Rating: R. A couple of sex scenes.

Her cheeks pink from the crisp spring morning, Dora kicked off her muddy shoes and headed for the kitchen, where she smelt the inevitable bacon and eggs crackling away in Slugger's frying pan as she washed her hands.

Less inevitable was the airmail letter propped up on the pepperpot in front of her plate. "A letter from Uncle Geoffrey!" Dora ripped it open and sipped thoughtfully at her tea while she digested its contents.

"How's 'e goin' then?" said Slugger, sliding eggs onto four plates and watching Steve and Ron walk across the yard after feeding the horses.

"He's coming home, Slugs!" A huge smile split Dora's face. "He's been away almost a eighteen months. Oh, I HAVE missed him!"

"He'll see some changes," muttered Slugger, wondering what the Colonel would say when he knew Steve had moved into his favourite niece's bedroom.

"So will we, it seems. He's bringing someone with him. A woman he's been seeing." Dora frowned. "How funny he hasn't mentioned her in other letters."

"A French woman?" Slugger snorted. "Can't see it meself." "Love does funny things to you, Slugs." Dora smiled at Steve as he sat down. "The Colonel's coming home. Next week."

They looked at each other silently. Dora's joy at her uncle's return diminished as she read what was in Steve's eyes: what will this mean for us and the way we've been running things?

"I'm glad," Steve said finally. "Glad he's fit and well and coming back. And his lady love will probably keep him busy. With luck he won't interfere here too much."

"Watch it, young Steve," warned Slugger. "He's the Colonel. The COLONEL." The Colonel was Slugger's hero; in WWII Slugger had been his batman, and stuck to him through thick and thin. Nothing, in Slugger's view, had changed in the last 30 years. Dora may be Mistress of Follyfoot but the Colonel was Slugger's king.

"When's he coming?" Steve swallowed a crispy slice of bacon with an effort.

Dora said slowly: "Next week." One more week to be in sole charge of Follyfoot. One more week to be her own boss. After so long on her own, Dora wished - unkindly - her favourite uncle would choose to stay in France.

"Next week, she says. Better get Ron started on sweeping the yard now," said Slugger to his plate. "It'll take him that long to finish it."

* * *

The keys to the red sports car had been left in the Colonel's house. The house had been cleaned, the kitchen stocked, the dustcovers taken from the furniture, and it only waited for life to breath into it again.

Dora walked through the echoing rooms. Much as it was a beautiful house, it wasn't her. She wondered idly whether the French woman would like it, traditionally English as it was, with fine Georgian lines in its architecture and rooms designed for Jane Austen heroines to do their needlework in.

The cleaners had done a good job. The Colonel's usual 'daily', Mrs Makepeace, who had cleaned the house on a reasonably regular basis (apart from cobwebs) for the last year, had been ill with the 'flu, and Dora had engaged a couple to attack the house from top to bottom.

She had elected to wait for the Colonel alone, which was fine by Steve. He'd always felt uncomfortable in the Colonel's house, the few times he'd been in it. She was aware that, faced with meeting his old boss in his old boss's house, he still felt like the stable boy; she knew he was far more than that, and that she couldn't run Follyfoot without him. Couldn't enjoy life without him, if she was honest with herself, despite their frequent disagreements.

Finally, after several decades had passed and Dora had worn a bored path from the formal sitting room to the morning room to the kitchen and back again, the local taxi pulled up with a rattle of gravel.

Hiding carefully in the shadows behind the curtains, Dora saw an old man stretch himself out of the back seat, and realised with a shock it was her uncle.

Even with the south of France suntan, the Colonel looked frail, and leaned on his shooting stick as if he relied on it. His hair had leached from iron grey to almost white, and deep lines ran from his nose down each side of his mouth.

"Uncle Geoffrey…" Dora sighed. From the look of it, he wouldn't be making many changes at Follyfoot or challenging her rule. He looked more suited to life in a bath chair, and Dora's heart leaped with a pang of sorrow and guilt and love.

