“Characters!!!! I loved so many of them.” – R. Campbell
“The sex was sexy.” – Galena S.

Chapter 1

The name on the otherwise empty list at the stable’s entrance stared back at me as I gazed at its florid curves. My finger traced over the letters of its own accord. The lines were perfect, the capitals exaggerated into artistic swirls, each beautifully elaborate, maybe even slightly pretentious. Just like the man who’d written them. The man who starred in my every fantasy for the last three years. Herbie Du Bali, the king’s personal chef.

He was the last person I expected to show up on that list, though. He didn’t seem like the horseback riding type. At all. What prompted him to sign up for lessons? And what was I going to do about it?

Footsteps to my left drew my attention. My assistant’s bulky frame blocked most of the light from the stable’s open doors as he entered. Devarro was the only man larger than me at the palace stables. He was also about two years my senior, but preferred being second in command, something I liked a lot about him.

He was also a manly man, not one I’d imagined would be accepting of a guy into other men. So I grabbed the sign-up sheet quickly and shoved it into my pocket. Everyone knew Herbie wasn’t straight, and I didn’t need Devarro getting any ideas.

“Hey boss. What’s that?” he asked, directing his sharp features my way.

For a second, guilt washed over me, and I feared he might see my face flush. I had to remind myself that he’d likely asked out of simple curiosity, thinking it had something to do with work. So I just said, “Nothing important.”

Thankfully, Devarro wasn’t one to talk much or ask too many questions. He simply nodded his closely shaved head, then asked, “What do we have for this morning?”

I joined him in walking past the dozen horse stalls on either side to my tack room, where we met every morning to discuss schedules and task the workers.

“Not much going on today,” I said, “but the king and queen are trekking into the city the day after tomorrow, so we’ve got a lot of horses to prepare.”

The king would take a full entourage, so I eyed the horses we passed, trying to decide which to choose for the coaches. But my mind wandered to Herbie as I absently fiddled with the sign-up sheet in my pocket.

I had to take him, didn’t I? I’d be a heel if I canceled my first lesson. Not only that, but what excuse could I give? None I could think of sounded reasonable. That meant more than an hour alone with the man I’d been smitten with for nearly three years. It would have been a blissful thought if only I could date him or, even better, enjoy a full-blown relationship with him.

“Speaking of the day after tomorrow,” Devarro said, pulling me from my thoughts, “Ivvis, me, and a few of the other guys are going out that night. Wanna join?”

Ivvis was my head groomer, one of a group of five of us who hung out together regularly. The “other guys” were probably a few of my single groomers and stable hands.

“Where to?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on the conversation.

“Bloomer Springs.”

I rolled my eyes. “Bloomer Springs? Again?” The saloon was a shoddy joint in the most rundown part of the city. Its only appeal, for the other guys anyway, was that the women served drinks wearing nothing but their bloomers and corsets. And, more often than not, a guy could get served more than booze for a few additional crowns.

“Yeah,” Devarro said, “and I could use the extra muscle.”

Brawls had been known to break out in that part of the city. We’d been involved in more than a few ourselves thanks to Ivvis’ big mouth. But the more muscle a group had with them, the less likely people were to start anything, and Devarro and I carried a lot of combined muscle. Still, I preferred not to tempt fate, especially since the one appeal of the place did nothing for me.

“Why always Bloomers?” I asked. “Can’t you choose someplace more upscale? Maybe The Sweet Tea?” The Sweet Tea, often referred to as Sweeties, was a high-end pleasure house in a much better part of the city.

“You gonna increase our wages? Sweeties costs a month’s earnings.”

“A week’s at most.”

“How would you know?”

Because Sweeties was where I’d made my last-ditch effort to try to be with a woman. I’d paid nearly a week’s earnings for the most beautiful woman the place offered, thinking I had to be able to do it with a woman who was that attractive.

Turned out, I was wrong. The appropriate parts simply didn’t work, not even with the most gorgeous woman I could find rubbing her naked body all over me.

