by Stasia Black
When Xavier pulls back, Samson stands perfectly still while Xavier buckles the saddle in place underneath his stomach. He’s had a rope harness around Samson’s head for about a week now, and he holds the reins loosely.
Then, straight away, Xavier lifts his foot into the stirrup and stands up, holding onto the sides of the saddle for balance. Samson shuffles forward, turning his head sharply to see what’s going on. Xavier’s forced to drop back to the ground.
I jolt forward, hands going to the fence as the horse turns around in a circle, neighing. Xavier starts talking to him, patting his long neck. Then he grabs the saddle, hikes his foot up into the stirrup and tries again.
My heart leaps into my throat as again Samson heads forward, dislodging Xavier. Xavier jumps back to the ground.
What the hell is he doing? Obviously the horse isn’t ready for this step.
But Xavier just walks the short distance, grabs the saddle and yet again, hikes himself up.
With predictable results.
Damn him, why does he always have to push? It’s a wild animal, for God’s sake. Does Xavier just have some screwed up need to conquer everything in his path?
It’s obvious the freaking horse doesn’t want to be ridden. Of course he doesn’t. He spent his entire life roaming free, allowed to make his own decisions about what he was going to do each day, where he was going to go next, what he was going to eat and how he was going to eat it, where he was going to sleep—
His body was his own.
Before.
But then along comes this man.
Every day putting his hands all over you, demanding you call him Master, treating you like he owns you, body and soul… Making you question everything you thought you knew. About the world. About yourself.
It’s not fair.
I stare out at the mustang, willing him to hold true to his wild spirit. “Don’t let him conquer you,” I whisper under my breath.
Xavier hikes himself up into the stirrup again. Samson hesitates for just a moment before starting to shuffle forward.
It’s enough for Xavier to take advantage of. He swings his leg over the saddle and when Samson finally takes off, Xavier has the reins. He encourages Samson to keep going, but when he tugs on the left rope, Samson goes left until they’re riding in a brisk circle around the large paddock.
Xavier calls out loud praise to Samson as they go.
It’s both beautiful and horrible. Their bodies seam together in what looks like an unbroken line. Horse and rider—master and steed—connected in a single purpose.
I quickly turn on my heel and start walking away as quickly as possible, a clenched fist held over my heart against brewing hurt and rage.
***
“I got my period,” I say, staring down listlessly at the turkey sandwiches I prepared for lunch when Xavier comes in half an hour later. “I need tampons.”
That was a lovely discovery I made right after watching Xavier with Samson and went to the bathroom. Hello, Cousin Flo.
Goodbye hopes of this whole nightmare being over in nine months. And then I was flooded with relief, because, a baby? Like always, the thought of a screaming, squalling, shitting infant gets the same knee jerk reaction from me. Holy shit, just no.
Which was then followed by terror because what if Xavier was mad I wasn’t pregnant? Which was then swiftly followed by fury, because if he wanted me to get pregnant, then he should damn well start doing something about it!
And that was all just way too many waves of emotion to process in a three-minute period, so I stuffed my panties with toilet paper and then came to the kitchen to make lunch.
Followed by sitting down and staring aimlessly at my turkey sandwich. Yeah, this is turning out to be a real winner of a day so far. Can I have a free pass and just go back to sleep? Maybe claiming cramps will get me out of all the bullshit? Does this work like P.E.?
“Come with me.” Xavier takes my hand, drawing me out of my chair. Then he leads me up the stairs, all three flights.
“Lie on the bed,” he orders.
What? “Look, if you can just give them to me, then I’ll go downstairs, take care of it, and we can get back to lun—”
“On the bed.” The furrow between his eyebrow appears at my equivocation.
I let out a huff of air and throw up my hands but do as he instructs.
“You’re in a mood,” he says as he comes back, tampon in hand.
I close my eyes and throw my hand over my face. Oh my God, is he going to do something kinky with a tampon?
He pulls off my boots, then draws down my pants. I’m surprised he hasn’t responded to my dramatics with the arm over my face, but I don’t move it.
Let him ‘punish’ me or do whatever the hell it is he’s going to do. Not like I have a choice in it anyway.
I feel the bed shift when he gets up and then he returns a few moments later. Then he pulls down my panties and his hands are at my most delicate place, removing the no doubt bloody toilet paper from between my legs. I’m glad my arm is over my face because I have no doubt I’m going beet red.
Oh my gosh, some things were meant to be left private.
But no, there he is, just barging in. I try to squeeze my knees together. Naturally, he just spreads them right back apart. Then I feel him running a warm wash cloth methodically all around.
I have to bite my lip against tears at how gentle he’s being.
Why?
Why is he doing this to me? And what the hell is this anyway? He seems to want something more than a baby. Or maybe it’s that he just wants to have me completely under his thumb before I’m allowed the honor of carrying his seed?
Goddammit, going in circles trying to figure him out will make me crazy.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bite down on my bottom lip even harder. It’s just hormones. PMS stuff. And being locked up in this place with nobody but him to talk to for three weeks. Him and the damn horses. I’m bound to go a little nuts.