From the other side of the taxi a vision of Paris unbent unfairly long legs. Dora thought she was about forty; polished in that way French women are. The sort that can wear a chaff sack and make it look like it cost a thousand pounds. No chaff sack here, though. She wore a pale pink mini trenchcoat over a pale pink mini dress, and Dora's expensive education told her that the ensemble probably made a reasonable dent in the Colonel's monthly income. Her hair was blonde, teased into a thick, lacquered bob and swept back from her immaculately made-up, rather haughty face. Dora was uncomfortably aware of her jeans and sweater; clean but no match for Madame.
Dora hated her on sight.

There was something about her manner that didn't ring true of a woman in love. A fleeting look on her face, a disdain until the Colonel turned to her, and then a smile that maybe met her eyes, but Dora was too far away to be sure.

The cabbie unloaded several large suitcases from the boot and the front passenger seat, and Dora padded quietly to the front door and opened it.

The Colonel's face broke into a wide smile, and he looked so much younger, more like himself, Dora couldn't help but smile herself and rush down the stairs into his arms to hug him. "Uncle Geoffrey! Welcome back!"

His arms were tight around her, trembling slightly. "I've missed you. I've missed home," he muttered. "It's so good to be here again at last." Finally he let her go and gazed into her face. "You look so well, Dora, which is more than I can say for me. Obviously running Follyfoot agrees with you."

Before she could reply there was a horse-like harrumph from behind the Colonel.

"Ah, Dora, my dear. This is my lovely Claudine, my fiancée."

Fiancee! Dora bit back a gasp. "H-hello," she managed shyly. Claudine didn't smile back, she inclined her head in a gesture that belonged to the very tall.

"'Ello," she said, and Dora wondered if that was all the English she knew.

She soon found out that wasn't the case, as Claudine, supervising the carrying of her luggage (monogrammed of course), kept up a non-stop list of instructions to the cabbie.

"First floor, first door on the left darling," called the Colonel after her retreating back. "That's the master bedroom."

He sighed, looking at the familiar view from the sitting room; rolling green hills, hundred year old trees, horses grazing in the fields as they'd done for living memory. "For a few months, Dora, I never thought I'd see this again. Two things made a difference. The climate in the south of France, and Claudine. I don't know which one was the more beneficial. I still gets bouts of illness, but I hope that plain English cooking can fix that." He wiped something that suspiciously looked like tears from his eyes, and Dora suddenly found the fireplace fascinating.

In the silence she could hear Claudine giving orders on the first floor. How would Mrs Makepeace cope with her, she wondered.

"Let's go to Follyfoot," the Colonel said. "There hasn't been a day when I've forgotten it, or wondered what's really been going on."

"I've been writing!"

"Yes, lots of details about new horses, old horses, and horses in general, but no details about why you have a glow about you. Is it Steve?"

He might have been ill, but he was still perceptive. Dora blushed.

* * *

"I met her nine months ago," the Colonel said, the wind whipping red into his brown cheeks as Dora roared the sports car along the lanes.

"Lots of details about the South of France, but no details about the love in your life," mimicked Dora.

"I wanted to be sure it wasn't just a passing fancy, not just a lovely young, beautiful woman having a fleeting fling with an old man."

A rich, suddenly old, only middle-aged man, Dora thought, but didn't say it.

"You're not OLD! And why wouldn't she fall in love with you? I'm surprised you weren't married years ago," Dora said warmly. She meant it.

"I'm too much of an old codger to change. But in France, it was different. I didn't have the farm or my horses. Claudine came along at the right time."

"And how do you think she'll manage here in England, when you're back with your farm and your horses and Follyfoot and all the other things that take up your time?"

"It will be fine," the Colonel said firmly. "Realistically, I can't do all I used to do. The estate manager will still look after the farm as he's done for the last year. And you'll still be in charge of Follyfoot. I intend to enjoy retirement. And love. Both. Anyway, Claudine rides. I know you'll get on well with her. I'll buy her a horse and the two of you can have great fun hacking about together."

Dora didn't point out that she usually didn't have much time these days for hacking about the countryside. And if she did, it was usually with Steve. Somehow she couldn't image Claudine with her haughty face and Paris clothes providing great fun. Thankfully the Follyfoot gate was looming in front of them, and Slugger was running - RUNNING - down to open it, bow legs flying, his vest flapping open and a grin splitting his face in half.

