The Ostler And The Lady Chapter Eight 2000 Guineas And More free porn video

The Two Thousand Guineas. At last! Jack Wetherley’s heart pounded, as the eleven horses trotted out onto the course. The bright silks of the jockeys added to the extra colour provided by the glamorous gowns worn by the lady spectators and the maroon, purple and vivid blues of the men’s jackets. The excited buzz of the massed crowds all around them, and the sunlight gifted for this early May festival heightened Jack’s already burgeoning anticipation.

The waiting was almost over. All the care, all the concerns over the relatively kindly Winter months, when only the hardness of the ground occasionally hindered the training of their thoroughbred steed Trafalgar, were behind them.

If those months had seemed to pass slowly, the last three days on the journey here to the Newmarket racecourse had really dragged. This was because Sir Oswald had refused to follow the practice of changing horses at the various waystations as he ensured their own two pairs for carriage and horsebox were well rested between stages. Although eager to move on, Jack knew it was a correct decision..

And if the months and days up to this point had been tryingly long, the hours since he awoke that morning had been interminable. But here they were sat on the front benches of the impressive wooden stand. Close to him, maybe a little too close for decorum, since she was Sir Oswald’s niece, was his gorgeous Becky.

Beyond Becky was Alf, the elderly ostler Jack had been apprenticed to, and then came Sir Oswald, looking unusually excited and Lady Brandling, looking utterly bored.

This would be Trafalgar’s third race. His wonderful successes at York and Doncaster meetings had led to his entry in the new Classic over one mile. For this one Sir Oswald had really opened the purse strings and they had stayed in classy hotels rather than the hostelries of the other two trips.

For Jack, it was further indication of just how far Sir Oswald’s enthusiasm had developed. The reflected glory of owning a successful racehorse really appealed to him, and Jack was amazed at the way he now leaned over the stand rail gazing almost possessively at their stallion. So keen had he become that back in October, he had purchased a second thoroughbred..

He had laughed as he told Jack, “Selling my wines can be carried out with greater aplomb as a winning racehorse owner, than a wizened old army major.”

Alf, who was very near to retirement, had commented, “God, he’s so taken up with all of this that he’s even making jokes about his military past.”

Jack had laughed too, “He’d still like to shoot Napoleon, though.”

Alf shrugged, “Talk in the village tells me French wines could soon be loading onto the Major’s ships again.”

Whether he was worried about his wines or not, Jack was sure Sir Oswald’s interest in racing went beyond the prospects of any victory Trafalgar might have. That morning as , Jack had shrugged into his extra fine blue jacket for this special day, he recalled how Becky had commented on how her uncle’s increased interest and consequent unpredictable visits to the stable had inhibited their liaison to some extent.

Only Alf knew of their affair and had kindly extended his time away while they shared their passion in the hay of the stable. The risk of their commoner/privileged situation being discovered was always present. As was Becky’s risk of pregnancy, with the precautions she took being less than reliable.

Sitting there in the stands alongside this lady that he loved so deeply and watching the horse that they both loved so much parading with the best of their age went some way to calming his nerves. Becky’s nearness would always have a calming effect on him. Well, until the passion started

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Recent racecourse adventures had given them their first chance to show their mutual ardour in a real bed, instead of hay or grass.

On the previous evening, Jack and Alf had found the special Newmarket stabling quarters, kept only for the highest-grade horses, highly impressive. They confidently left their wonderfully successful thoroughbred chestnut, securely housed.

But for Jack there had been a downside. Sir Oswald had only been able to house their party in two separate hotels. He and Lady Brandling, along with their niece, had rooms in another hotel, while Jack, Alf and jockey Nate Oliver were in the Adelphi which was just as up-market.

The hotel they’d stayed at on the previous evening, had allocated single rooms with a double for Sir Oswald and his wife. It had only taken a little caution for Jack to flit from his room to Becky’s unlatched door.

Her warmly advisory whisper of, “Don’t wait too long,” as they all said, “good night,” might have warned him of how ready she was. They had been unable to be together for three whole days, and the moment he had stepped into her room she had tigerishly pressed her nakedness against him, her skin aglow in the flickering light of two candles.

With her arms and legs wrapped around him, they had kissed with such passion that Jack was quite breathless, while her fingers tore at his loose shirt. Stepping back to give room to remove his breeches, she hissed, “I want it. Want it now.” Looking at her beautifully shaped body, aware of her wild need, Jack was instantly erect.

When his quickly rampant member came into view she grunted, “Oh, yes,” Her fingers wrapped around it, and as though it was a handle, she used it to pull him towards the bed, “Oh, God,“ she sighed, “I could eat it, but I want it up inside me more.”

