by Feliz Faber
You want to see your horse run, so you simply arrange for a race event? Wow, talk about money, Will thought, feeling equally impressed and taken aback by the idea. “Louis is also going to ride a three-year-old on Saturday. Are we talking about the same race?”
“Yes” was the curt answer. If Will wasn’t mistaken, Collins’s expression had turned into a barely perceptible sneer now. “He’ll compete against my horse. We’ll see what comes out of that.”
It was the perfect opening, and Will didn’t hesitate to take it. Carefully, though, since Collins had gotten deeply enough into this conversation by now to allow this little glimpse of emotion to show, Will didn’t want to spook him.
“I understand you used to be close. Louis called you his mentor regarding his riding,” he said as casually as possible, stirring sugar into his coffee. He watched Collins out of the corner of his eye, saw him tense up, and added quickly, “Would you mind telling me what he was like as a boy?”
“Ah, yes.” Collins seemed to relax again when Will looked back up at him. “He was incredibly talented, for one. Fearless too, and cocky as they come. A real hellion—I could see why the old man would take to him as quickly as he did. In fact, I took a shine to him myself.” He contemplated his Armagnac before taking another sip. Although he’d kept drinking wine like water all through the meal, Collins seemed unaffected by the alcohol so far. Or was he?
“So you took him under your wing,” Will prompted.
Collins snorted. “Actually, I rather kept an eye on him for the old man. Not that I minded, Louis’s talent was certainly worth the effort, but still, after that thing with Nic… guess old Desmin counted on me to keep the grand-nephew in line since I’d failed to provide him with a grandson.”
The bitter tone, the sudden frankness—this must be the wine speaking, Will decided. If he pussyfooted it now, he might even be able to satisfy his curiosity about how an obviously refined, sociable, and rich gentleman like Collins could’ve come to fall out with his former mentee over the price of a horse. “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow here. Would you mind elaborating?”
Collins snorted again. “What’s there not to understand? Old Desmin could be a fossil at times. The older he got, the more obsessed he was with having a male heir of his own blood.” He drained his Armagnac and immediately signaled the waiter to bring another.
Will remained silent, not wanting to disrupt the flow now that he finally had Collins going.
Once he had his fresh drink, Collins cradled the glass in both hands like a brandy balloon. “See, my wife suffered several miscarriages, and after the last one, the doctors told her she’d better never get pregnant again or risk her own life. Once Desmin learned about that, he must’ve gone and started rooting around for Louis. We would’ve been happy to adopt, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. His own blood… we didn’t even know he had a sister. Served him right that the brat turned out gay.” His speech had become somewhat slurred now, and he glared at Will from bloodshot eyes. Definitely the wine was getting the better of Collins now, but Will wasn’t about to stop him. The ghost of a pattern was forming in his mind, and he listened with rapt attention while trying to outwardly appear only mildly interested.
“Wasn’t my fault that she couldn’t deliver like she was supposed to… all for nothing, all those years….” Collins suddenly seemed to shake himself out of his funk with a visible jolt and snapped his mouth shut. Sitting back and closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths.
When he met Will’s gaze again, his mien was back to calm and composed, and his speech every bit as refined and European as it had been at the beginning of the evening.
“I apologize for my rambling, Mr. Yeats. I’ll have to ask you to forgive an old man’s sentimentality. Besides, I’m afraid I’m starting to feel my age in other ways too. We’d better call it an evening.”
Convention and manners didn’t leave Will a choice but to comply. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, Will expressing his thanks as he collected his voice recorder, Collins waving him off, everything very polite and normal. What Will left behind in the elegant, upscale restaurant was a sophisticated elder gentleman in contemplation of his Armagnac.
And more questions than answers.
On his way back to La Thillaye, he considered the evening. What had come of the conversation with Collins? A whole lot of nothing, except for the confirmation that the relationship between Collins and his hosts was indeed heavily marred. And a distinct feeling of unease.