I answered Devarro with a wink and a smile. Twenty-eight years of hiding my preferences meant I knew how to make people assume what I wanted them to assume.

“Right,” he said. “Well, the rest of us don’t earn as much as you, so what about Bloomer Springs the night after tomorrow?”

Devarro always had my back at work, which meant I wouldn’t let him down. I told him I’d go.

From there, we got busy making the schedules to get all the horses ready for the king’s trip into the city. Many had to be groomed. Several had to be reshod, and a few needed bathing and grooming. The carriages had to be prepared as well, so there were a lot of details to keep track of and oversee. I did what I could to stay focused, but my mind kept wandering to Herbie. I continually fiddled with the sign-up sheet in my pocket, too, taking it out to look at his signature every time I had a moment alone.

At the end of the day, I evaluated the horses, trying to decide which would be best for Herbie. I’d considered several, put a lot of thought into my selection. I chose a horse called Tucker because he was older and mild-tempered. Unlikely to spook or bolt. Perfect for a new rider.

Then, as I often did, I stayed at the stables and spent time with the horses for a few hours after everyone else left. The following night with Herbie kept invading my mind. I continually imagined what it might be like. What would we talk about? Maybe we’d just stick to discussions about horses and riding? Keep it instructional? That was probably what I should do. There was no hope for anything between us, so that would be the wisest choice.

Once it got close to sunset, I left the palace on my favorite horse and traveled through the forest to my house, arriving just before the light of the day disappeared. I had a caretaker who came by daily to feed and water my chickens, pigs, and a mule I’d named Daisy, but I still looked in on them every morning and evening, regardless. After treating Daisy to a couple of apples, I walked from my stables—empty except for Daisy and the horse I took to and from work—to my back porch, lit the oil lamp I kept there, and went in through my back door.

As always, my huge log home was dark and quiet as a tomb. I took off my boots and placed them on a wooden shoe rack I’d crafted. It had enough slots for four pairs of boots or shoes. Why I’d made one with that many slots, I didn’t know. I’d never use them all. I supposed I’d made it to match the coat rack above. It had four hooks because I’d killed a deer and used its antlers for the rack, and four were the perfect curvature for the purpose. A single lightweight coat hung by its lonesome on one of the hooks. During Oxwick’s brief winters, a heavier coat joined it.

I padded through the kitchen, hardly glancing at the barely used space. Like many of the palace workers, I got my meals from the general kitchens there. My former mentor, Lance, who’d left me the house when he passed, had never purchased a full set of dishes or silverware and, after I took over the place, I didn’t bother either.

I passed my dining room with its large, heavy wooden table. I’d built that, too, though it had never seen a dinner guest. The only time anyone used the space was during card nights with the guys. We played once every couple of weeks and alternated houses between Devarro’s place and mine.

The stairs creaked as I made my way to my enormous master bedroom. The bed I’d made spanned more than two windows. A couple of extra pillows created a lump in the center that looked like a person hidden under the covers.

With a quick toss, my felt flat cap found its home on a hook next to my dresser. I removed my vest, shirt, belt, and riding breeches and laid them over the living chair in front of the room’s fireplace. I tossed my undergarments in a basket next to one of my two large bureaus.

Though the room temperature was comfortable, the bed linens were cool as I slipped between them. I put out the oil lamp I’d set on the table next to the bed, then rolled over and wrapped my arms and a leg around the extra pillows, pretending they were Herbie. They were too cool as well, but they’d warm to my temperature soon. I closed my eyes and imagined his naked body against mine like I’d done every night for nearly three years.

He had a smell about him, a spicy scent I loved that the pillows were missing. I wished I could cover the pillows in his scent somehow. Still, my evening fantasies of him were my favorite part of every day. I ran my hand up the pillow, imagining what his chest might feel like under my fingers. My cock began to grow.

A part of me wanted to laugh. I couldn’t get the slightest hint of an erection with a real-life naked woman, yet my cock roused at the mere thought of his body next to mine.

