Free A Royal Affair by John Wiltshire Page A

as it slowed upon the sand. The wind caught my hair, that had fallen loose from its tie, and I ran my fingers through the blond strands, lifting them from my face. Aleksey was watching me, his own horse twisting, cooling down, overstimulated, excited.
    I swallowed, and something stirred deep within me. Everything around me seemed to collapse into a tiny tunnel through which all I could see and hear was Aleksey: his eyes made brilliant by the wind, the high color on his cheekbones, the muscles in his thighs as he controlled the wild horse. I slid off Xavier’s back, ignoring the cold water around my legs, and buried my face in his warm, familiar hide, smelling him, feeling his heartbeat. I was wholly unable to move until things had subsided. The intensity of my desire almost undid me. I let Xavier lead me deeper into the water until I was covered to my waist. The freezing soaking did its job, and I remounted, wet, cold, but myself once more, the self I presented to the outer world.
    Aleksey had also dismounted and was bent over, looking at something in his horse’s hoof.
    “All right?”
    He nodded, his back to me. “Go on. I will be with you in a moment. He has picked up a stone.” He waved in the direction of some smoke I could now see curling up at the side of the forest. “That’s the inn.”
    I nodded, although he could not see this, and turned Xavier toward the smoke. He pranced a little, and I reined him back, easing him around some driftwood that had accumulated from a storm at the high tide mark. I had not gone far when Aleksey rode up behind me. He did not say anything. I could think of nothing to say either, and so we arrived at the inn in silence except for the panting and snorting of our horses.
    I was immediately struck by the appearance of this place. I could see a small hamlet of houses surrounding the main building of the inn. For the first time since leaving civilization, I saw a place not degraded by poverty and ignorance. Each cottage seemed well cared for. Each had a small garden, likewise cared for and abundant with flowers and vegetables. The main street was paved with drainage channels. I had not seen its like outside of the capital, and even in that main city the paving was badly maintained. The whole place was well situated, as if someone who understood systems of drainage and prevailing winds and weather had placed a godlike hand down and commanded that there be light.
    Aleksey led us around behind the inn to a cobbled courtyard and dismounted. He was about to walk his horse toward a stable when something tackled him. It was small and noisy, and when my senses recovered, I saw it was a boy about four years of age. Aleksey rolled on the ground for a moment, apparently seriously injured. The boy held off, anxious, and then he was swept up in a vicious tackle and tossed in the air for a while. Screaming with glee, he began to hiccup alarmingly and was so let down with an all-consuming hug and a kiss full on the lips as one might give… their child. I bit my lip, thinking, as I dismounted. Perhaps this boy was another Stephen, a royal bastard—Aleksey’s bastard. This young prince was of an age to have many such children running around in these horrid hamlets. Quite out of humor now from my previous enchantment with the place, I led Xavier into the stable and fastened him securely. Aleksey came in with the child on his shoulders. The boy had his hands over Aleksey’s eyes, and the prince was pretending he could not see. He barged into me, which annoyed me excessively, and I told him to stop being a fool. The boy grinned and said in good German, “Why does he speak funny, ’Sey?”
    “Because, Sebastian, he is a very funny man who is pretending to be very annoyed with me.” This was said in German also, which he knew I understood.
    “Why is he cross with you? No one is ever cross with you.”
    “Ah, he does not yet understand that, my little corporal. He is cross because I have not told