Free A Man For All Seasons by Jenny Brigalow

much-anticipated return home was going to be as difficult as hell.
    With a deep sigh he acknowledged he could delay no longer. He led the horse out. Seraphim was already mounted on Pollyanna. To add insult to his injury she looked utterly ravishing in black and silver jodhpurs and a matching shirt, whose collar rolled over a soft black jumper.
    In one fluid movement he grabbed Dresden's ear and vaulted clean into the saddle. He partly hoped for a sterling performance from the horse. He was in the mood. But, to the obvious disappointment of the slyly watching staff, Dresden only put on a half-hearted show. He humped up twice and then sighed deeply. Chad reflected the horse would never have made it on the rodeo circuit. His heart wasn't really in it.
    As he settled back into the saddle Seraphim rode up beside him and he couldn't help but admire the lithe length of her long legs. His eyes travelled slowly upward and stopped abruptly at the vicinity of her chest. Beneath the snug fit of her jumper, highlighting the swell of her breasts, her nipples stood out like twin bullets. He felt a heat begin to gather in his loins and he forced his eyes upward.
    She smiled at him. A small dimple hovered in the hollow of one cheek and her long black lashes brushed upon creamy cheeks. Chad wondered if it were possible for a man to feel more utterly wretched.
    “Ready?” she asked.
    He shifted uncomfortably in the cramped confines of the English saddle. “Yes,” he replied, desire and unhappiness effectively eroding away any hope of intelligent conversation.
    Thankfully she seemed happy enough to talk for the both of them. “We'll go out through the village and into the woodlands. They are mainly beech. If we're lucky we may see some deer. There's roe deer and the little Japanese deer too.”
    She kept up a chirpy dialogue as they rode. He enjoyed the sound of the horse's feet on the iron hard bitumen roads; somewhat of a novelty. In the silver trees little birds sang, their feathers fluffed up against the cold. A small grey creature skittered across the road, its bushy tail flying behind, and Seraphim informed him that it was a squirrel.
    They entered the wood just past the church, via a small stretch of open land called a common. It was very quiet. The only sounds were the suctioning of the horses feet in the boggy ground and the soft blowing of their labour. Pollyanna stopped so abruptly that Dresden literally bumped into her.
    “Sorry,” Seraphim whispered, raising a gloved hand. “Look.”
    Not more than twenty metres away in a small glade of saplings, a herd of deer stood frozen. They watched wide-eyed, long ears waving gently, their heads high. Then a large doe snorted and turned tail, and like a flock of birds the rest followed, tails bobbing, away and out of sight.
    “Oh, lovely,” said Seraphim.
    “Lovely,” Chad echoed, as he watched her exquisite profile. His eyes caressed the long sweep of her jaw, the immaculate bones of her cheek, and the straight, strong lines of her nose emphasised by the black cap of dark hair. Then it dawned on him. “You're not wearing a helmet.”
    She glanced at him then, the picture of guilt and rubbed the perfect nose with one small hand. A gesture that was both endearing and young. “I don't know what's gotten into me! I feel positively wicked this morning.” She made a small moue of concern with her mouth and lifted her eyes to him. “You won't tell Daddy, will you?”
    He opened his mouth to reassure her. But then he remembered her words from earlier. “I'm really going to see Julian.”
    He hardened his heart, determined to try to develop a little more distance between them. “It's none of my concern,” he said. Some of the vitality fell from her face and she looked away. He felt like a blister on bushman's backside, but forced himself to remain quiet.
    She nodded and pushed her horse on.
    She rode silently and he sensed her hurt. His misery waxed as her shoulders slumped a little,