Free Lord and Master by Kait Jagger

Helen Wellstone-Waverley’s co-signature. Luna was reluctant to put it in the internal post; things that went to the stables had a way of getting lost, or coming back in no fit state to pass on.
    So on Wednesday morning she popped her head into the Marchioness’s office and said she was going to take the application down to Helen personally. Working at Arborage was good that way, she mused as she walked past the portico, where a crowd of primary school students in grey blazers and pinafores were posing between the two statues of lions on either side of the main entrance. Always opportunities to get out and about, if you looked for them.
    â€˜Roar like lions,’ the students’ teacher shouted, holding her camera aloft to capture a photo. Luna smiled at the resulting chorus of high-pitched roars, catching the attention of one particularly cheeky little boy, who gave her a little extra roar as she passed. She rewarded him with an answering snarl and a quick display of her claws.
    The equestrian centre was located on the boundary between the forest and the farmland beyond. Including an outdoor manège and an indoor school, as well as state of the art stables, it housed anywhere between fifteen and twenty horses at any given time. As well as being a professional show jumper, Helen also gave lessons and hosted camps for aspiring show jumpers.
    None of this held any particular interest for Luna, who frankly found horses unpredictable and unreliable. Give her a solid, dependable motorbike any day.
    As usual, the various teenage stable hands toiling away mucking out stables paid her absolutely no attention as she carefully picked her way into the brick-cobbled yard, wishing she’d worn more sensible shoes. She eventually had to collar one pimply youth, who informed her disinterestedly that Helen was ‘hacking out’ and might be back soon. Or might not, he didn’t really know.
    Luna was debating whether to risk leaving her document with the pimply wonder when she heard the sound of horses approaching on one of the forest trails. It was Helen, clad in quilted jacket and jeans, her light brown hair cut sensibly short and face still tanned from the summer. Like a larger, horsier version of Lady Wellstone. And with her was…Stefan. Judging from the sound of Helen’s laughter, it appeared he’d melted through whatever grudge she had against him, at least for the present.
    They entered the yard, Helen riding a chestnut mare while Stefan was on a gorgeous, even to Luna’s untrained eyes, dark grey stallion. She was astounded Helen would let him ride what must be one of her best horses, till she noticed the stallion toss its head with a wide, crazy-eyed look that completely confirmed her distrust of his species. Stefan corrected it with a swift yank of the reins, and Luna realised why Helen had given him this horse: as a test.
    Stefan and Helen were talking horsey talk, something about colic, which in Luna’s experience all horsey people seemed obsessed with. This stuff went in one ear and out the other for her, even more so because she was transfixed not just by the stallion, but by its rider. Stefan was dressed in tan, close-fitting jodhpurs, a zip-front black jumper and suitably worn boots and chaps. He wore a black riding hat as well and looked like he was born to the saddle, completely at ease chatting with Helen, then bending down to slap the stallion’s neck affectionately. He hadn’t shaved yet that day, and Luna noted for the first time that his beard hair was ever so slightly lighter than the hair on his head.
    From her vantage point next to an empty stable, Luna also had a bird’s eye view of the hard line of his thigh and left buttock in the saddle, flexing as he squeezed his legs against the horse’s sides. She hadn’t really given Stefan’s buttocks much consideration before now and, gracious, well, they were worth considering. Bloody hell – and a