She spent her days as any lady should - an early morning ride on her chestnut mare, then a turn around the garden before lunch was served. Afternoons were reserved for sewing her samplers (the light was better in her room then), and evenings were spent in the Great Hall with the rest of the household. Sometimes, there were visitors, even entertainments - she liked that.
It was a simple life, not marred by the need to work as she knew some women had to. She gazed down at her hands, soft and uncalloused, and wondered why she had been born to this life and not any other.
Her husband was cold and distant. He was older than her, and always seemed to be busy. Too busy to spend time with her. Is that why she looked elsewhere for comfort?
Out of the many men who worked on the estate, one had caught her eye. The Master of Hounds. She saw him each day, as she prepared to take her ride, and found that she liked the look of him. He'd never quite meet her eye, even though she caught him looking at her often. It seemed the attraction was mutual....
She spent hours at her window, sewing forgotten in her lap as she watched him take the hounds out. He appeared to love the dogs, and they must have felt the same - they congregated around him, eager for his touch, licking at his hands. She watched him as he worked them, trained them and wondered if she would have the same effect on him - could she train him to be as attentive as the hounds were? A silly notion, she brushed it aside with a shake of her head and a wry smile.
She took care with her appearance the following morning - more care than usual. She darkened her lashes with kohl, reddened her cheeks and lips. She wore her best riding habit, the tightly laced one that nipped her waist in. Her lady-in-waiting dressed her hair, and netted it back from her face. Finally ready, she made her way to the stables. She called the stable master, and instructed him that she wanted to ride with the hounds today. He gave her a strange look, but nodded anyway - after all, she was his Mistress, and silent obedience was expected.
Mounted safely, she made a great show of ignoring the Master of Hounds as he prepared his own horse. She brushed imaginary specks from her skirt, watching from underneath her lashes as he ran his hands over the horse's neck and back before placing his saddle.
Her posture straightened and she became alert as the hound master brought his horse alongside hers. "Where would you like to ride, My Lady?" he murmured.
"The ridge, to blow away the cobwebs," she replied, knowing that it was a good two hours ride there and back.
"Very well, Miss." He smiled, a fleeting expression.
She led the way out of the stable yard, the dogs milling around until brought to order by a command from him. Then they began to run as a pack, boisterous and energetic as the horses picked up speed. She revelled in the quickness of their pace, always aware of him behind her and slightly to the right, as befits a servant's place. The ride was long and hard, but exhilarating. Finally they reached the ridge, and gazed around at the countryside, their horses tethered and grazing amiably on the sparse rough grass. The dogs wandered off, scenting small prey and following trails.
He stood, hands behind his back, head slightly bowed, respectful of the noblewoman. She liked him in that stance. It gave her a sense of power that she didn't often feel. She looked at him, taking time to memorise all the details. His black leather boots were obviously old, but well cared for and polished. Likewise, his clothing was rough and plain, but clean and well darned. She knew he had not taken a wife, so there was no woman to do these things for him. She enjoyed the sight of him like this, his shoulders broad and strong, his hands loosely held behind him - strong hands, but the skin looked soft, not hard and hoary like some. She wondered how they would feel on her.... Mentally shaking herself out of her reverie, she beckoned him over. Unsure of what to say (how did you make conversation with a servant?) she decided to end this foolishness.
"I would like to return to the house now, please help me up." He dutifully cupped his hands and allowed her to place a foot in them. As she mounted, somewhat inelegantly, she caught him smiling.
"Why are you smiling, man? Have I done something to amuse you?" she snapped. "No, My Lady," he replied, "I'm sorry." She could see he was trying not to smile now, but the glint in his eye gave it away.
"What is it? Why do you smile so?" she asked, becoming petulant.
Realising that he had to tell her, he simply said, "I am smiling because I have been allowed the honour of touching you, Ma'am."
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down upon him. He returned her gaze, almost a challenge, not bowing his head now. He laid a hand against the horse's neck, inches from her leg. She felt dizzy, unsure. No words would come to her lips, and she could merely look on with amazement as he took his hand from the horse's neck and laid it on her thigh! A feeling coursed through her, unlike any other she'd felt before. A tingling sensation, starting at the spot where his warm hand was laid against her, she could feel the heat through the layers of fabric. Finally coming to her senses, she brought her riding crop down hard on his hand, which he snatched away with a quick involuntary movement.
"Ouch!" he yelped, holding his injured hand to his mouth to suck on it.
"Don't you ever touch me without permission again!" she snarled, embarrassed at her reaction to his touch.
"No, Ma'am, you can be assured I won't," he dutifully replied - a little cheekily she thought - striding away towards his horse.
The ride back was completed in silence. When they returned to the stable yard, she stalked off back to her chambers without so much as a thank you to the lad who took her reins. Knowing looks were exchanged by all who'd witnessed this. The Master of Hounds merely gathered up his charges and went back to the kennels.
