Stalk — I mean ‘talk’ — to Horace

“I’m just being silly,” says Adella to herself. “It’s all this horrid stuff with Tegan that has me thinking this way; it’s all mind games, and I need to snap out of it!”

She looks again at Horace and makes up her mind. She resists the urge to run toward him and lungs upon him. “And then what?” she scolds herself. “What do you think you were going to do?” She imagines the stories that would be spread among the palace staff if word got out that the Princess suddenly sprang on the stableboy in the middle of the night, dressed only in a nightgown! They would surely commit her to St. Andrew’s Hospital!

Instead, she composed herself and steps out of the shadows and attempts to look casual as she strolls toward the stables. Horace bears her approach and comes out of his daydreams at once.

“Your Highness!” he says, straightening up, pulling his hands out of his pockets and hastily tossing away the chewed strand of hay. He looks at Adella’s nightgown in confusion and says, “Is everything alright? Shall I send for assistance?”

Adella gives Horace a pleasant smile and says, “Nothing is wrong, Horace. I just had difficulty sleeping and thought I’d get a breath of fresh air. It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Horace looks again at Adella’s nightgown, and the way his eyes linger suggests to her that it is not just her unconventional attire that attracts his interest. The conflicting look in his eyes reveals his inner tension of trying to be appropriate before a princess while simultaneously finding her appearance to be provacative.

Adella suppresses a grin of satisfaction at the realization that she has caught him off guard in this way. After so long of being under someone else’s control and a victim to circumstances, she finds this moment oddly empowering.

“They’re very nice,” Horace answers her greeting. “I — mean —“ He pulls his eyes away from Adella’s chest, and says, “That is to say that it is very nice. The night, that is. Nice.... yeah.... Ma’am.”

Horace’s obvious discomfort would ordinarily compel her to try to put him at ease. She was never the type to lord her position over servants. Seeing him squirm in this way awakened new sensations inside her, however, and she realizes that she doesn’t feel nearly as much of a compulsion this time to help him relax.

Horace forces his head upward to look toward the stars. As he does so, Adella glances down at herself to see what he seemed to find so riveting. She knew her nightgown was not typical outdoor garb, but it was hardly something that would shock anyone’s sensibilities.

Looking down, she sees what Horace must have found so interesting. In the chill of the night — and perhaps in the excitement of the moment — her nipples, unhindered by any bra, have made two distinct protrusions against the silk garment.

In any other situation, Adella would have been horribly embarassed and would have immediately covered herself to preserve her modesty. Absently, she realizes that’s exactly what she should do now, but she finds that she rather enjoys the effect this has on the young man. Rather than cover herself, she reaches to her top two buttons opens her neckline further, allowing the cool air to touch her cleavage and the top half of her breasts.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Your Highness?” asks Horace, still looking upward.

Adella uses the opportunity to get a good look at the young man. She remembered Courtney’s stories about her sexual experiences with Horace and how she had such difficulty walking or riding for days afterward. Adella, of course, had frequent interactions with him, but always in the context of him caring for or getting ready her horse, Destiny. While she could, in those moments, steal a quick appraising glance at him, she never felt it appropriate to look at him in the way a young woman looks at a healthy, attractive man.

And healthy, he certainly was! Adella admires the way his shirt clings tightly around his muscular chest and thick biceps. His square jaw is lightly covered with the stubble of a couple of days’ growth.

Her eyes move downward to the area below his rope belt. While significantly subdued from its excited state when Drina left him, the bulge between his legs confirms all the stories that gave him his nickname of “Horse.” Adella licks her lips without realizing she is doing so. She wishes he was still as hard as he was when she saw him from her window, because now that she is this close, she’d really like to —

“What?” she asks herself, shaking her head and trying to speak sense to what was clearly a growing sense of irresponsibility within her. “What would you really like to do, Adella?” she asks herself again. She reasons that she is merely experiencing natural curiosity, and nothing more. Nevertheless, her proximity to this young man of such lengendary prowess only serves to fuel the primal urges that continue to rage within her.

“It’s a bit chilly out here, don’t you think?” she asks, breaking the pregnant silence. “Shall we go inside and check on Destiny?”

“Certainly, Your Highness! Right through here!”

He motions toward the door, but his expression freezes and his eyes fix, riveted, as he looks down and sees her newly-exposed chest.

His attention is not lost on Adella, who makes a point of remaining in place for an extra few moments so he can get a good look, before slowly walking toward the door. Almost as an afterthought, she takes Horace’s hand and leads him.

Her touch causes Horace to jump, pulling him out of his trance. Such physical contact between the princess and a lowly stableboy was unheard of! He follows her, blinking rapidly, as his underdeveloped intellect struggled to keep up with his overcompensated-for penis.

They step into the stables, and Adella looks toward the area where Destiny and the other animals are kept. Behind her is the door leading to Horace’s adjoining room — a place she has never seen nor even entertained the idea of entering.