Free Lord & Master by Emma Holly Page A

want him to do something.”
    I shouldn’t have flushed. I simply couldn’t avoid a memory of squeezing Damien’s naked hips with that part of me.
    “Good,” said Mr. Reed, so I assumed I’d done more or less what he instructed.
    The lesson had gone on for about half an hour when I noticed Damien leaning casually on the fence. He’d dressed for riding too, the close-fitting clothes showing off his powerful, tall figure. I’d been frustrated by my ineptness for most of the time till then. On spotting my new husband, I felt a rush of happiness that rather astonished me.
    I think my expression must have lit up. Damien smiled at me.
    “Mr. Reed is teaching me to ride!” I exclaimed.
    “So I see. You’ll be leaping fences in no time.”
    “Hardly,” I laughed. “I’ll be lucky if I can get down again.”
    “Allow me to assist,” he offered, swinging over the fence neatly.
    “Are we done?” I asked Mr. Reed, not wishing to seem unappreciative of his instruction.
    “Probably we ought to be. You’re not used to this. I wouldn’t want you to end up sore.”
    “Indeed no,” Damien agreed. He and my teacher exchanged a glance, causing me to wonder if the two men understood each other a bit too well.
    When Damien gripped my waist to help me slide off, I couldn’t call his hold anything but personal. He was thinking about last night. Of that, I was certain.
    Because I hadn’t ridden sidesaddle, Damien was behind me. His chest bumped me through my riding jacket, his strong thighs brushing my bottom. Jodhpurs weren’t as thick a barrier as skirts and petticoats. I became aware that his groin was warm—and possibly aroused. There seemed a definite harder part nudging me.
    Conscious that Mr. Reed was watching, I stepped away hastily.
    My thighs were more fatigued than I expected. I stumbled, obliging both men to catch me by an arm. The current that streaked through me at their double hold was hot enough to startle.
    Evidently, I liked being touched by the pair of them.
    “Careful,” Mr. Reed cautioned. He let go and looked at Damien. “Perhaps you should carry her to my cottage. It’s close by and I’ve liniment there.”
    “What?” I said, shocked by the idea of being treated with liniment. “I’ll be perfectly fine once I walk the stiffness off.”
    “No need for that,” Damien said in a cheerful tone. He swept me up in his arms without more ado, bouncing me a bit to balance my weight—or perhaps to prove that he could. “Mr. Reed can get the gate and I’ll carry you.”
    The men settled it between them. I was to have no say.
    “You’ll pull something,” I predicted, half hoping that he would. “You’re not a strongman at a fair.”
    “Balderdash,” he demurred. “You weigh no more than a feather.”
    Though I was small compared to him, this was nonsense. I rolled my eyes but clung to his shoulders as he toted me across the paddock. We continued through the gate and along a well-tramped dirt path. As I’d prognosticated, Damien was soon breathing more heavily, sweat gleaming on his chiseled face despite the crisp weather. Luckily, Mr. Reed’s cottage appeared before my new husband’s energy ran out.
    Admitted curious, I studied the residence from my moving perch.
    The walls of the stable master’s abode were stone. On the roof, thatch formed a thick and picturesque covering. Adding to the impression of country charm, late roses bloomed in the tiny garden, where a green hedge and a swinging gate lent privacy. Ivy curtained the deep, diamond-paned windows.
    “It’s like a storybook,” I said admiringly.
    Seeming amused by Damien’s feat of strength, Mr. Reed opened the door for him. He had to bend. The lintel was for shorter people than either of the men.
    “I’m glad you approve,” he said as Damien grunted and ducked inside.
    The living space was a single room. Though two cozy armchairs faced the hearth, Damien carried me to the bed. This was a single man’s sleeping place. Its