The Cowboy's Rules: Book Two Maggie

Carpenter
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/the-cowboys-rules-book-two-maggie-carpenter/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

The Cowboy's Rules: Book Three: 2nd Edition:

Contemporary Western Romance Maggie Carpenter

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-cowboys-rules-book-three-2nd-
edition-contemporary-western-romance-maggie-carpenter/

Thorns of Malice: Wilted Kingdom Book Two (Wilted

Kingdom Duet 2) Maggie Cole

https://ebookmass.com/product/thorns-of-malice-wilted-kingdom-
book-two-wilted-kingdom-duet-2-maggie-cole/

Two Cowboy Promises (Returning to Rocky Ridge, Book 2)

April Murdock

https://ebookmass.com/product/two-cowboy-promises-returning-to-
rocky-ridge-book-2-april-murdock/

Fatal Fixer Upper (The Fatal Series Book 1) Maggie

Shayne

https://ebookmass.com/product/fatal-fixer-upper-the-fatal-series-
book-1-maggie-shayne/
The Earl's Debutante Debacle (Charmed, I'm Sure Book 2)
Maggie Dallen

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-earls-debutante-debacle-
charmed-im-sure-book-2-maggie-dallen/

Vengeful (Brutal Academy Book 3) Maggie Alabaster & Jo

Bradley

https://ebookmass.com/product/vengeful-brutal-academy-
book-3-maggie-alabaster-jo-bradley/

The Cowboy Texas Ranger's Unexpected Love (The Cowboy

Texas Rangers Series Book 3) Janalyn Knight

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-cowboy-texas-rangers-
unexpected-love-the-cowboy-texas-rangers-series-book-3-janalyn-
knight/