Reaching the bed, she flung herself back on it, her thighs spread in open invitation, “Quick,” she gasped. “Fill me.”

In his innocence, Jack had thought that it was only males who were openly lustful. Women, like Betsy at the inn in the village did it to be sociable, but Becky’s avid lust after they’d missed a few days, shocked and delighted him.

Now her cry as he entered her wet passage, and the keen heaving up of her hips to ensure possession of his full length, was testament to her sensuality. “Up. Up. Jack” she gasped. “Oh, you’re immense. In. Yesss.”

Jack, so happy to be humping into her like this had been comparatively speechless, but now, as he felt his impending expulsion, he murmured into her ear, “I love you, Becky.”

Having said that and with them set in a faster rhythm of give and take, he slid one hand under her buttocks and his middle finger made a short tight entry into her wrinkled smaller orifice.

That was the trigger for Becky. She gave a low shriek, her head tossed, spraying her hair over her face, her mouth gaped, and Jack could not recall such joy as he viewed her orgasm while he sent spurt after spurt of his cream deep into her.

They lay, snug in each other’s arms and talked, as always about their prospects for the future. Then after a thorough, yet in Jack’s mind incautious towelling, they treated each other to a little oral stimulation before, rock hard, he entered her once more.

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Now, with the thoroughbred horses parading in their circle in front of the stands, he gave Becky a slight surreptitious nudge and very briefly their hands touched, as she asked, “Does Nate know what to do about the Prince Regent’s horse?”

“All of those decisions were taken this morning ,” Jack told her, looking into her lovely face, longing to kiss her.

Earlier that morning, after a substantial breakfast, Jack, Alf and Nate had walked through the busy town streets and along the driveway into the course, which wasn’t too far from their hotel. From the main approach, they turned left to reach the special stable where they had to identify themselves to two officials at the door. That’s how careful they were, and Jack was highly impressed.

Alf chuckled as he turned to Jack and said, “I wouldn’t be surprised to find Becky is here before us.”

“Their hotel’s further away,” Jack reminded him, always delighted to hear Alf use Becky’s name. She had asked him to drop his respectful ‘m’lady’ when only Jack was around.

Alf had found it awkward at first. All his life had been spent treating aristocracy with respect, but for Jack it was a mark of Becky’s appreciation of a friend, no matter what status. Her contemptuous attitude to status was what had attracted him to her in the first place. Well, that and her smooth-skinned beauty

As the stable doors were opened, they stood aside to allow a stable hand to lead out a fine looking roan that, reminded Jack of Rascal, the beloved horse, back at Brandling Hall, whose ability had set Jack on his present course.

 In the dimness of the stable, they hurried directly to the third stall where they knew Trafalgar was housed. The horse came immediately to meet them, and Jack and Alf went inside to check him over. Everything was fine. No marks, a very contented horse.

Nate, staying outside the stall, laughed, creasing his face, prematurely wrinkled from keeping his weight down for racing purposes, as he said, “So I can look forward to winning a Classic race.”

Alf laughed with him, “Glad to hear that kind of confidence.”

They came out of the stall and Trafalgar followed them to the gate. It was remarkable how much more friendly he had become as he’d put on a few months. Initially, Becky had been the only person he’d respond to. “Impeccable taste, that horse has.” Jack had whispered to her.

Now though, the chestnut, poked his head over the gate for Jack to rub his muzzle fondly. “Big day, my beauty,” Jack mumbled, and laughed as Trafalgar’s hooves beat a brief tattoo on the straw. “Oh, you agree.”

There was the clopping of hoof beats moving from the far end of the stable towards them. Nate growled, ”Now here’s the animal that could give us problems.”

A pure while stallion was being led by two handlers and a third man, in rather finer dress. The horse moved, head up, looking side to side. “What a magnificent horse, “ Alf sighed.

“That is Majestic. He’s the Prince Regent’s horse. I’m told the Prince is going to be here this afternoon to watch him win”

As the horse and followers came level with them, Jack murmured, “He hopes, eh, Trafalgar?” But he knew he was looking at an extra special horse, “He even walks like a prince,”

“And runs like the wind, I’ve heard,” Nate told them. “He’s had three runs to Trafalgar’s two. One of them was just this season, so he’s fit and so very fast. But there’s more than that--” He paused, as though he shouldn’t let them know the rest.

“What?” Alf asked. “He hasn’t got six legs, has he?”

“You’ve seen he hasn’t,” Nate grinned.

“Oh, there’s a pair of wings strapped under his belly. Like Pegasus?”

