don’t find the subject amusing.”

  “Max—” I set down the ewer and took his hand. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make light of your friend’s death. I just want you to see that horses aren’t necessarily the great evil you think they are.”

  “I never thought they were, however, involvement with them can lead to tragedy and destruction.”

  “It can also lead to pleasure. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

  “I am not going riding, Tessa.”

  “Fine. But you have to come down to the stables with me.”

  “I do not,” he said, allowing me to pull him to his feet. “Why do I have to go to the stables?”

  I gave him a quick kiss and handed him his red under-drawers. “Because last night I had Sam film me telling everyone in the U.K. that you accused me of being afraid of horses, and that you dared me to go out riding with you this morning. If we fail to show up at the stables in four minutes, the whole country will think I’m a complete and utter coward.”

  “You what?” He stopped in the middle of buttoning the drawers.

  “That’s a humdinger of a glare, Max, but it’s not going to change the fact that Sam and Wilma are waiting down at the stable to see if we show up or not.”

  “No. I won’t do it.” He snatched the pants out of my hands and with fast, jerky motions, pulled them on. “That’s an underhanded trick, Tessa. If you had said it was me who was afraid of horses—”

  I handed him his shirt. “—you wouldn’t care, I know. But you’re too much of a gentleman to let me look bad, aren’t you, Max?”

  He grumbled something as he buttoned up his shirt.

  “What?”

  “I said how do you know that I’m not afraid of horses?”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said, and handed him his boots. “You’re just a teensy bit afraid of emotional commitment, but I have every confidence we’ll get you over that hurdle, too. Your issue with horses doesn’t have anything to do with them, it has to do with protecting the people you love.”

  “I am too afraid of horses. Deathly afraid!” He shoved his foot into his boot. “I’ll probably faint if I get too close to one.”

  “Oh, right, you’re afraid of them like I don’t love you.”

  His beautiful eyes narrowed as he shoved his other foot into the second boot. “I’ve told you, you’re in lust with me, not love.”

  I took his face in my hands and flicked my tongue across the very tip of his nose. “Max, my darling, I’m so madly in love with you that I will do whatever it takes to make you realize that I’m the best thing that’s happened to you since . . . well, since your daughter was born.”

  He grabbed his jacket and stuffed his arms into the sleeves. “I’ll get you for this, Tessa.”

  I smiled and grabbed my dashing riding hat with the long green veil. “You mean you’re going to punish me? Will you tie me down for the punishing, Max? Will there be massage oil involved?”

  He gently shoved me through the door, taking my hand in his as he stalked down the hallway, his boot heels clattering loudly on the uncarpeted back stairs. “Your punishment will be not knowing what your punishment will be.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know it doesn’t.” He held the door of the laundry room open for me. We stepped out into the fresh morning air filled with the noisy chatter of birds, sounds of crockery and voices coming from the kitchen, and the distant low of cattle from the neighboring farm.

  “Tessa,” he said, holding me back as I was about to cross the stable yard. He turned me until my breasts brushed up against his chest.

  “I promise you that you won’t get hurt,” I said, brushing a lock of hair off his brow.

  His eyes all but spat outrage at me. “I’m not concerned about me,” he said.

  “Oh, sorry. I promise you I won’t get hurt either. Is that better?”

  “No. Why are you doing this?”

  I gnawed my lower lip for a moment, just long enough for his eyes to lock onto my lip. The second they fired up with steamy blue passion, my innards, all the squished bits, started cheering. I decided the moment had come to lay it all out on the line. No, not my innards, my cards. So to speak. “You have a tender heart that you’ve learned to guard very well against pain. Part of that guarding is your need to protect the people you love, to keep them from being hurt, and hurting you in turn.”

  He sighed. “We’ve had this talk before—”

  “Melody is being strangled by your well-meaning but stifling protection,” I continued, ignoring his comment. “More than anything she wants to make you proud of her.”

  His eyes flared open wide. “I am proud of her!”

  I shook my head. “By denying her the opportunity to experience something new, you’re telling her that you think she’s going to fail before she even has a chance to try.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think she’s going to fail, I just want to keep her from being hurt—”

  “I know.” I leaned against him and wrapped both arms around his waist, breathing in his wonderful spicy Max scent. “I know why you’re doing it, but the very fact that you won’t even let her try sends the wrong message. It tells her that you don’t have any faith in her, any confidence in her ability to learn something new. You may be protecting her from a few bumps and bruises, but you’re tearing her self-esteem to shreds.”