Daire: Fated to the Fae Book Two Katrina Vincent

https://ebookmass.com/product/daire-fated-to-the-fae-book-two-
katrina-vincent/

The Retreat (Detective Elin Warner Book Two) Sarah

Pearse

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-retreat-detective-elin-warner-
book-two-sarah-pearse/
 Contents
Title Page
A Note From the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
A Word From Maggie
 THE COWBOY’S RULES
Book Two
Maggie Carpenter
Copyright © 2023 Maggie CarpenterAll rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of
this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval
system, without prior written permission of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and
dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or
persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Fantasia
Published by: Dark Secrets Press LLC
Visit Maggie Carpenter
http://www.MaggieCarpenter.com
https://www.facebook.com/MaggieCarpenterWriter
 Dear Reader
Like THE COWBOY’S RULES: Book One,
this book has been rewritten and updated from the first word to the last.
I hope you enjoy reading it a much as I enjoyed working on it.
Visiting with Chad and Cassie is always so much fun.
 CHAPTER ONE
Spring had arrived at Horse Haven Ranch, Chad Douglas’s favorite season. The snow had melted, the days were growing
longer, and the earth was renewing itself. His life with Cassie, the rebellious, mischievous, fearless girl with whom he’d fallen
deeply in love, provided frequent surprises. Some were welcome, some not so much.
Sitting at his desk, he lifted his eyes and gazed across the room at the large clock on the wall It was old, Swiss made, and
one of his favorite possessions. The large face sat in an intricately carved horseshoe. He often thought the artist must have
taken his inspiration from the horses who pulled the carriages through the snowy fields in Switzerland. It was a romantic notion
that never failed to bring a smile to his lips. Sitting on his rug in front of the fire, Mickey, Chad’s brilliant cattle dog, lifted his
head and yawned.
“Yep, Mickey, she’s gonna get her butt walloped this time,” Chad declared staring over at him.
In precisely five minutes, Cassandra, or Sassy Cassie as Chad called her, would meet him in their bedroom for the much
anticipated conversation. They both knew it would culminate in a sound spanking. Rising from his desk, he headed to the
bedroom.
Two Days Earlier
Cassie and her best friend Hannah McCloud, a young woman who lived with Marty Clark, the ranch foreman, had driven into
town for an evening out. Marty, Chad, along with Jeb and Tommy, the two younger horse handlers, stayed at the ranch playing
cards. It was a weekly event, and the girls took turns being the designated driver.
Hannah had dropped Cassie off at the kitchen door, but not ready for the evening to come to an end, Cassie decided to visit
her horses. She’d ambled down the hill and into the barn, then wandered along the aisle and stepped into their stalls to hug
them. But suddenly swept up by an unexpected yawn, she plopped onto the nearest bale of hay in the barn aisle and promptly
fell asleep…leaving the stall doors unlatched.
Marty had been on his way back to his cabin when he’d noticed Dominic, Cassie’s equitation horse, strolling around the
grounds. Jeb and Tommy were leaving Chad’s house when Chad received Marty’s urgent text. With Mickey running along with
them, the three men jogged across the lawns to join Marty who was sliding a halter over Dominic’s head.
“Have you seen Cassie?” Chad asked as they met up. “She’s still not home.”
“Look, it’s Hannah,” Marty replied, glancing up at the cabin and seeing Hannah running towards them.
“I happened to look out the window and see you all,” she exclaimed breathlessly as she reached them. “What’s going on?
Why is Dominic out here.”
“He was loose, but where’s Cassie?” Chad asked urgently.
“I dropped her off at your back door a little while ago,” she declared. “I thought she would have gone straight in. She was
pretty wasted.”
“That girl,” Chad muttered. “Let’s get Dominic back in the barn and see if anyone else got out. She might even be in there.”
“Hannah, you go on home,” Marty ordered. “It’s cold and it’s late.”
“Please text me as soon as you find her.”
“Sure, hon, now go.”
“I sure hope she’s in that barn,” Chad muttered as Hannah hurried away.
As they entered the barn Chad flicked on the lights, and to his dismay he discovered Shelby, Cassie’s thoroughbred jumper,
was also missing. Thankfully Rembrandt, her third horse, was still in his stall in spite of his door being unlatched, and it
appeared none of the other stall doors had been opened.
“Dammit!” Chad exclaimed. “I’ll go hunt for Shelby, but what the hell has happened to Cassie? Marty, could you give
Dominic the once over, make sure he didn’t hurt himself. Jeb, Tommy, you look around the paddocks, and Mickey, you stay
here. I don’t need any late night critters jumpin‘ you.”
***
Wandering through the dark, moonless night, Chad discovered Shelby by the round pen happily munching on a pile of discarded
hay waiting to be cleaned up. She stood quietly as Chad slipped on the halter, but there was no sign of Cassie. By the time he’d
reached the barn he was worried sick. It didn’t help when he found Marty standing in the middle of the aisle waiting for him,
his arms crossed and sporting a deep frown.
“Now what?” Chad asked.
“Don’t worry, it’s good news, well, kind of. Mickey’s the one who found her,” he declared with a grimace as he pointed
down the aisle.
Looking past him, Chad saw Cassie fast asleep on a bale of hay in a dark corner with Mickey sitting beside her.
“I can’t believe it!” Chad said angrily. “What the hell?”
“I’d say she had one too many,” Marty remarked.
 “I’m tempted to leave her there.”
“But you won’t,” Marty said knowingly, taking Shelby’s lead rope from his angry boss and leading the mare back to her
stall. “I’ll see you in the mornin’. I’ll text Jeb and Tommy and let them know she’s been found.”
“Thanks,” Chad muttered, striding down the aisle.
Scooping her up, ignoring her groans and complaints, he threw her over his shoulder. But when he’d left the barn and
started hiking up to the house, he heard Mickey barking. Pausing his step, he turned and saw his smart little dog sitting in the
gator.
“Damn, Mickey, you are so right,” Chad declared with a grin. “Thanks, buddy.”
As he approached, Mickey jumped in the back, and Chad deposited Cassie on the passenger’s seat, then climbed behind the
wheel and drove up to the house. Cassie slept until late the following morning, but hung over and miserable she spent the rest
of the day in bed. But following another good night’s sleep she seemed like her old self.
Chad decided it was time to discuss the incident.
“I know I screwed up really badly,” she’d said solemnly as they sat at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I am. Really.”
“Of course you are, but it won’t save your ass,” he said sternly. “I have some work to do, but I’ll expect you in the bedroom
waitin’ for me at eleven sharp.”
***
Cassie knew Chad would be spanking her. She also knew she deserved it. Shelby could be unpredictable. Frolicking around
the grounds in the dark she could have been injured.
With two hours to kill, Cassie wandered down to the barn and took each of her horses out for a walk, but she couldn’t stop
thinking about what she’d done. She didn’t usually drink so much, and she couldn’t understand why she’d been so
irresponsible.
The minutes ticked by slowly.
When she finally started back to the house, she felt the familiar rush of butterflies, and her head began to spin.
It’s been a while since he’s spanked me.
Yikes.
Maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe he hasn’t been strict enough lately.
Shit.
I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that’s about to change…
 CHAPTER TWO
When Chad entered the bedroom he found Cassie sitting in the armchair next to the fireplace. The low burning flames
underscored the winter’s passing. Though the nights were still chilly, he knew it would be autumn before there’d be a roaring
fire late in the morning.
“Get up, Cassie. I’ll be sittin’ in that chair,” he declared walking towards her. “I want you on your knees in front of me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she quietly replied, assuming the position and looking up at him as he sat down.
“What you did is serious. Very serious. Tell me what happened. At least, what you can remember.”
“I’ve been thinking about it all morning,” she said with a heavy frown. “All I know is that I’ve been feeling a bit restless,
and last night I just kept drinking. Maybe I needed to let off some steam. Anyway, when Hannah dropped me off I wanted to
check on the horses, but while I was there I was suddenly really tired. I sat down on a bale of hay to rest for a minute and I
must have passed out.”
“It was a lapse and we all have them, but it can’t happen again,” he said solemnly. “We’ll talk about why you might be
restless—as you called it—but we both know what you need, don’t we Cassie?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Take off your jeans and panties, lean over the bed and wait for me.”
***
Chad had decided an appropriate discipline would be a few strokes of the cane, but realizing Cassie’s aberrant behavior had
been borne from a vague unhappiness, he decided the strict discipline wasn’t warranted. Moving into the kitchen, he found his
oversized, heavy wooden spoon, the one he used to stir his large pot of spicy chili. When he returned to the bedroom, he found
her bent over the edge of the mattress, and smoothed his hand over her naked bottom.
“I don’t care how tired or drunk you are, makin’ sure the stall doors are secure should be second nature,” he began. “But in
your state you shouldn’t have even been around the horses. Next time you go out cavortin’ with Hannah, you come right back in
the house. But it won’t be next week. That’s cancelled. You’ll wait here in the bedroom while I play cards.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, feeling like a teenager who’d just been grounded.
“Now my hand and that wooden spoon can do the rest of the talkin’.”
He began smacking her slowly, but as he watched her soft pale skin turn red he wondered why she might be restless.
“Ow, Sir, please! I’m sorry,” she suddenly wailed.
He paused, thinking back to the last time she’d been subject to his discipline. When she’d first moved in she was often over
his knee, and received a stroke of the cane twice a month. But as time had ticked by he’d stopped using the rod. Then Christmas
had come and gone and he’d had no cause to punish her.
“Cassie, when was the last time I smacked your ass, and I don’t mean a sexy spankin’, I mean, punished you, like I’m doin’
now. And what was it for?”
“The beginning of February, about a week before Valentine’s Day. You caught me going through your closet trying to find
what you’d bought me.”
“But that wasn’t hard, and we ended up in bed.”
“It sure wasn’t like you’re spanking me now.”
“I think I’ve neglected you. I haven’t spanked you as hard or as often as I should,” he said thoughtfully. “There have been
several times I’ve let things slide. I didn’t spank you when you and Hannah came home late from shoppin’ that time. Neither of
you bothered to call in and let us know and we were gettin’ worried. I seem to remember Hannah got her butt smacked. Am I
right?”
“Yes, and you gave me a couple of swats.”
“But I didn’t spank like I should have,” he grunted. “Then you lost your wallet and didn’t tell me. I only found out because
the sheriff’s office called when someone handed it in.”
“Uh—yeah.”
“That’s why you’ve been feelin’ restless, and I’m sorry, Cassie, I’m partly to blame. I love you so dang much I’ve let things
slide. From now on, break the rules and you get your butt spanked, just the way it used to be. And when I say spanked, I mean
spanked.”
“But—”
“Hey, rule number one, none of your sass,” he said firmly. “I’m gonna wallop you good and hard for drinkin’ too much and
goin’ down to the barn and leavin’ those stall doors unlatched. In fact, I think you did it on purpose. Not consciously maybe, but
you did it because you need me to do exactly what I’m doin’ right now,” he finished, grabbing the paddle and landing a hard
swat on her right cheek.
“Ow! Sir, that really hurts!”
“Yep, as it damn well should,” he exclaimed, moving it quickly to the left.
 He continued the punishment, determined to make his message loud and clear. When he was satisfied her skin was scarlet
enough, and the bad little girl who so desperately needed his strict attention had been satisfied, he dropped it beside her and
reigned a series of rapid slaps with his hand.
“There,” he declared, pulling her up and over his knee to rub the hot sting. “That should see you right.”
“Oooh, Sir, you spanked me so hard.”
“I certainly did, and you can expect more of the same if you deserve it. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered. “I’ll be better. I will, I promise.”
“Time for a cuddle,” he said with a sigh, shifting her into his arms.
“I’m sorry, Chad. I was such an idiot.”
“You’re forgiven, and read the list of rules again so you have them fresh in that head of yours.”
“Yes, Sir, and maybe you’re right, maybe I did need to find my place with you again.”
“I reckon so. I’m leavin’, but you’re stayin’ in here,” he said, moving her onto the bed and rising to his feet. “I want you to
think about our life—your life—here at this ranch. If there’s anything that’s not right you have to tell me. There’s that pad of
paper and a pen in my nightstand. Whatever’s botherin’ you, write it down, And Cassie, stay here!”
“Yes, Sir. Uh, can Mickey stay with me?”
“Nope, just you and your thoughts,” he replied, then leaned down and softly kissed her. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
As he marched across the room and out the door, Cassie stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
“Wow,” she mumbled under her breath. “Chad Douglas, I think I’m falling in love with you all over again.”
 CHAPTER THREE
Almost an hour later Chad returned to the bedroom, and with Cassie sitting beside him he read her notes. She had several
areas of concern. The first was not riding much during the winter, and except for some broken tree trunks she’d found in a back
paddock, she had nowhere to jump.
“Dammit,” he muttered with a sigh. “I should’ve realized. It must be tough not gettin’ on your horses the way you did at your
place and at Randy’s facility. I wish you’d mentioned this.”
“I didn’t want you to think I’m unhappy here. I’m not. But with nowhere to jump, and barely riding during those snowy
weeks has been really difficult.”
“Casie, I’m happy to get some jumps set up for you, and the manager over at the show grounds is a buddy of mine. Maybe
he’ll agree to bring a few into one of the covered arenas for the winter months. It might even become popular. If and when the
time comes, I’ll drive your horse van over for you. I’m used to the conditions.”
“Chad, that would be great, thank you.”
“Hey, I love you, girl, I want you to be happy. Now what’s this about Hannah?”
“Um, well, that’s a bit tricky.”
“Just tell me. Did she do something Marty should know about?”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. She really misses working with the horses, and—”
“Hang on a minute, darlin’. You know she brought weed on to this property and had the nerve to try to blame Marty. I like
her, I do, but I can’t bring her back into the crew.”
“I know,” Cassie said hastily, “I have another idea. When the show season starts up again, I’ll do the circuit around here
and I’ll need a groom. She’d be perfect. I’d pay her of course, and she’d be working for me, not you. Plus, she really wants to
start jumping again. I could give her lessons as a bonus.”
“Hey, I have no problem with Hannah workin’ for you, In fact, I think it’s a great idea. Call Jerry Golden, my insurance
agent. Make sure you get whatever extra coverage we need.”
“Seriously? That’s fantastic. She’ll be thrilled, and I’m so relieved. I really need her.”
“You can’t tell her just yet. I have to make sure Marty’s okay with this.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I have an idea,” he said thoughtfully. “We could put up a four horse barn and a ridin’ ring behind it? The land is flat and
won’t need much gradin’.”
“Chad, that’s brilliant, and there’ll be enough room for another horse.”
“Lordy, please, no,” he exclaimed with a chuckle. “Don’t buy any more horses. At least, not until you talk to me.”
“But I’d be the one buying it, and I’d be responsible for it. What if you found another horse you wanted?”
“Let’s see, I have several part-time ranch hands, two full-time cowboys, a foreman, and Mandy is takin’ over my show
schedule so I’ll be here. Another horse is no big deal.”
“But one more wouldn’t be too much for me either.”
“You’d be trainin’ it, as well as gettin’ your other three ready for the shows, and from what you just said, teachin’ Hannah
as well. Darlin’, if you bought a fourth horse I think you’d be overwhelmed.”
“Then I’ll hire someone else.”
“Would that person be a stranger? How would you find them? And what about worker’s comp, the extra insurance. And
what if I didn’t like the person you brought in? Hannah is different. She’s a friend. You trust her. Findin’ someone else won’t be
so easy.”
“I guess not.”
“If you run across another horse you really want, we’ll talk about it. I’m just sayin’ don’t jump the gun. Okay?”
“Sometimes I like to do things on the spur of the moment.”
“Cassie, are you already plannin’ on another horse?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s get the barn built and the arena done, then see where we’re at.”
“Okay, but I still think—”
“You know what I think,” he interjected. “I think the spoilt little Cassie is rearin’ her head right now, and considerin’ her
butt is already tender, she shouldn’t press her luck.”
“Uh…you’re right,” she mumbled.
“We’d better move on to the last thing on your list before you end up over my knee again. You’d like to go out more. I
would too. We’ll make it a point to go into town for dinner or a movie once a week.”
“Wonderful,” she said happily, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. “I love you, Chad, so much, and I
know I can be difficult sometimes. Thanks for putting up with me.”
“Hey, I love you too. But remember, from now on, difficult means a sore backside, so you’d better behave yourself.”
“Uh, when will you talk to Marty? I’m dying to give Hannah the good news.”
 “Soon, but right now you’re takin’ a shower, then walkin’ back in here naked. Remember, I’m in charge around here.”
***
Chad waited until Cassie had walked into the bathroom, then quickly stripped. pulled back the bedspread, and hurried to his
closet to retrieve a hidden key. Returning to the large dresser and unlocking the bottom drawer, he studied his collection of
tantalizing toys. Selecting several. he placed them carefully on the bed ready for Cassie to see when she returned.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” he mumbled under his breath. “I didn’t keep a firm hand on your butt, but that won’t
happen again.”
Hearing the shower stop, he ambled across to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle, ready to watch her reaction when
she spotted the wicked implements.
***
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Cassie was filled with erotic excitement tinged with apprehension. She knew what was
coming over the next few days. It was what she ached for, yet dreaded. She would feel different, and her sense of belonging to
him would cloak her, like a coat that had been sewn around her body.
The wet heat between her legs had already begun.
Turning around, she moved slowly to the door, placed her fingers around the handle, and pushed it open.
 CHAPTER FOUR
Cassie’s eyes immediately fell upon the dildos, butt plugs, the large vibrator and the lube. She’d been expecting the lascivious
display but it still caused her to catch her breath. Feeling a hot flush cross her face, she lifted her gaze and stared at Chad.
He looked bigger than life.
His arms were crossed, his head was titled to the side, and his black robe draped around him like a vampire’s cape. As his
lips curled into a smile that said, you forgot your place, now I’m going to remind you, her thighs tightened, and a flood of
moisture oozed between her legs. Abruptly dropping his arms and standing tall, he strode towards her.
She was suddenly reminded who Chad Douglas was. A determined, fearless cowboy. A man who never backed away from
a challenge, be it a naughty girl or a bullying tough guy. And a man who had instinctively known who she was and what she
needed the moment they’d met.
All those months ago, seeing him standing next to his truck in his aviator glasses, she had felt his quiet, resolute strength.
He’d literally taken her breath away and turned her knees to jelly. Now, waiting nervously at the side of the bed, the same
sensations washed over her. She watched, mesmerized, as he reached down, picked up the small tube of lube, and squeezed, a
large dollop on the tip of his index finger.
“Wrap your arms around me,” he directed, his voice low and deep, “and spread your legs.”
His slow, deliberate training during the cold winter months as the fire had blazed, left no room for questions or doubt.
Tremulously stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his back, rested her head against his chest and shimmied her feet
apart. As he moved an arm around her waist she squeezed her eyes shut, and a moment later he slipped his lubed finger inside
her crack. Finding her rosebud, he softly circled, then pressed. But her pelvis thrust against him, instinctively refusing entry.
“I realize it’s been a while, but you know I’ll spank that tension out of you if you don’t relax and accept what I’m doin’,” he
said firmly. “Take a long deep breath and sink into my finger. Surrender, Cassie.
Sucking the air, she held it for a moment, then let it out and sank into him.
“There you go, girl, much better.”
She relished his use of the word girl. He was retraining her, speaking to her as he would a skittish mare.
“Much better. Now stay still. I’m gonna do this for a while.”
She took another deep breath.
“There you go, that’s my girl,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
He continued his probing with a steady rhythm, until apparently satisfied, he withdrew his finger and ordered her onto the
bed.
“You know the position. Spread your knees, rest on your chest, put your hands behind you and spread your cheeks.”
Though she’d been expecting the lewd directive, it still sent a fresh blush across her face. Slipping past him, she crawled
on the mattress and followed his instruction. From the corner of her eye, she watched him remove his robe, drape it across a
nearby chair, then return to pick up a pink, glossy, medium-sized butt plug. As he coated it with a generous amount of lube, she
closed her eyes back down and waited.
There was nothing he did that affected her in such a profound way, and as he began to press the large intruder forward, she
did her best to consciously relax. This was punishment, but it was also perverse pleasure, and his complete subjugation of her.
Once impaled, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away, letting her cheeks fall back in place.
“Who’s in charge, girl?” he growled, spanking her lightly, then tapping the exposed flange.
“You are, Sir.”
“Any doubt about that?”
“No, Sir, none.”
“Place your hands on the small of your back.”
Though she groaned, she did as he said. He was going to shackle her wrists, enhancing her feeling of helplessness. In less
than a few seconds the cuffs were on and snapped together, and she felt him leave the bed.
Lord, now what? Is he going to strap me, or fuck me, or—
The thick, heavy tongues of his flogger landing on her upturned backside snapped her from any thought. The pain wasn’t
real pain, not like his hard, spanking hand. The flogger filled her soul and devoured her body, sending her into an altered state
of hot consciousness.
***
Chad craved the hot tightness her dark hole would offer. After delivering a dozen lashes, he dropped the flogger, picked up the
vibrator, and pressed it against her clit. As she let out a howl of joyful surprise, he held her left cheek to the side and slowly
withdrew the plug, then coating his cock with the lube, he positioned himself, and slowly eased inside the tight, enveloping
channel.
The scintillating sensations from the vibrator rippled through his penis, but as he savored the exquisite tingles, her cries
told him she was already nearing her orgasm. It was happening fast, but he wasn’t surprised. Gripping her hot cheeks, he
quickened his thrusts. Her wails grew louder, and the vibrator’s divine pulsing seemed to permeate every part of his being.
Her tight, forbidden passage suddenly gripped him, demanding his release.
As she let out an orgasmic howl, rocketing convulsions surged through his body, cascading spasms washed over him, and
he never wanted them to end. But the crashing waves became ripples, finally waned, and he slipped from between her cheeks.
Though he was still catching his breath, he hastily released her wrists, stretched out beside her, and brought her limp body into
his arms.
***
Cassie was on a white puffy cloud floating across the sky, gazing down at sparkling meadows. Everything glowed golden, and
she was wonderfully warm. But she could hear a distant call. Straining to listen, she realized it was Chad’s voice. He was
asking her to come back to him.
I don’t want to, I’m in heaven and I’m sure I’ll see some angels.
But his call was too great to refuse, his will too strong to disobey, and she slowly drifted towards the sparkling meadow.