“We can joke about it, Alf.” Nate’s wrinkled face more serious now. ”Three races, and they’ve all been top grade, and no horse has been nearer than six lengths at the finish”

“We know how fast Trafalgar can be,” Jack said, almost defensively, as this talk of their quality opponent was raising the early flutters in his chest.

Nate looked a little regretful, as he lowered his vision and said, “I don’t really want to sound like a pessimist, but we need to look at the reality of the situation. Majestic’s last race he won by eight lengths, and his stable mate, Royal Standard was in that race.”

Trafalgar had beaten Royal Standard at Doncaster by no more than a head, and Jack was quick to point that out, “But you were badly baulked in that race.” And to lighten the prevailing mood he threw an arm around Nate’s shoulders, “Anyway, we know we’ve got the best jockey.”

Alf seconded that and Nate nodded his gratitude, before adding, “There’s one thing I’ve heard about the way they run Majestic.”

“Which is?”

A determined look crossed Nate’s face, “In all his races, he’s stayed up with the leaders but still in the pack, he’s ignored any horse that tries to race ahead. But on the mark of the final furlong he takes off as though fired from a gun.”

“Isn’t that how we’ve tried to run Trafalgar?” Jacked asked.

“Exactly,” Nate agreed. “So –”

“You keep abreast of him until the seven-furlong mark, and then—we find out.” Jack said, knowing the wobble in his chest was going to be there until the race was over.

Then Alf said, “Old trainer I was speaking to at breakfast told me that Majestic is already odds on favourite.”

“And us?”

“That’s all he knew.”

Now, Jack turned to Nate, “Time for a run-out?”

Nate agreed, so Jack and Alf, saddled Trafalgar and fitted his bridle. Then together they led the horse out into the pleasantly warm sunlight .

One of the men at the door directed them across a stretch of grass, to where a single bar white fence marked the practice area. “Run from right to left on the straight course,“ he told them.

When they were closer to the white fence, they saw that, as well as the straight stretch the practice section was also at least a two-mile circuit, where two or three horses were being put through a gentle work out. Beyond the practice course was a thick stretch of trees and shrubs.

Nate hauled himself up into the saddle saying, “No point in anyone coming down to the far end. Stay at this end and see how he finishes. What do you think, Jack?”

Jack, nervously sure they had done as much as they could with Trafalgar said, “ Yes, a good steady gallop first time down. You can see the mile marker there. You judge when to shift him up to top speed for no more than 150 yards, so you slow immediately after that marker. In case we have inquisitive eyes watching,”

Nate nodded his understanding and was just about to trot away when a call of “Good morning,” from behind them signalled the surprise arrival of Sir Oswald and Becky. Jack’s heart gave an extra beat at the sight of her running towards them. Jack could see that she wasn’t dressed for the meeting, as she wore a loose-fitting gown that she’d wore occasionally for riding, totally inappropriate for that purpose, but that was Becky.

Her rush, her black hair flowing out behind her, her brown eyes fixed on him, had Jack wishing that she was dashing into his arms. If there had been just the two of them, he had no doubt that was exactly how it would have been. But coming closer, and as Trafalgar jerked his head against the reins as though moving his head for her to stroke his muzzle, which she did immediately.

“Oh, he looks wonderful.”

“You were just in time, m’lady.” Nate said from the saddle.

A wide smile on his face, Sir Oswald approached, “She just had to be here. Couldn’t wait.”

“Neither could you, uncle,” Becky said, still stroking Trafalgar “Could hardly eat breakfast.”

Sir Oswald nodded his head, “I admit it. Such a special day. Fortunately, the hotel has a handy curricle service. The driver is waiting to take us back.”

Jack looked at the reddened face. There it was again, that over-enthusiasm, so rare in Sir Oswald.

Nate had to practically heave Trafalgar away from Becky’s attentions to trot him to the starting point for gallops. Just at that moment, the white Majestic came loping past them. before continuing around the track bend. Jack and Alf nudged each other “Giving nothing away,“ Alf commented, and then he grinned, “I’ve never trusted Royalty.”

“That is a fine-looking animal ,“ Sir Oswald exclaimed, nodding his head towards the retreating tail of Majestic.

“Not as fine as Trafalgar,” Becky argued.

“You have just seen the Prince Regent’s horse, “Jack told them. Then he and Alf outlined all they knew about Majestic.

Sir Oswald gave a brief laugh, “That special, is he? Maybe I should find Lord Duckham and find out any secrets.“ He laughed even louder as he added, “There’s no doubt I’ll be having a big chat with him after the race.”

