Upon entering her room to change, Ophelia walked to the window to take in the view of the rolling hills and trees beyond the manor. The sky was a gorgeous bright blue with a few wisps of white clouds here and there. She was dying to get out to the stables and ride.
“Well would you look at this, miss! Haven’t seen this get-up in an age. You made quite a scene riding about in these clothes the last time you were here.” Hattie was holding up the old pair of buckskin breeches, white shirt and brown riding jacket Ophelia had taken from one of the stable hands the last time she had been here.
Ophelia’s face immediately lit up. “Oh perfect! Come Hattie, help me get out of this dress.”
“Oh no miss, you are not wearing breeches out to ride. You are a grown woman now, not a young girl. I’ve got your habit out of the trunk and laid it out for you.”
“Hattie, I am going riding astride and you cannot stop me. Please hand over the breeches.”
“But miss, what if someone sees you? It’s scandalous!”
“Not here it isn’t. We’re Americans remember? We are supposed to do wild, uncivilized things. If anyone sees me they’ll just think I’m eccentric. I’ve been dying to get on a horse and ride since we arrived. Now please, the breeches?”
Hattie tsked and helped Ophelia out of her traveling dress. The breeches still fit, although it had been almost ten years since she’d last worn them. Ophelia hadn’t grown much other than to fill them out in the hips and rear area. She bound her chest to flatten it as much as she could, pulled the lawn shirt over her head and threw on the jacket. “Hattie, are the boots still in the bottom of the wardrobe there?”
“Yes, miss. I see them, they’re stuffed in the back corner.” As Hattie turned around to hand the boots over, she gasped. “Miss Ophelia you absolutely CANNOT wear that to ride! You fill out those breeches and jacket entirely too much. ‘Tis not proper at all,” she scowled.
Ophelia took the boots from Hattie’s hands and pulled them on. She walked over to the mirror in the corner of the room and looked at herself. “Oh Hattie. I am wearing this to ride and you can’t stop me. The breeches are a bit snug but everything’s covered even if I can’t close the jacket all the way. I do not want to ride side-saddle today.”
“Your father will not be happy, Miss. And the stable lads? You’ll be giving them an eyeful, that’s for sure.”
“Papa will not care what I wear, he never does. He knows riding makes me happy. I’ll see you in a few hours Hattie.”
Ophelia walked down the corridor to the stairs and looked down at the entry. No one was around, so she skipped down the stairs in a most unladylike manner. Oh, how she wished she had been born a man. Men could wear clothes that didn’t bind everything and restrict movement. They could go wherever they wished. Rounding the corner from the entry, she walked down the hall and went through the french doors on the other side of the conservatory and out across the lawn to the stables.
“Miss Ophelia? Is that you?” Charles, the head groom came running out to meet her. His eyes swept her form and then he cleared his throat, “Would you like to take Buttercup out today? She’s the young filly you rode years ago and from Lord Waterbury’s best line.”
Ophelia smiled warmly at Charles, making him blush and smile back. “Buttercup sounds perfect Charles, thank you.”
“It’s been a long time since you were here last. Glad to see you again, Miss. I’ll just be a moment to get her out and saddled up for you. I bet she will be happy to see you.”
Charles rushed back into the stables to saddle the mare and walk her out. Buttercup was indeed a beautiful horse with a wild streak, and Ophelia had absolutely fallen in love with her the last time she had ridden her. “Well how are you Buttercup? Ready to ride like the wind girl?” She stroked the horse’s head and rubbed her nose. Within moments, she swung up onto her back and settled into the saddle.
“Charles? Any changes to the land since I was last here?”
“No, Miss. All is still well tended, and the bridle trails are the same as they’ve always been. Do you need a groom to ride out and show you around?”
“Not at all Charles, but thank you. My favorite summers were spent here exploring. I remember where everything is. See you in a few hours!”
Ophelia set the reins and steered Buttercup out the back path from the stables. It led to a wide open field where she could give Buttercup her head and release the energy from the ride from London. Buttercup responded just as she always had. Ready to run and fly. Ophelia leaned forward and patted Buttercup’s long neck. “That’s it my girl, let’s go!”
Buttercup surged forward galloping across the wide expanse. Ophelia lifted her head and laughed, feeling lighter than she had in years. This was exactly what she needed. The wind blew the pins from her hair and sent it whipping around behind her. Ophelia hadn’t a care in the world for that moment. She was free again. No men, no need to be a lady, no restrictions. She was just one with Buttercup again and on her way to the little grotto in the wood to escape and read for the afternoon.