Still, I can’t help the strange flutter that goes through my stomach when I feel the gentle probe of the tampon as he slides it carefully into my channel.
There’s nothing inherently sexual about the act.
And when he leans over and I feel the press of his lips right over the hood of my clitoris, I feel more like he’s giving me some sort of blessing or it’s something spiritual for him rather than trying to excite me, for once.
Which makes my emotions go haywire all over again. I lift my arm from over my eyes and peek down at him, dark head bowed right over my womb.
Is he sad I’m not pregnant? Or is this something else? How can I live day in, day out with this man, sleep by his side every night and yet know so little about him?
“Thanks,” I say, squirming away from him and his bowed head. “We should get back out there. It’s time for the afternoon feeding.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slide my underwear and jeans back up my legs. I’m just pulling on my first boot when his voice rings out firmly.
“No.”
I pause, mid-boot, and look over at him warily. “No?”
He shakes his head decisively, leaning against the backboard of the bed and observing me. “Since you aren’t with child, it’s time to get you up on a horse.”
My foot slides into the boot at the same time my stomach drops through the floor. “Oh, that’s not necessary.” I wave my hands. “They’re perfectly happy as they are. They don’t need me bumbling my way—”
“Part of getting to know a horse is riding them. That’s where relationships are truly forged. You’ve been teaching the horses to trust you by feeding and grooming them. Now it’s your turn to prove that you trust them.”
I can only stare at him open-mouthed for a long moment.
Trust a horse? With my life?
Does he hear himself?
“But they’re two thousand pounds!” I protest.
“Sugar’s only about fifteen hundred,” he says mildly,
a twitch at one side of his lips like he’s amused by me.
My stomach calms down a little at hearing that it’s Sugar he’s thinking of trying out this insane idea on, but still!
Then I remember, “She’s a mustang.”
“And?” Eyebrow lift.
“And what if, I don’t know,” I throw up my hands, “she suddenly remembers what it was like to be a wild horse and gets it in her mind to go tearing off. With me on her back!”
He gives me a level stare. “Have you known Sugar to be anything but calm and sweet natured?”
“That’s not the point,” I scoff. “You said she was as wild as Samson.”
He props his elbow on his knee, then his chin on his fist. “Oh please, do tell me more about the disposition of my horses, since you have so much experience in this area. Not to mention that your discriminatory attitude against mustangs is fascinating to behold.”
I let out an outraged huff. “Discrimin— How dare you accuse me— I was just—”
“Fine,” he stands up, holding out a hand toward the bedroom door. “No Sugar, though she’s the sweetest mare you’d ever sit saddle on. Pioneer is almost as sweetly dispositioned and he seems taken with you. We’ll gear him up and have you riding circles before sundown.”
“Pioneer is the one who threw his owner!”
“His former owner was an abusive bastard.”
“Exactly.” I raise my hands. He’s making my point for me. “All the animals you’ve taken in are rescues. The same thing I was saying about Sugar could apply to any of them if they suddenly think of their former owners or situations and—”
“Enough.” Xavier’s voice crackles in the suddenly silent room and his dark eyes are enough to communicate that I’ve worn through his patience even if his tone didn’t.
He comes up to me, immediately invading my personal space. He lifts my chin and tilts my head so I’m looking up into his eyes. His other hand rises and he places his palm directly over my chest.
Can he feel how hard my heart is beating?
Just because of my fear about this preposterous idea of riding a horse. It has nothing to do with his physical proximity. Nothing at all.
“Fear has no place here.” His voice is softer now. “I would never endanger you.” His thumb caresses up and runs over where my heartbeat is a flutter at my throat. His eyes avert to stare at his hand as, for just a moment, his fingers close lightly around my throat.
“Trust,” his gaze comes back up to meet mine, “is the most precious gift you can give to any being.”
With that, he lets go of my throat and steps out the door, heading down the stairs.
I swallow hard, my own hand lifting to my neck where his was only moments before.
And then I follow.
Chapter 13
I stand fidgeting near the fence while I watch Xavier take Pioneer out and start to saddle him. Yes, I groom these guys every day, but that doesn’t stop them from being so freaking large.
They tower over me. Pioneer is something like twelve to fifteen times the size of little old me. I have to get up on a two-step stepladder to groom Paddyshack, one of the ex-racehorses, he’s so tall.
Pioneer is calm as can be as Xavier tosses the saddle on his back.
Meanwhile, Sugar comes over to me and bumps into my shoulder.
Which makes me feel like crap for dissing her earlier.
“Not now.” I take a few steps away.
She just follows, her big head nuzzling at the back of my neck.
Then comes the licking. I swear she’s as bad as her owner about personal space.
“Sugar, not—” I gently push her away and take another few steps forward, but she also shares Xavier’s stubbornness. She just keeps following me and gently butting her head into my neck and shoulders until I turn around and give her the attention I usually do.
With a sigh, I give in and start scratching at her muzzle, then up her long nose and around to her flowing dark brown mane.
“Are you trying to turn me into a softie? I’m supposed to be a mean New York bitch.” She noses against my hands and makes a blowing, chuffing noise that I know means she’s happy and even excited.