HE RETURNED to a dark house, La Thillaye’s inhabitants obviously having turned in for the night. He’d hoped to find someone awake, would’ve liked to discuss the past few hours with someone who also knew Collins. As it was, all that was left to him was going to bed.
No one to talk to, still no message from Francis, and the prospect of a riding lesson tomorrow. Oh joy. What a week.
Thirteen
OKAY, he could do this. A lot of people did it for fun, and some even for a living, didn’t they? Children did it, so how hard could it actually be, riding a horse? He just needed to get over how very far below the ground appeared from up here on this living, breathing mountain of muscle and bone. He could feel the huge animal’s body heat through the thin fabric of his borrowed breeches and its long, powerful muscles undulating against the back of his thighs with the horse’s every move. They were stretched taut on his unfamiliar seat, his thighs; it felt like sitting on a barrel. Will clenched his teeth and his ass cheeks, and a few moments later, his hands on the reins, too, as the horse’s silken coat proved as slippery as it looked once the animal got under way.
“Relax.” Louis walked beside Will, leading the horse by a lounge rein. “Don’t cling with your calves, and don’t hang on the reins, you’ll confuse the horse. He’s about to think you’re shifting into second gear while you’re still applying the parking brakes.”
“While we’re talking cars, Mr. Drive Instructor, where’s this thing got its safety belt?” Will asked. The horse snorted and took a few uneven steps that brought Will’s tailbone into uncomfortably close acquaintance with the bony ridge along his mount’s back and almost unseated him.
“Christ!” he gasped, pushing himself upright again. “Relax, how? Like that? C’mon, this is ridiculous. I’ve tried it, I don’t like it, end of story. Let me off.”
Louis hadn’t even allowed him a saddle, claiming that riding bareback would make it easier for Will to get in harmony with the horse. No, thanks. Will preferred to be in harmony with his own two legs, the sooner, the better. While he contemplated how to get off his perch without breaking his neck, Louis stepped into his field of view.
“Giving up so soon, Will? I wouldn’t have taken you for a quitter.”
“This isn’t quitting, it’s keeping my ass from being busted.” Deciding to slip down whichever way and fuck dignity, Will shifted his weight to one side. Next thing he knew, the world spun and he was holding on for dear life to anything he could grasp: coarse mane hair, leather, and fabric— Fabric?
Once he could breathe again, he found himself still sitting on the horse, held upright by a strong arm across his chest and a small, firm body at his back, another set of thighs flush against his own.
“Easy,” Louis’s voice said close to Will’s ear. How he’d managed to get up there so fast was anyone’s guess. “I’ve got you. Let me show you.” There was a small push against Will’s backside, and the horse started to move in slow, even strides.
Louis made a tut-tutting noise with his tongue. “Mon Dieu, you’re tense, Will. Come on, move with me and the horse, not against us. You won’t fall, I won’t let you. Sit back and enjoy…. There, that’s better.”
Surprisingly, it was. Will did feel safer leaning against Louis, which indeed allowed him to do what he’d been told and relax. And once he did, he discovered it was actually pleasant, being rocked with the horse’s smooth gait.
“This is… nice,” he said after a few rounds around the paddock, unable t
o keep a tentative joy out of his voice. Louis chuckled. His hand eased downward, coming to rest on Will’s hip. More comfortable as he was now, Will was suddenly very aware of their physical closeness and how the gorgeous body he’d ogled the other day was melded against his. More precisely, how snugly those long legs hugged his ass. He couldn’t help squirming a little, which caused the horse to walk a bit faster and Louis to chuckle again. “You’re getting it, looks like. See? He responds. Just move your ass and pay attention to what happens in turn.”
“It’s not just the horse I’m feeling right now,” Will muttered, and Louis laughed again, then said, “Told you I’d show you, didn’t I? But that’s really mostly it. Takes some getting used to, but once you get into the groove, it’s quite enjoyable. Just like getting fucked.”
Will flinched, and the horse sped up some more. Startled, he forced himself to be still, and the horse slowed.
