Authors: Kate Hill
MountainStallion
Book 6 in the Horsemen series.
The stallion of her dreams…
Steely muscles ripple beneath the magnificent Horseman’s
palomino coat. His cream-colored wings settle against his sides and he studies
his surroundings with eyes as blue as a tropical sea. That riveting gaze fixes
on Gayle and sends her heartbeat out of control. Though not a stranger to
Horsemen, she has never been aroused by one—until now.
The woman who stirs his soul…
Beneath her lace dress, the woman’s full breasts swell with
a lustful breath. Her glossy lips part and her sultry eyes widen. No one has
ever stared at Pace like this. Everything about her awakens his passion.
Pace and Gayle are a perfect match, but a case of mistaken
identity might ruin their love before it truly begins.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Mountain Stallion
ISBN 9781419932915
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Mountain Stallion Copyright © 2011 Kate Hill
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication May 2011
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This book is a work of fiction and any
resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely
coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and
used fictitiously.
Kate Hill
King of the Mountain
Pace stepped out of the steaming forge into the humid summer
afternoon. He tilted his face toward the darkening sky and inhaled deeply,
catching the scent of a coming storm. Heading toward the well for a drink, he
used a rag to wipe sweat from his arms and chest. After spending so many hours
in the forge, he looked forward to rain.
His hoofs thumped on the rocky trail between his private
forge and the well. Other forges and workshops, used by those in his employ,
spread over the mountaintop.
His
mountaintop.
Sometimes he could scarcely believe that he, the son of a
poor but hardworking farmhand, owned the largest Horseman tack shop and armory
in the northern part of the world. He’d worked hard for his success but he
realized diligence didn’t always ensure prosperity.
He paused at the well, removed the pouch hanging around his
neck and filled it with water. Just as he took a sip, a hand fell upon his
equine shoulder. His old mentor, Ardin, stood beside him looking as hot and
dirty as Pace felt. Still, the gray-haired Horseman wore a pleased smile.
“The new order of saddles for the Fighting Carriers is
nearly complete. How are the daggers coming along?” Ardin asked.
Though Pace owned the business, he still respected his
former teacher and looked upon him as an equal instead of an employee. He felt
honored that after Ardin’s retirement he had agreed to work part-time for Pace.
He had taught Pace almost everything he knew about tack making, but the old
Horseman had a wealth of experience that made him an invaluable member of
Pace’s crew.
“We just finished them and my apprentices are packing them
for delivery,” Pace said.
“We’re only waiting on you to adjust the saddle for General
Sota,” Ardin said, referring to a highly specialized order for the leader of
the Fighting Carriers.
Due to the extreme flexibility of their shapeshifter nature,
most Horsemen were able to put on their saddles and gear without assistance. Still,
certain Horsemen had special requirements, as did the elderly general. He had
developed some flexibility issues due to old injuries and Pace knew how to
adjust his saddle correctly.
Pace took another sip of water and sighed then smiled
slightly. “I’ll adjust his saddle now, then I’ll take a look at the crates for
delivery.”
“I’ll check the crates,” Ardin said. “You should get some
rest. It seems like you haven’t slept since this big order came in.”
“Duty calls. After the crisis with the Horsemen Plague
earlier this year, the Fighting Carriers have been working double time so that
means they’re wearing out tack and weapons faster than usual. We can’t send
them to the Spikelands with shoddy gear.”
Since the beginning, Horsemen and humans had depended on each
other for survival. Horsemen—powerful shapeshifters with the ability to change
from full-human form to that of half-man, half-winged horse—were all male.
Human women bore Horsemen children to ensure the continuation of their noble
race. Horsemen in turn carried humans on the perilous journeys to gather Rock
Blood. Rock Blood cured the plague that often swept through human settlements.
Without Rock Blood, which rendered the plague as harmless as a common cold,
many people would die.
The healing substance grew underground and when mature, its
soft flesh turned to a hard crust that protected its liquid center. The liquid
cured the human plague, but recently a Horsemen plague had sprung up. The
crusty Rock Blood shells, which ironically had at one time been discarded,
cured the Horsemen Plague.
Rock Blood flourished only in extreme weather conditions.
One strain required bitter cold and the other scorching heat. Only two places
in the world produced Rock Blood—a group of tropical islands in the south and a
vast group of arctic islands, called the Spikelands, in the north.
