Her Grace's Stable: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 2 by Joely Sue Burkhart

ridge of muscles joining his neck and shoulders. “I’d love to have you spread out in my bed so I could massage every inch of you. Think how good this would feel on your knees, the backs of your thighs. Or perhaps…” She trailed her fingers down his spine to the waistband of his trousers, but no lower. I gave him my word. “Your calves. A pony’s leg muscles can get very sore after running so hard in the ring.”
    She stepped back around to his front so he could watch her face as she poured more oil into her hands. Spreading out her fingers wide, she ran her hands over the broad planes of his chest. Chiseled rows of muscle ran over his ribs. Her fingers found a puckered scar low on his right side. “Bullet wound?”
    He shrugged one shoulder as though to say nothing to be concerned about .
    So many questions burned in her mind. She yearned to talk about the war. Cole said he’d mentioned the front, so he must have been to the Iberian system. In which company had he served? Where had he trained? How many times had he been wounded? Did he prefer traditional weapons or embrace the newer technologies?
    She could certainly use her datapad to find out all of these details, but it would be so much more rewarding to hear it straight from him. However, she couldn’t ask him anything. Not when she wasn’t supposed to know who he was, while he refused to give his voice.
    She slid her palm up around his throat, working that long, proud column. His jaw flexed, the bit rattling against his teeth. Impatience? Or a growing concern that she was touching him too much? She couldn’t know with one hundred percent confidence because he refused to tell.
    She let out a long sighing breath and turned away to the table of tack. Perhaps…
    Teeth closed on her shoulder so hard she involuntarily cried out. The harsh snap made her whirl around, eyes narrowed to search his face. Anger? An attempt at punishing her for taking too many liberties?
    He whuffed again, his eyes glittering a challenge.
    Her shoulder throbbed while she schooled her reaction. She quite enjoyed rougher play, especially a pony’s teeth. Where Cole was playful, Arthur did it more for dominance, a reminder of his strength. He bit like a stallion would grip a mare while he mounted her.
    Heat pooled in her abdomen. Which is a very bad thing indeed when I’ve sworn not to touch him sexually in any way.
    Her nipples rubbed against her linen shirt. Her palms itched to stroke across his body again, spreading heat and oil and need until he begged her to remove his trousers. Calmly, she turned her back on him again and picked up a martingale of linked chains and leather straps that would frame his well-defined pectorals perfectly.
    Damnation, is this bloody man ever going to relent and speak to me?
     
    He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to dare a bite, but seeing her reaction, he was glad he’d acted on instinct. Lady Blackmyre needed to be shaken out of her grim control at least every once in a while. It certainly didn’t harm his ego in the slightest to know that he could not only surprise but also arouse not just the woman, but the mistress.
    However, he now sailed into dark uncharted territory of the “here be dragons” variety.
    So far in the ring, she’d never wavered from the calm, controlled mistress retraining the damaged pony. She’d been steady in her requirements that he obey the smallest command as quickly as possible without once mistreating him. She’d never allowed him to push her into corporal punishment, which both relieved and frustrated him. He’d had enough pain to know he could tolerate fairly high levels before self-preservation would drive him into the same violence he’d used to protect himself before. A little pain would make the pleasure all the sweeter if she used it wisely, and Lady Blackmyre knew very well what she was doing.
    She’d certainly know exactly how many times she could cut his back with that whip before he’d break and