Free Lord & Master by Emma Holly

didn’t disappear.
    “I notice you’re dressed for riding,” the annoying man observed.
    I looked down at myself stupidly. I’d thought the navy outfit practical for a walk, but I suppose I was garbed to ride. The boots were sturdy enough for it. “My maid laid this out for me.”
    “Have you jodhpurs underneath the skirt?”
    “Yes, but I hadn’t planned to get on a horse. I’m not much of a rider.”
    Mr. Reed swung his back leg over Tiger’s posterior, making the process of dismounting look easier than I suspected it really was. “Let’s see if we can change that.”
    “Oh no.” I automatically retreated a couple steps. The stallion’s bridle jingled as it bobbed its head slightly. “I’m not getting up on him.”
    “Not him.” The stable master gestured toward an under groom I hadn’t seen approaching. He was short enough to be a real jockey. “Is Bulrush saddled?”
    “He is, sir. I’ll bring him out.”
    “You don’t have to do that for me.”
    “Don’t lose your nerve,” Mr. Reed advised. “Your husband loves to ride. Wouldn’t you enjoy keeping him company?”
    “I guess I would.”
    “You’ll like Bulrush. He’s a good walker. Not too big. Nice gentle temperament. All the qualities a Morgan ought to have.”
    Was a Morgan a sort of breed? I didn’t ask. I was too busy pressing my thumbnail against my teeth. The all-black horse the groom led out looked plenty big to me. Probably I was imagining it, but it seemed to stare straight at me.
    Did it know I was afraid of it?
    Mr. Reed looped Tiger’s reins around a rail and swung over the paddock fence to me.
    I jerked in shock when he touched my waist.
    “I need to take off your skirt,” he explained.
    “Are you insane?” I burst out.
    “I’ve never taught a woman to ride sidesaddle. It wouldn’t be safe for me to start on you.” He met my gawk unflinchingly. “You said you were wearing jodhpurs. I promise not to go mad with lust because I see your legs.”
    “Fine,” I said after a hesitation. “But this is highly irregular.”
    He seemed to find me as amusing as my husband did.
    Fortunately, the horse was gentle. Even with Mr. Reed’s leg-up, my knee knocked its flank as I mounted. Bulrush flicked his ears but didn’t move otherwise. I was very high up then, or so it appeared to me. I rather liked looking down on Mr. Reed, though the wide stretch of my thighs around the saddle seemed like something I shouldn’t get comfortable with.
    “There you go.” My self-appointed trainer patted the horse’s side and then my knee. My entire leg tingled at the contact. I ignored that to glare at him.
    “Sorry,” he said, not sounding it at all. “I never was one for following the rules.”
    My husband had extremely eccentric taste in staff. If Damien hadn’t specifically requested that I treat this man with consideration, I’d have said something brusque. I suspect Mr. Reed knew this. His deep blue eyes twinkled.
    “I’ll show you how to hold the reins. Then we’ll try a walk.”
    I am ashamed to say it, but when the horse actually moved, I found it alarming. How did people do this? Keeping my balance on Bulrush’s back was as bad as standing in a rowboat. I wasn’t even guiding the horse. Mr. Reed was leading it. No doubt I didn’t look dignified, clinging to the saddle front like a sack of flour.
    “Have you ever been on horseback?” he asked.
    I’d been on a pony. I gathered it didn’t show.
    “I like the car ,” I huffed, feeling dangerously close to tears.
    He smiled and patted my knee again. Such was my state that I found this comforting. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I just need to know where to start.”
    “At the beginning ,” I said curtly.
    He laughed. “Very well. The first requirement for riding is developing an independent seat. Sit up straight and centered in the saddle. Hold on securely with your thighs but don’t squeeze the horse’s sides. When you squeeze, you tell Bulrush here that you