Her eyes were open but unfocused, then she blinked—and he was there.
“Welcome back,” he murmured, stroking her face.
“I was...uh…in the sky…floating…it was so peaceful.”
“I know, darlin’.”
Suddenly an unexpected wave of emotion washed over her. Letting out a sob, she buried her head against his chest.
“It’s okay, girl, you’re just releasin’ a whole lotta pent up stuff. You cry as much as you want.”
“I feel so strange. What happened?”
“It’s called flyin’, or subspace. But we’ll talk about it later. Now you need to rest.”
Closing her eyes, she sensed they had crossed some kind of magical line, and a soft smile curled her lips.
 CHAPTER FIVE
In the weeks that followed, Cassie’s training continued, Marty gave Hannah the green light to work with Cassie, and spring
blossomed. On a particularly bright and beautiful day, Chad asked Cassie to join him in his office directly after breakfast. He
had received the architect’s final plans for her barn and riding ring. As they walked in, she saw a large sheet of paper laid
across his desk.
“The field is already flat so the grading will only take a day, and the barn can go to the side of the ring here, with the two
paddocks behind it,” he declared as he pointed out the various areas on the large drawing. “Erecting the barn won’t take long,
and the fencing will go up at the same time. Once the work starts it will happen fast.”
“Chad, this is absolutely incredible,” she beamed. “I can’t believe it. What about the house?”
“I was just getting to that,” he replied with a grin. “The construction starts this week, but it has to be one week on and one
week off, so it won’t interfere with my clinics.”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re clinics,” Cassie muttered. “Will there be a lot of people?”
“No more than a dozen at a time, and some of those will bring their own horses.”
“And they’re here for six days, right?”
“Yep, but the first day is an orientation. Everyone meets in the livin’ room. They get to know each other and read the rules.
There are four clinics over the spring and summer, one every other week.”
“You mentioned you set up a tent by the barn for catering. How does that work?”
“We serve lunch, and a coffee break in the afternoon, though Hannah asked if she could prepare the food for the orientation.
If she does a good job she can do all of them.”
“I know she’s a fabulous cook,” Cassie remarked thoughtfully, “but that’s a lot of food to prepare.”
“I’m willin’ to give her a chance. I’ll just have to see how she does.”
“It’ll be weird having a bunch of strangers around,” Cassie muttered.
“They’ll be busy, and it’s only six days, but that’s why I’d like to get your ring and barn done fast, so you and Hannah and
your horses will be out of the frey.”
“What about Maverick, Hannah’s boy?”
“Yes, for sure. Hannah’s horse would be better off up there as well.”
“Can I supervise the work when it starts?”
Chad laughed out loud.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Marty will do the gradin’ for the ring, and I’m bringin’ in a local crew to get the barn up.
It’s just prefab, but it’s solid, and it goes up quickly.”
“Why can’t I oversee everything?”
“Cassie, these things are pre-made, they’re like a giant jigsaw, You’ll only be in the way. But here’s the good news. The
work will start tomorrow mornin’.”
“Thank you for all this, Mr. Douglas. It’s just wonderful,” she said gratefully, then wrapped her arms around his neck and
kissed him.
“Mmm, girl,” he breathed as they broke apart, “it’s worth all the trouble for kisses like that.”
“Hey, Mickey, will you keep me company up at the new barn?” she asked, calling to the dog curling up on his bed.
The dog sat up and barked several times.
“I think that’s a yes,” Chad said with a chuckle. “He’s not crazy about the clinics. I’m sure he’d prefer to hang with you and
Hannah.”
The dog barked again and they both laughed.
“He’s so special,” Cassie murmured with a sigh. “I love him to bits.”
“You and me both. I never thought I’d own a dog smarter than me, but I do.”
As if understanding what Chad had said, Mickey ran over to him and lifted his paw..
“Oh, my, gosh! Mickey, you are way too adorable,” Cassie exclaimed, quickly crouching down to make a fuss of him.
“Now I’m jealous,” Chad declared.
“You have reason to be,” Cassie replied, “I might just run away with him. He can’t spank me.”
“You’re right, but he can’t make cornbread.”
“Well, there is that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t live without your cornbread.”
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. Now I have work to do.”
“And I have three horses waiting for me, ” she replied, and kissing him on the cheek, she walked quickly from the room.
***
Chad stared down at the plans. The small cabin that was about to become their home, sitting on top of the knoll overlooking the
lake, was where he’d kissed Cassie for the first time. The sun had been setting and they’d watched the lake transform into
liquid gold. It was also where they’d first made love under the stars, and commemorated their first Christmas. The place was
uniquely special to them both. Rolling up the large sheets of paper, he turned his attention to the group attending the first clinic.
Several were new, and a few repeat customers, including one name that had caught his attention. Molly Roberts. He grimaced.
Molly had attended three of his four clinics the year before, and each time she’d made her feelings clear. She wanted him.
He had no doubt the young woman would be just as flirtatious, but his cellphone chimed, snatching his attention. Opening the
text, the message from Marty was not one he expected.
Cassie and Jeb having words in the ring. Better come down.
“Come on, Mickey, let’s see what’s brewin’,” he exclaimed, grabbing his hat and marching from his office.
Heading out the kitchen door and hurrying to the ring with Mickey beside him, he could see Cassie standing by Shelby with
her arms crossed defiantly, Jeb holding a fidgety young horse, and Marty leaning against the rail.
“What’s goin’ on, Marty?” Chad asked as he approached.
“Simply put, the ring isn’t big enough for both of ‘em. Cassie tried to make a jump out of those barrels there,” Marty said,
pointing to three barrels in the middle of the ring, two on their side and one upright, “and Jeb here needed them the way they
were, set up to get this young horse here workin’ around ‘em.”
“Cassie, did you roll the barrels from where they were?” Chad asked, stepping over to her.
“Yes, but—”
“Stop,” he said sharply, holding up his hand. “You’ve got thirty-minutes. Put the third barrel on its side and ride Shelby,
then, Jeb, you put them back how you want them.”
“But, Chad, what about Dominic and Rembrandt? I need to ride them too.”
“Shelby’s tacked up and ready, the other two aren’t, and it’s early in the day. You and Jeb can alternate, thirty minutes each
horse. Jeb, this is a temporary. Cassie will have her own ring very soon. Cassie, you’ve gotta work with us, not against us. Got
it?”
“Okay,” she mumbled with a sigh.
“No problem here, boss,” Jeb declared. “I can work around the cows in the back field while she’s doin’ her other two
horses. I didn’t mean to cause any problems, but you told me to get this horse done.”
“Hey, Jeb, you don’t have to explain. I know you have a tight schedule. Now both of you put this behind you. I won’t have
any hard feelin’s around this ranch.”
Jeb broke into a grin and extended his hand, but when Cassie accepted it, her smile was halfhearted. As she climbed back
into her saddle and rode away, Chad stepped closer to the young cowboy and lowered his voice.
“Jeb, don’t take it personally. Not ridin’ like she’s used to has been hard on her, and you don’t have to worry. She gets over
things pretty quick.”
“Hey, no problem boss,” Jeb replied. “I didn’t mean to start nothin’. She’s always been real nice. All I did was ask when I
could put the barrels back.”
“She’ll have her own little corner of the world real soon, then things will be a lot calmer around here of all of us.”
But as the words left his lips, Chad felt an unfamiliar chill prick his skin.
 CHAPTER SIX
Finally finished with her horses, Cassie drove up to the knoll and walked around the flat plot of land that would soon be her
riding ring, then wandered across to the site where her new home was being built. Excited about her future, but suddenly
feeling weary, she headed back to the ranch house and moved quickly to the bathroom for a hot shower. Closing her eyes as she
stood under the steamy water, she broke into a smile. She never imagined she’d end up living with a cowboy, and she certainly
never thought she could be so happy. Humming as she stepped from the stall, she dried off and was wrapping the bath sheet
around her body when she heard a noise from the bedroom. Opening the door she spied Chad taking off his shirt as he walked
towards his closet.
“Hi, handsome!”
“Damn, girl, you look a treat,” he muttered with a grin. “Whatta ya think, Mickey?” The dog cocked his head, then barked
twice. “He agrees,” Chad chuckled.
“Can you stick around a while?” she asked, admiring his muscled torso and bulging biceps as she sashayed across to him.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’d like to make amends for this morning…how I was with Jeb.”
“Yep, you were a brat.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” she breathed, placing her hand on his crotch.
“I think I’ll tell Jeb to spank you.”
“You wouldn’t!” she exclaimed, staring at him wide-eyed.
“Of course not, but you will be spanked, and now is as good a time as any.”
Abruptly sweeping her up and carrying her across the room, he dropped her on the mattress, ripped the towel from her
body and climbed on the bed. “You acted like a spoilt ten-year old!” he exclaimed, placing her on her hands and knees and
landing several hot slaps.
“Ow! I said I was sorry.”
“Yep, and I made it clear I wasn’t lettin’ anything slide,” he said sternly, continuing to spank her with a volley of hard
smacks.
“Stop. Please. I’ll go back to the barn and apologize.”
“You’re darn right you will,” he proclaimed, roaming his hand over her reddened backside. “Don’t move.”
Looking over her shoulder, she watched him pull off his jeans and take hold of his stiffened cock.
“Damn, girl, you sure are wet,” he grunted, placing his hardness at her entrance and thrusting forward.
Cassie suddenly found herself caught up in a whirlwind of blazing sensations. Her bottom was already on fire, and as he
pumped his pelvis slapped against her stinging skin. Though she squealed in protest, she knew it was fueling her erotic fever.
For endless minutes he pummeled her pussy without pause, and when he moved a hand beneath her and pinched her nipples,
she could feel her orgasm suddenly looming.
“Ch-Ch-Chad...I c-can’t w-wait...I’m g-going to...”
“Nope, not yet,” he growled, but continued to toy with her breasts as he slowly, teasingly, pumped.
For endless minutes he kept her at bay, then finally gripped her hips and began thrusting with quick, powerful strokes.
“Come for me, come for me now,” he demanded, spanking her as he spoke.
Letting out a grateful cry she surrendered to the powerful spasms, vaguely hearing his guttural groans. When the crackling
convulsions finally dissipated, faint and with her body tingling, she collapsed onto her stomach.
“I been thinkin’,” he murmured breathlessly, dropping beside her and bringing her into his arms. “Why don’t we get
married in the new house. It’s our special place.”
“Great minds,” she said with a sigh. “I had the exact same thought.”
“Then it’s a done deal.”
“Thank you, Chad, for so much.”
“Even your sore backside?”
“Even that,” she replied, gazing up at him thinking, especially that.
** * **
While Cassie and Chad were embroiled in their late afternoon tumble between the sheets, Marty had walked into his cabin
completely drenched, but not wanting to get water everywhere, he’d stopped at the kitchen door.
“What happened to you?” Hannah asked, staring at him and giggling. “You look like you’ve just walked through a car
wash.”
Feeling his anger begin to dissipate, Marty chuckled.
“I was helpin’ Jeb hose down that new filly. Somehow she whacked his arm with her head and…well…he ended up
sprayin’ me, not her. It gave everyone a laugh for the day, but damn, girl,” he muttered, staring around the kitchen. “What the
hell happened here?”
 “Don’t be mad,” she purred, moving over to him and kissing his cheek. “I know I promised to keep this place clean and tidy
but I got a bit distracted.”
“Uh-huh. By what?”
“Does it matter? I don’t think Jumbo cares,” she whispered, pressing her body against his and placing her hand against his
stiffening member.
Because of its size Hannah had named his penis, Jumbo, expanding the name to Jumbo Jet when he was thrusting in and out
of her grateful pussy.
“He doesn’t, but I do,” he muttered, doing his best to ignore her luscious breasts rubbing against his chest. “I warned you
about lettin’ things go around this place.”
“You did, and like I said it won’t happen again,” she promised, undoing the buttons of his soaked shirt. “Let’s get these wet
clothes off and—”
“Stop that. You’re just tryin’ to wriggle out of the trouble you’re in by gettin’ all...all...”
“All what, hon,” she asked innocently, gazing up at him.
“Flirty, and you know it,” he frowned, trying to ignore the need engulfing him. “Go into the bedroom and take off all your
clothes. I’m gonna spank you, then you’re gonna show me some special lovin’ to make up for it.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, and with her butterflies furiously fluttering she scurried away.
 CHAPTER SEVEN
With a heavy sigh, Marty peeled off his wet shirt, pulled off his boots, then ambled to the refrigerator to grab a beer. Popping
off the top and taking a sip, he lifted the lid off the small kitchen trash can to drop in the cap and found it full. Hannah was
supposed to have taken the plastic trash bag to the large garbage bin after lunch. Shaking his head he moved into the bedroom—
and paused his step.
She was naked, kneeling and waiting.
His cock stiffened.
“I don’t have much time,” he began, fighting the temptation to whisk her between the sheets. “I’m gonna wallop your ass,
and I’ll be quick, but you know my wallops.”
“Yes, Sir,” she muttered with a nod.
Walking to the bed he sat down, then watched Hannah rise to her feet and lean over his hard, thick thighs. Placing his leg
behind her knees and his arm on her back, he lifted his broad, calloused hand and landed it with an explosive smack on each
cheek.
“I warned you!” he exclaimed as she let out a squeal.
“Yes, Sir, you did,” she replied with a wriggle as he spanked her again.
“Then you shouldn’t be surprised. Did you think I wouldn’t notice what a mess the place is?”
“No, Sir. I just wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“You’ve had plenty of time to clean up. You were just bein’ lazy!” he scolded, continuing to slap her reddening cheeks.
“You’re right, Sir. I was, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“What if I’d brought Chad home for some coffee?”
“Ohh…I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Well you’d better in future. Now get on your knees and suck me real good.”
***
As Hannah slid from his lap and positioned herself in front of him she had to suppress a smile. She’d been craving his hard, hot
hand. Not only had her plan worked, his early arrival had been a bonus. But his fingers clutched a fistful of her hair interrupting
her thoughts.
“Do you have anything to say, Hannah?”
“Thank you for spanking me, Sir. I’ll be much more diligent from now on.”
Smiling down at her, he released her hair, unzipped his jeans, and pulled out his mammoth member.
“You can behave like you should when you want, Hannah,” he purred, tracing her lips with his finger. “Now suck me and
suck real good.”
Opening her mouth, she slithered her lips over his long, thick shaft, and as she began to bob up and down, he grabbed her
hair a second time.
“I’ll guide you,” he growled. “Use your tongue, then slurp me up and suck me dry.”
Sinking into the lewd activity she knew he’d want to make it last, but he was on borrowed time, and soon picked up the
pace. When he began grunting, and a few drops of pre-come dripped from the bulbous head, she prepared herself. Marty was
all man, with a large cock that carried a generous load. Though he always did his best to control the flow there were times the
explosion was just that, an explosion.
His fingers tightened around her hair, and his rod began to swell. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she held her breath
and waited. Seconds later his loud groans accompanied the torrent of hot cream as it surged into her mouth. The copious fluid
flowed into her throat, but she controlled her swallows, and despite the profuse ejaculation there was no dribbling. When the
spasms waned, she gently licked and lapped him clean, finishing with a kiss on the flaccid head.
“Oh, girl,” he panted, “you just made this cowboy a real happy man.”
“Am I forgiven?”
“You bet. Get on up here.” As she climbed onto the bed, his massive arms wrapped around her and he laid down, hugging
her tightly. “Dammit I hate to leave, but I need to get the tractor up to the field where Cassie’s gettin’ her ridin’ ring. I have to
start the gradin’ first thing.”
“You work so hard, Marty.”
“Darlin’, if you love what you do, it’s not work.”
“Amen to that.
“But I hate to go. I’ll bet your little pussy needs attention,” he said softly, sliding his fingers between her legs. “Yep, you’re
all wet.”
“I am,” she purred, squirming against his touch.
“You make me one of those great dinners and Jumbo will pay you a long, enjoyable visit.”
 “What would you like? Steak? Pasta?”
“Hmmm, let me think,” he murmured thoughtfully, continuing to tease her with his thick fingers. “I want that beef stew, the
one with all the vegetables.”
“Done, but I wish you didn’t have to leave…not yet.”
Slithering his finger inside her wet, hungry entrance, he probed for a few minutes, then gently pulled his hand away and
climbed off the bed. Letting out a frustrated grunt, she sat up and watched him lumber into the bathroom. She knew he’d step
into the shower for a quick rinse off before heading back to his horses. But when he came home at the end of his long day, he’d
wrap his big, muscled body around her, and she’d feel safe and loved and deliriously happy.
“Marty?” she said softly as he returned.
“Yep?”
“I really love you, big guy.”
Grinning, he walked over and sat next to her on the bed.
“I love you too kitten, that’s why I spank you so hard.”
“I know, and most people wouldn’t get that, but I do.”
 CHAPTER EIGHT
After a long day, and a late night watching an old western curled up next to Chad on the couch, Cassie fell into bed and sank
into a deep sleep. She was usually stirred awake by Chad’s hardness pressing against her, or his arms coming around her, but
when she finally blinked open her eyes she found the bed empty.
It was only a moment later she heard a loud, unfamiliar noise.
Climbing from the bed and hurrying to the French doors, she pulled aside the drapes and saw Chad’s Range Rover leading
several large trucks to the road leading up to the knoll. It could mean only one thing. The construction was underway. Her barn
and her own riding ring would soon be a reality.
Excitedly taking a quick shower and hastily devouring a bowl of cereal, she moved quickly outside and jumped into her
car, deciding to pick up Hannah on the way. When she reached the fork where one lane led to the barn, she spotted Jeb walking
a horse to the round pen. With no-one around it was the perfect time to stop and apologize. Driving slowly down towards him,
she pulled to a stop and stepped from the car.
“Hey, Jeb.”
The young cowboy turned and broke into a grin.
“Mornin’, Cassie. There sure is a lot goin’ on. Those are some big trucks.”
“No kidding,” she replied, smiling back at him. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“Hey, me too.”
“Jeb, you have nothing to apologize for. I was the one causing a scene, but it looks like I’ll be out of your hair soon. It
won’t take long for them to get the arena ready.”
“That’s great. I know you need your jumps, and for the record, you’ve never been in my hair.”
“Thanks, Jeb, that’s nice of you to say, though I’m not sure it’s true. Do you want to take turns like we did yesterday?”
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you go first. I’m going up to the site but I probably won’t be more than half an hour. I’m sure Chad won’t want
me hanging around.”
“By the time you get back I should be done with my first horse.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Jeb..”
Feeling relieved they were friends again, Cassie climbed back in her car and headed up to Hannah’s cabin. But glancing in
her rearview mirror she noticed Jeb watching her drive away. A grin curled her lips. She suspected the young cowboy had a
crush on her. Still smiling when she pulled up outside Marty’s cabin, she walked the short distance up to the porch and knocked
on the door.
“Come in, Cassie!”
Stepping inside, she found Hannah at the kitchen island chopping apples and pears.
“You are such a happy homemaker,” Cassie remarked with a wide smile. “What gourmet masterpiece are you cooking
now?”
“An apple and pear upside down cake with a ginger glaze,” Hannah declared proudly.
“Will you save a piece for Chad and me?”
“Sure, if Marty doesn’t eat it all in one sitting. What’s up?”
“Did you see all those trucks?”
“I couldn’t exactly miss them,” Hannah quipped with a laugh. “I thought we were having an earthquake.
“I’m going up to the site. Do you want to join me?”
“I would love that, but can you wait a few minutes. I need to tidy up before I go,” she declared, reaching for a kitchen towel
to wipe down the counter.
“Can’t you just leave that stuff?”
“Lord, no. The place was a mess yesterday and Marty reminded me keeping everything neat and tidy was part of the deal.
And when I say reminded—you get my drift.”
“Ah, yes, I had a reminder of my own. There must have been something in the air.” The two friends shared a look, then
started laughing. “I think there’s something seriously wrong with us,” Cassie exclaimed still giggling.
“Or seriously right,” Hannah shot back. “Put those bowls in the fridge for me while I cover this stuff, then I’ll tidy up and
we can go.”
***
Ten minutes later they were driving up the gentle slope, but as they neared the cabin Cassie slowed to a stop and stared. The
area was teeming with men in hard hats, lumber was being unloaded from a huge truck, and large plastic sheets were being
carried inside to protect the cabin’s contents. Looking across at the field that would be her arena, she could see Marty had
finished grading and was parking his tractor, while a small group of workers were laying large panels on the ground in the area
designated for the barn.
 “Wow, this is incredible,” Hannah exclaimed. “Everything’s happening at once.”
“Chad is a man who gets things done,” Cassie remarked. “Speaking of Chad, do you see him anywhere?”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t, but Marty has just seen us. I’m going over there. Are you coming?”
“No, Chad must be around here somewhere. You go ahead.”
As Hannah jogged off to the field, Cassie ambled up to the cabin, pausing for a moment to stare down at the lake.
“Great spot for a house.”
Not recognizing the voice, she turned and found a tall, surprisingly handsome worker in jeans and a T-shirt, wearing a
hardhat and carrying a large bin.
“Yes, it is,” she replied.
The man had a stunning smile, and looked more like a hunky male model than a laborer. Hating the flush suddenly crossing
her face, she quickly turned away and stared down at the lake. Whoever he was, she didn’t want him seeing her blush, and God
Forbid Chad should walk up.
 CHAPTER NINE
She sensed the attractive worker moving towards her, and with her face still hot, she didn’t want to look back at him.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”
“Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about the happy times I’ve had up here,” she replied, taking a breath and turning around.”
“It does seem like a special place.”
She thought his voice was surprisingly soft for such a well built man, but her thoughts were interrupted as he put down the
bin and stepped closer.
“I’m Jason Lewis by the way.”
“Hello, I’m Cassandra Davidson, though I go by Cassie. Do you work construction often?” she asked, thinking he looked
oddly out of place.
“Not often. Actually, I’m an architect, but every now and then I get the urge to work on a site and get my hands dirty, though
I’m not sure why.”
“Maybe it gives you greater insight when you’re designing.”
“Maybe. I worked my way through school doing this and I always enjoyed it, and again, I don’t know why,” he added with
a grin. “I’m always exhausted when I leave.”
His hazel eyes were full of invitation, and while she found the flirtation flattering, it was also making her uncomfortable.
“What about you, Cassie? Do you work on the ranch?”
“I’m engaged to Chad Douglas,” she announced, hoping it would put a stop to his subtle advances. “He built the cabin for
us last year, and now we’re transforming it into the house we want.”
“That’s very romantic,” he remarked, then pausing and narrowing his eyes, he said, “I hope your fiancé knows how lucky
he is. If I had a beautiful girl like you I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for a minute.”
The brazen comment took her by surprise and sent a fresh flush to her cheeks. She was frantically trying to think of a
response when she saw Mickey running towards her. Relieved, she crouched down to greet him.
“Mickey, hey boy,” she exclaimed, making a fuss of him. “Where have you been?”
