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

had his eyes bulging from his head. He wouldn’t have thought she could be sultry, not with manly attire and such a commanding presence. Her fingers were teasing, but also firm, each seemingly innocent thud marching closer to his throat. Like she intended to collar him.
    And he couldn’t move a muscle to protect himself.
    “I bet you enjoyed rutting on him, didn’t you? Out of control, fierce, brutal. I can see it now. Poor little Cole trapped and squealing beneath you while you drilled him into the mattress.” Her palm settled over his heart, measuring the frantic thud with a grin. “But that’s the way you like it, isn’t it? You don’t have to answer me, boy. Your body’s telling me what I need to know.”
    Trembling, he fought to breathe. Sweat beaded on his lip and forehead. His hands throbbed, gripped into fierce fists, whether to protect himself or to keep from answering her, he didn’t know.
    “Get your hands off him.” Blackmyre’s low voice echoed with menace, each word carefully enunciated. “Now.”
    Chuckling, the woman reached up and patted his sweaty cheek. “There, there, young man. Your mistress has come to save you.” She stepped away and turned to Blackmyre. “He’s told me what I need to know. Good luck with him, my dear. You’ll need it.”
    The woman sailed back down the aisle, whistling a lively tune. Relieved, Arthur leaned against the wall, the only thing keeping him on his feet. Sweat trailed down his back and his chest burned like he’d run from here to Town pulling Her Grace’s coach alone.
    “We’re finished.” The harsh tone of her voice brought his head up so he could search her face. She stared after the other woman, her mouth tight in a grim frown. “You’re free to go. If you need a ride somewhere, I’m sure Cole will be more than obliged to take you.”
    Straightening from the wall, Arthur opened his mouth, caught her arched eyebrow, and clamped his mouth shut. Instead, he shook his head. I’m not leaving, Your Grace. I’m not done with you yet.
    She planted a palm in his chest and shoved him back against the wall. Her face was white but her cheeks were splotched with red. Stunned at how easily she’d pushed him off balance, he could only stare down into her face, trying to figure out why she was so angry. “You’re refusing to obey me? Why should I be surprised?”
    The flash of ire in her eyes couldn’t hide the glimmer of hurt. Despite the tightness of her lips, her chin wobbled faintly.
    Ah, hell. Before he could talk himself out of it, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her into a hug.
    She stiffened with shock, but she didn’t pull away. As the moments passed and she didn’t rebuke him, he dared to mold his hands more boldly to her back.
    With a sigh, she dropped her head against his chest and let him hold her.
    It was…nice. The ironclad mistress had been irresistible from the beginning, but certainly not warm and approachable, let alone vulnerable. He loved the way she could make him run around the ring exactly how she wanted, but he hadn’t dared hope she’d allow him a peek of her feminine side. That the softer, smaller woman might like a bigger, stronger partner to wrap his arms around her, even if just for a short while.
    “Basset always takes a toll on me,” she finally said, her words muffled against his chest. “Always judging, evaluating. It’s exhausting trying to live up to her expectations.”
    He knew all too well how easy it was to grind oneself to dust trying to please other people. For so long, he’d been striving to impress Kitty’s family enough that she’d relent and ask him to marry, but he’d finally realized the truth.
    She’ll never be happy with me. Nor would I be happy with her.
    So many years wasted, striving to win new honors and titles just to gain another notch on his career that might cast a more favorable light on his House for a woman who couldn’t care less.
    He let a low murmur escape, confirmation