The Colonel and The Enchantress (An Enchantress Novel Book 4)

by Paullett Golden

“You’re turn,” he said before she could respond. “Am I all you imagined me to be while I was away losing a campaign?”

  “And so much more.” She teased him, freeing her hand from his so she could circle his nipples with her fingernail. “One look at you would have told me you were a man who could give unlimited pleasure. It’s the muscles, you know.”

  His chuckle was soft and throaty. “I see my honesty is returned with jest.”

  “You don’t believe me?” she questioned in mock disbelief. “I’ll have you know, I would have lured you behind the shop and had my wicked way with you.”

  Growling, he pulled her to him. His lips met hers in a deep and lasting kiss. Though she could feel his anticipation for another round, and she knew herself ready for him, he rested her head against his shoulder to resume their cuddle.

  Settling in, her leg slipped over his, her foot finding his foot. She brushed her sole against the top of his then stopped. He could not feel that, could he? Testing, she pinched the side of his foot between her toes. No response. His fingertips continued their circles, his breathing steady. She gripped his toes with hers. No response. How curious not to feel one’s feet. He could not know, then, that her feet were chilled, stealing the warmth of his.

  With a giggle, she said, “Evenings wouldn’t be half as fun if you had not recovered. I’m so pleased you’re as good as healed. Come to think of it, those darkened corners wouldn’t be much fun either.”

  She had meant it as a jest, something to make him laugh and be cause to toss her on her back for a wrestle or tickle or more. Instead, the hand on her back stilled. His breathing shallowed.

  Backtracking with a laugh that was just a tad too loud, she said, “You know what I mean. I would feel no differently about you if you were still in the wheeled chair, but we can both admit the intimacy is one of the best parts of marriage.” Another laugh, also too loud.

  She rained kisses across his chest. When she hugged him to her, resting her head again, she waited for his response. His hand remained still. He remained silent.

  The silence thickened, a weighted blanket that smothered her.

  Just when she thought she might suffocate, he spoke.

  “I’m not altogether certain we would have married if I had not regained movement.”

  She held her breath and bit her lower lip.

  “I could be wrong,” he said. “Though I’m certain we would not have shared a bed. You cannot begin to understand the difficulties or the humiliation.”

  Raising to her forearm again, she tried to brush off his words with humor, not wanting this to turn into what it was becoming. “There you go again with nonsense. There are other ways to enjoy each other physically, as we’ve both discovered.”

  Though the room was darkening with the dying fire, she smiled her seduction. Whether he could see it, she was uncertain.

  “You assume I would want to be touched,” he muttered, his voice a low croak.

  Her humor defeated, her smile gone, she said, “I couldn’t live without your touch. I need it. Do you understand? I need it as I need air to breathe.”

  Before she took her next breath, Duncan flipped her onto her back, pinning her to the bed. His mouth came hard against hers, angry, frightened, desperate, filled with words unspoken. As he entered her with a determined, swift thrust, she gave herself over to the fury of passion, banishing all thoughts of a world without his touch.

  Snow crunched beneath Duncan’s boots. Despite the visible puffs of breath about cold lips, he grinned, making his way across the drive to the stables.

  It had taken until the first week of December to receive a response, a month since moving to Sidwell Hall, a little over three weeks since he had written to his lieutenant colonel, now a colonel in his own right. Duncan had hoped the man would respond quickly; he had not been disappointed. In fact, he was more than pleased since the response carried the news of the promotion, as well, happy tidings indeed for there could not be a finer fellow for the rank.

  Letter grasped between gloved fingers, Duncan strode through the stables in search of his wife. Not in the lounge. Not in the loose boxes. Not with Athena. Damnation. Where was she when he needed her?

  Her laugh called him to attention. The sound led him up the stairs by the hayloft. A gentleman’s chuckle joined her merriment. Following the commotion, he came to the stablemaster’s private rooms. He knew a surge of fury and fear.