“Cute dog,” Jason remarked, but as he stepped closer, Mickey stared up at him and growled.
“Whoa, Mickey, that’s not nice,” she said firmly. “Sorry, he’s not usually aggressive.”
“He’s just being protective, and I’d better get back to work,” Jason said, turning around and picking up the bin. “But it’s
been nice meeting you, Cassie. I hope we run into each other again.”
“Yes, sure,” she replied, but as she watched him saunter away she heard Mickey snarl a second time. “What’s up fella?”
she asked, stroking his head. Mickey’s growl abruptly became a whine, and he licked her face.
“There you are—there you both are,” Chad declared striding towards them. “I’ve been lookin’ for him all over the place,
and what are you doin’ here?”
“I just came up to be nosy, but Chad, there are so many people here. It’s weird.”
“The more workers, the faster the work will get done, but from now on you need to steer clear. You’re too gorgeous. You’ll
distract the laborers.”
“Oh, Chad, stop.”
“It’s already happenin’! Who was that?”
“Apparently he’s an architect who likes to pick up a hammer now and then.”
“Please, Cassie, keep your distance. We don’t know these guys, and most of them are day laborers. Regardless, a
construction site can be a dangerous place.”
“Okay, I’ll stay away, but it won’t be easy.”
“Hopefully it won’t be for long. I’ll stay with you while you look around, then you have to scoot.”
“That would be great, thanks. Then I’ll go and I won’t come back unless you’re with me.”
“That’s a deal,” he said, taking her hand. “Come on Mickey. Let’s see what’s goin’ on.”
***
Across from the cabin on the field, Hannah had found Marty, and together they were watching the barn builders start work.
“Three days, start to finish,” Marty exclaimed, shaking his head. “It’s hard to believe, but there it is.”
“It really is incredible.”
“Hannah, what’s that delicious smell?”
“I guess it must be your favorite upside down cake. I popped it in the oven just before I left. Wow, that’s impressive.”
“Hey, when it comes to food, I’m like a blood hound,” he quipped with a chuckle. “Damn, I can’t wait, and if there weren’t
a bunch of strange men around I’d…”
“You’d what?” .
“I’d pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you off to a nice soft patch of grass somewhere,” he murmured
softly.
“And then...?”
“And then…hang on, I think Cassie’s tryin’ to get your attention,” Marty remarked, raising his head and looking towards the
cabin. “She’s wavin’ like she wants you over there. Just as well. You should go.”
“How long will you be up here?”
“Most of the day. I’ll be back for lunch though.”
“Please be careful,” she said softly, gazing up at him. “I worry sometimes.”
“Hey kitten, worryin’ is my job. Go on now, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
Standing on her toes, she lifted her head and pecked him on the cheek, then jogged across the freshly dragged field to join
Cassie. As they climbed into the car, Hannah spotted a handsome worker standing at the edge of the site staring at them.
“Cassie, look at that guy. He’s hot.”
“I know. His name is Jason, he’s an architect but he occasionally works on construction sites.”
“How do you know all that?” Hannah asked, trying not to stare as Cassie drove slowly forward.
“He started flirting with me before Chad arrived.”
“Damn. Lucky you.”
“Not really. It was kind of awkward, then it began to feel weird.”
“Why?”
“I told him I was engaged to Chad and it didn’t faze him.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll never see him again. Not unless you come back up. If you do just make sure Chad is with you.”
“I will, and I bet a guy like that flirts with every woman he meets.”
“Yeah, he probably knows he’s a hunk,” Hannah remarked. “All he has to do is look in a mirror. But Cassie, how exciting
is this? You’ll soon have your own jumping ring.”
“I know, it’s going to be amazing,” she exclaimed happily, but as she drove down the slope, she couldn’t help but recall
how Mickey had growled at the handsome stranger.
 CHAPTER TEN
Over the next few days, Cassie fell into a regular schedule with Jeb taking turns riding in the ring. Knowing she would have her
own arena had taken the pressure off, and though the trucks rolling by and the distant sounds of construction could be annoying,
they signaled a welcome addition to Horse Haven Ranch.
Chad had been busy with the preparations for his upcoming clinics, and the release of his new line of women’s clothing
boasting the logo Cassie had designed. The unique twist on the equine heart gracing the collars and cuffs of the silk-cotton
blend shirts, were also emblazoned across the front of the T-shirts.
It was lunchtime, and Cassie just finished riding Shelby. The thoroughbred jumper had felt fit and excited. Cassie was
itching for her various obstacles to arrive, and for her arena and barn to be completed. Jogging up to the house and entering
through the kitchen door, she strode down the hall looking for Chad. Poking her head into his office she saw him on the phone,
and though he looked up and smiled, he signaled he couldn’t talk. Continuing on to the bedroom she took a quick shower, then
made her way to the kitchen to rustle up something to eat. She was brewing the coffee and grilling cheese and tomato
sandwiches when he strolled in carrying a large carton.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey, handsome. What’s in the box?”
“I almost don’t wanna tell you. I’m worried you’ll leave that frypan and burn those sandwiches,” he replied with a grin.
“Oh, my, gosh, are those the shirts?”
“Yep. The first shipment with the new logo,” he declared proudly.
“Open it, quickly, I can’t wait to see them.”
Setting the box on the table and tearing back the tape across the top, he pulled out the first few T-shirts.
“Chad, they look fantastic. It works! It really works!”
“It sure does! And I predict these will sell like crazy”
“I’d sure buy one,” she exclaimed with a laugh.
Placing the plastic covered T-shirts back in the box, he let out a sigh and pulled her into a bear hug.
“Cassie. I’m so damn proud of you, I swear my heart’s gonna burst.”
“Chad, you’ve changed my life. I didn’t know I could be so happy, and it’s all because of you.”
***
Holding her tightly, Chad squeezed his eyes shut. Her heavy emotion was contagious.
“That goes both ways,” he murmured, then pulling back, he leaned in and pressed his lips on hers in a long, lingering kiss.
“There’s somethin’ real important you need to do for me,” he whispered, moving his lips to her ear.
“Anything, Chad, just name it.”
“Check that sandwich.”
“Oh, you,” she retorted, punching his arm.
“I’m serious,” he said in mock surprise as they broke apart. “It smelled so good when I walked in and I don’t want it to
burn.”
Releasing him, she hurried to the pan and picked up the spatula to flip the bread.
“How is it?”
“As usual your timing was perfect.”
“I’ll be givin’ a T-shirt to the people at the clinic. You should wear one in a different color every day.”
“Great minds,” she declared, lifting the sandwiches from the pan and placing them on dishes. “Can you please grab the
coffee?”
“Sure, and I’ve got another surprise for you,” he said, fetching the pot and putting it on the table. “Your barn will be
finished this afternoon.”
“Seriously? That’s fantastic. Can I move up there tomorrow, or will the construction going on at the house be a problem?”
“Take your horses up there while I’m doin’ the clinics. Both the ring and the round pen will be in use most of the time, and
the work at the house will be stopped. Of course you could always try it for a day while they’re still workin’ and see how they
deal with it.”
“Dominic and Rembrandt will probably be fine. But Shelby might have an issue. I could always put her in the paddock and
watch her for a while, though I suspect as long as she’s with her friends and they’re calm, she will be too.”
“Cassie, I was thinkin’,” he said lowering his voice and leaning across the table. “We should christen that barn tonight.”
“Chad Douglas, whatever do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he replied with a wink. “Jeb and Tommy will be movin’ a load of shavings up there. Ask
them to take your tack trunks at the same time, and Cassie, make sure you pack your crops and lunge lines,” he finished,
narrowing his eyes, then paused to enjoy the sight of the blush crossing her face. “I think I’ll bring up a picnic,” he continued.
“We’ll eat a little, drink a little, then I’ll whip your butt a little, and maybe do a few other things.”
She stared back at him like a deer in headlights, then let out a sigh and bit into her sandwich.
“Nothin’ to say?”
She waited until she’d finished chewing, then shook her head.
“Just that I’ll be counting the minutes until sunset,” she murmured. “So…what will you be up to this afternoon?”
“There’s a pile of work sittin’ on my desk. I might get a full-time secretary when our house is done. I’m also thinkin’ about
the boys livin’ here and usin’ the cabins for the clinic visitors. I need to think on it a bit more.”
“You’re in that office for hours ever day, and I know you don’t get to ride as much as you would like. What takes up so
much time?”
“Well, my clothin’ line, organizin’ Mandy’s shows and the clinics, then there are all the videos and DVD’s, I have to stay on
top of their marketing. I haven’t minded the workload, but I have a beautiful girl in my life now, and I’d like to spend more time
with her,” he finished with a wink.
“You know I’ll help if I can. Just tell me what to do.”
“Then we’d both be stuck in that office. I need to hire the help I need, and I intend to do just that. But gettin’ back to movin’
you up to your new barn. When we finish lunch, go get your things packed so Jeb and Tommy will only have to make one trip.”
“I will, and I can’t wait.”
 CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cassie had hurried down to the barn and packed her trunks, and while Jeb and Tommy began loading the truck, Cassie drove up
ahead of them. Eager to see her new barn she sped up the knoll, but slowed as she passed the house still under construction.
Lowering her window, she grimaced. It was much noisier than she’d anticipated. Continuing on, she found the tractor had left a
track alongside the ring. Driving carefully over the flattened dirt, she made her way to the barn on the opposite side, breaking
into a large smile as she came to a stop.
The structure was hunter green with white trim.
It looked fabulous.
Wondering how the workers had managed to put it up so quickly, she climbed from her car, walked inside, and gazed down
the wide barn aisle. Though Chad had told her it would be a four horse barn, there were six generously sized stalls with sliding
doors, a wide open area that she assumed was for hay and feed, a tack room, and a small room opposite the tack room that
could be anything she chose. Staring at the empty space she thought it could be an office, then it occurred to her she could have
a washer and dryer installed, saving her the trouble of carting all her horse laundry down to the wash room in Chad’s barn.
She suddenly realized the noise from the site had stopped. Stepping outside and staring down at the house, she saw all the
men sitting down and eating. Checking her watch, she saw it had just turned two o’clock.
“Huh, kind of late for lunch,” she muttered to herself.
“That’s what I’ve been telling them, but no-one listens to me.”
Startled, she spun around and found the sandy-haired architect with the chiseled features and captivating eyes only a few
feet away.
“Jeez, don’t creep up on people like that. You scared me.”
“Sorry. The last thing I’d want to do is scare you. A beautiful lady like you should never be scared, not of anything.”
His smile radiated confidence and warmth, and she almost felt guilty for snapping at him.
“Where’s that cute dog?” he continued, looking around for a moment then sending his eyes back to hers. “I was hoping he’d
see me as a friend this time.”
“He’s on his way here with Jeb and Tommy,” she said, wondering why she’d felt the need to lie. “They’re bringing up
shavings for the stalls and my riding gear.”
Though she was on guard and wanted to turn away, another part of her felt drawn to his smile and twinkling, mischievous
eyes.
“They did a great job on that riding ring,” he remarked, moving closer.
He was almost next to her, and grateful she had an excuse to take her eyes off him, she shifted her gaze outside.
“I haven’t walked it yet, I need to check the footing, but I’m sure it will be fantastic.”
“Don’t let me stop you. I’m sure you’re dying to find out.”
“I am,” she replied, walking quickly away from him and down the aisle. Moving outside, she walked through the gate and
into the arena, finding the ground beneath her feet was soft and spongy. True to his word, Chad had brought in the best.
“Does it feel good?” .
Jason’s voice sounded closer than she thought it should, and turning her head she was shocked to find he had entered the
ring behind her.
“Again with the creeping up on people,” she quipped, trying to make a joke. “You should be a cat burglar.”
“Hmmm, yes, I suppose I am rather good at that. Maybe I missed my calling,” he remarkeid with a chuckle. “Maybe you’re
right, but I like dogs better.”
“Except dogs don’t seem to like you.”
“There is that,” he said, still grinning.
She was trying to think of a comeback when the sound of a truck caught her attention. Looking across the ring she saw Jeb
and Tommy driving down the tractor lane just as she had. As they made their way around the end of the ring and headed
towards her new barn, she turned to say goodbye to Jason, but he had disappeared. Thinking the entire episode had been
strange, she decided to tell Chad about it when she returned home.
“The ring looks great, Cassie,” Jeb called as he climbed from the truck.
“Doesn’t it? I’m thrilled. But I still have to lay some pipes and put in sprinklers.”
“Yep, that’s bein’ planned. But we need to get to work. There’s still a lot to do for the clinic.”
The three worked as a team. Jeb and Tommy unloaded the heavy bags and carried them into each stall, and Cassie cut them
open and raked the contents. It didn’t take long to finish the job, and though she wanted to organize the tack room, she had no
desire to be alone with the mysterious architect/laborer again. There was no telling if he would pop up out of nowhere.
She followed the truck until the lane split apart, and Jeb and Tommy headed to the round pen, then she accelerated up to the
house. Pulling to a sharp stop, she hurried inside and made her way to Chad’s office. As usual he was on the phone. Quickly
realizing it was an important conversation, she left to take a quick shower. As the hot water splashed around her, the strange
meeting with Jason lingered in the forefront of her mind. By the time she toweled off, dressed, and returned into Chad’s office,
he was off the phone.
“So, what do you think of your new barn?” he asked, walking up to her and hugging her tightly.
“Chad, it’s fantastic. I’m absolutely thrilled,” she replied gratefully. “When will the jumps be delivered?”
“Sometime in the next day or two, but we have a date.”
“Shouldn’t we wait until it’s dark?”
“The sun is still settin’ early. We can have a leisurely dinner, then once the workers leave…”
“Once the worker leave—what?”
“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” he whispered, dropping his lips to her ear, “but it will be something unexpected.”
“Oh, Chad, you just gave me goosebumps.”
“I know, and you like it when I do this too, don’t you?” he purred, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back.
“Uh-huh.”
“And when I kiss your neck like this?” he continued, sucking in her skin.
“God, yes, it makes me feel so weak.”
“Did you remember the rule? When it’s just the two of us, no bra or panties.”
“Yes, Sir, I remembered.”
“Good girl,” he crooned, releasing her hair.
“Chad, can’t we play first, then eat?”
“No, Sassy Cassie. I want you thinkin’ about all the wicked things I might do. By the time we get through dinner you’ll be
ready for me.”
“But I am now.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said, taking her hand, “but you still have to wait. Come on, it’s time to pack the hamper and go.”
“You are a cruel man, Chad Douglas.”
“You just got through tellin’ me how wonderful I am,” he chuckled, leading her down the hall and into the kitchen.
“You are, but you’re cruel too.”
“There are two sides to every coin,” he retorted as he fetched the hamper from the walk-in pantry.
Seeing the basket, Mickey jumped up from his bed and danced around their feet, excited they were about to go on an outing.
“Sorry, Mickey, you have to guard the house,” Chad said solemnly. “You have to protect it while I’m gone.”
Mickey barked, then ran to the living room and jumped on the couch.
“I’m not sure who I love the most, you or Mickey,” Cassie said with a giggle.
“Hey, I don’t blame you. He’s smarter than most humans I meet. Now we need to make sure we have everything.”
A short time later, he picked up the hamper and they headed into the garage, but once they were settled in their seats he
turned to her with a devilish smile.
“I hope you’re up for a little adventure.”
“Always,” she grinned back, “though you’re making me nervous with all this mystery.”
“Good! A little fear can be a powerful aphrodisiac.”
 CHAPTER TWELVE
Inside her new tack room, Cassie had placed a red plastic tablecloth over one of her trunks while Chad had opened a bottle of
red wine. They’d laid out the delicious snacks, but had carried their glasses outside to watch the sunset and toast their future.
Finally returning to devour their meal, Chad turned on the small LED lantern and set it on the table. Cassie’s heart was full, but
she knew the evening had just begun, and when he started returning the empty containers to the hamper her pulse ticked up.
“Cassie, wait for me in the last stall on the left.”
“What?“
“You heard me, and take off your jeans.”
With her butterflies suddenly fluttering, she hurried down the barn aisle, and found the shavings covered by a blanket.
Hastily pulling off her boots, she removed her socks and jeans and sat them in a corner. She didn’t have long to wait before he
was looming over her at the stall door holding a small LED lantern. As he set it down, she noticed he was also carrying leather
straps wrapped around something she couldn’t make out, and another item she didn’t recognize. As he moved towards her a
surge of erotic anticipation rippled through her body..
“Get on your knees and unbutton that shirt for me, but slowly.”
As she followed his instruction, he closed the stall door and leaned back against it, watching her. His eyes held a wicked
glint, but she continued to hold his gaze as she unfastened the last button and let the shirt fall away.
“Nice,” he murmured, pulling off his T-shirt. “Now turn around.”
Listening to the rustle of his clothes as he undressed, she followed his instruction, then waited anxiously, but only a moment
passed before her hair was lifted, and his moist lips kissed her neck.
“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he whispered, his lips at her ear.
Expecting his stiffened cock, she was startled when a hard rubber bit was placed between her lips, followed by a tug.
“I can’t think of a better way to celebrate this barn than some filly play,” he murmured. “When I pull on the reins like that, it
means lower your head.”
His order was accompanied by a sharp smack in the center of her backside and she quickly did as he said, then a moment
later his fingers touched between her legs.
“Damn, you’re wet. My little filly likes her trainin’.”
“Yes, Sir,” she managed, though it wasn’t easy with the bit in her mouth.
“Drop to your hands.”
Falling forward, she instinctively arched her back, then bucked back as he thrust his finger inside her.
“Ahhh, you love this,” he muttered, “just like I knew you would, but this lovely ass is too pale.”
The tongue of a crop began lightly tapping her backside, tickling her skin in a tantalizing dance, then suddenly bit her flesh
eliciting a muffled cry. As the leather tongue continued to frolic over her cheeks, she jerked with each fiery kiss. When he
finally stopped she let out a relieved sigh, but the respite was short-lived. He slid it down the back of her thighs and between
her legs, then lightly tapped her pussy.
“You have rules to learn and remember,” he declared. “Since you can’t speak, find a way to show me you heard what I
said.”
She wriggled her hips, and was met with a soft caress.
“What a lovely filly you are, and such a proud, beautiful rump,” he remarked, running his palm over her reddened skin.
“Are you ready to hear your rules?”
She wriggled again, then waited.
“Rule number one, you keep all the feed in the sealed containers, and you have one of the boys empty the bags. No heavy
lifting.”
The crop’s tongue slapped against her pussy, causing her to throw back her head and wail a muffled yowl.
“Did you understand?”
Still mewling through the bit, she thrust back at him.
“Good. Rule number two, the barn aisle and tack room must be swept clean before you leave for the day.”
Again the crop landed on her pussy lips, and again she bucked back with a muffled protest.
“Rule number three. Keep your equipment clean and your saddles covered. You’re not good about these things but now you
need to be, and Hannah does too. Make sure she understands.”
The tongue landed twice in succession, underscoring the rule with stinging authority, and she wiggled urgently to show her
understanding.
“Last rule, number four. Clean the automatic waterers in the stalls and water bucket in the paddocks daily.”
She held her breath waiting for the crop to sting her sex, but it landed twice, once on each cheek. Though it kissed her skin
with fire, she let out a relieved breath.
“You’re drooling,” he muttered, touching between her legs. “Is there something you want?”
Bleating her response, she dropped to her elbows and spread her knees in a silent but obvious plea, but receiving no
response, she shuffled back towards him.
***
With a satisfied smile, Chad slid his finger into her delicious wetness, then placed his cock at her entrance, thrust forward and
began to pump. As she let out a cry of joy, he slipped his coated finger into her back hole. She was hot and needy, and he knew
there would be no protest.
“Next time,” he murmured, as he slowly stroked and moved his finger in and out, “I just might put a tail here.”
She bucked back at him. Taking it as a sign of her acquiescence, he gathered up the reins and tugged.
“Drop your head lower and lift your butt higher.”
Though she quickly did as he asked, her body tensed and let out a strange mewling sound . Pausing and staying buried
inside her, he closed his eyes.
Her pussy pulsed against him.
She was on the brink of her climax.
“Already?” he mumbled. “Not yet, but soon.”
Removing his finger from her hidden depths and slowly pulling his cock back, he began to thrust with slow, strong strokes
while lightly spanking her, keeping her on the edge until he felt his orgasm building.
“You need to come real bad,” he growled, “and now you can.”
As he accelerated, her body stiffened.
She was there.
Gripping her hips, he pumped with abandon, listening to her muffled cries as he exploded inside her. Crackling convulsions
cascaded through his limbs, and though he could hear his loud groans, they seemed far away. When the powerful spasms began
to wane, he felt lightheaded, almost dizzy, Fighting through the unfamiliar fog, he quickly unfastened the bit, wrapped her into
his arms and brought her down to lie beside him.
“Chad, I don’t even know what to say. My whole body is still tingling,” she mumbled, then pausing, she added. “Uh, can I
ask you something?”
“Sure, anything you want.”
“Have you ever—”
“Nope,” he replied hastily, interrupting her. “The new tack arrived the other day, and it just kinda struck me. I thought it
might be fun, and I was right. But if you didn’t—”
“Oh, Chad, I did, I absolutely loved it,” she whispered, sinking against him.
“Then there’s no reason we can’t do it again,” he suggested, but hearing her deep, even breathing he realized she’d sunk
into a soft doze. Closing his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh.
His life was changing.
He was happy.
A sudden chill pricked his skin and his eyes popped open.
Though he hated to leave he was overcome with an unexpected need to get back to the house.
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Not wanting to alarm Cassie, Chad gently slipped from her side, quickly but quietly packed up the hamper, then roused her
from sleep.
“I guess you’re right, we should go,” she mumbled with a yawn. “It’s getting cold.”
“You dress and I’ll take the hamper out to the Rover.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
Hurrying out to the SUV and placing the hamper in the back seat, Chad settled behind the wheel, started the engine and
turned on the heater. She appeared a minute later and climbed in beside him.
“You look worried,” she remarked. “Is everything okay?”
“Yep, but I feel like we need to get home,” he replied, driving towards the track that would take them down the knoll.
“Like a premonition?”
“I guess.”
“That happens to me sometimes. I hope Mickey’s okay.”
Hearing her remark, he pressed his foot on the accelerator and sped back to the house. As they climbed out and hurried
inside, Mickey bolted up to them, barking furiously.
“I knew it,” Chad muttered. “What’s up fella?”
Spinning around, Mickey raced through the kitchen and down the hall to the front door, then stopped and stare up at it.
“Look, there’s a chip in the wood near the lock,” Chad exclaimed. “Someone has slid a tool through the door jam trying to
get in.”