Amazing.
“I just knew you know how to use that fine ass,” Louis’s husky voice said, very close to Will’s ear, and suddenly the pressure against his backside disappeared and Louis was walking next to the horse’s shoulder again, grinning up at him.
Busy keeping his balance, Will could only shoot him a glare, loath to know he was blushing like a ripe strawberry—he could feel the heat in his cheeks, damn his Scottish ancestry and their fair complexion to hell and back.
“You’re doing fine,” Louis said, apparently oblivious to the confusion he’d put Will in. “Now, lean left a little. Just a bit. See? He follows.”
If this wasn’t vintage Francis, those innuendos and double-entendres and sudden switches between seduction and business mode… then again, perhaps this was vintage Louis having rubbed off on Francis. Kept Will on the tips of his toes, they did, both of them.
Looking down into those blue eyes that winked at him even as Louis casually corrected his grip on the reins, Will realized he could’ve fallen for this man just as easily as he had for Francis. And just as furtively, come to think of it, as there was no way Louis’s teasing was anything but just that, a tease—and Francis had apparently found something better to do with his time than returning Will’s calls. If he didn’t fall off the horse first.
God, he had it bad.
WILL’S new awareness of his mount and his determination to pay attention to it—if only to distract himself from his insurgent libido—carried him through the rest of the lesson without further accident. Toward the end, he even managed to sit through what Louis called a canter, some kind of swaying slow gallop that actually felt almost comfortable. By the time Louis called it a day, Will thought he might eventually warm up to the idea of himself as an equestrian.
That is, until he set foot on solid ground again.
The moment he did, his knees gave way beneath him and he had to hold on to the horse’s mane in order to stay upright. “Holy… shit!” he groaned as the tingling of numbed limbs waking up ran from the small of his back down to his toes and up again, making his eyes water and introducing him to muscles he never knew he had. He’d thought himself in generally good shape and fairly limber, but this was ridiculous.
To his surprise, Louis didn’t laugh at him. “Riding puts a different strain on your legs and lower back, particularly until you’ve learned to relax into the horse’s gait,” he explained as he offered Will a steadying hand. “It’s the same with all beginners. Just take a hot shower after this, and you’ll be fine. Perhaps you’ll be a little sore by tomorrow, but this will pass with practice.”
“You can talk.” Will scowled, stomping his feet. “And what do you mean by practice? If you think I’m doing this ever again, you’ve got another think coming. Fuck! I won’t be able to sit down tomorrow, from the feel of it.”
Louis gave him a measured look. “You will, trust me on this. Physically, you’re in much better shape than I was when I first came here, and yet it took my body only a handful of days to get used to it. And I rode for five to six hours straight every day right from the beginning, mind you.”
As promised, the numbness in Will’s lower regions eased after a few minutes, leaving behind a slight discomfort that boded not too ill for the predicted soreness.
“Why’d you put yourself through that? Couldn’t you have taken it slower?” Will asked as they walked the horse back to the stable.
“Several reasons. For one, my great-uncle had decided I’d earn my keep, and it was riding or mucking stables for me. Guess what I preferred? And I’d gotten a taste at a proper gallop on my first day here that had me hooked on the spot. The rush of speed, the nameless joy—I wanted that again, and soon. The only way to get it was me learning to ride properly as fast as possible, or Nic wouldn’t have let me near the racers.” He peered at Will from beneath the horse’s neck. “And then, there was this sinister, standoffish, gorgeous hunk of a man who I wanted to impress more than anything else. He’d only smile at me when I did well on horseback, so I made sure he smiled at me often.”
Will cast him a curious glance. “Love at first sight, huh?”
“Not exactly, no.” Louis fell silent for so long, Will almost thought he wouldn’t elaborate further. They put the horse in the open stand next to the entrance and switched its bridle for a halter. Only after Jean-Yves had brought a grooming kit and showed Will how to handle the currycomb did Louis speak again.