In my fantasy, Herbie responded to my touch, nuzzling into me. I ran kisses up his neck, and he turned and faced me with a welcoming smile. I kissed my pillow, knowing I’d look ridiculous if anyone ever saw me. But alone in my room in the pitch-black stillness of the night, no one would ever know. I imagined him kissing me back, and my hips moved of their own accord, my cock rubbing against the pillow below. Our kisses continued for some time in my mind. Loving kisses, soft and tender. I didn’t just want sex with him. I wanted so much more. Still, my body craved him like no other and, soon, I became unbearably hard.

Lowering my hand, I felt the wetness from my arousal, and worked to spread it over the head of my cock. Once wet enough, I stroked myself, pretending to enter him. All the while, I kissed the pillow, feeling his lips in my mind, imagining their warmth. My body approached climax quickly, but I wanted my fantasy time with him to last. I slowed my movements, and pictured him cooking in my kitchen, us eating at my dining room table and then us sitting on my back porch rocking chairs together, enjoying the sounds of nature.

When my cock calmed enough, I resumed my fantasies of his lips kissing mine, and his body moving in unison with me as I made love to him. The pressure built and built until I knew I couldn’t hold off any longer. I rolled onto my back, taking the pillow in my arm with me, still kissing it. Right before my climax, I tossed the covers off so I wouldn’t make a mess in the bed.

After I cleaned up, I rolled back over, draping my arm across the pillow, hugging it. I imagined holding him. Him sleeping in my embrace. I wondered what he’d think if he knew how often I thought about him. How he’d feel if he knew what I fantasized about. Would he think it dirty? Would he find me uncouth or desperate? Or would he be flattered? Would he ever want all I wanted with him?

What did it matter? I could never have it, never have him. I’d resigned myself to a celibate life alone. It was the only way to maintain my reputation and all I’d worked for. I couldn’t ruin my life for a man, not even him. I couldn’t disappoint my family, either, especially not my dad. I needed to remember that while I was with Herbie the following night.

The warm, loving excitement from my fantasy dissipated. I rolled away from the pillows and lay in the darkness, trying to sleep. My chest ached, a longing that wouldn’t subside. I padded downstairs for some water, then returned to the big, empty bed, keeping to the same position, facing my nightstand. I lay for a long while, but sleep wouldn’t find me. Eventually, I turned back to the pillows. I wrapped my arms and leg around them, imagined him in my embrace, and drifted off to sleep.

#

The next day was much like the day before, with the only difference being that I checked the clock constantly, counting down the hours to Herbie’s arrival. Nervous excitement filled me, though I kept reminding myself nothing could come of it. Besides, it was only a riding lesson. Nothing more. There was no need for me to get so out of sorts over a riding lesson. It was no big deal.

That’s why I polished my boots before returning to work. And why I rushed all the stable hands and groomers in getting the horses prepared, too. It was also why the minutes ticked by slower than a garden snail as I waited for the stable hands to leave. All of that was because it was no big deal.

I finally gave up on the last two guys and shooed them out, telling them they could finish preparations in the morning. I had a date—lesson—to get ready for, after all.

#

A short while later, I stood in the stable next to Tucker, the horse I’d chosen for Herbie. Early evening sunlight streamed in through the open double door at the end of the stable as I watched and waited for him to arrive, my body buzzing.

Tucker nickered at me from his stall to my right, seeking my attention. The golden Haflinger bobbed his head, his flaxen mane flowing with the movement as he eyed the apple in my hand and nickered a second time.

 “Yes. Yes. Here you go,” I said, smiling as I fed him the apple with one hand and petted him with the other, more to soothe my nerves than anything else.

Tucker finished the apple, and I glanced down for the fifth time in two minutes to check my appearance and make sure I didn’t do something stupid, like misbutton my vest. Then I lifted each of my riding boots for the third time in a half hour to ensure I had no muck on them. Because I’d polished them earlier, they looked much cleaner than usual, top and sole.

The light coming through the stable’s entrance dimmed for a moment, enough for me to know Herbie had entered the weathered wooden building. I turned and nearly melted at the sight of his handsome face, at him strolling toward me with his hips swaying. I tried to contain my smile, but couldn’t. Damn, that sway was sexy.