  Throwing open the door, he was startled to find the stablemaster leaning against a desk, brandy in his paw, the steward behind the desk with his finger on the rim of his spectacles, the coachman at the fire with hands fanned for warmth, and Mary in a chair by the window, her posture pristine, her smile and glass of brandy alluring.

  “Duncan!” she exclaimed, setting the brandy aside and coming to him with hands outstretched. “You have perfect timing. We’ve set the date for the first studding. Not until March, but we thought it cause for celebration. Persephone is to be the lucky lady. Come. Drink.”

  She took his hand in hers and dragged him into the room. He gave a nod to all in the room and watched the stablemaster pour a drink for him. Chagrined to have thought foul of the situation, he now sniggered. Mary had to be the only lady of his acquaintance who would be sequestered in a room off a hayloft with servants and brandy, celebrating the date two horses would mate.

  Waving the letter, Duncan said, “I bring you more reason to celebrate. Lieuten—that is, Colonel Archer has responded to my inquiry!”

  Blank stares met his gaze.

  “My contact in the Army, of course. The very letter we’ve been waiting for.” Voices clamored around him. “He wants to spearhead this himself. Says they’ve spent a small fortune importing horses from the continent for cavalry officers. The volunteered horses are used for transport, and the purchased horses from here in England are too well-bred for cavalry, typically hunters spoiled with quality foods and used to life in the stables. He sees promise in my proposal. Archer has tentatively agreed to fund the breeding program on the promise I begin training right away.”

  Everyone spoke at once. Duncan let them talk, enjoying their excitement, before raising a hand.

  “We need stalls readied for four horses. Since it’ll be three to five years before our foals will be of any use, Archer is arranging for four horses to be brought here. We’re to train them—or I am, rather. In April, they want to see what I’ve done. We’ll take the horses to London. If Archer and his contacts like what they see of my training, they’ll fully fund both training and breeding.”

  Duncan looked to Mary, unable to keep from smiling. Their plans were coming to fruition!

  He did not mention that the officer’s ball would be around the same time. With luck, she had forgotten about it. Although they would be in London with the horses, he had not decided if he wanted to attend the ball. Walking was challenging enough without feeling his feet, so he doubted he could dance. And the idea of being celebrated as some great war hero made him feel nauseated.

  Mary looked back at him, the only one in the room frowning. “Why can’t you show Caesar? Why do they want you to train these other horses? I thought you said it takes up to two years to train a horse for cavalry. April is four months away. He’s setting this up for failure.”

  “No, he believes in this and in me. He’s behind this all the way. The horses won’t be fully ready, but it’ll be enough to show them my techniques. They need to see the techniques, and not on a horse that’s like an extension of myself, which is quite different from how I would be training horses for their officers.”

  “But four horses?” Mary protested. “I don’t like this, Duncan. Four horses in four months. It’s snowing for heaven’s sake.”

  The men in the room looked everywhere but at him.

  “What do you think of Starrett & Starrett’s Cavalry Program?” he asked, ignoring her concerns. “
Or Starrett & Starrett’s Cavalry Breeding & Training Program? Too much? I thought so. Starrett & Starrett’s Cavalry Program then. For the breeding and training of heavy cavalry horses for British Army officers. I’ll begin the training immediately, as soon as they arrive. This is our only chance.”

  Mary folded her arms over her chest, her displeasure obvious for all to see. The stablemaster, on the other hand, refilled drinks.

  Duncan was already planning the training to accustom the horses to commands and to campaign life, which had unique diet, sleeping, and riding requirements, including riding in inclement weather. Although Mary was concerned with the snow, among other things, Duncan found it an ideal condition to prepare horses for what they might face in the field.

  The four-month limit, however, which would be cut short with the travel time they would need to get to London, concerned him more than it did Mary. He dared not voice the concern. What the devil was he going to do in four months that would showcase his training techniques?

  Chapter 21

  Despite the deep snow, Duncan persevered.

  He pressed a leg to the horse to initiate a left turn. Together, they trotted ten paces with an exacting rhythm before Duncan pressed the opposite leg to initiate a right turn.