"Welcome home, Colonel sir!" he yelled over the sports car's throaty roar. He wrung the Colonel's hand so firmly Dora nearly stalled the engine waiting for him to stop.

Ron and Steve's welcome was nothing compared to the horses. Old heads poked out, ears pricked, then the yard echoed with whinny after whinny, the rattle of bolts and the thump of hooves against doors.

The Weaver, in one fluid motion, opened his bolt and the stable door, and trotted on stiff legs to the Colonel's side, sniffing him from head to foot, his bones almost creaking.

The Colonel dropped his shooting stuff and held onto the horse's neck. "The south of France can't compare to this."

The Weaver stayed at the Colonel's side while he went to each stable in turn, greeting his old friends and meeting Dora's new rescues. The Colonel's eyes weren't the only damp ones. Slugger had tears running down his face, and Dora was moved to a sniffle as she watched her uncle. Ron had diplomatically disappeared and she heard him blowing his nose loudly in the tack room. Steve was simply and openly pleased to see the Colonel back, but concerned about his health.

"You don't look well."

"Better than I was, Steve, better than I was. And now I'm home I'll be back to normal in no time. Claudine will see to that. I'll have to teach her to make Yorkshire puddings though."

"Can't wait to see that," muttered Dora. The vision of Claudine fighting the Aga in the big house's kitchen made her tears clear up in no time and she fought back a smirk.

At last the Colonel sat in the office in the farmhouse. He noticed his old office chair, ancient leather that had melded itself to his shape over many years, now had a dent in its cushion more suited to Dora's small behind than his own. He felt a momentary sadness - a chapter in his life closed - but relief that Follyfoot was in good hands.

Dora and Steve sat in the office while the Colonel studied Dora's bookkeeping. "We're still doing okay I see. Look, you two, I know you must be worried that I'm going to come back after all your hard work and take over Follyfoot again -"

Dora and Steve protested.

"It's your farm."

"We're so glad you're back."

"-But that's not the case. Dora, you're Follyfoot's future. You and Steve, really. Yes, I can see there's something going on with you two and I do hope it works out for you. About time, really. Love's a wonderful thing." The Colonel sighed pleasurably. "And I intend to make the most of it. So while I'll visit from time to time, if that's okay with you, to see what's happening and annoy the horses and you two and Slugger and Ron, keep up the good work. It's all yours, Dora." He closed the accounts book with a snap. "Any medicinal brandy about the place? I think we all deserve a drink."

"Right here, Colonel." Slugger had been listening at the door. "I brought four glasses. Just in case."

* * *

"He's not well." Steve lay on his back, hands behind his head, looking at the paint peeling artfully on the ceiling.

Dora's head was on his chest; she could hear his heart, young and strong. "He's not. But he says he's better than he was. I'd hate to think what he was like when he first got to France."

"What's Claudine like?"

"Hell on first impressions." Dora pulled a face in the moonlight. "Very Parisian. All legs."

"Yum."

She thumped him. "You'd never cope with the hairspray. She's got hair you wouldn't dare run your fingers through."

"Not like yours." Steve tousled Dora's feather cut locks, caressing the short hair and fingering the long, and let his hand slide down her bare back, then up to her breasts. He cupped one small, firm breast and brushed his fingers over the nipple, feeling it stiffen at his touch. Dora moaned softly.

"Do that again."

He did, and then the Colonel and Claudine were forgotten as Dora began to lick Steve's chest, working downwards into the tangle of hair south of his stomach. His erect penis arched when she touched it with her tongue, and she teased him, sucking it and then drawing away, tonguing his thighs and balls. Steve groaned.

"Don't stop, girl!"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll…I'll do this." In one moment Steve was on top of her, feeling her wetness and arousal. Her face was beautiful in the soft light - devoid of the eyeliner she loved wearing - both innocent and knowing at the same time. He plunged into her and she arched her back against him, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist.

It was primeval, a celebration of youth and life. Steve drove into her hard and Dora gasped as his penis hit her G spot again and again. The bed shook, they fused together, lips touching, nipping, gasping.