“Seriously? It must have been awfully thin. How could they possibly have done that? This is scary.”
“Even if they’d been able to somehow move the lock, he wouldn’t have been able to open the door.”
“Because?”
“I made sure that was in place before we left,” he replied, pointing to a slide bolt at the top of the door frame.”
“I’ve never seen that. You don’t usually use it, do you?”
“I don’t know who those day laborers are and I just wanted to be extra careful. Good boy, Mickey,” he said, leaning over
and making a fuss of the excited cattle dog.
Mickey panted happily, then barking again, he ran down the hall and into Chad’s office,
“Now what,” Chad said with a sigh as they followed him.
“I’m getting even more freaked out,” Cassie declared. “I hope no-one got in.”
“I doubt it,” Chad said confidently, striding into his office.
Mickey had his paws up on the window sill, but when Chad studied the frame he couldn’t see any evidence of tampering.
“Cassie, I’m going around the side of the house for a minute. Wait here.”
“Are you crazy? I’m coming with you.”
Seeing her determined expression and knowing whoever had been lurking around the home would be long gone, he broke
into a grin.
“Okay. Come on, Mickey, let’s see what we can find.”
Stopping into the garage to pick up a powerful flashlight, Chad walked around the side of the house. As they approached
the office window he shone the light on the ground.
“Crap,” Cassie muttered. “Someone was definitely trying to get in.”
“Or having a good look inside,” Chad remarked, staring down at the fresh footprints in the soft, damp soil.
“It’s official,” she said with a shiver. “I am totally and completely freaked out.”
“Let’s see where they lead. Go on, Mick, track.”
Mickey dropped his head to the ground, then trotting forward he led them around the perimeter of the house to the driveway
in front of the porch.
“I guess that’s it. He parked, tried the front door, then went around the side. But how did he know we weren’t home? The
lights were on.”
“We should go back in and turn on the outside porch light. Maybe we’ll see something.”
“You’re right.” Chad agreed. “I should have done that first.”
“But Mickey insisted you go into the office.”
“Yes, he did, and he was right, weren’t you fella? Back to the house.”
With Mickey running ahead, they moved back inside through the kitchen and hurried to the front porch. As Chad turned on
the bright lamp that shone over the porch and driveway, he spotted a small, dark, wet stain on the pristine pavement.
“Whoever it was, their car is dripping oil.”
“What should we do?” Cassie asked. “They might come back.”
“I’ll call Sheriff Donnelly in the mornin’, but don’t worry. They won’t be back tonight.”
“I need a quick shower. I think I have shavings in places shavings shouldn’t be.”
 ***
A short time later, snuggling in bed as the fire burned softly with Mickey curled up in front of it, Cassie let out a heavy sigh.
“Do you think we have anything to worry about?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he replied honestly. “Whoever it was could have smashed a window to get in, though a barkin’ dog could
have put them off, and I’m sure Mickey would have made a heck of a noise.”
“Don’t you think it has to be one of the workers? There are no other strangers around here,” she declared, then suddenly
recalled Jason Lewis. “Chad, I just realized…there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
As Cassie relayed her apparently chance meetings with the handsome laborer who claimed to be an architect, Chad let out
a heavy sigh.
“I don’t like the sound of that one bit. Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“Initially it seemed perfectly innocent, and I didn’t want to get the poor guy into trouble over nothing. There wasn’t
anything threatening about him. It was probably just a coincidence that he was up at the new barn this afternoon.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences, especially not like that.”
“You’re right,” she murmured with a yawn.
“Like I said, I’ll call the sheriff in the mornin’ and give him all the details. He’ll probably want to come up and look at the
footprints himself. Now let’s get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“And an even longer night,” she whispered, “but that’s not a complaint.”
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The following morning Sheriff Donnelly arrived just as Cassie and Chad were clearing up after breakfast. He listened to
their story, checked out the footprints by the window, then shared his thoughts with them over a cup of coffee at the kitchen
table.
“I’ll have my forensic guy come up here. He can lift prints from around the lock on the door and the outside window sill
and run them through the database. I doubt we’ll find anything but it’s worth a shot.”
“Forensics? Prints?” Cassie muttered. “I feel like I’m on a TV show.”
“I guess you do, but those are the first steps,” the sheriff replied. “Chad, talk to the owner of the construction company. Ask
him if he’s done any background checks on his crew.”
“Thanks, Sheriff, I will. We go back a long way. It’s Dan Michaels.”
“Ah, then you shouldn’t have any problems. He’s a good guy. The only other thing I can suggest is a security system with
cameras.”
“Damn. In all my years here I’ve never felt like I needed that.”
“Times change. You’re famous now, you’re runnin’ clinics here, your clothes are makin’ a splash. Maybe that kind of
security is overdue.”
“Um, Sheriff, there is one thing I should probably mention,” Cassie said tentatively. “I’m sure it’s nothing, and he’s
perfectly fine, I mean, I don’t want to accuse anyone—”
“She’s talkin’ about one of the laborers,” Chad interrupted. “He’s been overly friendly towards her.”
“What’s his name, I’ll run a check on him.”
“Jason Lewis. He said he’s an architect, and he hasn’t been weird or anything,” Cassie said, “but he’s definitely been trying
to get my attention.”
“I’ll see if there’s anything on him, meanwhile, keep your distance,” the sheriff warned as he rose to his feet.
“I’ll walk you out,” Chad offered, pushing back from the table.
But as Chad left with the sheriff, Cassie had an idea. Reaching for the landline she called Hannah and told her about the
frightening events of the night before.
“So, I was wondering, did you or Marty hear or see anything unusual?
“Actually, now that you mention it, we did,” Hanna replied. “Someone was driving down the knoll really late.”
“You might be thinking about Chad and me. We were up at the barn until well after sunset.”
“No, it was before then.”
“Really, Hannah? Are you sure?”
‘You’re talkin’ to Hannah?” Chad exclaimed as he walked into the kitchen. “Damn, I should’ve thought of that. What’s she
sayin’?”
“Hold on, Hannah, I’m putting you on speaker so Chad can hear this,” Cassie said urgently. Hastily touching the speaker
icon, she laid the phone on the table. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Hi, Chad.”
“Hi, Hannah. What can you tell us?”
“Well, we were watching TV and heard a car, but it was loud, like the muffler was bad. Marty got up to have a look but all
he saw were headlights. Later, when he checked on the horses he saw your Range Rover driving back to your house. So
someone besides you was definitely at the site after sunset.” “Damn,” Chad said with a worried frown. “What the hell was
someone doin’ there after dark?”
“At least with the clinic starting there won’t be any workers around for a week,” Cassie remarked. “It will give you and the
sheriff time to ferret out who this might be before they come back.”
“Assuming it was one of them,” Hannah said pointedly. “The attempted break-in might have nothing to do with the
construction.”
“Yep, you’re right there,” Chad said solemnly. “Thanks, Hannah.”
“You’re welcome, and I’m really sorry about all this.”
“Hey, Hannah, I’m going up to my new barn shortly,” Cassie said. “If you want to come with me I can swing by and pick
you up.”
“Yes, for sure, I can’t wait to see it.”
“Great. I’ll see you shortly.”
“I’d better get back in touch with the sheriff and tell him about this,” Chad muttered as the call ended. “But like you said,
the construction’s on hold for a week and clinic’s startin’, so I’m not worried for the moment. But I do want to talk to Dan. In
fact, I’m callin’ him right now.”
***
The conversation with Dan was not what Chad and Cassie had expected. Jason Lewis was an architect, but that wasn’t the only
news. He had landed a contract and had quit that afternoon.
 “We still can’t rule him out,” Chad remarked, “though why he would want to break in here is anyone’s guess. Regardless,
I’m takin’ Sheriff Donnelly’s advice and havin’ cameras installed. Hopefully I can find someone who works on Saturdays and
get them up here tomorrow.”
“I think that’s really smart, and I’ll feel a lot safer,” Cassie said with a sigh.
“But Chad, since the clinic’s starting I think I should move my horses up to my new barn so they won’t be in the way.”
“You mean, so you won’t be in the way,” Chad said with a grin.
“Well, yeah, I guess so. I’ll lead Dominic and Rembrandt up first, then go back for Shelby.”
“You don’t need to do that by yourself, I’ll take Shelby.”
“Yes, please, that would be great. I wasn’t looking forward to walking her past that construction site.”
“There’s something else,” he said, leaning across the table. “Hannah will be takin’ over the kitchen this afternoon and
gettin’ things set up for tomorrow. You and I should have dinner in town. We can relax a bit before the craziness.”
“I’d love that. But we’d better make sure everything’s locked up tight.”
“I’ll be doin’ more than that. I’ll be askin’ Jeb to stay in the house until we get back. If whoever it is somehow knows we’re
gone, they’ll be in for a real surprise if they try to break in again and Jeb pops up.”
“Chad, that’s brilliant.”
“I have my moments,” he said with a chuckle.
“Yes, you most certainly do.”
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hannah and Cassie spent the early afternoon settling the horses and organizing her new barn. With Hannah catering the
orientation at Chad’s home the following day, Cassie helped her with the preparations. By the time Jeb arrived to housesit,
Cassie was so tired she was tempted to stay in, but Chad convinced her a relaxing dinner in town was the break she needed.
Though he was right, when they returned home and climbed into bed, she curled into his arms and fell into a deep sleep.
The following morning Hannah arrived with several Tupperware tubs, with Marty at her side carrying a box of large
porcelain platters. When he and Chad left for the barn, Cassie and Hannah began setting up the large dining room table, then
plating the various dishes Hannah had prepared.
“Hannah, look at the time,” Cassie suddenly declared. “People will be arriving soon.”
“Holy cow, you’re right,” Hannah exclaimed. “Don’t panic or we’ll end up dropping something. I know, I’ve been in this
situation before. Just keep going.”
Hannah was right. When Chad returned from the barn to wash up and change, the large platters of bite-sized snacks graced
the dining room table, and squares of chocolate cake and coconut macaroons were waiting in the kitchen ready to be served
with coffee.
“This looks great, Hannah,” Chad declared happily. “Marty will be here shortly. He just stopped off to clean up, and that’s
what I need to do. I’ll be right back.”
As he disappeared down the hallway, Hannah and Cassie returned to the kitchen and wearily sat down at the table.
“I’m exhausted,” Hannah mumbled. “Thanks for all your help, Cassie. I couldn’t have managed without you.”
“Hannah, you’re an absolute wonder. You cooked your butt off.”
“She sure did,” Marty exclaimed, walking in as Cassie finished speaking. “Damn, look at those cakes and cookies.”
“Check out the dining room,” Cassie suggested. “You won’t believe it.”
He ambled past them, peered through the door, and let out a low whistle.
“You did a great job,” Marty said proudly, ambling back to them. “There’s so much food we’ll be set with leftovers for a
week.”
But the doorbell signaling the arrival of the visitors snatched his attention and he hurried away.
“Cassie, do you think I made too much?” Hannah asked as the door closed behind him.
“Hey, better too much than not enough,” Cassie replied.
They could hear Marty welcome the guests, then Chad’s voice as he led them into the dining room. Curious, Cassie moved
quietly from the kitchen table and cracked open the door. Scanning the group she saw a pretty blond girl standing alone staring
across the room, but as Chad moved into view, Cassie realized the girl had been focused on him. Feeling her pulse tick up,
Cassie watched the girl step forward and flirtatiously loop her arm through his and peck him on the cheek. Wearing a tight pink
and white plaid shirt tucked into stretch jeans, a large flashy belt buckle at the waist, and calf-high white cowboy boots, the
girl looked like she belonged on an adult website.
“Hannah,” Cassie whispered not taking her eyes off the sultry cowgirl. “Come and look at this.”
“What is it?” Hannah asked, pushing back from the table. “Is something wrong with the food?”
“No, something’s wrong with one of the guests.”
“Oh, my gosh. Could she be any more obvious?” Hannah whispered, peering over Cassie’s shoulder.
“Hannah, I swear I’m going in there to give her a piece of my mind.”
“Stop it, you can trust Chad.”
“That’s not the point, and why doesn’t he push her away? I’m going in.”
“No, you’re not,” Hannah said quickly, grabbing Cassie’s arm and pulling her back. “I’m sure Chad knows how to handle
her. I’ll bet he’s had plenty of women come on to him.”
“I can’t do nothing.”
“If you go in there you’ll only embarrass yourself. And do you think Chad will thank you for making a scene? Let’s go to
your barn and check on the horses.”
“You’re right. If I stay here I’ll do something stupid, but I need to have one last look before I go,” Cassie insisted, stepping
back to the door. “Shit, she’s still hanging on him and acting like his fucking girlfriend.”
“Come on, we’re going,” Hannah said firmly, taking Cassie’s hand and leading her through the back door.
They climbed into Hannah’s car and drove up to the knoll. When they arrived, Hannah stared at the green and white
building.
“I still can’t believe they put this up in three days,” she declared.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Cassie said with a sigh. “Come on, I want to go to the paddocks.”
Strolling to the large turnouts, they stood at the fence and admired the horses happily grazing.
“Cassie, you know I want to get back into jumping,” Hannah began, “but how can I? Maverick is great but he’s a cowpony.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, and Randy just might have the perfect horse for you. His name is Ranger. He’s older, around
fifteen I think, but he’s solid and he’ll take care of you.”
 “Ranger? I remember Ranger. It seems so long ago. I always liked that horse,” she said, breaking into a smile. “He was so
sweet.”
“Bear in mind he’ll need maintenance, but this place would be ideal for him. He deserves to have an easy life after his hard
work on the show circuit. I’ll call Randy and see what he says.”
“Thanks, Cassie. I’m afraid to get my hopes up, but I know I will anyway.”
“Come on, let’s fetch some carrots. I brought a bucketful up earlier, but I need to go into town tomorrow and get a full bag.
“Can I tag along? I have to do some shopping too.”
“Of course. Marty won’t be needing you. He’ll be with Chad and the clients.”
“I know. He’s already told me I won’t see much of him this week. I’ll miss the big lug,” Hannah said with a sigh.
“Let’s get those carrots,” Cassie declared, but as they started walking, the image of the blond girl flashed through her head.
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Cassie and Hannah returned to the house and entered the kitchen, they heard Chad in the lounge outlining the ranch rules.
“We got back just in time,” Hannah said urgently. “We need to get the desserts out right away.”
After quickly clearing the table, Cassie carried in the coffee urn, mugs and condiments, while Hannah laid out the dessert
trays, small plates and silverware. Just moments after they finished and were back in the kitchen, they heard the group move
into the dining room. Stepping to the door, Cassie cracked it open for another peek.
“I can’t believe it,” she breathed angrily. “Hannah, take a look.”
“Oh, my God,” Hannah whispered as Cassie stood back and Hannah peered through the narrow opening.
The blond girl was wearing one of Chad’s new T-shirts, but she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her puckered nipples were
pressing against the thin, soft fabric.
“Don’t do anything impulsive,” Hannah warned, turning back to Cassie.
“I have to do something. I can’t let that tart bounce around my fiancee looking like that?”
“That tart is one of Chad’s clients, and he’s probably just as pissed as you are, and I’ll bet the other women in there are as
well. Talk to him, don’t screw with her.”
Cassie stared at her friend, then let out a breath and nodded. “You’re right. With any luck he’ll kick her out.”
“Hopefully he will. Now let’s eat.”
“Good plan, I’m starving.”
Sitting down at the table they began devouring the delicious leftovers. They were finished and enjoying a fresh pot of
coffee when they heard the guests leave, and Marty and Chad ambled in.
“Hey, Chad. Did everything go okay?” Cassie asked.
“Yep. It seems to be a decent group, but we spent so much time talkin’ we had no time to eat.”
“Then sit down and help yourself,” Hannah exclaimed. “There’s still plenty left.”
***
As Chad settled at the table and filled his plate, he noticed Cassie was unusually quiet.
“Are you okay, hon?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So—no then.”
She glanced at him, and in spite of her simmering anger she broke into a smile.
“You’re right, but I’ll tell you later.”
After they finished eating, Cassie stacked the dishwasher while Hannah put the leftovers into plastic containers, placing
half of them in the refrigerator for Chad and Cassie.
“Hannah, you did a fabulous job,” Chad said gratefully.
“I’m so glad it went well. I really appreciate the opportunity.”
“You should be a professional caterer.”
“She is,” Marty said with a chuckle as he rose from the table. “She caters to me every night. I’ve never eaten so good.”
“I’m sure,” Chad replied with a grin. “See you in the mornin’.”
“I need to go as well,” Cassie declared wearily as Marty and Hannah left. “I have to bring my horse’s in.”
“Darlin’, you’re not goin’ anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“I will, but when I come back. It’s getting late.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. I’ll take you up in the Rover and give you a hand.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you. I’ll be done in half the time.”
As they headed into the garage, Mickey ran ahead of them, excited to be going out. It was a quick drive up to the knoll, and
they soon had the horses in, blanketed and fed. But stepping outside to leave, Cassie paused and stared down at the
construction site.
“What’s up?” Chad asked, walking up and standing beside her.
“I can’t wait to live there and look out at the lake every day,” she murmured, leaning against him.
“Me too,” he said softly, placing his arm around her. “You seem better.”
“I am. I love doing horsey things with you.”
“Horsey?” he repeated with a chuckle.
“Yes, horsey!”
“Come on, let’s go home. But on the way I want to hear what had you so upset.”
Climbing into the Range Rover, Chad drove slowly down the slope as she described what she’d seen.
“Why did she have to drape herself all over you then put on that T-shirt and show off like that?” Cassie exclaimed, finishing
up her diatribe.
 “I agree, she was ridiculous, but you have nothing to worry about. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, but it still bugged the hell out of me. What are you going to do about her?”
“Me? Nothin’.”
“Nothing? But you have to. I bet the other women in the group are just as offended by Miss Sugar Tits as I am.”
“Miss Sugar Tits?” Chad repeated with a laugh.
“Fine, Miss Twin Peaks then. Regardless, how can you just let it slide?”
“She wants my attention, so I’ve turned the job over to Marty.”
“Oh, good idea. Who is she?”
“Her name is Molly Roberts. She’s the only daughter of a very wealthy rancher, very spoiled and a total brat, like someone
else I once knew,” he added, shooting Cassie a wink. “She was here last year and pulled the same crap. I told her to back off,
and she did, but now she’s at it again. This time I’ll let Marty set her straight.”
“That’s a good plan. He can be really intimidating.”
“Yep, and she’ll be embarrassed when he scolds her,” Chad said as he drove into the garage. “If I did it, I’d be giving her
what she wants, and it would probably turn her on. But Cassie, don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do. Her, though, not at all.”
“Think about what you’re sayin’,” he continued, turning off the engine and looking across at her. “I love you, and I won’t let
anything or anyone mess up what we have. Do I need to spank that into you?”
“Uh, no. I’m sorry,” she mumbled with a sigh. “It’s just…seeing her all over you, and then those boobs, it made me crazy.”
“I have a new rule. Jealousy and worryin’ about other women isn’t allowed.”
“I can’t help how I feel.”
“Cassie, all you have to do is trust me. And you should feel sorry for girls who pull that crap. They’re lonely and
insecure.”
“Oh, I guess you’re right. Uh, Chad, I have a confession to make.”
“I’m listenin’.”
“I was so mad I almost burst into the dining room. Hannah stopped me.”
“You’re kiddin’. Damn. I’m glad Marty convinced me to let her stay on. Speakin’ of Marty, he sure is happy with her.”
“If he’s so happy he should do something about it,” Cassie exclaimed.
“Like what?”
“To put it bluntly, she’s crazy about him, and she needs to know he feels the same way. But can we go inside now? I want to
make amends for being such a silly, jealous cow,” she added, lowering her voice.
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Whatever you want,” she purred, leaning across the console and kissing him on the cheek.
“Let’s go,” he said briskly, and hastily climbing from the Rover, they hurried inside and down the hall to the bedroom.
***
Moments later, lying naked in bed, Cassie took hold of Chad’s rigid cock, opened her mouth and took him in.
“That feels good, darlin’,” he mumbled as she fervently sucked. “Now sit up and straddle me.”
Wordlessly climbing on top of him, she placed his hardness to her wet channel and slowly lowered herself down. He
savored her warmth and gazed at her luscious breasts, then suddenly wanting more control he gripped her waist, rolled her
onto her back and began to pump. He stroked vigorously for endless minutes, bringing her to the brink, then staying buried
inside her, he devoured her nipples as she begged for more.
Finally feeling his climax beginning to build, he abruptly pulled out, flipped her over, jerked her hips up, and plunged in
and out as he spanked her. Just as his orgasm threatened, she cried out his name and let out a wail, hurtling him into his release.
With a loud groan he exploded, and with their ecstatic cries joining together, they shuddered through their mutual orgasms.
When the spasms waned, he settled beside her and held her tightly.
“No more insecurity, right?” he whispered.
“No, though I might be tempted if it ends up like this.”
“It won’t,” he warned. “I’ll pull out the cane.”
“In that case, no more insecurity.”
“Wise decision.”
“Chad?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Do you need anything in town? I have to go to the feed store.”
“Nope, but please be careful, and don’t go up to your barn alone. Not after what happened.”
“Okay,” she promised with a yawn. “Lord, I’m so tired…”
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The following morning Cassie was woken by Mickey’s paw touching her arm. Groggily opening her eyes, she found his face
inches from hers.
“Mickey, what are you doing?”
The dog licked her face.
“Ick…do you really need me to get out of bed?”
He responded by whining which she assumed was his way of saying he did. Glancing at the clock and finding she’d
overslept, she yawned heavily and slowly sat up.
“Okay, I guess you’re right. I’ll take a shower, then we’ll collect Hannah and go up to the barn for our first ride in my new
ring.”
With the thought propelling her forward she quickly showered and dressed, hastily downed a bowl of cereal, then jumped
into her car with Mickey. It was a short drive, and when she rolled to a stop she found Hannah waiting on the porch.
“I’m so excited,” Hannah declared, opening the car door and shooing Mickey into the back.
“Me too,” Cassie exclaimed as she drove off. “I’ll ride Rembrandt first, he’s the easiest.”
“When do your jumps arrive?”
“Some time in the next couple of days.”
A few minutes later Cassie came to a stop alongside her new barn. As Mickey jumped out and began sniffing the ground,
she and Hannah moved inside and were greeted by a series of welcoming whinnies.
“The first thing we have to do is put Dominic and Shelby into the paddocks,” Cassie declared.
There were blanket bars on the front of each stall door where Cassie had hooked the halters, but when she passed the stall
where she’d shared her exciting night with Chad, she discovered the halter was gone.
“This is weird,” she muttered, staring at the empty bar.
“What’s that?” Hannah called, walking up to join her.
“The halter is missing from this door.”
“Are you sure you put one there.”
“Positive. I left halters on all the doors. This is weird.”
A chill suddenly pricked her skin, and she recalled Chad’s warning.
Please be careful, and don’t go up to your barn alone.