Oceans filled with flesh-eating plants separated both the
Spikelands and the southern islands from the mainland. The plants dragged down
ships and devoured swimmers. Even sharks and other ocean predators avoided
them. The Horsemen carried human Gatherers across the dangerous seas to harvest
Rock Blood. Both areas also contained fierce predators that attacked the
Gathering Parties while they dug for Rock Blood.
Though many private Carriers flew on Gatherings, the
Fighting Carriers were an elite group of Horsemen warriors. In addition to
their battle skills, they possessed the greatest speed and endurance of their
kind. Unlike private Carriers, they devoted their lives to gathering Rock Blood
while earning comparably little or no profit for themselves.
Pace had served five years in the Fighting Carriers before
being discharged with honors. He still felt proud to have been part of the
greatest Horsemen force in the world. He was even prouder to be one of few
official tack and weapons makers for the Fighting Carriers.
He took his job seriously, which explained why he hadn’t set
hoof or wing off this mountain while the order was underway.
“What I need to do once the work is done is get some salve,”
Pace said, rolling his muscular shoulders, which ached from long hours of
pounding steel and molding leather. “I haven’t left this mountain in—”
“A month,” Ardin stated. “You can use my salve if you want
to.”
“No. I need a good stretch of the wings. Besides, you said
there’s a new shop in town. At least I don’t have to fly all the way to
Hornview to buy supplies.”
“Ah yes,” Ardin said with a sparkle in his dark brown eyes.
“The new shopkeeper is a sweet young thing. It’s amazing how much knowledge she
has of herbal remedies. From what I understand her mother is a healer. Not to
mention her wealthy family allowed her to study with excellent instructors.”
“Why would she leave all that wealth and leisure to open an apothecary shop in a little village like Fernwood?”
“I don’t know.” A smile flirted with Ardin’s
lips. “Why did you choose to open the largest armory and tack shop in the north
in a little village like Fernwood?”
Pace grinned and shook his head. “I need to
adjust that saddle. I’m looking forward to getting a full night’s sleep instead
of a couple of hours toward dawn like I’ve had over the past month.”
“That’s because you still haven’t learned the
art of delegation.”
“I have nearly a hundred craftsmen here.”
“Yet you still work until you can scarcely strike
the anvil.” Ardin shook his head and again clapped Pace’s equine shoulder.
“You’re a good Horseman, Pace, but you have to understand there’s more to life
than work. Why don’t you find yourself a woman? Make some babies to inherit
this empire.”
Pace snorted with laughter and shook his head
before walking toward the spacious wooden building to his left where saddles
were made.
To someone like Pace, constantly driven to
excel at whatever he chose to do but feeling completely inept in romance,
finding a woman was easier said than done.
A few hours later, after adjusting the saddle
then personally delivering it to General Sota to be sure it fit properly, Pace
finally had a chance to relax.
At the Hall of Fighting Carriers, he stood by
one of their grand Running Ways, waiting for his turn to gallop for takeoff.
Running Ways were areas of land cleared for Horsemen to take off and land in
populated areas.
He’d been so intent on delivering the saddle
that he hadn’t fully appreciated his flight to the Hall of Fighting Carriers.
Now, after weeks of intense work, he finally relaxed and enjoyed the flight
home. He rolled his tense shoulders and stretched his wings. Despite his
exhaustion, the idea of this pleasure flight renewed Pace’s energy. He usually
went on daily sprints and weekly endurance flights to keep himself in shape.
Lately he hadn’t had time. He needed this flight even more than he realized to
work off anxiety built up during extended hours in his forge and workshop.
He exchanged greetings with some of the
Fighting Carriers also waiting to take off. A few of these lifers he’d known
from his days in service. He admired their dedication. Though proud to have
been a Fighting Carrier, he preferred the freedom of running his own business
despite its problems. Still, the Fighting Carriers were in his blood. Over the
past year he had joined the first Fighting Carrier Crisis Troop, glad to serve
again in a reserve capacity.
Finally he galloped down the Running Way, then
beat his wide, cream-colored wings and ascended. For several blissful moments,
he soared over the mountaintop, then turned toward the small village of
Fernwood.
Once he landed in the square, it didn’t take
him long to locate the new apothecary shop. The owner had fixed up the wooden
shop attached to a stone cottage. Outside, a variety of plants and flowers grew
in neat little fenced-in gardens. When he stepped inside, door chimes tinkled
and the scent of herbs filled him with every breath.