“My grandmother had this saying, if you can’t win over them, win them over. I’ve found that statement to be true more than once.” He spoke haltingly all of a sudden, as if his English was failing him, and when Will gave him a surprised look, Louis stared into space, his currycomb unmoving on the horse’s neck. “When I came here, I did what I’d come to know worked best. Look for the biggest, meanest guy and do what it takes to make him protect me. Anything, you understand. At first I thought that Nic was that guy.”
Louis snapped out of it with a visible jolt and his hand started moving again, working the currycomb with slow, easy strokes.
“He’d have rather kicked my ass than taken me up on my offer, Nic would, if he fully realized by then what I was up to. Well, he did end up kicking my ass, but only to help me become what I am today. He pushed me beyond my limits and caught me on the other side, and he always, always had my back, even if I didn’t always see that right away.”
Will didn’t know what to say. While he was still trying to find words appropriate to so much openness, Louis’s smile turned into a smirk. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s hot, at least for a guy his age, don’t you think?”
“Who’re you talking about?” Nic’s voice asked from behind Will, which was enough to explain Louis’s sudden mood shift.
“You, handsome,” Louis shot back.
Nic gave a snort and then turned to Will. “I’m sorry, but I need Louis back at the house. Something’s come up.”
“Can’t that wait?” Louis asked. “We’re almost finished here.”
Shaking his head, Nic said something in fast French that had Louis frowning as he answered in turn.
Will chose to ignore them in favor of finishing the task at hand. How many square feet could there be to brush on a single horse? He was determined to do right by the animal that had been so patient with him, but his arms started to grow as heavy as his legs already were.
Louis and Nic left a moment later, fortunately only after calling Jean-Yves from the tack room to help Will with the horse. The old groom took one look at Will’s efforts and waved him away. He muttered something Will couldn’t understand but was sure weren’t flatteries, given the accompanying scowl. Shrugging it off, Will took the opportunity to make himself scarce. The hot shower Louis had mentioned called to him. Louder by the minute.
Crossing the stable yard, Will noticed an unfamiliar car in the parking lot. It was past four; the nonpermanent staff’s cars would’ve been gone at that time of the day, and the new car mostly caught Will’s eyes because it was the same model Mercedes Benz Francis drove, even the same silver color. Will only realized what—or rather
, who—he was looking for when his gaze caught the car’s yellow French license plates. Apparently, he was delusional enough to see Francis behind every corner now. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Will went on into the house, through the empty kitchen and hall, up the stairs to his room. The sitting room door was ajar, with murmuring voices issuing from the crack, but Will ignored them, respecting the silent message he’d been dealt. La Thillaye’s latest visitor was none of his business.
Once showered and dressed again, and after a quick peek out of the window, Will sat down at his desk to fire up his laptop. The Mercedes was still there, which meant his hosts were likely still busy. Time to get some writing done.
Sometime later, a knock on his door pulled him out of his work. He’d been deeply engrossed in his notes on his talk with Collins, picking what of it he’d discuss with Louis and Nic tonight—and so he didn’t react immediately when the door opened.
“Will.” Louis’s voice sounded as if he were choking on the word. It had Will jerking around. There stood the man he’d come to know as an open, likable companion, the man he was starting to consider a friend, looking at him with eyes as hard and cold as glacier ice.
“Louis, what—” Will started, but Louis cut him short in the same harsh, flat voice as before.
“Come to the office. We’ve got to talk.”
“Just a minute. Just let me—” But again, Will didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Louis turned on his heel and left without another word.
Taken aback by the rudeness that was so unlike the Louis he knew, Will didn’t bother with shutting down his computer. He grabbed the first pair of shoes at hand—his dirty riding boots— stomped into them and hurried out the door.
By the time he reached the office, he was seriously worried. What if there’d been another catastrophe? What if Louis’s blank face hadn’t masked fury, but shock? He burst through the door, anxiousness turning to amazement when three pairs of eyes calmly scrutinized him head to toe.