  Pulling his coat more tightly about him, he shivered. In the silence, a crack shattered the air, accumulated snow heaving a distant tree branch to the ground.

  The grooms who gathered in the yard to help break-in the horses looked as cold as Duncan felt, but a warm fire would have to wait. Already two weeks had passed, several of those days lost to the horses traveling from a fellow in Yorkshire who volunteered the two pairs. The days were lost in terms of training but not planning. Duncan had spent long hours devising a training plan to fit their time limit. Much depended on the horses’ temperament. Thus far, they were docile, brave, and obedient, praise be. With the help of the grooms, Duncan managed to accomplish the lunge work, mounting and dismounting, circling, turning, and walking, all within a week’s time, working each horse every day except Sunday.

  For the next week and a half, he and the grooms would work on trotting at various speeds and instructing leg-only direction. The horses needed to learn the same movements with exacting precision from left-hand-only commands, right-hand-only commands, both hands, and leg-only commands. Though they would not yet be ready for field tactics when there was barely enough time to master commands, Duncan would need to incorporate gear, sword brandishing, and loud noises to help prepare the horses for the battlefield. A horse’s agility and obedience were one thing, the battlefield another. Being able to turn as quickly as a man on foot while simultaneously seeing the glint of a sword, hearing gunshots and the clang of steel, smelling blood, and avoiding trampling prone figures were quite challenging for a horse.

  “Colonel!” a groom called out. “Approaching.”

  Duncan circled the horse around with a leg nudge. The horse obeyed, an adept pupil.

  Mrs. Eloise trekked her way from the gentleman’s lounge, Bernard hoisted on her hip. The boy was bundled so well, he was likely sweating beneath the layers, never mind the chill. Signaling a groom, Duncan dismounted, giving the horse a pat and stroke.

  “Mrs. Eloise.” Duncan said, approaching the pair.

  Bernard’s arms were already reaching out for his papa. Unable to resist the request, Duncan took Bernard from the nanny.

  Mrs. Eloise curtsied and said, “Pardon my bringing him, sir. He wouldn’t sit still. Said he wanted to be here with you. I told him it was too cold, but—”

  “No need to explain. I understand. We’ve a future horseman in our midst!” Duncan laughed and walked back to the horse with Bernard in tow, leaving Mrs. Eloise to return to the warmth of the lounge. Nodding to a groom, he ordered, “A chair for my son.”

  In minutes, a chair was readied for Bernard to sit in the yard with them, a groom at his side for safety. Duncan walked the horse over to the boy, maintaining a safe distance.

  “Shall we teach the horse a new skill, son?”

  With a rapid nod, Bernard exclaimed, “I wanter do it!”

  “Watch me first. We’re going to teach the horse to rein-back. The first lesson is done on the ground. Once accomplished, a groom will mount for the second lesson, and we’ll help from the ground. The final lesson will be a legs-only command. Ready for the first lesson?”

  Bernard scrunched his features. “Whasa rainy beck?”

  “Ah. Good question. I see you’re an astute horseman. Rein-back is when the horse walks backward on command. Let’s suppose an enemy is charging at me, and I want to back away. The horse will need to walk backward with even steps in a straight line so we don’t break formation with the other cavalry. The trick is not to angle the haunches, turn, sidestep, or have uneven steps. The horse will be prepared to lunge forward at any moment of the rein-back. I give the signal with my legs by pushing as far back with my calves as I can, and the horse will walk back, and then when ready to leap or charge, I’ll squeeze my calves. Leaping and galloping aren’t for several more weeks, but it’s never too early to learn rein-back. Ready?”

  The boy stared wide-eyed, studious and fascinated. Bernard’s expression made Duncan smile.

  Ensuring his son could see what he was doing, he faced the horse and pressed a hand to the horse’s chest, pushing gently. The horse sidestepped.

  “Did you see that?” Duncan asked. “That was a sidestep. What do we want him to do again?”