That mention of Lord Duckham set Jack’s mind churning again as he recalled the Doncaster race and the kind words from his Lordship after Trafalgar had beaten Royal Standard trained by Lord Duckham for the Prince Regent. The two older men had walked away in deep conversation. Could that have been what persuaded Sir Oswald to purchase a second thoroughbred, jet black, which he had named Nelson’s Pride. But even that did not account for the way his total commitment to the racing developed.

Now, they all turned to watch Nate bring Trafalgar along at a brisk gallop. Jack watched him carefully. Oh, yes, the horse was moving so well. With all their training, Jack hoped he knew what Nate could produce from him. He could see every muscle movement as he came on, and heard Becky at his elbow, whisper, “So beautiful.”

Then came that moment, when Nate leaned over close to the chestnut’s ears. Jack could see Nate’s lips moving.

Trafalgar moved beyond being simply a galloping horse. Streaking past them he became a flash of chestnut light before Nate quickly slowed him. Jack felt his heart pounding, and this was just a practice. But so impressive.

“My God,” Sir Oswald growled close to his ear, “can he keep that magnificent pace up for a whole furlong.”

It was Alf who answered the question, “He’s going to need to.”

“And he will,” cried Becky with much greater surety than earlier.

Trafalgar was given one more run and then they returned him to his stall, brushed him down, with Becky insisting on doing much of the brushing. Jack wished he had time to just watch the movement of her body as she bent and stretched around the horse. Then Trafalgar was left on his own, and Jack took the opportunity to thank Nate for the excellent timing he’d shown on the horse.

“Not my timing,“ Nate said modestly, “his response. Oh, I hope he gets his reward. He really is a gem, Jack.”

As they walked out of the stable, Becky asked, “Did you sleep well. Jack? Or were your thoughts in a turmoil, as mine were?”

God, had no one noticed her lascivious smile as she’d asked the question? “I tossed and turned,“ he managed.

“So did I.”

That was when Sir Oswald announced that the curricle driver would be expecting them. “Back to the hotel, and into our finery for a very special afternoon.”.

Jack caught the shrug and the “Sorry” in his beloved Becky’s eyes. They’d had virtually no time together.

Sir Oswald then surprised them, when he asked Alf, “Would you come back to the hotel with us. While we’re changing, I would like the coach made ready so that after the racing, we can all come back together. For the meal I have already booked--- I hope a celebratory meal. We’ll be back just after midday. First race isn’t until two o’clock.”

Alf had no objections, and soon, with Nate saying he was going to find some jockey friends to see if there was any useful information, Jack found himself in the unusual situation of being on his own. In his anxious mind, he was telling himself that all he wanted from Trafalgar was an honest peak effort. But he couldn’t convince himself that it would really satisfy him.

Aimlessly, he viewed the front of the high stand, decorated with expensive looking bunting and floral decoration, especially around what was obviously the Royal Box. where the Prince Regent would be ensconced later.

Away beyond the stand Jack could see a fairground from where violin music seemed to be coming. Down nearer the track, bookmakers were either busy setting up or were taking early wagers. For this meeting they were all very nattily dressed in rich coloured jackets and shirts.

Then he decided to have an extra check on Trafalgar and was gratified when the horse came immediately to where he stood behind the low fence. While standing there he had a brief chat with a trainer who surprised Jack by saying that he thought his horse, Vigilant, and all the others were just making up the numbers in the light of Majestic’s reputation.

“I hope not,” was the only response he could muster.

Walking back along the side of the stands, he was relieved to see Becky, Sir Oswald and Lady Brandling coming towards him. Jack was thinking it was just as well there was no wind as the width of the brim of the bonnet Lady Brandling wore might have lifted her off the ground.

While Jack could only think of how stunning Becky looked in her blue, Sir Oswald said, “Ah, Jack, well met. We’ll just wait for Alf parking the coach and then we’ll see about having a light bite. I hear the food is very good.”

“You look extremely elegant, Jack,“ Lady Brandling said, in a voice that suggested that she wanted to add, ‘For a change.’

But Jack thanked her, and added, “If I may say so your bonnet is exquisite, m’lady” While thinking that the gown she was wearing made her look like a ship in full sail.

Alf arrived much quicker than expected, declaring how efficient the coach staff were. Then they found the large refreshment tent which, because of the fine weather, had tables and chairs scattered outside, which removed any concerns about class distinction.

For almost two hours, during which Jack wished the conversation would not keep returning to Trafalgar’s prospects. But he found much pleasure in just hearing Becky’s enthusiastic voice, and simply drinking in the sheer allure of her

There was a moment when Jack was sure Sir Oswald looked eager to add something about the race outcome, but he withheld it. Briefly Jack managed to turn conversation on to how they would develop the future of Nelson’s Pride as the year progressed. “Follow Trafalgar’s route,.” Alf suggested

Becky agreed, “Yes, he’s still needing a lot of training.” And then, blessing Jack with a gorgeous smile, she added, “And I can help with that, can’t I?”