Looking around she saw nothing else out of place, but slightly unnerved she brought Shelby out of her stall, and with
Hannah leading Dominic, they headed to the paddocks.
***
Thirty-minutes later they were riding in her brand new ring. As Cassie galloped Rembrandt across the soft, forgiving footing,
all thought of the missing halter evaporated. The sun was shining, and the soft breeze became a thrilling wind as she gathered
speed. When she brought the powerful warmblood to a halt she was beaming.
“This footing is better than Chad’s ring,” she exclaimed as Hannah approached on her quarter horse.
“Probably because it’s new. I bet if Chad rode in here he’d have his redone.”
As Cassie took a deep breath and looked around, she saw Mickey perched on the mounting block just outside the barn
looking like a sentry on duty.
“Hannah, life doesn’t get much more wonderful than this,” she murmured with a sigh. “I’m so lucky.”
“So am I, and I’m actually glad I screwed up. Marty and I wouldn’t be where we are if I hadn’t. We have to remember this
moment when we’re having a bad day.”
“You’re right. But we need to ride the other horses or I’ll never get into town.”
“I can ride Dominic while you ride Shelby, but I don’t think I can join you to go shopping. I still have a lot of cleaning up to
do after yesterday,” Hannah said wearily. “It was a big job. I learned a lot though. The next one will be easier.”
“The next one?”
“I hope so. Chad said he liked my cooking more than the caterer he’d been using.”
“That’s awesome. You should ask him if you can do the afternoon coffee breaks.”
“Cassie! That’s a great suggestion. I can make little donut holes and bite-sized pastries.”
“That would be perfect. Now we must stop nattering and get these boys cleaned up or we’ll be here all day.”
***
After exercising Shelby and Dominic, Cassie dropped Hannah off at her cabin then drove back to the house to shower and
change, but as she approached she noticed a van parked outside. Drawing closer she saw the name Sampson Security painted
on the side. Curious, she called Mickey and walked in through the kitchen door. The dog immediately began barking and ran
into the living room. Hastily following, she found two men with iPads.
“It’s okay, Mickey,” she said, grabbing his collar. “Hello, I’m Cassie. I assume you’re here to put in a security system.”
“We’re getting a quote together for Chad,” one of them replied.
“Did he tell you to go to the barn on the knoll?” she asked, releasing Mickey who sat beside her and continued to stare at
the strangers.
“He did. We’ll be going there after we finish in here.”
“How quickly can you get cameras set up inside?”
“Once we get the order and the paperwork signed, the work will be done in a couple of days.”
“Shoot. I’ve just discovered something has been stolen.”
“Hey, no sweat. We can install a camera. Once we get the go ahead for the whole system, assuming we do, we can replace
it.”
“That would be fantastic, thanks,” she said gratefully. “Do you need to get into the master bedroom?”
“We’ve already been in there and we’ll be leaving in a couple of minutes.”
“Perfect, and thanks again,” she said, then hurried down the hall with Mickey running after her. As he trotted into the
bedroom, she told him to stand guard, then entered the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and took a quick shower.
***
Twenty-minutes later she was rolling down the driveway with Mickey on the seat beside her. Though she could see Jeb and
Tommy were busy with several clients, and Marty was working with a horse in the round pen, she couldn’t see Chad anywhere.
Impulsively she turned at the fork and drove slowly to the busy barn area. Ordering Mickey to stay, she left the car and headed
into the barn aisle hoping to find Chad to give him a quick hug before she left. She was about to call his name when she passed
the tack room, and was shocked to see him sitting on a tack trunk holding Molly’s hand. Clenching her fists and fighting the
overwhelming desire to march in and confront them, she hurried back to the car and forced herself to drive away.
“Mickey, I’m going to believe there’s an innocent explanation there, but I’m fucking furious right now.”
Squeaking out a whine, he placed his paw on her arm.
“You know what,” she said, turning briefly to look at him, “I think I am going to dump your Master and marry you, then all
I’d have to worry about is a French Poodle.”
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cassie’s first stop was the local feed store, and it was one of her favorite haunts. She could spend endless minutes viewing the
latest items designed to make a horse’s life happier. As she and Mickey entered, Mickey ran to the row of bowls featuring the
wide variety of dog treats.
“Hey there, Cassie.”
The woman behind the counter, Vicki Marshall, had started the business thirty years before. Cassie had found the woman to
be smart and horse savvy, and she had a wicked sense of humor.
“Pick whichever one you want, Mickey,” Vicki called across the room. Hearing his name Mickey pricked his ears and let
out a happy bark. “Hello to you too, Cassie,” she continued. “What are you in for today?”
“One of those dark brown leather halters.”
“You just bought half-a-dozen last week.”
“I know, and one’s gone missing already. It will probably turn up as soon as I buy a replacement, but then I’ll have one
spare and that’s always good.”
“They’re against the wall where they were before.”
“Thanks, and I also need a large bag of carrots,” Cassie added as she moved towards the display.
“How did the clinic start off?” Vicki called after her. “Does Chad have a good group?”
As the question stirred the memory of the blonde and Chad in the tack room, Cassie’s stomach churned.
“I guess so,” Cassie replied, trying to tell herself not to let her imagination run amok.
“I don’t know how he manages the barn and all the activities as well as his other businesses,” Vicki remarked. “He’s one
smart guy.”
“Not as smart as he is,” Cassie said, nodding towards Mickey who had selected the second largest bone and was walking
towards the counter.
“You might be right. Is that it?”
“I think so, but I’m stopping into that cafe down the street for coffee. If I think of anything else I can come back. ”
“The door will still be open unless some good lookin’ cowboy comes in, locks it behind him and has his way with me,”
Vicki quipped with a wink.
“Vicki, you’re incorrigible.”
“Yeah, but that’s what people love about me.”
Laughing, Cassie handed over cash for the purchases, left the store, dropped the halter inside the car, then ambled down to
the coffee shop. As she sat at an outside table and Mickey began attacking his bone, she idly watched the people across the
street in the park until the waitress appeared. After placing an order for a large Latte and a croissant, she leaned back and
closed her eyes, enjoying the warm sun kiss her face.
The image of Chad and the blond girl unexpectedly popped into her head. Annoyed, she opened her eyes and found the
waitress placing the latte and croissant on the table. But as she reached for two sugar packets she heard a low growl. Looking
down she saw Mickey curling his top lip.
“Hey, stop that. No-one’s going to take your bone.”
“For some reason he doesn’t like me!”
She recognized the voice.
Jason Lewis.
Hoping she was wrong, she glanced up.
He was standing across the table.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m staying at The Pepper Tree Inn and I thought I’d take a walk. I’m leaving in a
couple of days and I haven’t really explored the place. Mind if I sit down?”
Though his smile was warm and engaging she was about to refuse, then recalling Chad with the busty blond, she changed
her mind.
“Sure,” she said, but as Jason sat down, Mickey jumped up, put his front paws on her lap and tried to lick her face.
“Mickey, stop, go back to your bone.”
“He’s definitely in love with you,” Jason remarked. “I can’t say I blame him.”
She didn’t respond to the compliment, but focused on moving Mickey away. He finally laid down, but his bone remained
untouched and his gaze stayed fixed on Jason.
“You said you’re leaving,” Cassie said, wanting to divert the conversation away from herself. “Where are you headed?”
“I have a client who owns a lake house about an hour from here and he wants a complete remodel. The offer was too good
to turn down, plus,” he said, taking a breath, “it won’t be easy, and I thrive on challenge.”
“I think most people enjoy a challenge,” she replied, ignoring what she thought was an innuendo. “It’s human nature.”
“Probably true. I bet you find riding challenging.”
“I do, I love to jump. I had a bad accident late last year but it hasn’t changed how I feel about it,” she declared,
remembering the fall from Shelby after ignoring her trainer’s advice.
“What happened?”
“My horse slipped doing a sharp turn and rolled on top of me.”
“You’re kidding! How the hell did you come out unscathed? Or did you?”
“Pretty much, I was just lucky I guess, but it took me a few weeks to get back on my feet.”
“So, how does a jumper rider end up with a cowboy?”
“Again, just lucky,” she said with a grin. “We’re very happy.”
“I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but you didn’t look very happy when I saw you a minute ago.”
Cassie felt her face flush, and looking away she stared across the street at a man throwing a stick for his dog.
“Sorry…it’s just…I suspect a successful cowboy like Chad Douglas would have a lot of women chasing him. That can’t be
easy.”
As the scene in the tack room loomed large, she reminded herself Chad was building the house of their dreams, and had
gone to great lengths to provide her with her own barn and riding ring.
“Of course, a good relationship goes beyond material things,” Jason continued as if reading her mind. “It’s knowing you
can totally trust the other person, and again, forgive me, but I’m not sure you have that with Chad Douglas.”
“Of course I do, and you have no right to say such a thing.” she exclaimed, hating how defensive she’d sounded. “He’s
wonderful, absolutely wonderful!”
“I hope he is. You deserve wonderful,” Jason said, rising to his feet. “Now I must go, but something tells me we’ll see each
other again.”
“I can’t imagine how,” she managed, feeling oddly uncomfortable. “I don’t come into town much, and you won’t be
working at the ranch.”
“True, but sometimes fate steps in,” he said, titling his head to the side and moving around the table towards her, but a
warning snarl made him pause his step. “Bye, Cassie.”
“Bye, Jason.”
As he walked away, she took a bite of her croissant and a sip of coffee, then stared down at McTavish.
“What the hell was that?” she mumbled. “Come on, let’s go home. I need to talk to Chad, clinic or no clinic.”
 CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Cassie returned to the ranch the clinic was in full swing. Deciding to stop in and see Hannah, she found her friend
preparing a roast for Marty’s dinner.
“I figured after such a busy day he’d be hungry,” Hannah exclaimed. “But I’m making enough for you and Chad as well. I
know cooking isn’t your strong suit.”
“You are such a doll, Hannah. Chad will be even more grateful than I am.”
“Did you swing by just to say hello?”
“Actually I’m on my way to the barn and I wondered if you’d like to come with me. I promised Chad I wouldn’t go there
alone, but you’re busy, and I’ll have Mickey with me. I’ll just drop off the halter and carrots then check the horses.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally. I’ll only be there for five minutes,” Cassie said airily, and with a wave of her hand, she returned to her car. But
driving up the gentle slope she felt uneasy. Rolling to a stop beside the barn, she stepped out and called to Mickey who had
already begun chasing smells.
“Stay with me, fella,” she called, lifting the heavy bag of carrots from the trunk.
After dropping them in the feed room, she walked down the aisle to hang the new halter on the stall door, but as she looped
the leather around the bar, she caught her breath. Inside, a single red rose was lying on top of the shavings.
Panicking, she dropped the halter, and with Mickey running beside her she raced back to the car. Shaking as she clambered
in, she sped down the slope, forcing herself to slow down as she approached Chad’s riding ring. With her heart still
hammering, she left the car and darted her eyes around frantically looking for him. Finally spotting his tall, muscled body at the
far end of the arena, she snatched up her phone and called him.
“Hey, Cassie?”
“Chad…thank God you picked up.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can you spare me five minutes? It’s really important.”
“Of course, where are you?”
“Here, near the front of the barn,” she replied urgently.
“I’m on my way.”
Watching him jog towards her helped to calm her frazzled nerves, but when he reached her, she threw her arms around him
and held on for dear life.
“Damn, girl, what the hell happened?”
“P-please…not here?”
“Come on, I’ll drive us home.”
***
Though Chad wanted to know why Cassie was so upset, he waited until they were inside the house and sitting down.
“Okay, darlin’,” he said calmly. “Tell me what’s goin’ on?”
In a torrent of words Cassie told him about the missing halter, the rose in the stall on the shavings, and how the two men
from Sampson Security had promised to install a nanny cam.
“We may have a recording of the person responsible,” she exclaimed, “but Chad, I’m really freaked out.”
“I’m textin’ Marty to take over the client I was workin’ with,” he said, lifting his phone from his pocket.
“Um, there’s something else as well,” she muttered with a sigh, “but before I tell you what it is, I saw you holding hands
with Miss Sugar Tits in the tack room, and I drove into town feeling totally weird.”
“Cassie, that was nothin’, but keep goin’. What happened when you drove into town?”
“I ran into Jason Lewis. When he asked if he could sit with me while I had coffee I said yes.”
“And?”
“And he was very, uh, complimentary, but after he left I felt even more weird. Then I came home and found that stupid rose.
But Chad, why were you holding hands with that girl?”
“It’s no big deal. I went into the tack room for something and found her crying. I couldn’t just walk away, so I sat down
with her and—”
“and held her fucking hand,” Cassie snapped. “I’m sorry, but how would you feel if you saw me holding hands with Jason
Lewis?”
“Fair point, but you didn’t let me finish. She told me she’d been dumped by her boyfriend just before coming here, and
when Marty told her she had to clean up her act or leave the clinic, she fell apart. And Cassie, I didn’t take her hand. She took
mine.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
 “If anything like that happens again talk to me before jumpin’ to conclusions. But right now we need to focus on that rose
and this Jason Lewis character. Askin’ for those nanny cams was real smart. Hopefully they caught something. Regardless, I’m
callin’ Sheriff Donnelly, “
“Jason said he’s staying at the Pepper Tree Inn if the sheriff wants to talk to him.”
“I’ll tell him,” Chad muttered. “Hello? This is Chad Douglas. I need to speak with Sheriff Donnelly.”
***
Though Cassie listened intently as Chad spoke to the sheriff, there was something else on her mind. She didn’t know why, but
felt a deep need to feel his hard, spanking hand. As he ended the call, she wordlessly rose to her feet, pulled down her jeans
and crawled over his lap.
“Cassie, what are you doin’?”
“Please, Chad, I don’t know why, but please will you spank me? Just not too hard.”
“If I’m gonna spank you, I’ll spank you as I see fit.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Finding his stern words strangely comforting, she let out a heavy breath, then closed her eyes and sank into his lap. But
when he landed the first sharp slap, she grabbed a cushion and buried her face. As his flattened palm rose and fell, moving
from cheek to cheek, she wriggled and squirmed, and was about to beg him to stop when the doorbell rang. As Mickey leapt up
from his mat by the fireplace and began barking, Chad quickly shifted her off his lap and hugged her.
“Feel better, darlin’?”
“I do, but I’m glad he arrived.”
“I was done with you anyway, now pull those jeans up. But Cassie, always remember, I love you, and I’m not about to
anything to jeopardize what we have.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY
As Chad left the living room to greet Sheriff Donnelly, Cassie ran her fingers through her hair and hoped her face wasn’t as red
as she feared. It occurred to her she should probably brew a pot of coffee, but before she could leave for the kitchen the burly
lawman strode into the room.
“Hello, Cassie, I’m sorry to hear you’re havin’ a spot of bother.”
“Thanks, Sheriff. It’s unnerving. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thanks. The only thing I need is to see is the barn and the rose Chad told me about, but prepare yourselves,” he said
solemnly. “There’s no-one by the name of Jason Lewis at the Pepper Tree Inn, or any record of him. Are you sure he said that’s
where he was stayin’?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“That doesn’t bode well,” the sheriff declared.
“Chad, don’t you have to go back to the clinic?” Cassie asked. “If you do, I can take the sheriff up to the barn.”
“It’s about to end for the day, and Marty knows how to close this first session. I’ll take us up in the Rover. Is that okay with
you, Sheriff.”
“Sounds good.”
“Come on, Mickey. Let’s go.”
With Mickey leading the way, they headed out to the garage and climbed into the SUV. As Chad drove up the slope, Cassie
told the sheriff about her encounter with Jason at the coffee shop.
“I doubt he was there by chance,” the sheriff said as Chad rolled to a stop outside Cassie’s barn. “I get the feelin’ this guy,
whoever he is, plans every move.”
“That just gave me chills,” Cassie muttered as they climbed out.
“Try not to worry. He’ll make a mistake. They always do.”
“Thanks, that’s reassuring,” she replied as they started down the barn aisle.
Reaching the stall, Chad slid the door open and stared down at the red rose on the shavings.
His stomach churned.
It was resting where he and Cassie had spent their wickedly wonderful night.
“I doubt we’ll find any prints, but we might just get lucky another way,” the sheriff remarked, retrieving latex gloves and a
plastic bag from his jacket pocket.
“Lucky, how?” Cassie asked.
“It’s easy to prick your finger on one of those thorns.”
“Oh, right. I hope he did.”
“That would be a gift,” the sheriff continued, slowly moving forward and studying the shavings around his feet. Reaching
the rose, he carefully picked it up and dropped it in the evidence bag. “Where are the nanny cams you mentioned?”
“I’m not sure,” Chad replied, staring at the ceiling as the sheriff left the stall.
“I see one,” Cassie declared, pointing to a small black box sitting on a rafter, “and over there as well.”
By the time they’d scoured the area they’d retrieved four cameras, but Mickey, who had been outside sniffing behind the
back of the barn, suddenly began barking.
“Sherlock’s raisin’ the alarm,” Cassie exclaimed with a grin. “That should be his name.”
“I’ll take a look,” the Sheriff exclaimed, marching away, but before Chad could follow Cassie grabbed his arm.
“What do you think about where that rose was?” she whispered.
“Probably the same thing as you, and that halter disappearin’ is almost as bad,” he replied quietly. “It makes me wonder…”
“If someone was spying on us,” she mumbled, finishing his sentence.
“I don’t think they could have seen anything, but they sure as heck could’ve heard us. My money’s on that creep callin’
himself Jason Lewis.”
“But I found the rose when I came back, and he’d been with me at that cafe. He couldn’t have been in two places at once.”
“Did he leave first?”
“Uh…yeah…I had to wait for the check, but it was only a couple of minutes.”
“When you came home, did you come straight up here?”
“No, I stopped at Hannah’s, but how could he have driven up here without being seen or heard?”
“I have no idea, but he’s definitely my prime suspect,” Chad said angrily.
“You might wanna come and look at this,” the Sheriff called from behind the barn.
Hurrying down the aisle and stepping outside, they found him staring down at tire tracks.
“That’s from a motorbike,” he declared.
“It can’t be!” Chad exclaimed. “We would have heard it.”
“Not if they came up from the back of the Madden’s farm. There are a couple of gates, but probably not locked, and a dirt
bike could do that run with no problem.”
 “Cassie, this explains everything,” Chad said, throwing his hands in the air. “That’s how he beat you back here, and why
we didn’t see or hear him.”
“This means I can’t leave the horses up here. We have to take them back down.”
“There’s no room, the stalls are full because of the clinic.”
“I may have an answer,” the Sheriff said thoughtfully. “My nephew is a former marine and he wants to be a cop. While he’s
waitin‘ to get into the Academy he’s doin‘ freelance security work.”
“Chad, a live guard, that’s perfect,” Cassie said eagerly. “Especially a guy who used to be a marine.”
“I agree, and thanks, Sheriff, but he can’t be here around the clock.”
“No, but he’s has a couple of friends in the same boat.” “Then that’s the answer,” Chad declared. “Hopefully we’ll catch
the bastard behind all this, whether it’s Jason Lewis or someone else.”
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The first day of the clinic was always the toughest. Marty and Chad had to assess each rider and match them with horses, and
evaluate the horses brought to the ranch. By the time the clients had left and the various chores done, Marty wearily hiked up to
his cabin.
“I must be gettin’ old before my time,” he muttered as he lumbered inside, but a delicious aroma evoked a smile.
“Lordy, girl, what is that smell?”
“You’ll find out when you sit down,” she replied with a grin. “But you look exhausted. Get cleaned up, then we can eat.”
“You’re the best girl in the world,” he said, pecking her on the cheek.
Making his way to the bedroom he slowly removed his clothes, then ambled into the bathroom and stepped in the shower
stall. Standing under the stream of hot water, he closed his eyes and thought about the adorable girl in the kitchen. She was as
sweet as maple syrup, sexy as a siren, and as playful as a kitten. There were times when he looked at her he thought his heart
would burst. Finally somewhat revived, he returned to the kitchen and found dinner waiting on the table in several steaming
bowls.
“Beer or wine?” Hannah asked as he sat down.
“Beer, baby, thanks, and what are we havin’?”
“Your favorite. Beef stew with carrots and broccoli in a spicy brown sauce, thick-cut spicy french fries, and I made some
of that herb bread you like so much.”
“I feel sorry for Chad,” he said with a chuckle as he scooped up large portions and dropped them on his plate. “I don’t
know what he’s eatin’ tonight, but it sure won’t be as good as this.”
“Actually it will be. I made enough for Chad and Cassie as well. Cassie was really upset about the possibility of an
intruder, and I figured Chad would be just as tired as you after such a long day.”
“You’re a sweetheart, and speakin’ of that intruder, Chad left early, then I saw the Sheriff’s car at the house, and a few
minutes later the Range Rover headin’ up to Cassie’s new barn.”
“Huh, I wonder what happened.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell me in the mornin’, and Cassie will probably tell you as well.”
As he began to eat he chatted about the day, but the landline rang, interrupting him. Stepping from the table, Hannah
answered the call.
“Hey, Hannah, I won’t keep you. Just tell Marty I’ve hired a security team for Cassie’s barn. A couple of odd things
happened and they’ll be stayin’ until we catch the culprit.”
“That’s great news. I’ll let Marty know.”
“And thanks for the delicious dinner!”
“My pleasure, Chad. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Bye.”
“Bye, Hannah.”
“What was that about?” Marty asked as she returned to the table.
“Chad wanted you to know he’s hired security guards for Cassie’s barn. What a relief. Now I can sleep.”
“Hey, I can make sure you’ll sleep,” Marty quipped with a wink, “and that dinner was the best damn meal I think I’ve ever
had. You outdid yourself. Now I need to lie down and you’re comin’ with me.”
“What about the dishes?”
“Screw the dishes, they can wait.”
“But you said—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but right now this tired body just wants yours beside it.”
Standing up and reaching for her hand, he led her down the hallway into the bedroom and pulled her with him onto the bed.
“Poor man,” she crooned, pulling his sweater over his head.
“The first day is always tough. Lots of crap to deal with. It’ll be easier as the week goes by.”
Slipping off the bed, she removed his loafers and socks, then slid down his sweat pants.
“I was a bit naughty today,” she purred, sidling up his naked body.
“Do you need your bottom tanned?”
“Well, big guy, that’s up to you.”
“What did you do?”
“I don’t recall,” she replied with a grin.
“Uh-huh. Take off your clothes. Here I am, naked as a jaybird, and you’re still dressed.”
Rising from the bed, she began a slow, sultry striptease, then climbed on top of him. But hastily grabbing her, he turned her
around to face his feet with her knees on either side of his waist.
“You know what I want,” he grunted, landing a slap on her backside. “Bend over and suck my cock, and you know bein’
naughty means a red behind.”
As her lips slithered up and down his shaft, he continued to spank her, then slipped his fingers into her sex. She wriggled,
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 BYRON AND WORDSWORTH