But what was he doing in dress clothes? Really nice dress clothes. He looked sharp. Debonair. Polished. I tried not to drool.

When he got close enough, he said, “Hi, Sal,” with his captivating dark amber eyes looking happy and his nearly perfect white smile striking against his exotic chestnut brown skin.

Man, he was gorgeous.

I tossed my chin in greeting, unable to wipe what I was sure was a goofy smile from my face. “Herbie,” I said, looking him up and down with a raised brow. “A dress coat and trousers? Were you planning on a dinner or a horseback ride?” I wished he’d want to join me for a dinner. I wished I could enjoy a dinner date with him if he wanted to.

“No worries.” He held up a satchel. “I came prepared. I brought a change of clothes.”

“I see.” Why wear dress clothes to come to the stable only to change within seconds? No matter. I eyed the satchel and tossed my head toward the rear of the building. “You can change in my tack room in the back,” I said, with that stupid grin still plastered on my face.

“Right. I’ll do that,” he said, his eyes bright.

He passed me, and I watched as he walked to my tack room. His rear looked fabulous in the dress slacks. Not too big. Not too small. Perfect for his build. His bottom would fit nicely in my palms, too, maybe while picking him up, a cheek in each hand, holding him against a door as I devoured his lips. I had so many fantasies. For the moment, though, I simply stared unabashedly, admiring that sexy sway of his.

Then he disappeared into the back. The door closed, and I let out a sigh.

Tucker snorted at me.

“Shush, you. I don’t wanna hear it,” I said. “And don’t look at me like that.”

I released a heavy breath and adjusted my crotch. Damn thing had tightened for no good reason.

“Shit,” I mumbled. I should have cleaned the tack room. I hadn’t expected Herbie to be back there, so the thought of cleaning it hadn’t even crossed my mind. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice that you could barely see the wood plank flooring through the dirt and hay. At least I kept the walls of hook-mounted saddles, reins, bridles, and other equipment in the tack room organized.

My work area, however, was another story. The heavy old wooden desk, with more scratches and gouges than I could count, was typically a disorganized disaster. And I’d seen Herbie’s kitchen. The man kept the place spotless and impeccably organized from top to bottom. He’d probably take one look at my desk and think me abominable.

Dammit. Why hadn’t I cleaned it?

I stared at the back door. He was in there, changing his clothes. Undressing. Probably almost naked at that very moment.

Another eye roll accompanied another adjustment of my crotch.

My heart wouldn’t stop racing, either. Why? It wasn’t like I’d never spoken to Herbie, like we’d never interacted. We’d interacted plenty. Of course, I always felt like I said or did something stupid around him, and that was during regular palace interactions, not extended dedicated time together. With more than an hour alone with him, I was bound to screw it up somehow.

I shook my head again. “Come on, Sal,” I whispered. “Pull it together.”

I lifted my flat cap and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to tame my blond waves a little. Then I replaced the cap and checked my armpits, just to make sure. I’d bathed and trimmed my beard up nice and tight after my last stableboy left. Used one of the empty palace guest bathrooms, hoping no one would catch me. Some poor sod, probably one of the chambermaids, would get stuck cleaning the mess I’d left. But I’d had no choice. I’d been in a hurry and had to be clean for this date—lesson. It was a lesson, a riding lesson. Perfectly innocent.

Herbie came swaying out of my back room, his straight dark hair enticingly mussed, tendrils fanning out from either side of his widow’s peak, framing his eyes. And his skin, that beautiful brown, contrasted against his white breeches.

White breeches? For horseback riding? That stupid, goofy grin formed on my face again.

“Ready?” I asked once Herbie reached me, his delicious spicy scent enticing, making me want to bury my head in the crook of his neck.

“I think so,” Herbie said. “A little nervous. I’ve never ridden before.”

No darling. No sweets. No term of endearment. That was different. Herbie used terms of endearments with everyone.

“Never?” My eyes widened. “How have you survived all these years without ever riding a horse?” A chef might not have a need to ride, but most everyone had the experience of being on a horse at least once. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t.