Bunches of dried herbs rested upon round
tables. On the shelves built into the walls sat hundreds of bottles and wooden
containers filled with assorted salves, lotions, liquids and powders.
“Hello,” called a pleasant but husky voice.
Pace turned toward the woman emerging from the
doorway between the shop and the cottage. Her gorgeous hourglass figure left
him momentarily speechless. Though dressed in a ladylike fashion, her body was
made to attract men. Her full breasts swelled above the modestly cut lace
neckline and her apron hugged her small waist. The pale blue dress draped over
her rounded hips. Soft chestnut curls tumbled from beneath her matching blue
bonnet. Her face, though not traditionally beautiful, captivated him with its
sparkling brown eyes, full lips and a cute little dimples in her softly curved
cheeks.
“Good evening,” he said and bowed his head
slightly. He wished he’d taken the time to clean up before flying to the shop.
A layer of dirt from the forge still covered his face and arms. He hoped he
didn’t stink like a furnace and saddle wax.
“How may I help you?” She blew a wisp of loose
hair from her face since she carried a large wooden box in both hands.
“Why don’t I help you first?” he said, taking
the box from her. He glanced around the shop with a questioning look.
“Oh! Thank you. It goes right in that corner.”
His hooves clattered on the stone floor as he
crossed the room and placed the box in the area she’d indicated.
“My goodness, did you come all the way from
the mines?” she asked, glancing at his dirty palomino coat.
Damn. She noticed. Of course she’d notice. He
was filthy.
“No actually I just came from the forge. I’m a
tack maker—”
“You must work on the mountain.”
“Yes. I came to buy some salve for muscle
soreness and—”
“I’m sure you have. Do you know how many
workers have come to me from that mountain? The owner of the forge must be a
slave driver. I moved here ten days ago and since then I’ve seen more injured
Horsemen from there. Whether cut or burned or generally sore from overwork,
they come from there.”
“Well we had an important order to fill for
the Fighting Carriers.”
She snorted and placed her hands on those
gorgeous hips. “Yes, and it’s men like you who take the brunt of the work while
the owner of the forge is probably sitting back doing nothing but collecting
the profits. Well let me get some salve for you. I have one jar left. I’m going
to make a fresh batch tonight because I’m sure there’ll be more call for it.”
Pace’s brow furrowed. Although this outspoken
woman didn’t know him at all she seemed to have formed an opinion of him. He also
realized she had no idea he owned the forge and tack shop but assumed he was a
worker.
“I think you have the wrong impression,” he
said. “You see I’m—”
“Worked to death, by the look of you. Honestly
if there’s one thing I detest it’s wealthy people who treat others like slaves.
Trust me, I know all about it.”
“Yes. I heard you come from a wealthy family,”
he said, wondering if she noticed the sarcastic edge to his voice. Despite her
good intentions, she annoyed him with her unsubstantiated conclusions.
“Just because my family is well off doesn’t
mean I agree with my father treating his farmhands like slaves. Yes he allowed
me to study under excellent teachers, but on sheer principle I have paid back
every penny my father spent. He let me train only because he expected me to
make salves and medicines for him and the workers who were hurt while on duty.
Why pay the apothecary for such things when… Wait a moment. Who told you about
my family?”
“Ardin. He works at the forge too.”
“Ardin? That sweet, gray-coated Horseman? You
see what I mean? Imagine making an elderly gentleman like him work from dawn to
dusk? He came in yesterday and bought some of the same salve I’m giving you.”
She took the mentioned salve from a shelf and offered it to Pace. “You know if the
owner of that forge ever decides to descend from on high and set a hoof in this
shop, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”
A smile played around Pace’s lips. He couldn’t
decide if this woman annoyed or amused him. Then he realized she did both.
“I’m sure you will,” he said. “But don’t you
think the owner pays his workers well, especially when they’re putting in extra
hours to complete a large order?”
She shook her head, a look of sympathy in her
gentle brown eyes. “He has you convinced of that doesn’t he? I’ve seen the
pittance business owners pay their hands and expect them to be grateful for
simply having work. The unfairness of it all infuriates me!”
“I see. How much do I owe you for the salve?”
“Normally it’s four copper pieces but since
you’re a worker from the forge I’ll charge you only two.”
“Oh.” Pace smiled broadly. If the silly chit
wanted to give this poor, overworked saddle maker a discount, he wouldn’t be
impolite enough to refuse her. “Thank you very much, Miss…”