  Bernard worried his lips.

  “Walk backward in a straight, even line,” Duncan said.

  Bernard nodded, as though he understood perfectly and had been just about to say that.

  Duncan worked with the horse for a good bit longer, instructing his son just as much as the horse. Once the horse accomplished the task in confident and even steps, Duncan signaled for a groom to mount.

  “Would you like to do it?” he asked Bernard.

  Rarely had he seen a brighter smile. The boy leapt out of the chair and stumbled through the snow to reach his papa’s side. Duncan lifted him onto his shoulders. Snow-packed shoes rained white clumps onto Duncan’s coat.

  “When I say ‘back,’ we’re going to press the horse right here on his chest. I’ll do it this time, and you watch. Next time, you’ll do it. At the same time we act, the groom is going to signal the horse with his ankles and calves. Ready?”

  A happy rhythm was thumped onto Duncan’s head.

  “Back,” he commanded.

  On cue, Bernard pressed the air, mirroring Duncan’s hand to the horse. Ever obedient, the horse stepped backward.

  Lowering Bernard off his shoulders so the boy could reach the horse, they gave it a second attempt. When the horse stepped back at Bernard’s touch, Duncan stroked the horse’s neck with praise and kissed his son’s forehead, rewarding both for their accomplishment. Bernard was overcome with glee. He squealed and wriggled, ready to help with more training.

  “Jamie’s going to work with the horse now to rein-back with leg-only commands. While he does that, shall we train another of the horses? We have three more horses to train the same technique.”

  Delighted, Bernard wormed his way out of Duncan’s arms, ready to be a big boy in the training scheme.

  For over an hour Bernard stayed with Duncan. The boy’s nose and cheeks were red by the end, and he had a distinct sniffle, but both father and son had a grand time of it. Duncan promised to allow him to help train every day. Showing the boy how to do lunge work would be a good place to start. At some point, he would need to learn to ride, the sooner the better, as far as Duncan was concerned, though he would have Caesar be the mount for that task.

  Training the horses, however accelerated was the schedule, was the most fun Duncan had had since joining the Army. When he first started the training, he thought little could top his enjoyment—until Bernard joined him. Being able to w
ork in tandem and teach his son his methodologies for building a horse’s confidence and trust in the rider was beyond what words could describe. Fatherhood may have come about unexpectedly, but it suited him.

  The next day brought another surprise—Mary.

  He was mounted on one of the stallions, working through a lesson on shoulder-in. This horse was the most temperamental of the four. They’d been at this for well over an hour, but the horse continued to try to neck-in.

  As horse and rider turned into a circle, Duncan moved his inside leg before the horse’s girth to prompt him to trot the front legs with shoulder-in and the hindlegs straight. However responsive the horse was when doing this to the left, he was stubborn about doing it to the right. Both sides had to be mastered before the lesson could end. Duncan was not frustrated. There must be endless patience with such training and plenty of confidence, for the horse would sense the rider’s emotional state.

  As they circled back around, Duncan spotted one of the other horses trotting his direction, the snowfall giving the black stallion a majestic bearing. Curious why a groom was bringing over one of the horses that had already learned this lesson, he halted and waited. Only when the pair moved closer did Duncan realize it was not a groom.

  Mary rode the horse with skill and sensuality. A smile broadened Duncan’s lips. He waited for her to come alongside him, admiring her crimson riding habit. How the devil he ever thought a groom rode towards him, he would never know. The snow was falling steadily but not enough to blind him, and she was a stunning vision in red and black against the white backdrop.

  “Is this to be the only way I see you for the next few months?” she chided.

  “Am I preoccupied? Sorry, my love. Duty calls.” His gaze swept over her in dramatized appreciation. “After all my hard work to break-in that horse, you’re going to ruin him for male riders. He is to be a warhorse, you realize.”

  “Show me what to do, and I’ll assist.”

  Duncan laughed heartily. “A noble gesture, but what I’m teaching can’t be done with a side-saddle.”