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“It’s a great day for riding out, the weather couldn’t be better.”
Barling glanced at his horse, which looked balefully back at him over the wooden door of the inn stable box.
Since they still waited for the return of the lord residing over this small port town so they could give him a first-hand report of their findings in their latest case, a courtesy given to him thanks to his high standing in the king’s regard, Barling and his apprentice had an unexpected couple of days of free time for themselves. A few months before, Barling would have been vexed finding himself stuck somewhere with so little access to books or scrolls, as what writings he had taken on the road would not have tided him over even at close study. Idling had always made him feel like he was wasting his time. Stanton, of course, had suggested resting, sleeping in. It had seemed preposterous to Barling at first. The last time he’d allowed himself to stay in bed when he should have been awake, he had still been a student in Paris. He remembered languishing there, vision and mind still fuzzy at the edges from last night’s alcohol, wishing that the man he loved would ever let him stay the night. The memories were so revolting that they only spurred his decision to get up before these thoughts could come to him.
But this morning he’d woken up in Stanton’s arms, as he had during the whole last week. As man people travelling did, they slept in one bed and even had had a room for themselves for the entirety of their stay with a key that kept unwanted guests from discovering them. However, investigating a string of brutal robberies was hard work and though Barling had enjoyed every moment of sleeping by Stanton’s side, that was about all they had done, and very little of it, too, as they hadn’t had even minutes to waste.
While he’d studied Stanton’s face this morning with the time now given to him, Stanton had shifted and blinked himself awake. “You must have had a nightmare, I fear,” Barling had told him after Stanton, looking angelic with his dishevelled golden shock of hair, had pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Why else would you be awake before noon if I haven’t thrown you out of bed?”
Stanton had laughed and taken his revenge for the teasing in the sweetest manner. That had kept them in the bed much past sunrise and Barling allowed himself the indulgence, clamped in Stanton’s firm embrace.
Eventually, they had had to rise, however, and Barling felt that perhaps this right here must be some small punishment for the sloth he’d allowed himself to succumb to this morning. If he had been more awake, his senses sharper, he would not have ended up in this situation.
“I have an idea what we could do,” Stanton had told him and Barling, softened by his affection, had agreed to let him choose.
He should have known better. Of course Stanton had headed for the stables, saying that he could not wait to explore the forest that crowded up to the walls of the town on horseback.
“I don’t see myself riding in a forest,” he said now, looking back at Stanton, who had already outfitted his horse for the ride.
“You would be a much better rider if you weren’t so timid. So what if you fall? You can get up. I know you can, I have seen you do it often...”
Barling pressed his lips into a thin line as Stanton grinned at him.
“But today isn’t about lessons – no matter how much you like to do it to me at every opportunity!”
Barling just raised his brows at him. “With reason. Do you plan to ride by yourself, then?”
Though he did not wish to be on horseback and he had never been the sort to enjoy wild open nature, he had to admit that the idea of spending the day without Stanton was bothersome when they so rarely had the opportunity.
“Of course not,” Stanton said, giving him an odd look. “Why would I have brought you out here if I planned to go on my own?”
It was a reasonable question and, with a wisp of embarrassment, Barling realised he would not have asked such a senseless thing if Stanton were not his lover. Somehow, his expectation were still the painful twists of shifting interest and sudden lack of care that Richard had often subjected him to and even with hindsight and so many more years to mature, he feared he would have allowed Stanton to do the same if he had hope to secure his affection by playing along. It was not a very worthy thought.
“Right,” he only said curtly. “Then how do you plan to solve this dilemma?”
“You ride with me,” Stanton said.
Barling supposed it wasn’t an uncommon thing. People shared horses all the time – not everyone had the luxury of owning one for themselves or being lend an animal as he was by the court. It would not seem odd, even if his constant fear of being discovered left him nervous to touch Stanton in public at all. Then there was the fact that he would have to leave the reins to Stanton, which would result in a much quicker ride than when his lover had to pace himself to not lose Barling on the road.
“If I fall off a horse at the speed you ride at, then I might truly not make it back up.”