  He stood stiff against me, not saying anything, his hands resting lightly on my back. I kissed his chin and pulled away, catching his hand and pulling him toward the stable. “Come on, we have to go show England I’m not a coward.”

  “Tessa, I . . .” His lovely eyes were filled with pain.

  “I know, it’s not easy, is it? We’ll just take this in baby steps, OK? Today you go riding with me, tomorrow we’ll go riding with Melody.”

  He glowered at me as we rounded the corner of the stable, Sam and Wilma chatting with Alec as he saddled up Talisman and Abou, the handsome but bad-tempered stallion. “Those aren’t baby steps.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, I know, but I thought you might be distracted enough by thoughts of punishing me with the Lick Me Lemon that I could slip it by you.”

  His hand slid down my back to my bottom, giving me a none-too-gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll be punished. And I promise you it’ll be a punishment you remember for a very long time.”

  “Oh, man, I hope so.”
I breathed, my toes curling in my riding boots at the throb of passion in his voice.

  Sam filmed us mounting up and riding off with nothing untoward in the least happening. Max was, of course, not afraid of horses. In fact, he did very well keeping control of the feisty stallion. I began to suspect that he had a lot more riding experience than he let on.

  “Shall we have a gallop across the field?” I asked as we left the stable yard.

  “No.”

  “How about a lively canter down the lane leading to the farm? That doesn’t get a lot of traffic.”

  “No.”

  “A spirited trot to the far side of the estate?”

  “No. We’ll walk. From here to that telephone pole.”

  I looked at where he was pointing. “Max, that’s six feet away.”

  “I know.”

  “Would you feel better with a riding hat? I bet Alec has one tucked away somewhere.”

  “No. I would feel better being back in bed.”

  I shot him a disgruntled glance. “Max, sweetie, you know I love you, and you have to know how I feel about the things you to do me in bed—as well as on the fainting couch, and of course, there was last night in the bathtub—but you know what? I like to do other things with you, too, nonsexual things, things like just be with you and talk to you and have you talk to me.”

  “We’re talking now,” Max said, his jaw as tight as his fingers on the reins.

  “If you loosen up a bit on Abou, he won’t fidget so much,” I said.

  Max gave Abou a bit more rein. I watched him for a minute as the horses ambled across the fallow field. “You’ve ridden before.”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. You’re using your legs, and your hands are low, and you keep your seat even when Abou shies. Have you ridden a lot?”

  “Some.”

  I pulled Talisman to a stop. “OK, let me explain something—a conversation is when two people talk together in an interacting format. One person talking and the other person answering in one-word grunts is not a conversation. It’s an interview.”

  Max’s brows pulled together. “I’m here. We’re riding. What more do you want?”

  I nudged Talisman forward into a walk. “I want you to relax. I want you to enjoy yourself. I want you to realize that because your friend suffered a horrible tragedy doesn’t mean you or Melody or I will, too. Most of all, I want you to forgive your friend for dying.”

  He stared at me like I had just told him to dance stark naked on Abou’s back. “What are you talking about? I don’t have to forgive Trevor anything.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You’re not angry at him for dying and leaving you without a friend?”

  “I have other friends.”

  “Not like him. You said he was your closest friend, that you grew up together. The fact that he was partially responsible for his own death must have made you furious.”

  “I’ve had enough conversation,” Max snapped, reining Abou back, turning him to face the way we’d just come. “And I’ve had enough of this ride.”

  “Do you know that every time you get mad at me, you run rather than confront that anger?” I called after him. Abou stopped suddenly, tossing his head as Max tightened his hands on the reins. “Obviously, that’s an attempt to escape any sort of self-analysis. You’d rather avoid the issues than take a good, long look at what’s really happening inside you.”

  “And I suppose you’re bloody perfect,” Max snarled as I rode up beside him. His eyes flashed ice and fire at the same time.

  “Far from it. I, too, have layers of self-protection I’ve built up over the years to keep from being hurt, and just as many, if not more, faults, but there’s one thing I am that you aren’t—I’m willing to be honest with myself.”

  Max just stared at me, his eyes blazing, his fingers white with strain as they gripped the reins.

  I sighed. “Maybe I’m all wrong, maybe I’ve totally misread everything about you, but if that’s the case—” I turned Talisman to face the direction we were originally headed. “—you’re going to have to tell me so to my face. And to do that, you’re going to have to catch me.”

  I dug my heel into Talisman as I leaned forward, shouting my encouragement. He leaped forward in a textbook example of how to go from standing to a gallop in three seconds flat. I didn’t look behind me to see if Max followed; I knew he would. He had a protective streak a mile wide in him, and despite the fact that he wasn’t willing to admit that I had touched his heart, I knew I had.