Sir Oswald laughed, “I don’t think Jack could take that kind of interference, eh. Jack?”

A little off-guard Jack said, “Well, B--er—m’lady has been helpful with Trafalgar.”

The grin on Becky’s face told him exactly what kind of interference she was thinking of.

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Now, here they were, as the horses broke their circling and began moving down the course towards the one-mile starting post. They had mutually agreed not to bet on the race, partly because the price of three to one for Trafalgar was unattractive. The trembling inside Jack’s chest was only slightly eased by a quick squeeze of his hand from Becky’s gentle fingers.

He turned his head to look into those lovely eyes as she whispered, “Soon, we’ll know.”

Jack nodded his head, but beyond Becky and Alf, he saw Sir Oswald, lean forward, looking towards him, “Oh, Jack, this could be the life-changing moment.” And again, Jack nodded his head, his throat too tight for words, but he was thinking it had been a strange way for Sir Oswald to say that.

A loud distinct voice came from somewhere above them, far superior to that they had heard at Doncaster, “The runners are all safely down at the start.” Looking up to a spot far left of the Royal Box, Jack saw the twin extra-large funnels through which the sound would evolve and a man who was peering through what looked like a large naval telescope.

A lady’s voice somewhere behind them called out, “I haven’t seen Prinny yet.”

A gentleman’s voice replied, “Probably sitting back guzzling champagne.”

Becky nudged Jack, “I’d forgotten about the Prince Regent being here.” She looked back and up before adding, “ Can’t see anyone up there. Anyway, there’s something much more interesting happening down here.” And she giggled.

From this distance it was almost impossible to distinguish the eleven horses a mile away. Only the whiteness of Majestic could be distinguished.

“The horses are lining up. The white Majestic, belonging to his Royal Highness is easily spotted in the centre of the line-up.”

Jack was disappointed with himself. All through the long winter months the prospects of this race had not bothered him. He had been sure that , after two big races, he would be able to stay calm for this one, important as it was. But the edginess that had been with him all morning was at a peak now as the line-up was announced. Was he always going to be like this?

“And they’re off and running. Majestic is prominent immediately, flanked by, Mimosa, Dark Legend and Grandiose, but at this stage, the rest of the field are closely bunched.”

“He hasn’t mentioned Trafalgar,” Becky groaned.

“Early days. They’ll sort themselves.” Jack said, trying to keep any anxiety out of his voice.

“At the first furlong marker it’s a level group of Majestic, Dark Legend, Speed King, and Mimosa.”

“Still nothing,” Becky almost sobbed.

“Don’t worry,” Jack said, feeling the irony of himself saying that. “Nate knows what he’s doing” In fact, he wasn’t sure whether he couldn’t pick out the red and white cap on Nate just behind the leaders.

“Two furlongs gone and Trafalgar has come alongside the leaders, with Majestic, Mimosa, Speed King all well there. Vigilant has made a fast appearance.”

“Come on, Trafalgar!” That clear shout came from Sir Oswald. He really was wound up for it.

Above the roaring of the crowd Jack could still hear Lady Brandling’s, ”Hush, Oswald.”

Becky’s fingers were clutching at Jack’s arm, “Yes, oh, yes,” she sighed

“Three furlongs marker and Vigilant has shot into a clear one length lead. Majestic, Dark Legend, Grandiose and Trafalgar are almost in a line behind him. Vigilant appears to be increasing his lead.”

Jack was pretty sure he could make out the red and white cap of Nate on Trafalgar, right alongside the obvious white body of Majestic, but there was no doubt that Vigilant in his orange colours was leading by a fair margin. Not that Jack was bothered by that, but Becky was..

“Can we catch him?” she asked, her concern showing in her tone.

Jack gave her a gentle pat on the hand as Alf said consolingly, “That one will tire.”

As though in contradiction to Alf the speaker voice piped up, “At the halfway stage and now Vigilant has moved into a very clear four lengths lead over Majestic and the others.”

“Others!” Alf’s voice rose way above the sound of the crowd. “We’re the bloody others!”

His cry had Jack and Becky laughing, but Jack could now make out that Trafalgar was right there with maybe four other horses, one of which was, of course, Majestic. But there was no doubt now that the horse Vigilant was well clear, and Jack was beginning to hope that Alf’s assessment was correct.

“Three furlongs to go and Vigilant is now at least four lengths clear and it does look at though the others are prepared to let him go. But we all know what Majestic can do in the final furlong.”

