Jake rested his forehead against the
horses shoulder and sighed.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” he admitted.
The horse snorted and angled her head so she could look at him. He resumed
brushing her and she leaned into his efforts contentedly.
“You’d think that after two years
I’d be able to have a simple conversation, but no,” he snorted. “The only thing
that comes to mind is to ask her about her sexual preferences. And I know
that’s not something people just talk about the first time they meat. Unless of
course that someone is a pleasure slave whose time you just purchased and you care
absolutely nothing about them and never bothered to talk to at all.” He often
ranted to the horses after making sure no one else was around. They were the
only beings he could talk with freely. Even Karl, whom he was devoted to, could
not be trusted with his real thoughts and feelings.
“She seems like a nice person,” Jake
continued, moving to the other side of the pretty buckskin mare. “I mean, I
think she liked me. I don’t know how to tell. Women like me for my body.
They’ve never cared about who I am. How do you tell if a woman likes you for
who you are and not just how quickly you can get her to orgasm?”
Gypsy snorted and tossed her head in
answer.
“I don’t know either,” he agreed,
finding a particular spot that needed scratching. “I fucked up so bad. I wanted
to just be normal. I should be able to walk up to someone, look at them, and
shake their hand, right? Why was it so hard? Hard, hell, impossible. And Karl
was so disappointed in me. I hate that I let him down. I didn’t want to. I
don’t want to be like this. I don’t. What if Karl thinks I’m not trying? What
if he sends me away?” He hid his face against the mare’s warm neck. She leaned
against him. “I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he said as he felt the
first tear fall. “I just wanted to talk to her. I just wanted to be able to
walk up and welcome her. I want her to like me, not the body that slavers bred
to please, but the real me. But I don’t even know who that is. I’m barely a
person at all.”
He blinked away his tears angrily,
wiping at the few that escaped. “I wish I could do it over again. I wish I
could walk up to her and welcome her like I should have. I should have looked
her in the eyes and told her she was more beautiful than Karl’s description. I
should have told her that her voice made me want to drop to my knees and trust
her completely.” He sighed, running his fingers through the horses tangled
mane. “But I didn’t do that. I stared at the dirt and ran off to hide with the
horses, as usual.”
A sound caught his attention. He straightened
from where he was curled against the horse and saw Kaylee standing at the stall
door. Mortification was a living thing in his chest and be ducked back behind
the horse involuntarily.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” she said, too
gently. “I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. Uncle sent me to fetch you for
lunch, and I heard you talking as I came in.”
Jake felt more tears escaping his
eyes and pressed himself firmly against the horse. He wanted to tell her to go
away, but couldn’t find his voice.
“Jake?” she took a step closer. “I
was going to let you know I was here, but then I heard what you were saying.
And, well, I figured the only way I’d get to hear what you really wanted to say
was to listen to you tell my horse.”
Jake struggled to control his breathing.
He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll be along in a minute for lunch. No need
to linger, miss.”
She snorted. “No need my ass. Come
out from around that horse and talk to me.”
Her tone was commanding, and he
obeyed unconsciously. He stepped from behind the horse to face her. He kept his
eyes on the floor of the stall. He knew it was obvious he’d been crying. He
realized he was standing in the open and darted back behind the horse again.
“Come on, Jake, this is
excruciating,” she said. “I just want to be your friend, that’s all. I know
your history. I can’t possibly imagine what life is like for you. What can I do
to help you relax?”
He grunted. “Nothing, miss. I’m
fine.”
“Bullshit.”
Hearing her use profanity brought a
smile to his face. None of the aristocratic bitches he’d known would ever
swear. Kaylee swore with familiarity and comfort. He liked her.
“I’m sorry I’m like this,” he
admitted. “I know Karl is angry with me.”
“Uncle is a blockhead,” she
dismissed it. “He doesn’t know how to help you, so he yells at you because
that’s what he does when he’s frustrated.”
“I don’t like yelling,” he admitted,
taking one step out from behind the horse. “It makes me sick, literally, when I
disappoint him.”
“Will you please come out and talk
to me without the horse in the way?” she asked. “You were just saying how you
wanted to go back and redo our first meeting. Here’s your chance.”