I roll my eyes and then lean my forehead against her nose. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”
She keeps rolling her head back and forth against mine.
I turn around and look at Xavier. He’s paused, his hand on Pioneer’s bridal, just watching me with Sugar. Smug bastard probably already knows what I’m going to say. I roll my eyes again as I gesture toward Sugar.
“I’ll ride her.”
At least he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He simply leads Pioneer close and ties his lead to the fence, then returns to the barn for another tack and saddle. Within ten minutes, he’s led both horses into a smaller paddock, got Sugar saddled, and set what he calls a mounting block on the ground beside her.
Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, am I really going to do this?
Sugar might be a sweetie, but she’s so damn big.
I look around anxiously at the fence posts of the paddock. Okay, so they look sturdy enough, but are they really enough to stop a fifteen-hundred-pound horse if she gets it in her head that she longs for the wilds out yonder again?
Sugar turns her head toward me as if to say, what’s the matter here?
“She can sense your unease.”
I look to Xavier sharply. “Will that make her bolt? If I’m nervous?”
He smiles at me and pats Sugar’s neck. “Nope, not our girl. I lent her out to a horse therapy program for a couple months earlier this year. She’s always calm as can be. I told you, it’s her nature. Once I realized that about her, I started training her with therapeutic work in mind.”
I pause, my own hand lifting to Sugar’s flank, and stare at him, my gaze flicking for the briefest second to the maimed half of his face.
For the most part I rarely notice it anymore. Which is strange because at first it seemed so monstrous. It’s not like I don’t see it when I look at him or even that my eyes skirt past it. It’s just… part of him. And it’s really only the upper portion of the left side of his face. I’m far more captivated by the rest of him, even his face if I’m being honest.
Ugh, I hate that I’m captivated by him, but there it is. The naked, bared truth. And my damn curiosity about him refuses to be slaked.
Were there therapy horses where he was when he was recovering from… whatever the hell it was that happened to him? Is that why he started this horse farm out in the middle of nowhere? Why is he the way he is?
“I can stand here all day,” Xavier says, leaning a hip against the paddock post. “You’re not getting out of saddling up on that horse.”
My eyes jump to his face as I’m jolted back into the moment. Right. The horse. My first riding lesson. The stubborn-ass man in front of me.
But as I switch my gaze to the saddle and Sugar’s broad body fills my field of vision in both directions, suddenly I want to do this for me, not him.
I’m not some shrinking violet. I was the youngest account manager at New World Media and Design. I dealt with multi-million-dollar accounts and hobnobbed with New York’s snobbiest and most elite. I will not be bested by a gentle horse who has a penchant for apples and sugar cubes.
I step up on the mounting block, grab the saddle where Xavier showed me, and put my foot in the stirrup, then hike myself upwards.
For a second, I’m terrified that she’s going to stamp forward like Samson did and I’ll fall off straightaway.
But Sugar stands perfectly and placidly still.
Meanwhile I’m frozen, one foot in the stirrup, standing on one side of the horse and realizing just how very high up off the ground I suddenly am.
“Breathe,” comes Xavier’s calm voice. “You’re doing wonderful. Just breathe and shift your weight forward. Grab the saddlehorn with both hands and swing your leg over the saddle.”
That seems like way
too many instructions at once. I look down at him, panicked.
He puts a steadying hand on the calf of my leg that’s in the stirrup and repeats himself. Eventually, I do what he says.
And then, holy shit! I’m riding a horse!
Okay, I’m sitting on a horse, but then the next thing I know, Xavier has handed me the reins and Sugar is moving and I am actually riding a horse.
“Oh my God, I’m doing it!” I squeal excitedly.
“You’re doing beautifully.”
I have a death grip on both the reins and the saddlehorn. When I dare a glance away from Sugar’s mane to look in Xavier’s direction, he’s beaming one of those rare, full-toothed grins at me. It’s enough to take my breath away.
Well, that and the fact that Sugar picks up her pace and really starts to walk forward like she’s decided she’s got some place to go.
“Oh my God, oh my God, what do I do?” I ask in a panic, my grip on the saddlehorn going white-knuckled.
Xavier chuckles. “You’re fine. Just pull back gently on the reins if you want her to slow down.”
Naturally I yank too hard. Sugar comes to a sudden stop. She turns her head around to look at me like, who is this noob riding me who has no idea what she’s doing?
“Sorry, sweetie,” I apologize, daring to reach forward and pat her.
In a swift motion, Xavier is up on Pioneer’s back and riding up beside me. The full grin has faded, but there’s still the clear air of pride and satisfaction shining in his eyes when he looks over at me.
“Let’s take a walk. Hold her reins loosely.”
I take a deep breath then hold the reins like he demonstrates on Pioneer. With his patient instruction, he leads me through my first horse ride. Initially we just go in circles around the paddock. Then he teaches me how to make turns and finally he sets up cones and I try to lead Sugar through the obstacle course—with middling to fair levels of success. On our last pass, we manage to only knock over one out of seven cones.
And I can’t help the ridiculous grin from splitting my face by the time the sun is setting. Xavier tells me it’s time to get off but I beg for another half hour.