Jack could tell now that Nate was keeping Trafalgar close to Majestic, and he was certain that Vigilant had not gone any further ahead., but there were at least six horses in contention.

Now it was Becky’s voice that piped up, ”But you don’t know what Trafalgar can do in the final furlong.“ Then, as the spectator excitement began to rise her, smooth sly smile was turned to Jack as she half-whispered, “And you don’t know what I’ll do to you tonight.”

Her sensuous suggestion was certainly a balm to Jack’s tensions, as he leaned slightly towards her to whisper, “I hope I can keep you to that.” Turning his attention back to the race, he was wondering how they could possibly find time alone that night,

But now, the crowd was becoming excited, as the horses approached the two- furlong marker. It was clear to Jack that Vigilant’s lead was not as great as it had been.

“See,” he said quickly to Becky, “it looks like Alf was right.”

Becky closed her hand tightly over his, and it occurred to Jack that this was quite a safe action since Alf was between Sir Oswald and her.

“At the six-furlong stage there appear to be five horse’s in contention. Closing on Vigilant are Mimosa, Dark Legend, Trafalgar, Grandiose and of course, the favourite, Majestic.”

As the crowd’s excitement rose, people were coming to their feet, and Jack, knowing this next furlong was going to be crucial, stood up to observe Nate’s positioning on Trafalgar. Because she had not released his hand, Becky came to her feet too. “Will he do it?” she gasped, half turning to look back at Alf, also on his feet, for extra reassurance.

“We’re soon going to find out,” the older man told her.

The horses were well into the seventh furlong, and Jack, even above the roaring of the crowd, heard Sir Oswald’s loud, “Come on, Trafalgar. For all of us.”

“Approaching the final furlong and Vigilant still holds a one length lead, but Majestic seems to be poised to strike. None of the other horses seem capable of competing with him. Only Trafalgar runs alongside the Prince Regent’s magnificent horse. Are we about to see another magical burst?”

As at Doncaster, Becky’s fingers were now digging into Jack’s arm. But Jack had temporarily shut out everything, Becky’s grip, the commentary, the noise of the crowd, as he concentrated on what he could see of Nate’s actions as the horses approached that seven-furlong marker. Did he imagine that he could see Nate’s eyes on Majestic’s jockey’s whip hand?. That hand looked poised, but Nate, keeping Trafalgar level and going well, was leaning forward, his lips close to the horse’s ears.

“Approaching the final furlong and—”

Jack didn’t need to hear. He knew exactly what was going to happen. And it did. As the whip hand came down on Majestic, Jack was sure he saw Nate’s lips mouthing something close to Trafalgar’s ear. Both horses leapt forward as though joined and raced together past Vigilant as though he was standing still.

The commentator’s voice became a gurgle as he started, “And there goes Majestic---Oh, my gosh, Trafalgar has gone with him. This can’t be- --”

Oh, yes it can, Jack wasn’t sure if he said it out loud, but beside him, Becky was screeching, “Trafalgar. Trafalgar.”

Alf was yelling, “Go on, boy. You show them!”

The amazed roar of the crowd could not drown out Sir Oswald’s “We’re there. We’re there.” And even at the height of his delight at the performance Jack thought that a strange thing to yell, when the race wasn’t over.

The two magnificent animals were neck-to-neck.

“It’s just Majestic---No, it’s Trafalgar. They’re level. Majestic’s nose is in---Check—Trafalgar is ahead. Now they are so near the finish—and it’s Majestic. Is it?”

That final hundred yards was like nothing Jack would experience again. He saw Majestic in front, but then as both horses strained their heads forward he thought Trafalgar had caught him. Then they were racing past the flag and the four judges, two on either side.

It took another hundred yards before the horses could be slowed and turned. Jack saw Nate and the other jockey lean across, heads nodding as they hugged each other after an epic race.

“Did Trafalgar win?” Becky cried, and Jack saw she was in tears.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either.” Alf said, wiping at his own face, “but our horse was amazing.”

“Superb, that is the word for him. He has really done us proud.” Sir Oswald crowed loudly, looking so elated as though he knew the result. But Jack had to agree. Whatever the judges decided Trafalgar had really been a credit to them.

Out on the track the four judges were conferring and there seemed to be much nodding and shaking of heads. All around there was the buzz of voices of spectators, “Majestic. No, Trafalgar. Majestic. Trafalgar.” Everyone was intrigued by the uncertainty.

Jack stood, with Becky still clutching his arm, while, he was relieved to see, her other hand gripped Alf’s sleeve. Sir Oswald, a wide smile on his face, was also staring at the judges.