Her tone was gentle, not an order.
He reminded himself that he was a free man and not a slave. He did not have to
listen to her. He wanted to listen to her, though, which made all the
difference. He squared his broad shoulders and stepped around the mare. He
couldn’t look at her face, but he was at least standing in front of her.
“That’s better,” she said. “You have
beautiful eyes.”
“I was bred to look like this,” he
shrugged.
“Does that make your eyes any less
your own?”
He cocked his head. “What?”
“Just because some assholes created
a selective breeding program doesn’t mean they own the parts they shaped. Those
are your hands, right? Your arms, your legs. They are no less yours because
someone did their best to make them a certain way.”
He felt the truth pour from his
mouth before he could stop it, “A slave does not own its body.”
“You are not a slave.”
“I was.”
She made a sound that forced his
eyes to look at her face. She was crying. The shock was enough to keep him from
dropping his gaze back down.
“I hate what was done to you,” she
said, with a passion that moved him. She actually cared. She wasn’t just
standing on a political soap box trying to curry favor. She was crying because
of what had happened to him. She cared. She didn’t even know him and she cared.
“Slavery is an abomination,” she
snapped. “A human being is not property. No person should be born into a world
where they are an object. A commodity.”
He took a step toward her. “Miss,
you can not cry for all of us. You do not contain enough tears.”
She wiped at her eyes. “What are
you, a poet?” she snapped.
“Your uncle says that I am.”
She snorted. “What do you say?”
He tried to find an honest answer.
“I was trained as a pleasure slave. Part of that training was using pleasing
words. I think I have a talent for it.”
She smiled. “A talent wasted on the
horses, I bet.”
He sighed. “Probably. But I like to
think they enjoy my sonnets and ranting.”
She wiped her face clear of tears. “So
you write poetry?” she asked.
“I can’t write, miss,” he shook his
head. “Karl is teaching me, but he is a very busy man and I don’t want to take
up any of his free time lately.”
“Well, I’m not busy and I’ll be
here. I could teach you. You’d have to look at me from time to time, though.”
He smiled and managed a quick look
at her face. “You really are more beautiful than Karl described.”
She snorted a laugh. “I see they
taught you flattery. You don’t need to try so hard, Jake. I know I’m no prize.”
He frowned, her self-criticism
giving him the strength to really look at her face. “Who says you aren’t
beautiful?” he asked.
“I’m thirty five and unmarried,” she
rolled her eyes. “A lot of people.”
“A lot of people are blind.”
She blushed. “Please, you really don’t
have to be so nice about it. I know I’m not ugly, but I’m no great beauty. As a
former pleasure slave for the aristos, I’m sure you’ve seen far more beautiful
women than most.”
Jake flinched at the reminder of the
women who used him. She must have realized what she said and began to
apologize, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“I was what I was,” he shrugged,
forcing the pain into the past where it belonged. “None of those women were
beautiful.”
“Oh, come on, Jake,” she sighed. “I’ve
seen them. I grew up among them as the ugly duckling.”
“Real beauty cannot be painted on,”
Jake said, taking a step toward her and forcing himself to meet her eyes. “No
one who buys another person, who uses them as the aristos used me, could ever
be beautiful. True beauty comes from who you are, not how you look. You are by
far the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”
Her mouth fell open and it made him
smile. Her insecurity made him feel more comfortable around her. He hadn’t
developed his own personality enough to handle overly aggressive pushy people.
Kaylee struck him as a woman who knew how to fake it, but under the surface,
she was just like him.
She was still staring at him. She
took a deep breath and frowned. “You are definitely a poet, prone to exaggeration.”
He shrugged and returned his attention
to the mare for a moment.
“I’m too tall,” she objected.
“You’re not that tall.”
“Says the giant.”
He pressed a kiss against the mare’s
cheek and offered her some apple slices from the bag in his pocket. He stroked
her nose and turned to see Kaylee staring at him.
“What?” he asked.
“That horse doesn’t like men. She
bites.”
He glanced at the mare who was
nuzzling his hip for more apples.
“I’m not like most men,” he
shrugged. The comment made Kaylee smile, but Jake wasn’t sure exactly why.
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