“My family had a little money, and we always rode in carriages.”

“Ah. Of course.” That explained things. I looked him up and down. Impeccable white leather breeches, the fancy kind that buttoned at the knee. Shiny black riding boots. A sharp riding waistcoat that also looked new, and a gorgeous dark emerald frock made full in the shoulders, tapering to the waist. It enhanced his form in the most exquisite way and, with his fancy clothes, he still looked like he had money.

Maybe the king paid his personal chef well? He certainly paid me well. King Yanthos wasn’t cheap with his favored servants.

“White breeches?” I said. “You know they’re going to get dirty, right?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I like to be stylish.”

And he was. Hot damn, he was. “Right,” I said, unable to contain that stupid grin if my life depended on it. I turned to the horse before I made a complete idiot out of myself. “This is Tucker.” I gave the horse a pat on its neck. “You’ll be riding him.”

“Me?” Herbie’s singsong voice pitched up even higher than usual.

I turned back to him. “Yes, you. You did come for a lesson, didn’t you?”

“Well… yes. But…”

“But?”

“I mean”—he gulped—“Not by myself, right?”

I blinked a couple of times. “What do you mean? How else would you ride?”

“Well, with you, of course,” he said, as though there’d be no other possible option.

“Wi–with me?”

“Yes. I assumed… well, I assumed you’d be right there teaching me.”

Holy hell, he wanted us to ride together.

My heart went wild like an out-of-control clock whose hands couldn’t stop spinning. I swallowed, probably noticeably. “So… the two of us… on a horse… together?”

His eyes brightened. “Isn’t that how it’s usually done?” he asked, fluttering his lashes.

That seemed exaggerated, even for him. Was he playing me?

Either way, that wasn’t how it was usually done. Not that I’d never ridden with anyone. My sister, Varina, and I rode together all the time when we were young. But Herbie and I were two grown men, and I wasn’t small. Our weight would be a lot for any horse to carry. Though I had one strong-backed and well-muscled enough to manage it.

“How have you done it with other students?” he asked, drawing my attention.

“Well, uh… you’re kind of the first to sign up.” I couldn’t think of a better answer quick enough, and I couldn’t lie either, not to Herbie.

“I’m your first, darling?” he said with a flirtatious glint in his eye, his tone all too suggestive.

The “darling” told me it was a harmless joke. Still, I licked my lips, feeling like I might have the word “virgin” tattooed on my forehead. “Yeah. You’re my first.” If he only knew. Meanwhile, we hadn’t even gotten anywhere, and I couldn’t stop staring, especially at his lips. I wanted to… everything. Kiss him. Hold him. Make love to him. Hell, I just plain wanted him. In every which way.

Not that I’d know what to do. I knew the mechanics, of course, the general idea of how things worked, and I’d fantasized about it like mad. But knowing and doing were two different things. And Herbie was nearly the same age as me. Like everyone else in their late twenties, he was probably experienced. I was in so far over my head.

Not that it mattered. It didn’t matter. Because it was a lesson. Nothing more. Just a lesson.

“So…?” he said.

“We’d have to ride bareback.” I hoped that might be a deterrent.

“And? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you ride any other way.”

He had a point. I rode bareback all the time. But riding without a saddle wasn’t so easy for a new rider. Still, I could sit behind him, so he’d be wedged in. Being in the back, I would be the one who would have to work most to keep balance.

But riding together like that would press us up against one another. A lot. A whole lot. I’d probably end up halfway under him.

Parts of me liked that idea a little too much. I started picturing us together like that, thinking about what it might feel like. “Together,” I heard myself say.

“Yes,” he said with a nod, his eyes expectant, hopeful.

That look. How could I say no? How could I disappoint him? “Okay,” I said, drawing out the word in my hesitation.

Herbie let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh, that’s good. Much better.”

“Right.” Much better, my ass. What had I just agreed to? An hour with my body pressed against the man I desired more than any other—who I couldn’t be with. I’d lost my mind.

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