At last the judges broke from their huddle and turned to face the main stand. The crowd became hushed, expectant. Then the four men performed an elaborate bow in the direction of the Royal Box. And there was a ripple of gentle applause. Looking up, Jack could not see whether their action had been acknowledged.

Then the judges turned towards the commentary position, and one after the other they made a crossing of the forearms gesture. There were gasps as quite clearly some spectators knew what the gesture meant. But the announcement was almost immediate.

“Your Royal Highness, Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen. In the unanimous decision of the four distinguished judges, the result of this magnificent two thousand guineas race is—” Sharp intakes of breath all around—“A Tie. A Classic race indeed.”

“Trafalgar lost?” Becky asked, her voice threatening tears again, as a mixed chorus of cheers and woeful groans surrounded.

“No,” Jack reassured her, feeling such pride in his heart. “Both horses won.”

“Amazing,” Alf sighed, ”such a brave horse.”

To Jack’s surprise, Sir Oswald came alongside him and placing an arm around his shoulders, hugged him warmly. Jack turned to face him, and saw a much more serious countenance as he was told, “I have carried information since Doncaster, but now, I believe Lord Duckham will have an offer to make you and—”

Becky’s anxious voice broke in, maybe a little too anxious Jack feared, “Not offering him a job away from Brandling Estate horses, is he?”

Sir Oswald turned to her, showing little surprise at her outburst, but holding up a hand, he told her, “I’m saying nothing more until after the ceremony and Lord Duckham is available.”

He looked beyond their little group to where Lady Brandling was sitting looking rather grumpy, “Come along, dear. Presentation is due , and there’ll be champagne afterwards.”

That seemed a big enough lure and they were soon making their way back to the ring, being stopped and congratulated all the way.

“What’s going to happen, Jack,” Becky asked, close to his side, and lowering her voice to whisper, “I need to be alone with you.”

“I’m not sure, “ Jack admitted, but could see now that Sir Oswald had carried some knowledge of future events which accounted for some of his strange behaviour.

“I don’t see how they can make much of the presentation,“ Alf observed, correctly as it turned out. “They wouldn’t expect a tied result.”.

“Who was third?” Jack asked, just wanting the time to pass.

“Mimosa,” Alf told him. “Nine lengths behind, they reckon.”

Then they were in the ring and heading for the winner’s enclosure where there were two horses and two very happy jockeys. Jack hugged Nate effusively, telling him how grateful he was for the way he had handled Trafalgar.

“No. No.” Nate laughed, and it was pleasing to see how high he was. “He was handling me. Oh, Jack, such a brilliant responsive animal.”

Jack saw Sir Oswald exchange words with Lord Duckham, who gave a friendly nod in Jack’s direction. Then Sir Oswald came across to tell them that because of the tie situation there could not be the official ceremony and therefore the Prince Regent would not be attending. His Chief Equerry would make an announcement, but afterwards Lord Duckham had said they were all invited into the small board room at the rear of the stand.

The Equerry appeared, all white wig and pompous attitude, Jack thought. But the man said, in plummy tones, what a magnificent performance both horses had given and, regretting being indisposed, his Highness, the Prince Regent had been most impressed. He went on to congratulate owners, trainers and jockeys of the two horses.

“Unfortunately,” he went on, looking sick of his life, “there can be no major presentation until extra trophies are available. Other means will be arranged. We can, however, make a presentation to the relevant people associated with the third horse, Mimosa.”

With that ceremony completed the Equerry was gone. An announcement was made that refreshments were available in the tent. But Lord Duckham, tall and imposing, as ever, came across and shook Jack by the hand, “That was some race, Jack, and I believe we have much to talk about in the privacy of the small board room.”

He led them to the rear of the stand, and Jack saw Lady Brandling peel away towards the refreshment tent. They went on through a door which led into a small yet imposing room with walnut clad walls and a large table which took up most of the space. A jug of water stood at one end of the table, around which they all sat.

“This shouldn’t take long, Jack, and is going to depend on your answer to my first question.”

Although a little puzzled, Jack nodded his agreement.

“First of all, how would you feel about becoming what would be virtually my second?”

Jack heard Becky’s gasp, saw Sir Oswald’s smiling face even as he was thinking that it would mean leaving the Brandling Estate. That would be such a wrench. And he couldn’t avoid looking at Becky’s anguished face.

“Well?”

“Your Lordship, I would be honoured to take such an offer, but—”

“You don’t want to abandon Sir Oswald, is that it?” Then, before Jack could respond Lord Duckham turned to Sir Oswald and said, “You want to tell him about what we have discussed?”

