Morgana rode up to the gates, and only one side opened as she neared. "I must tell father that his gates are broken again." She thought to herself. "Erastus Adamson, the steam and clockwork genius of our age....More like Erratus, these days. He's lost his Midas touch, and seems to spend all his time repairing his mistakes" she thought to herself as she drew up to the stables.
"Anyway, that's not going to be my problem for much longer." she thought to herself. "In a month's time, I'm going to be married, and far away from Adamson Estate - and living in a true estate, with vineyards and and three stables and main house with over a hundred rooms!"
Still, her mood hadn't changed by the thought of her father's perpetual semi-success, a thin veneer of gilt that seemed to be rubbing through to brass at the moment. Her cheeks were still flushed with the glow that accompanied her morning ride. Today that glow was caused by something more than just exercise - she had been up early enough that she could choose to ride using man's saddle instead of the proper side-saddle that ladies were supposed to use. Riding like a man always brought out comments from Morgana's governess: "Ladies do not open their legs to animals, Ana. If your mother could see you now, she would be so disappointed in you."
But if Morgana was up early enough, there was no one to see her. Servants were not needed that early in an automatic mansion - her father's mechanical marvels would keep everything working - and the only person awake and at his post would be Jericho, the blacksmith's apprentice. Which is a fact that Morgana was banking on. "This lady certainly needs an animal between her legs right now."
Morgana felt more excited than she usually did after her ride. She'd gone further and harder than normal...and the thought of her upcoming wedding was adding to the arousal. She needed something. As the only daughter of an absent-minded, wealthy and adoring father, she always got what she wanted.
"Smith," she called as she slid lithely out of the saddle "I want you here. Come!" Morgana knew the name of the family blacksmith's apprentice well enough. They'd practically grown up together on the estate, and played together often when they were younger — but Morgana had always flaunted her station over him, and derived great pleasure out of teasing him. Especially now that he was twenty, a man, and the hard life of the forge had made him tall and strong, with arms as taut and strong as the iron bands he worked with — now the teasing, and the show of her power over such a strong man, made both sexual and verbal teasing of him a delicious diversion which she had been seeking out more and more.
Since her engagement, however, the teasing had turned darker. The promise of her hand in marriage to none other than Colonel Cannon had made her much more haughy, and she felt her privilege keenly. She also felt the need to make others know that she was better than they were, and Morgana had become aware that she was deriving considerable...
pleasure..
through the mistreatment of others — often her chambermaids, but the best was forcing that brute of a blacksmith to do her bidding.
"Yes, Miss Ana?" Jericho said as he entered the stall where Morgana was busy with her mount. Quick as a flash Morgana whipped her riding crop across his shoulders, making him inhale sharply and stop in his stride.
"You know full well that you should call me Miss Morgana - or Mrs. Cannon." Morgana said, watching the livid red welt rise up on Jericho's muscular back, and enjoying the emotional hurt that she had followed up the physical pain with. Jericho had feelings for her still, going back all the years to when she used to kiss him at the water fountain during breaks from her arithmancy lessons.
"You're not married just yet, Miss Ana." Jericho replied, raising her ire and getting a lash across his muscular chest for his insolence. Morgana glowered at him for a moment, and then forced herself to show the self-control of a high-born lady.
"I think my horse is lame, smith. Check his shoes for me..."
Jericho didn't look at Morgana, but moved straight to the front legs of the horse. He looked completely at home there, shirtless and as muscular as the magnificent animal he was tending to. He had to stoop his tall frame in order to get the hoof up and in hand, and Morgana used this to admire his build, and his raw animal appeal. The flush in her cheeks intensified.
"Not this one" Jericho announced, and moved to the back leg on that side. He turned his back to Morgana and as he did so she whipped the crop across his buttocks. Again, the sudden sharp pain caused him to stop what he was doing and inhale hard - but Jericho had learned long ago that to offer more of a reaction meant that you got more attention from Ana, and he was trying to get through this morning's ordeal as quickly as possible. He had work to do at the forge.
Morgana had a different idea of how much incident was going to come from the morning, however - and what that incident would be. She was looking at a month of freedom left to her before her wedding day, and she meant to use it.
A few more slashes with the crop as Jericho checked the other hooves of her horse, and then he stood up to his full height (an impressive six foot three inches, towering over Morgana) and looked her in her devious green eyes.
"I don't see a problem with his shoes, Mrs. Cannon-to-be. He might have had a stone in his hoof that has come loose since."