“No one has ever fallen off a horse when they were with me,” Stanton proclaimed. “You do trust me, don’t you?”
“Evidently more than my reason,” Barling mumbled, following Stanton out of the stables.
Outside, Stanton swung his long leg over the horse’s back and offered his hand to Barling. He grasped on to his arm, figuring that he would sit behind Stanton so that if he felt the need to cling on for dear life, pride be damned, he at least could, but Stanton positioned him in front of him and reached around for the reins, dropping them in Barling’s hands.
“You get us out of town,” he said and Barling could hear the smile in his voice. “She isn’t shy of people, don’t worry.”
Indeed, the mare did not seem to heed the bustle along the busy market square as Barling led her through the crowd. He wondered if the horses he had ridden in his time had just all happened to be of worse temper or if it was Stanton’s presence that allowed the animal to stay calm. Barling could not claim that he felt very secure knowing that he could be thrown under the wheels of a farmer’s cart, so he was never comfortable riding in such a throng himself.
When they were past the walls, Stanton took the reins from his hand and snapped them with a quick flick. Barling felt his legs tightening behind him, too, pressing into the horse’s sides. He jolted as the horse fell into a quick trot that after a few steps changed into a full-blown gallop.
“You could have warned me!” he called sharply over his shoulder.
“You wouldn’t have wanted me to do it.”
Barling frowned, but he was too busy clinging to the horse’s mane to protest the treatment. As he did so, he felt Stanton’s arm come around his waist.
“You won’t fall,” he said against the wind. “Just try to move with her.”
Though Barling had a hundred choice answers for that, none of them would pass his lips at this speed. Since sitting stiff as a stick only seemed to bounce him up higher, perhaps Stanton had the right of it, but he didn’t know how to mould his body to the movements of a horse.
Stanton followed his own advice, though, and as Barling leaned back into him, he found that moving with him was a lot easier. He allowed one hand to untangle from the mane to grab Stanton’s arm instead as they flew down the road, earth baked dry by the summer sun, dust rising from under the horse’s hooves. Around them, high grassland stretched to the borders of the forest, rushing past in a green whirl. It was almost beautiful, though his heart was in his throat as they raced along, easily swerving around others on the road, if by the instinct of the horse or Stanton’s subtle commands, he could not say.
With a quick pull, Stanton took the horse off the path, then, and across the meadow. He tugged gently at the reins when they reached the first jagged line of trees.
Barling dared to breathe again as Stanton led the horse easily through the lightly overgrown area. The sun shone through green leaves here, making them bright like jewels, and painted patterns of vivid shadows on the ground. Eventually, Stanton let go off the mare’s reins, patting her on the neck as she dropped her head to nip at the flowering underbrush.
“I haven’t ridden like that in a long time.”
“My apologies for holding you back,” Barling said flatly, still a little breathless.
The smile on Stanton’s face reconciled him a little to the bumpy ride here. It was a fair place and he did enjoy the excuse of being so close to him as riding together allowed.
“Soon you won’t. I will make a rider out of you yet.”
Barling had to huff a quiet breath of laughter despite himself. Stanton’s happiness was infectious even for him.
“We will see about that.” He glanced down at Stanton’s hand, which was petting the horse’s dark coat. “You told me that the last horse you had for longer was very dear to you,” he said, remembering at the sight. Barling had to admit that the concept was foreign to him, as he was certain he shared a mutual dislike with every animal whose back he had ever sat one. “Have you gotten used to this one?”
“I still miss my horse, but this mare is doing pretty well. They let me have her when I ask, too. I think we’re starting to get along.” Stanton’s arms wrapped around him from behind, chin leaning on Barling’s shoulder. “I lost a lot and I was bitter at the time, but I realise now I’m lucky enough that I get to start again. I’m still alive, after all. Many I knew didn’t get such a chance, it’d be foolish to waste it.”
With a nod, Barling squeezed his hand. A new start. He had certainly not thought to get one himself.
“Well, then,” he murmured, “show me how to get this horse under control.”