The London Weekly Review.]

[April 5, 1828.

I am much surprised at Lord Byron’s haste to return a volume of

Spenser, which was lent him by Mr. Hunt, and at his apparent
indifference to the progress and (if he pleased) advancement of
poetry up to the present day. Did he really think that all genius was
concentred in his own time, or in his own bosom? With his pride of
ancestry, had he no curiosity to explore the heraldry of intellect? or
did he regard the Muse as an upstart—a mere modern bluestocking
and fine lady? I am afraid that high birth and station, instead of
being (as Mr. Burke predicates,) ‘a cure for a narrow and selfish
mind,’ only make a man more full of himself, and, instead of
enlarging and refining his views, impatient of any but the most
inordinate and immediate stimulus. I do not recollect, in all Lord
Byron’s writings, a single recurrence to a feeling or object that had
ever excited an interest before; there is no display of natural affection
—no twining of the heart round any object: all is the restless and
disjointed effect of first impressions, of novelty, contrast, surprise,
grotesque costume, or sullen grandeur. His beauties are the houris of
Paradise, the favourites of a seraglio, the changing visions of a
feverish dream. His poetry, it is true, is stately and dazzling, arched
like a rainbow, of bright and lovely hues, painted on the cloud of his
own gloomy temper—perhaps to disappear as soon! It is easy to
account for the antipathy between him and Mr. Wordsworth. Mr.
Wordsworth’s poetical mistress is a Pamela; Lord Byron’s an Eastern
princess or a Moorish maid. It is the extrinsic, the uncommon that
captivates him, and all the rest he holds in sovereign contempt. This
is the obvious result of pampered luxury and high-born sentiments.
The mind, like the palace in which it has been brought up, admits
none but new and costly furniture. From a scorn of homely
simplicity, and a surfeit of the artificial, it has but one resource left in
exotic manners and preternatural effect. So we see in novels, written
by ladies of quality, all the marvellous allurements of a fairy tale,
jewels, quarries of diamonds, giants, magicians, condors and ogres.
[55]
The author of the Lyrical Ballads describes the lichen on the rock,
the withered fern, with some peculiar feeling that he has about them:
the author of Childe Harold describes the stately cypress, or the
fallen column, with the feeling that every schoolboy has about them.
The world is a grown schoolboy, and relishes the latter most. When
Rousseau called out—‘Ah! voila de la pervenche!’ in a transport of
joy at sight of the periwinkle, because he had first seen this little blue
flower in company with Madame Warens thirty years before, I
cannot help thinking, that any astonishment expressed at the sight of
a palm-tree, or even of Pompey’s Pillar, is vulgar compared to this!
Lord Byron, when he does not saunter down Bond-street, goes into
the East: when he is not occupied with the passing topic, he goes
back two thousand years, at one poetic, gigantic stride! But instead of
the sweeping mutations of empire, and the vast lapses of duration,
shrunk up into an antithesis, commend me to the ‘slow and creeping
foot of time,’ in the commencement of Ivanhoe, where the jester and
the swine-herd watch the sun going down behind the low-stunted
trees of the forest, and their loitering and impatience make the
summer’s day seem so long, that we wonder how we have ever got to
the end of the six hundred years that have passed since! That where
the face of nature has changed, time should have rolled on its course,
is but a common-place discovery; but that where all seems the same,
(the long rank grass, and the stunted oaks, and the innocent pastoral
landscape,) all should have changed—this is to me the burthen and
the mystery. The ruined pile is a memento and a monument to him
that reared it—oblivion has here done but half its work; but what
yearnings, what vain conflicts with its fate come over the soul in the
other case, which makes man seem like a grasshopper—an insect of
the hour, and all that he is, or that others have been—nothing!
 ON CANT AND HYPOCRISY

A Fragment
The London Weekly Review.]
[December 6, 1828.
‘If to do were as easy as to teach others what were good to be done, chapels had
been churches, and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces.’

Mr. Addison, it is said, was fond of tippling; and Curl, it is added,

when he called on him in the morning, used to ask as a particular
favour for a glass of Canary, by way of ingratiating himself, and that
the other might have a pretence to join him and finish the bottle. He
fell a martyr to this habit, and yet (some persons more nice than wise
exclaim,) he desired that the young Earl of Warwick might attend
him on his death-bed, ‘to see how a Christian could die!’ I see no
inconsistency nor hypocrisy in this. A man may be a good Christian,
a sound believer, and a sincere lover of virtue, and have,
notwithstanding, one or more failings. If he had recommended it to
others to get drunk, then I should have said he was a hypocrite, and
that his pretended veneration for the Christian religion was a mere
cloak put on to suit the purposes of fashion or convenience. His
doing what it condemned was no proof of any such thing: ‘The spirit
was willing, but the flesh was weak.’ He is a hypocrite who professes
what he does not believe; not he who does not practice all he wishes
or approves. It might on the same ground be argued, that a man is a
hypocrite who admires Raphael or Shakespeare, because he cannot
paint like the one, or write like the other. If any one really despised
what he affected outwardly to admire, this would be hypocrisy. If he
affected to admire it a great deal more than he really did, this would
be cant. Sincerity has to do with the connexion between our words
and thoughts, and not between our belief and actions. The last
constantly belie the strongest convictions and resolutions in the best
of men; it is only the base and dishonest who give themselves credit
with their tongue, for sentiments and opinions which in their hearts
they disown.
I do not therefore think that the old theological maxim—‘The
greater the sinner, the greater the saint’—is so utterly unfounded.
There is some mixture of truth in it. For as long as man is composed
of two parts, body and soul; and while these are allowed to pull
different ways, I see no reason why, in proportion to the length the
one goes, the opposition or reaction of the other should not be more
violent. It is certain, for example, that no one makes such good
resolutions as the sot and the gambler in their moments of
repentance, or can be more impressed with the horrors of their
situation;—should this disposition, instead of a transient, idle pang,
by chance become lasting, who can be supposed to feel the beauty of
temperance and economy more, or to look back with greater
gratitude to their escape from the trammels of vice and passion?
Would the ingenious and elegant author of the Spectator feel less
regard for the Scriptures, because they denounced in pointed terms
the infirmity that ‘most easily beset him,’ that was the torment of his
life, and the cause of his death? Such reasoning would be true, if man
was a simple animal or a logical machine, and all his faculties and
impulses were in strict unison; instead of which they are eternally at
variance, and no one hates or takes part against himself more
heartily or heroically than does the same individual. Does he not pass
sentence on his own conduct? Is not his conscience both judge and
accuser? What else is the meaning of all our resolutions against
ourselves, as well as of our exhortations to others? Video meliora
proboque, deteriora sequor, is not the language of hypocrisy, but of
human nature.
The hypocrisy of priests has been a butt for ridicule in all ages; but
I am not sure that there has not been more wit than philosophy in it.
A priest, it is true, is obliged to affect a greater degree of sanctity than
ordinary men, and probably more than he possesses; and this is so
far, I am willing to allow, hypocrisy and solemn grimace. But I
cannot admit, that though he may exaggerate, or even make an
ostentatious display of religion and virtue through habit and spiritual
pride, that this is a proof he has not these sentiments in his heart, or
that his whole behaviour is the mere acting of a part. His character,
his motives, are not altogether pure and sincere: are they therefore
all false and hollow? No such thing. It is contrary to all our
observation and experience so to interpret it. We all wear some
disguise—make some professions—use some artifice to set ourselves
off as being better than we are; and yet it is not denied that we have
some good intentions and praiseworthy qualities at bottom, though
we may endeavour to keep some others that we think less to our
credit as much as possible in the back-ground:—why then should we
not extend the same favourable construction to monks and friars,
who may be sometimes caught tripping as well as other men—with
less excuse, no doubt; but if it is also with greater remorse of
conscience, which probably often happens, their pretensions are not
all downright, barefaced imposture. Their sincerity, compared with
that of other men, can only be judged of by the proportion between
the degree of virtue they profess, and that which they practice, or at
least carefully seek to realise. To conceive it otherwise, is to insist
that characters must be all perfect, or all vicious—neither of which
suppositions is even possible. If a clergyman is notoriously a
drunkard, a debauchee, a glutton, or a scoffer, then for him to lay
claim at the same time to extraordinary inspirations of faith or grace,
is both scandalous and ridiculous. The scene between the Abbot and
the poor brother in the ‘Duenna’ is an admirable exposure of this
double-faced dealing. But because a parson has a relish for the good
things of this life, or what is commonly called a liquorish tooth in his
head, (beyond what he would have it supposed by others, or even by
himself,) that he has therefore no fear or belief of the next, I hold for
a crude and vulgar prejudice. If a poor half-starved parish priest pays
his court to an olla podrida, or a venison pasty, with uncommon
gusto, shall we say that he has no other sentiments in offering his
devotions to a crucifix, or in counting his beads? I see no more
ground for such an inference, than for affirming that Handel was not
in earnest when he sat down to compose a Symphony, because he
had at the same time perhaps a bottle of cordials in his cupboard; or
that Raphael was not entitled to the epithet of divine, because he was
attached to the Fornarina! Everything has its turn in this chequered
scene of things, unless we prevent it from taking its turn by over-
rigid conditions, or drive men to despair or the most callous
effrontery, by erecting a standard of perfection, to which no one can
conform in reality! Thomson, in his ‘Castle of Indolence,’ (a subject
on which his pen ran riot,) has indulged in rather a free description
of ‘a little round, fat, oily man of God—
‘Who shone all glittering with ungodly dew,
If a tight damsel chanced to trippen by;
Which, when observed, he shrunk into his mew,
And straight would recollect his piety anew.’

Now, was the piety in this case the less real, because it had been
forgotten for a moment? Or even if this motive should not prove the
strongest in the end, would this therefore show that it was none,
which is necessary to the argument here combated, or to make out
our little plump priest a very knave! A priest may be honest, and yet
err; as a woman may be modest, and yet half-inclined to be a rake. So
the virtue of prudes may be suspected, though not their sincerity.
The strength of their passions may make them more conscious of
their weakness, and more cautious of exposing themselves; but not
more to blind others than as a guard upon themselves. Again,
suppose a clergyman hazards a jest upon sacred subjects, does it
follow that he does not believe a word of the matter? Put the case
that any one else, encouraged by his example, takes up the banter or
levity, and see what effect it will have upon the reverend divine. He
will turn round like a serpent trod upon, with all the vehemence and
asperity of the most bigoted orthodoxy. Is this dictatorial and
exclusive spirit then put on merely as a mask and to browbeat
others? No; but he thinks he is privileged to trifle with the subject
safely himself, from the store of evidence he has in reserve, and from
the nature of his functions; but he is afraid of serious consequences
being drawn from what others might say, or from his seeming to
countenance it; and the moment the Church is in danger, or his own
faith brought in question, his attachment to each becomes as visible
as his hatred to those who dare to impugn either the one or the other.
A woman’s attachment to her husband is not to be suspected, if she
will allow no one to abuse him but herself! It has been remarked,
that with the spread of liberal opinions, or a more general scepticism
on articles of faith, the clergy and religious persons in general have
become more squeamish and jealous of any objections to their
favourite doctrines: but this is what must follow in the natural course
of things—the resistance being always in proportion to the danger;
and arguments and books that were formerly allowed to pass
unheeded, because it was supposed impossible they could do any
mischief, are now denounced or prohibited with the most zealous
vigilance, from a knowledge of the contagious nature of their
influence and contents. So in morals, it is obvious that the greatest
nicety of expression and allusion must be observed, where the
manners are the most corrupt, and the imagination most easily
excited, not out of mere affectation, but as a dictate of common sense
and decency.
One of the finest remarks that has been made in modern times, is
that of Lord Shaftesbury, that there is no such thing as a perfect
Theist, or an absolute Atheist; that whatever may be the general
conviction entertained on the subject, the evidence is not and cannot
be at all times equally present to the mind; that even if it were, we
are not in the same humour to receive it: a fit of the gout, a shower of
rain shakes our best-established conclusions; and according to
circumstances and the frame of mind we are in, our belief varies
from the most sanguine enthusiasm to lukewarm indifference, or the
most gloomy despair. There is a point of conceivable faith which
might prevent any lapse from virtue, and reconcile all contrarieties
between theory and practice; but this is not to be looked for in the
ordinary course of nature, and is reserved for the abodes of the blest.
Here, ‘upon this bank and shoal of time,’ the utmost we can hope to
attain is, a strong habitual belief in the excellence of virtue, or the
dispensations of Providence; and the conflict of the passions, and
their occasional mastery over us, far from disproving or destroying
this general, rational conviction, often fling us back more forcibly
upon it, and like other infidelities and misunderstandings, produce
all the alternate remorse and raptures of repentance and
reconciliation.
It has been frequently remarked that the most obstinate heretic or
confirmed sceptic, witnessing the service of the Roman Catholic
church, the elevation of the host amidst the sounds of music, the
pomp of ceremonies, the embellishments of art, feels himself spell-
bound: and is almost persuaded to become a renegade to his reason
or his religion. Even in hearing a vespers chaunted on the stage, or in
reading an account of a torch-light procession in a romance, a
superstitious awe creeps over the frame, and we are momentarily
charmed out of ourselves. When such is the obvious and involuntary
influence of circumstances on the imagination, shall we say that a
monkish recluse surrounded from his childhood by all this pomp, a
stranger to any other faith, who has breathed no other atmosphere,
and all whose meditations are bent on this one subject both by
interest and habit and duty, is to be set down as a rank and heartless
mountebank in the professions he makes of belief in it, because his
thoughts may sometimes wander to forbidden subjects, or his feet
stumble on forbidden ground? Or shall not the deep shadows of the
woods in Vallombrosa enhance the solemnity of this feeling, or the
icy horrors of the Grand Chartreux add to its elevation and its purity?
To argue otherwise is to misdeem of human nature, and to limit its
capacities for good or evil by some narrow-minded standard of our
own. Man is neither a God nor a brute; but there is a prosaic and a
poetical side to everything concerning him, and it is as impossible
absolutely and for a constancy to exclude either one or the other
from the mind, as to make him live without air or food. The ideal, the
empire of thought and aspiration after truth and good, is inseparable
from the nature of an intellectual being—what right have we then to
catch at every strife which in the mortified professors of religion the
spirit wages with the flesh as grossly vicious, or at every doubt, the
bare suggestion of which fills them with consternation and despair,
as a proof of the most glaring hypocrisy? The grossnesses of religion
and its stickling for mere forms as its essence, have given a handle,
and a just one, to its impugners. At the feast of Ramadan (says
Voltaire) the Mussulmans wash and pray five times a day, and then
fall to cutting one another’s throats again with the greatest
deliberation and good-will. The two things, I grant, are sufficiently at
variance; but they are, I contend, equally sincere in both. The
Mahometans are savages, but they are not the less true believers—
they hate their enemies as heartily as they revere the Koran. This,
instead of showing the fallacy of the ideal principle, shows its
universality and indestructible essence. Let a man be as bad as he
will, as little refined as possible, and indulge whatever hurtful
passions or gross vices he thinks proper, these cannot occupy the
whole of his time; and in the intervals between one scoundrel action
and another he may and must have better thoughts, and may have
recourse to those of religion (true or false) among the number,
without in this being guilty of hypocrisy or of making a jest of what is
considered as sacred. This, I take it, is the whole secret of
Methodism, which is a sort of modern vent for the ebullitions of the
spirit through the gaps of unrighteousness.
We often see that a person condemns in another the very thing he
is guilty of himself. Is this hypocrisy? It may, or it may not. If he
really feels none of the disgust and abhorrence he expresses, this is
quackery and impudence. But if he really expresses what he feels,
(and he easily may, for it is the abstract idea he contemplates in the
case of another, and the immediate temptation to which he yields in
his own, so that he probably is not even conscious of the identity or
connexion between the two,) then this is not hypocrisy, but want of
strength and keeping in the moral sense. All morality consists in
squaring our actions and sentiments to our ideas of what is fit and
proper; and it is the incessant struggle and alternate triumph of the
two principles, the ideal and the physical, that keeps up this ‘mighty
coil and pudder’ about vice and virtue, and is one great source of all
the good and evil in the world. The mind of man is like a clock that is
always running down, and requires to be as constantly wound up.
The ideal principle is the master-key that winds it up, and without
which it would come to a stand: the sensual and selfish feelings are
the dead weights that pull it down to the gross and grovelling. Till the
intellectual faculty is destroyed, (so that the mind sees nothing
beyond itself, or the present moment,) it is impossible to have all
brutal depravity: till the material and physical are done away with,
(so that it shall contemplate everything from a purely spiritual and
disinterested point of view,) it is impossible to have all virtue. There
must be a mixture of the two, as long as man is compounded of
opposite materials, a contradiction and an eternal competition for
the mastery. I by no means think a single bad action condemns a
man, for he probably condemns it as much as you do; nor a single
bad habit, for he is probably trying all his life to get rid of it. A man is
only thoroughly profligate when he has lost the sense of right and
wrong; or a thorough hypocrite, when he has not even the wish to be
what he appears. The greatest offence against virtue is to speak ill of
it. To recommend certain things is worse than to practise them.
There may be an excuse for the last in the frailty of passion; but the
former can arise from nothing but an utter depravity of disposition.
Any one may yield to temptation, and yet feel a sincere love and
aspiration after virtue: but he who maintains vice in theory, has not
even the conception or capacity for virtue in his mind. Men err:
fiends only make a mock at goodness.
 THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED

The London Weekly Review.]