Sir Oswald’s face was alight, as he replied, “I think the basics would be best coming from you, Lord Duckham. Jack and I can get down to the arrangements later.”

Lord Duckham nodded, “Good. Well, Jack, this request comes indirectly from the Prince Regent himself. For some time, he has wanted stables nearer the north. Less travelling for the horses, and more meetings to enter. Sir Oswald has kindly agreed to have certain alterations made to his estate so that can take place. Think you can manage ten to fifteen of his Highness’s horses, with a large number of stable hands of course.”

Jack felt totally overwhelmed, as he looked again in Becky’s direction, and her eyes told him exactly what he should do, even if he was still a little foggy about it. “On Brandling Estate, I’m sure I could.”

“Excellent, Sir Oswald will give you all the agreed details, at your leisure. I think then we should retire to the tent and drink to this partnership. Agreed?”

Lord Duckham led them towards the tent with Sir Oswald by his side. Jack walked between Becky and Alf, who started in right away, “Holy hell, what a turn up, Jack. That explains why the Major’s been so vague.”

Becky clutched Jack’s arm, “I was so worried. But now, oh, Jack it’s going to be so good. Ten thoroughbred horses.”

“Yes, Jack won’t get a look in,” Alf laughed, and pushed on ahead of them.

As they came to the tent entrance, Becky whispered, “The trees beyond the practice track. Ten minutes after I leave.” As they entered she added, “And hurry, I can’t wait.”

Inside the tent, they found Lady Brandling already red-faced, holding forth with a group of other abandoned wives.

Soon they were seated in a cosy circle, and Alf hissed, “Drinking with Lords. I’m going up in the world.”

They toasted the new proposal and Sir Oswald made it only partly a joke when he toasted, “To the Brandling Stables.” There was general laughter, and more champagne was poured..

After a short while Becky excused herself, and as she stood Jack saw her bend and whisper something to Alf. He had no idea what could be so secretive and why it should take so long. But he soon found out.

Minutes passed before Alf leaned towards Sir Oswald and said, “Major, do you think your niece will be all right.?”

“Rebecca? Why shouldn’t she be? She was only going to the lady ‘s room.”

Alf shook his head, “No, she told me she wanted to see what the fair was like.”

Immediately Jack knew what their whispers had been about.

“Some funny folk hang around fairgrounds. Should I go? Take me too long –Jack’s younger.”

Sir Oswald’s worried face turned to him, “Would you mind, Jack?”

Would he mind? Try to stop him from going where he was going, and it wasn’t the fair.

“If you’re worried, Sir.”

Within seconds he was away from the tent and hurrying across the now quiet practice course. His eyes searched the trees ahead, and he saw her almost immediately, her blue dress a beacon in front of the greenery behind her.

He hurried forward and their bodies smashed together, their lips met and, clinging desperately they danced their way back into the shelter of trees. Their kiss was deep and moist as her hand quickly probed the front of his breeches, to find his rising hardness,

“Oh, I so want this.” she gasped, as his hand smoothed over her covered breast before moving down to press her dress between her thighs. “I feared that tonight we wouldn’t have the chance. Oh, you must feel me. Feel how ready I am.” And she squirmed her thighs against his probing fingers.

“You remember the last time we did it against a tree?” he asked her, remembering it well himself.

“It was when you won on Rascal. I was wet then. I’m soaked now.”

“Will the gown lift?”

“Not easily,” And immediately she began grappling with the fastenings, “Oh, hell, it’s got to come off.”

“We haven’t much time,” Jack hissed, trying to help her out of the garment. As it came loose, she stepped out of it and Jack grabbed it and held it against a tree trunk. “Put your back against it so you don’t feel the bark.”

“I want to feel you,” she grunted, as he pulled his breeches down, and her hand immediately gripped him, while his fingers probed along her crevice, touching on her clit which had her moaning.

Jack was holding her dress as he forced her back against it and she pulled his throbbing member desperately to her entry.

So wild were they for each other that his thrusts were driving her back over the rumpled dress. Her feet left the ground as she wrapped her legs around him, half yelping, half groaning, but both heaving and thrusting searching for that mutual bountiful release.

It happened with not surprising speed, as Becky groaned, then screamed her ecstasy, as Jack with an almost harshly violent pounding up inside her began ejecting pulse after pulse of his seed inside her. Together their moans and happy groans made a beautiful duet.

“Oh, Jack, it was so wonderful, so brief, but so essential. I love you, and you’re going to be an employee of the Prince Regent. But despite that, I still love you.”

They laughed, but a slight thought in the back of his mind as he slid limply out of her, gave the shadow of real hope. If there coming together had been less extended than they’d hoped for, there had to be something much more positive in their future.