  “You fool woman, slow down. You’re going to get yourself killed,” he shouted from just to the rear of Talisman. Abou was half Arabian and had the deep chest of a horse with some serious speed, something that Talisman lacked.

  “I might be willing to slow down to canter if you admit that you are angry at your friend.”

  “All right, fine, have it your way. I’m furious at Trevor, I’m sick with anger, I’m galled that he could have been so bloody stupid, now PLEASE SLOW DOWN!”

  I eased Talisman back to a slow canter and made a wide circle toward the direction of the stables, slowing down even further to a trot. “Did you say that just to make me slow down, or did you really mean it?”

  Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t stand a chance with you, do I?”

  I grinned. “Nope. Did you mean it?”

  “Yes, but not in the sense that you think I did.”

  “Oh, really?” Talisman settled into a walk, Abou tossing his head and snorting in protest when Max slowed him down. He danced sideways for a few steps until Max got him under control. “What were you angry with him about?”

  “He shouldn’t have been riding that day. The horse he took out was mine. I was supposed to ride at the local cross-country meet, but both Melody and I had been sick with the flu, so Trevor took my place in order to keep the local stable represented. He went down halfway through the course.”

  Max’s face was hard, set in a mask of indifference, but I could see the anguish in his eyes. “Oh, how awful. He died taking your place, leaving you filled with guilt—”

  “Not guilt!” he growled, his gaze holding mine. “I told Trevor not to take Galileo out. He’d never ridden him and had little experience on the cross-country course, but the damned fool had to prove something. He didn’t listen to me, ignored my arguments, brushed off my concerns that he or the horse could be injured, and went ahead and took out a young horse he’d never ridden on a course he’d never seen . . .” Max’s voice broke. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “And for what? To prove he was as good a rider as I was. No, Tessa, I don’t feel guilt over Trevor’s death. I’m angry that his family mattered less to him than his pride.”

  I blew out the breath I had been holding. “Boy, when you have baggage, you really have baggage.”

  “Now perhaps you understand exactly why I object to Melody riding.”

  I nudged Talisman closer to Abou, who was cropping at the long grass, and curled my fingers around Max’s hand. “You’re not Trevor, Max. I know you put your child’s welfare first. I know you would never do something foolish that would leave her without your love and support. I honestly don’t care if you ever ride another horse again. All I want is for you to understand what this stranglehold you have on life is doing to Melody . . . and to you.”

  His eyes held the question that didn’t reach his lips.

  “Me,” I said in answer to that question. “I want you to see what you’re doing to me, to us, to our relationship.”

  I thought he was going to run again; I was certain he was going to simply leave me sitting there in the middle of a field, but sometimes people surprise you.

  Max slid his hand out from under mine and grabbed the back of my neck with his strong fingers, pulling me sideways to him until his mouth took possession of mine, his lips hard at first, then softening to a caress so sweet it brought tears to my eyes, tears that were dried in the heat of the passion he
fired within me when his tongue swept past my lips and into my mouth. It was a hard kiss, a dominating kiss, a kiss that claimed absolute possession, but behind all of that it was also a kiss that begged for understanding from me. I clutched his shoulder and gave him every ounce of myself, let him into every corner of my heart, and prayed it was enough.

  We rode back to the barn in silence, only the early morning scoldings of the birds disturbed by us marking our presence.

  Melody’s face was a thing of joy to behold when I told her that night that her father had given his permission for her to go riding with us.

  “He said yes?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief before filling with sheer, unadulterated happiness. I wished Max was there to see it. “He really said yes?”

  “Yep. Mademoiselle, she’ll need a sturdy dress and boots for riding.”

  Mademoiselle, buffing her already perfect fingernails, made a little gesture of compliance. “It is possible. You do not expect for me to get on the back of a so smelly animal?”

  “No, not tomorrow. If you’d like to go riding you certainly may, but there are only three saddle horses, so you’ll have to do it another time.”

  She shuddered delicately. “Non. If you are here to amuse the little one, I will visit with Bret for the short while. Il vachement bandant.”

  “What did she say?” I asked as soon as Mademoiselle took herself off to flirt with Bret.

  Melody shrugged. “She said he was very sexy. Can I ride every morning?”

  “Well—”

  “Do I have to ride sidesaddle?”

  “Probably, although for safety purposes your father might prefer—”

  “Can I ride your horse?”

  “No, Penny—”