[December 13, 1828.

We sometimes deceive ourselves, and think worse of human

nature than it deserves, in consequence of judging of character from
names, and classes, and modes of life. No one is simply and
absolutely any one thing, though he may be branded with it as a
name. Some persons have expected to see his crimes written in the
face of a murderer, and have been disappointed because they did not,
as if this impeached the distinction between virtue and vice. Not at
all. The circumstance only showed that the man was other things,
and had other feelings besides those of a murderer. If he had nothing
else,—if he had fed on nothing else,—if he had dreamt of nothing
else, but schemes of murder, his features would have expressed
nothing else: but this perfection in vice is not to be expected from the
contradictory and mixed nature of our motives. Humanity is to be
met with in a den of robbers; nay, modesty in a brothel. Even among
the most abandoned of the other sex, there is not unfrequently found
to exist (contrary to all that is generally supposed) one strong and
individual attachment, which remains unshaken to the last. Virtue
may be said to steal, like a guilty thing, into the secret haunts of vice
and infamy; it clings to their devoted victim, and will not be driven
quite away. Nothing can destroy the human heart. Again, there is a
heroism in crime, as well as in virtue. Vice and infamy have also their
altars and their religion. This makes nothing in their favour, but is a
proof of the heroical disinterestedness of man’s nature, and that
whatever he does, he must fling a dash of romance and sublimity into
it; just as some grave biographer has said of Shakespeare, that ‘even
when he killed a calf, he made a speech and did it in a great style.’
 It is then impossible to get rid of this original distinction and
contradictory bias, and to reduce everything to the system of French
levity and Epicurean indifference. Wherever there is a capacity of
conceiving of things as different from what they are, there must be a
principle of taste and selection—a disposition to make them better,
and a power to make them worse. Ask a Parisian milliner if she does
not think one bonnet more becoming than another—a Parisian
dancing-master if French grace is not better than English
awkwardness—a French cook if all sauces are alike—a French
blacklegs if all throws are equal on the dice? It is curious that the
French nation restrict rigid rules and fixed principles to cookery and
the drama, and maintain that the great drama of human life is
entirely a matter of caprice and fancy. No one will assert that
Raphael’s histories, that Claude’s landscapes are not better than a
daub: but if the expression in one of Raphael’s faces is better than
the most mean and vulgar, how resist the consequence that the
feeling so expressed is better also? It does not appear to me that all
faces or all actions are alike. If goodness were only a theory, it were a
pity it should be lost to the world. There are a number of things, the
idea of which is a clear gain to the mind. Let people, for instance, rail
at friendship, genius, freedom, as long as they will—the very names
of these despised qualities are better than anything else that could be
substituted for them, and embalm even the most envenomed satire
against them. It is no small consideration that the mind is capable
even of feigning such things. So I would contend against that
reasoning which would have it thought that if religion is not true,
there is no difference between mankind and the beasts that perish;—
I should say, that this distinction is equally proved, if religion is
supposed to be a mere fabrication of the human mind; the capacity
to conceive it makes the difference. The idea alone of an over-ruling
Providence, or of a future state, is as much a distinctive mark of a
superiority of nature, as the invention of the mathematics, which are
true,—or of poetry, which is a fable. Whatever the truth or falsehood
of our speculations, the power to make them is peculiar to ourselves.
The contrariety and warfare of different faculties and dispositions
within us has not only given birth to the Manichean and Gnostic
heresies, and to other superstitions of the East, but will account for
many of the mummeries and dogmas both of Popery and Calvinism,
—confession, absolution, justification by faith, &c.; which, in the
hopelessness of attaining perfection, and our dissatisfaction with
ourselves for falling short of it, are all substitutes for actual virtue,
and an attempt to throw the burthen of a task, to which we are
unequal or only half disposed, on the merits of others, or on outward
forms, ceremonies, and professions of faith. Hence the crowd of
‘Eremites and friars,
White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery.’

If we do not conform to the law, we at least acknowledge the

jurisdiction of the court. A person does wrong; he is sorry for it; and
as he still feels himself liable to error, he is desirous to make
atonement as well as he can, by ablutions, by tithes, by penance, by
sacrifices, or other voluntary demonstrations of obedience, which are
in his power, though his passions are not, and which prove that his
will is not refractory, and that his understanding is right towards
God. The stricter tenets of Calvinism, which allow of no medium
between grace and reprobation, and doom man to eternal
punishment for every breach of the moral law, as an equal offence
against infinite truth and justice, proceed (like the paradoxical
doctrine of the Stoics) from taking a half-view of this subject, and
considering man as amenable only to the dictates of his
understanding and his conscience, and not excusable from the
temptations and frailty of human ignorance and passion. The mixing
up of religion and morality together, or the making us accountable
for every word, thought, or action, under no less a responsibility than
our everlasting future welfare or misery, has also added incalculably
to the difficulties of self-knowledge, has superinduced a violent and
spurious state of feeling, and made it almost impossible to
distinguish the boundaries between the true and false, in judging of
human conduct and motives. A religious man is afraid of looking into
the state of his soul, lest at the same time he should reveal it to
Heaven; and tries to persuade himself that by shutting his eyes to his
true character and feelings, they will remain a profound secret both
here and hereafter. This is a strong engine and irresistible
inducement to self-deception; and the more zealous any one is in his
convictions of the truth of religion, the more we may suspect the
sincerity of his pretensions to piety and morality.
 Thus, though I think there is very little downright hypocrisy in the
world, I do think there is a great deal of cant—‘cant religious, cant
political, cant literary,’ &c. as Lord Byron said. Though few people
have the face to set up for the very thing they in their hearts despise,
we almost all want to be thought better than we are, and affect a
greater admiration or abhorrence of certain things than we really
feel. Indeed, some degree of affectation is as necessary to the mind as
dress is to the body; we must overact our part in some measure, in
order to produce any effect at all. There was formerly the two hours’
sermon, the long-winded grace, the nasal drawl, the uplifted hands
and eyes; all which, though accompanied with some corresponding
emotion, expressed more than was really felt, and were in fact
intended to make up for the conscious deficiency. As our interest in
anything wears out with time and habit, we exaggerate the outward
symptoms of zeal as mechanical helps to devotion, dwell the longer
on our words as they are less felt, and hence the very origin of the
term, cant. The cant of sentimentality has succeeded to that of
religion. There is a cant of humanity, of patriotism and loyalty—not
that people do not feel these emotions, but they make too great a fuss
about them, and drawl out the expression of them till they tire
themselves and others. There is a cant about Shakespeare. There is a
cant about Political Economy just now. In short, there is and must be
a cant about everything that excites a considerable degree of
attention and interest, and that people would be thought to know
and care rather more about than they actually do. Cant is the
voluntary overcharging or prolongation of a real sentiment;
hypocrisy is the setting up a pretension to a feeling you never had
and have no wish for. Mr. Coleridge is made up of cant, that is, of
mawkish affectation and sensibility; but he has not sincerity enough
to be a hypocrite, that is, he has not hearty dislike or contempt
enough for anything, to give the lie to his puling professions of
admiration and esteem for it. The fuss that Mr. Liberal Snake makes
about Political Economy is not cant, but what Mr. Theodore Hook
politely calls humbug; he himself is hardly the dupe of his own
pompous reasoning, but he wishes to make it the stalking-horse of
his ambition or interest to sneak into a place and curry favour with
the Government....
 POETRY

The Atlas.]
[March 8, 1829.

As there are two kinds of rhyme, one that is rhyme to the ear, and
another to the eye only; so there may be said to be two kinds of
poetry, one that is a description of objects to those who have never
seen or but slightly studied them; the other is a description of objects
addressed to those who have seen and are intimately acquainted with
them, and expressing the feeling which is the result of such
knowledge. It is needless to add that the first kind of poetry is
comparatively superficial and common-place; the last profound,
lofty, nay often divine. Take an example (one out of a thousand) from
Shakspeare. In enumerating the wished-for contents of her basket of
flowers, Perdita in the Winter’s Tale mentions among others——
‘Daffodils
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes
Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses
That die unmarried ere they can behold
Bright Phœbus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids.’

This passage which knocks down John Bull with its perfumed and
melting softness, and savours of ‘that fine madness which our first
poets had,’ is a mystery, an untranslateable language, to all France:
Racine could not have conceived what it was about—the stupidest
Englishman feels a certain pride and pleasure in it. What a privilege
(if that were all) to be born on this the cloudy and poetical side of the
Channel! We may in part clear up this contradiction in tastes by the
clue above given. The French are more apt at taking the patterns of
their ideas from words; we, who are slower and heavier, are obliged
to look closer at things before we can pronounce upon them at all,
which in the end perhaps opens a larger field both of observation and
fancy. Thus the phrase ‘violets dim,’ to those who have never seen
the object, or who, having paid no attention to it, refer to the
description for their notion of it, seems to convey a slur rather than a
compliment, dimness being no beauty in itself; so this part of the
story would not have been ventured upon in French or tinsel poetry.
But to those who have seen, and been as it were enamoured of the
little hedge-row candidate for applause, looking at it again and again
(as misers contemplate their gold—as fine ladies hang over their
jewels), till its image has sunk into the soul, what other word is there
that (far from putting the reader out of conceit with it) so well recals
its deep purple glow, its retired modesty, its sullen, conscious
beauty? Those who have not seen the flower cannot form an idea of
its character, nor understand the line without it. Its aspect is dull,
obtuse, faint, absorbed; but at the same time soft, luxurious, proud,
and full of meaning. People who look at nature without being
sensible to these distinctions and contrarieties of feeling, had better
(instead of the flower) look only at the label on the stalk.
Connoisseurs in French wines pretend to know all these depths and
refinements of taste, though connoisseurs in French poetry pretend
to know them not. To return to our text——
‘Violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes
Or Cytherea’s breath.’

How bizarre! cries one hypercritic. What far-fetched metaphors!

exclaims another. We shall not dwell on the allusion to ‘Cytherea’s
breath,’ it is obvious enough: but how can the violet’s smell be said to
be ‘sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes?’ Oh! honeyed words, how ill
understood! And is there no true and rooted analogy between our
different sensations, as well as a positive and literal identity? Is there
not a sugared, melting, half-sleepy look in some eyelids, like the
luscious, languid smell of flowers? How otherwise express that air of
scorn and tenderness which breathes from them? Is there not a
balmy dew upon them which one would kiss off? Speak, ye lovers! if
any such remain in these degenerate days to take the part of genuine
poetry against cold, barren criticism; for poetry is nothing but an
intellectual love——Nature is the poet’s mistress, and the heart in his
case lends words and harmonious utterance to the tongue.——Again,
how full of truth and pity is the turn which is given to the description
of the pale and faded primrose, watching for the sun’s approach as
for the torch of Hymen! Milton has imitated this not so well in
‘cowslips wan that hang the pensive head.’ Cowslips are of a gold
colour, rather than wan. In speaking of the daffodils, it seems as if
our poet had been struck with these ‘lowly children of the ground’ on
their first appearance, and seeing what bright and unexpected guests
they were at that cold, comfortless season, wondered how ‘they came
before the swallow (the harbinger of summer) dared,’ and being the
only lovely thing in nature, fancied the winds of March were taken
with them, and tamed their fury at the sight. No one but a poet who
has spent his youth in the company of nature could so describe it, as
no reader who has not experienced the same elementary sensations,
their combinations and contrasts, can properly enter into it when so
described. The finest poetry, then, is not a paradox nor a trite
paraphrase; but a bold and happy enunciation of truths and feelings
deeply implanted in the mind——Apollo, the god of poetry and day,
evolving the thoughts of the breast, as he does the seed from the
frozen earth, or enables the flower to burst its folds. Poetry is,
indeed, a fanciful structure; but a fanciful structure raised on the
ground-work of the strongest and most intimate associations of our
ideas: otherwise, it is good for nothing, vox et preterea nihil. A literal
description goes for nothing in poetry, a pure fiction is of as little
worth; but it is the extreme beauty and power of an impression with
all its accompaniments, or the very intensity and truth of feeling, that
pushes the poet over the verge of matter-of-fact, and justifies him in
resorting to the licence of fiction to express what without his ‘winged
words’ must have remained for ever untold. Thus the feeling of the
contrast between the roughness and bleakness of the winds of March
and the tenderness and beauty of the flowers of spring is already in
the reader’s mind, if he be an observer of nature: the poet, to show
the utmost extent and conceivable effect of this contrast, feigns that
the winds themselves are sensible of it and smit with the beauty on
which they commit such rude assaults. Lord Byron, whose
imagination was not of this compound character, and more wilful
than natural, produced splendid exaggerations. Mr. Shelley, who felt
the want of originality without the power to supply it, distorted every
thing from what it was, and his pen produced only abortions. The
one would say that the sun was a ‘ball of dazzling fire;’ the other, not
knowing what to say, but determined ‘to elevate and surprize,’ would
swear that it was black. This latter class of poetry may be
denominated the Apocalyptical.
 ENGLISH GRAMMAR

The Atlas.]
[March 15, 1829.

This is one of those subjects on which the human understanding

has played the fool, almost as egregiously, though with less dire
consequences, than on many others; or rather one on which it has
not chosen to exert itself at all, being hoodwinked and led blindfold
by mere precedent and authority. Scholars who have made and
taught from English grammars were previously and systematically
initiated in the Greek and Latin tongues, so that they have, without
deigning to notice the difference, taken the rules of the latter and
applied them indiscriminately and dogmatically to the former. As
well might they pretend that there is a dual number in the Latin
language because there is one in the Greek.
The Definitions alone are able to corrupt a whole generation of
ingenuous youth. They seem calculated for no other purpose than to
mystify and stultify the understanding, and to inoculate it betimes
with a due portion of credulity and verbal sophistry. After repeating
them by rote, to maintain that two and two makes five is easy, and a
thing of course. What appears most extraordinary is that
notwithstanding the complete exposure of their fallacy and nonsense
by Horne Tooke and others, the same system and method of
instruction should be persisted in; and that grammar succeeds
grammar and edition edition, re-echoing the same point-blank
contradictions and shallow terms. Establishments and endowments
of learning (which subsist on a ‘foregone conclusion’) may have
something to do with it; independently of which, and for each
person’s individual solace, the more senseless the absurdity and the
longer kept up, the more reluctant does the mind seem to part with
it, whether in the greatest things or mere trifles and technicalities;
for in the latter, as the retracting an error could produce no startling
sensation, and be accompanied with no redeeming enthusiasm, its
detection must be a pure loss and pitiful mortification. One might
suppose, that out of so many persons as have their attention directed
to this subject, some few would find out their mistake and protest
against the common practice; but the greater the number of
professional labourers in the vineyard, who seek not truth but a
livelihood, and can pay with words more currently than with things,
the less chance must there be of this, since the majority will always
set their faces against it, and insist upon the old Mumpsimus in
preference to the new Sumpsimus. A schoolmaster who should go so
far out of his way as to take the Diversions of Purley for a text-book,
would be regarded by his brethren of the rod as ‘a man of Ind,’ and
would soon have the dogs of the village bark at him. It is said without
blushing, by both masters and ushers who do not chuse to be ‘wise
above what is written,’ that a noun is the name of a thing, i.e.
substance, as if love, honour, colour, were the names of substances.
An adjective is defined to be the name of a quality; and yet in the
expressions, a gold snuff-box, a wooden spoon, an iron chest, &c.,
the words gold, wooden, iron, are allowed by all these profound
writers, grammarians, and logicians, to be essentially adjectives. A
verb is likewise defined to be a word denoting being, action, or
suffering; and yet the words being, action, suffering (or passion), are
all substantives; so that these words cannot be supposed to have any
reference to the things whose names they bear, if it be the peculiar
and sole office of the verb to denote them. If a system were made in
burlesque and purposely to call into question and expose its own
nakedness, it could not go beyond this, which is gravely taught in all
seminaries, and patiently learnt by all school-boys as an exercise and
discipline of the intellectual faculties. Again, it is roundly asserted
that there are six cases (why not seven?) in the English language;
and a case is defined to be a peculiar termination or inflection added
to a noun to show its position in the sentence. Now in the Latin
language there are no doubt a number of cases, inasmuch as there
are a number of inflections;[56] and for the same reason (if words
have a meaning) in the English Language there are none, or only one,
the genitive; because if we except this, there is no inflection or
variety whatever in the terminations. Thus to instance in the present