*****
A streak of movement caught Asher’s eye as he rode down the long drive to Waterbury Hall. He pulled the horse to a stop and looked through the large oak trees. A blur of brown with long dark hair was riding hell bent for leather through the field. Transfixed, he couldn’t do anything but stare at the rider. He knew of no woman who could ride like that, weaving in and out and around as she did. Female laughter reached his ears as he nudged his horse through the narrow path off the drive that led through the trees and onto the field beyond. The rider was wearing men’s clothes, but had a full woman’s shape. Another vision from his past flashed in his mind of a young girl riding like the wind in breeches many years ago… Ophelia Billoughs… she was a little tiny thing with the strongest personality he’d ever met. Could it be? No, it couldn’t possibly be. She was in America… The rider spotted him and turned her horse to head toward him.
Ophelia tore through the field dodging back and forth until she felt Buttercup start to tire. “That was wonderful, girl!” She leaned forward, exhilarated, and wrapped her arms around the mare’s neck. “Let’s head back shall we? We’ll go for another ride tomorrow and see what adventures we can find.”
As Ophelia headed back toward the Hall, she spotted a rider on the edge of the field watching her. She turned Buttercup and trotted over to see who it was. Recognition blossomed as she got closer. Asher Hammersleigh, now the Earl of Woodclyffe. He took her breath away. Dark auburn hair, shaped short in the back and longer on top, with a lock hanging down just enough that it brushed his forehead and hung a bit over his eye. His wide shoulders were encased in a dark green riding jacket, which drew attention to those deep green eyes and dark lashes that had haunted her dreams over the years.
Asher’s mouth went dry as the horse and rider approached. The rider’s hair fell in dark waves down to her waist, and the top few buttons of her jacket were open, revealing a white shirt, under which he was sure a more than ample chest was trying to hide. She was a bit out of breath, which only made her shirt and jacket strain more. He flexed his fingers on the reins as he pictured what might lie beneath that shirt and had to shift himself in the saddle. Slowly he followed the line of open buttons on the jacket up to a beautiful flushed face with deep sapphire blue eyes smiling at him. It was a face that looked as if it belonged on his pillow after a glorious night of exploring each other in his bed. He took a deep breath to calm his body. There was no way that this could be Ophelia Billoughs, the short little thing from years ago. It was her face, but certainly not her body in front of him. He couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Asher Hammersleigh? Is it really you?” She spoke softly, still trying to calm her racing heart. It was no longer beating fast from her ride, instead it seemed to be reacting to Asher’s presence. Which was very odd indeed.
His gaze still hadn’t left hers as he replied, “Ophelia?”
She smiled, her eyes brightening, “It’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been so many years. I guess I should address you as my Lord, now. I was very sorry to hear about your uncle.”
“And you can still ride like the devil. Why in bloody hell are you in men’s clothes with your hair down like a hoyden?! Where is your husband? I would have thought your American finishing schools would have explained that it isn’t at all decent for a woman of your age to look as you do right now, except maybe if she’s in bed.” His eyes twinkled with mischief as he let his gaze drift down her body again, his eyes traveling slowly down her neck, her breasts and beyond. The delights under her clothes caused his primitive side to rear up and want to take control. He took another deep breath and tried to rein his urges in.
Ophelia blushed, then raised her chin defiantly, her little pert nose up in the air. “We’ve just arrived at Waterbury and I wanted to ride astride again like I used to. I certainly can’t do so if I’m wearing a skirt. My maid found my old breeches, shirt and jacket in the back of the wardrobe, so I put them on instead. And I am NOT married. I see the new title has made you even more of a pompous ass than you ever were,” she challenged, a spark of anger ignited across her face.
Asher’s eyes darkened at the revelation and the insult. She was playing a very dangerous game right now and had no idea of the thoughts now running through his mind. He didn’t want to point out that she was no longer the little bit of a thing she was when she was sixteen. Or that she’d grown in all the best places. He was imagining all sorts of things about Ophelia Billoughs that he shouldn’t be, especially now knowing there was no husband. He grunted his response and clenched his jaw trying to stop the flow of thoughts running through his mind. He shot back at her, “We should get you back to the stables so you can go in and change before anyone else sees you like this,” adding in a low growl he was sure she could hear, “And as punishment for your impetuousness I should throw you over my lap and give you a sound spanking.”
