Abigail Takes A Ride
by
Gypsy deWilde
Smashwords Edition
Abigail Takes A Ride
Copyright © 2010 by Gypsy deWilde
ISBN: 978-1-4523-3986-3
Cover Art by Gypsy deWilde
Smashwords Licensing Notes
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Abigail Takes A Ride is a short work of erotic fiction. All places and names are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any similar names or characteristics to any person, past, present, or future, are entirely coincidental. The events included happened only in the imagination of the author.
Dedication
To all women and men who believe in following their passions, not for personal gratification, but to achieve truly great things.
Abigail Steadman is matriarch of Steadman Hall. She intends never to marry and to reign over the plantation until her brother marries and produces an heir. But she has needs, deep desires she satisfies with certain male servants.
Is Rigby, the rugged stable manager, up to the task of keeping his job while satisfying the lady of the house?
Abigail Takes A Ride
Abigail Steadman donned her riding habit of peacock blue and insisted her maid help tug on her polished leather boots. They were the devil to get on, but no lady rode without proper attire. The maid held her beautiful new hat ready to set atop her carefully arranged blond hair.
“Be careful, Lizzie, don’t crush it,” Abigail warned and checked to see that the blue felt and the dyed-to-match feathers were undamaged. “I paid a king’s ransom for that hat in Montgomery.” She didn’t add why. It was no one’s business but her own. They didn’t need to know she wanted it to bring out the blue of her eyes and make her hair seem even blonder when she was going to be keeping company with a certain man.
“Lizzie, pin it well. If it flies off while I’m riding, I’ll have you horse-whipped.”
The old maid of color hid a grin. Her Missus had been threatening that for years, but it made no never mind to Lizzie. She knew Missus Abigail wouldn’t do it. Beneath her stern manner beat a good heart. Why, she’d practically raised that brother of hers and she’d kept the plantation running with no man to guide her. Lizzie was fair proud of the way the Missus took holt after her parents died of the fever just before that cursed War started.
They finally managed to get the new hat situated and pinned to Abigail’s satisfaction. The feathers draped beguilingly over her left shoulder, swaying as she moved her head. She picked up her riding crop and gloves as she left the room. Lizzie trailed along in case the Missus needed something last minute as she often did.
“Lizzie, you tell that rapscallion brother of mine he’s to be at supper tonight and mind his manners. Mr. and Mrs. Davenport are dining with us and are bringing their daughter, Penelope. I want Bart to make a good impression... That would be a good match for all of us.”
“Yes’m, I’ll tell him,” and he’ll probably high-tail it the other way, Lizzie said to herself. Master Bart was too busy with that new maid, Meg, to want to think about any serious courtin’ to her way of thinking. “You g’on now so’s you won’t be out too late to dress fer company yerself.”
Abigail gave a little laugh and hurried down the path toward the stables. Rigby, the stable manager, should have her horse saddled and waiting for her.
At thirty-seven, Abigail knew she looked younger. She was careful with what she ate and made sure not to catch too much sun on her face. She’d resolved not to let herself go all stout and matronly like so many of her friends. And if she wanted to catch the eyes of younger, virile men like Rigby, she’d have to be even more particular the older she got. Smiling wickedly, Abigail thought she could tell her friends a good way to stay slim, but they would be shocked. They’d probably have her tossed out of the Church.
* * *
“Missus Abigail, you look like a cat whut et the canary,” greeted Cyrus, one of the oldest grooms as he stood holding her horse.
“I’m just looking forward to my ride, Cyrus. Where’s Rigby? I wanted a word with him.” Abigail patted her strong, brown, hunter gelding on the nose and checked the girth as she always did. Her father had instilled in her from a young age that there were just certain things you made sure of and checking for a loose girth was one of them.
“He said he would meet you on the path, Missus. Said you’d know where. He had a horse to check on. Should I ride with ye, Missus, till ye find ’im?” The old man offered.
“No, I’ll be fine. Just hold Beau’s head while I get on the block.” Abigail waited as Cyrus positioned her horse at the mounting block. Then she climbed the three steps to the top. She wished she could refuse to ride side-saddle as some women were doing, but carefully arranged her legs and skirts over the loop on the left side as was proper. ‘I have him, Cyrus.”
Abigail tapped lightly with her crop and was away. Once out of earshot of the barns, she told Old Beau, “It would serve that Rigby well if I went the other way. Meet him, indeed,” she fumed. But that would be denying her needs as well... Something she dare not do as it had been days since her last encounter with the strong, rugged man. Even the motion of her bottom against the saddle added to her needs. Thinking of what would happen when she found Rigby, she urged her mount to a faster pace.
Rigby sat the large gelding he preferred to ride at the juncture of the paths while he nibbled on a stick of peppermint. It was his last one, but the Missus sure liked to taste it on him. He’d got right partial to it, too. He saved half a stick, wrapping it in brown paper and sticking it back in his pocket. He liked to think he’d keep his job even if not for the extra chores he done for the Missus, but he couldn’t afford to take any chances. There were lots worse duties he could have. Besides, she wasn’t a bad looker and she was shore eager after his staff.
Not like his wife. Oh, Anna had done her duty, he reckoned, but she’d been a lady. Wanted it over and done with quick, while she just laid there. He’d got so he didn’t bother her much with his needs and she didn’t seem to mind. Then she’d died last year while trying to birth their babe too early. Now he was alone again and done with mourning, so he’d take his pleasures where he could get ’em and make sure he kept his job, too, by keeping the Missus satisfied.