Ophelia glared at him, eyes wide, then spun Buttercup around and raced across the field. Good Lord, the view from the back of her was even better than the one from the front. Her bottom was raised slightly as she leaned forward on the horse’s neck and bolted up the drive. His hands itched to smack those well rounded globes into proper ladylike behavior, just as he’d threatened. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head to clear his mind. Kicking his horse, Lucifer, into a gallop he trailed behind her, unable to stop himself from enjoying the view.
When she reached the stables, Ophelia quickly swung down off Buttercup and handed the reins to a startled Charles. “Did you have a nice ride, Miss?”
“Oh yes Charles. It was glorious. Until I ran into Mr. Hammersleigh, or should I say Lord Wyndclyffe,” she scowled, her words clipped. Her voice had been loud enough for Asher to hear as he came riding up to the stables. Glowering, he just stared at her as he dismounted and handed the reins to Charles, who like the good servant he was, pretended to not notice anything amiss as he led the horses to their stalls.
Asher stalked over to her and glared down into her eyes. “My apologies for ruining your glorious ride Miss Billoughs. I shall try not to interfere again even if you should show up somewhere else looking like a harlot.” His fists clenched and unclenched at his side as he spoke. It would be so easy to just pick her up, toss her over his shoulder and carry her away. He’d forgotten how short she was, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulders. He was sorely tempted to do it. He had a feeling he was going to be tempted a lot more during her visit.
Ophelia could see his eyes darken as he spoke. She saw the anger, but there was something else in their depths that she didn’t recognize. “If you are trying to intimidate me Lord Wyndclyffe, it won’t work.” For additional emphasis she poked him in the chest, then spun on her heel and started toward the house.
Asher’s hand quickly grabbed her arm to stop her, then tossed her over his shoulder and marched toward the house. She slammed her tiny fists against his back and demanded him to put her down. He ignored her. She needed to be taught a lesson, she’d pushed him enough today. Finally, they reached the doors to the conservatory and were far enough away from prying eyes. His hand landed a firm smack on her round ass. “You son of a… put me down!” she yelled and sent her fists flying into his back as she tried to move her legs.
He held her thighs tight against his shoulder as another firm smack landed on the opposite cheek. “God dammit Asher…” Thwack, another smack, and then three more in quick succession.
He heard her breath shorten and felt her squirm under his arm holding her aloft. It was the exact reaction he expected from her. He slid her down the front of him, making sure to go slowly so she could feel every single inch of him as he lowered her. He’d question his self-torture later.
Once on her feet she tried to move away and he held her firmly in front of him, hands wrapped around each of her biceps. She stared up at him, no fear and still defiant. “I warned you Ophelia. Do not test me, I will be sure you are dealt with accordingly. Each and every time,” he growled then let her go.
He watched her walk away, those hips as they swayed in the tight indecent breeches that left nothing to his imagination anymore. She might as well have been naked beneath the jacket that just barely covered her bottom. And all that long wavy hair that led his gaze down her back and to that lovely bottom that he’d just spanked. He ran his fingers through his hair again and followed her toward the house.
*****
“Uggghhhh!” Ophelia growled as she leaned against the closed door to her room. “Of all the people to run into after that wonderful ride! Asher. Hammersleigh. And he’s still as arrogant and condescending as ever.”
Hattie bustled into the room from the attached bath. “Miss! I’ve just started a warm bath for you in the other room.” Hattie stopped in her tracks as she looked at Ophelia. “Oh my! My word, what happened to your hair? Where did all of your pins go?”
“They fell out while I was riding Hattie. It was absolute heaven being on the back of one of Eric’s chestnuts again! Like flying! Please don’t fuss over the pins, it’s not like we haven’t plenty more.” Ophelia turned to look at Hattie as she shrugged out of the jacket. She would be very happy to get the binding off of her chest, it was starting to hurt. Why God had to give her a short body and big breasts, she had no idea. It was certainly not a blessing at all. And her breeches chafed where he’d spanked her. The pompous, arrogant, frustrating man had actually spanked her!
“Lord Wyndclyffe saw you looking like this? Oh miss, what a sight you are! Now let’s get you out of these clothes and into the bath. You’ll feel much better after you’ve had a good soaking
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally and not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ©️Evelina Wood
Evelina Wood 