She came, quickly for her, with a yelp that would have horrified her finishing school teachers - such a lack of polite decorum! - and then Steve abandoned himself to his own orgasm in a series of pulsing thrusts, before laying his head on her breasts and feeling her fingers in his hair. Their bodies lay together, fused by sweat and desire, Dora pushing Steve's damp hair from his face, until they both drifted into a familiar position, lying on their sides with Steve's body pressed close behind Dora's, his arms locked around her, holding her as if he still couldn't believe his luck.

In the Colonel's house, the Colonel slept awkwardly. The stomach pains he'd had after dinner may have been a result of the change in water and food after so long. He'd longed to hold his beloved beside him and was rather aroused at the thought, but stating fatigue from travelling as her excuse, Claudine had installed herself in the second bedroom. Face covered in the finest French cosmetics could provide, she had taken a Mogadon and achieved perfect sleep in her strange English bed.

* * *

After two weeks Slugger had stopped cooking extra bacon in case the Colonel dropped in for breakfast as he used to.

"He's got Claudine cooking him breakfast now," said Ron, who happily ate the extra helpings. "He don't need your burnt offerings. She probably makes posh breakfast. Like Eggs Bennyduck."

"Eggs Benedict," said Dora, swallowing her own egg.

"That too. Or them French crossont things."

"Colonel wouldn't eat that foreign muck," said Slugger stoutly.

"How d'you know, mate? 'E might 'ave been eating 'em for the last eighteen months."

"Explains his stomach problems then, dunnit?" Slugger returned. "'Ere! I was having that bacon!"

"Too late, Slugger me old mate. Gotta go toil in the stables now and I need me nourishment."

"Need a slap on the head more like," muttered Slugger as Ron bolted out the door, mug of tea in hand.

"Can't let the last bit go to waste either," said Steve, snatching the last piece of bacon from under Slugger's poised fork.

"You're just as bad as 'im!" Slugger grumbled.

"I'm toiling more than Ron," Steve said, and gave Dora a look that said his energy was spent toiling in their bed not just the stables.

Slugger caught the look. "Does the Colonel know? About you two?"

"More or less," said Dora. "He knows we're together, let's put it that way."

"More or less, she says. Wouldn't happen in my day. Sleeping together without being married." Slugger busied himself collecting plates and Dora and Steve headed for the stables. "Or the Colonel's." It was a concession from Slugger, admitting the Colonel's leadership of Follyfoot was well and truly past, even though he was only living a couple of miles away again.

He shook his head at the vision of the Colonel using a shooting stick as a walking stick. Where was the young, vigorous officer he knew in the war? And worse, did that make Slugger a poor old bugger as well? "At least I can still get about on me own. And I don't need no posh French bit o'skirt to convince meself I'm still alive," he muttered. "Oh bloody hell, talking to yerself's the first sign of madness!"

The horses heard the sports car before the people did. Dora's heart sank when she saw Claudine in the passenger seat, a silk square covering her perfect hair.

As Dora expected, she uncurled herself with elegance, revealing skin tight jodhpurs and an almost transparent pink blouse that raised Ron's eyebrows at least two inches and, Dora was pleased to note, made Steve frown.

The Colonel seemed a little fitter, leaving his shooting stick in the car but still walking awkwardly. "Thought Claudine might like to see the place. Dora, do you want to do the tour? You know all the new ones."

Aware of straw fragments sticking to her clothes, Dora tried her best to engage Claudine's interest in the history of Follyfoot's horses. To her they were family, interesting and individual, to Claudine a travesty of equine life.

"Pah," Claudine said after backing away from the first three horses. "In France, we would, 'ow you say, 'ave them for 'orsemeat."

Dora was shocked. How could the Colonel have fallen for someone so callous? "But that's exactly why we have some of these horses here. Because they were going to slaughter and they've still got life in them. This one here," - she marched Claudine across the yard - "was rescued from the docks. He was going to France for slaughter." She turned on Claudine. "How can you EAT horses? I mean, they're HORSES. You ride them, you love them, they're like people. You don't EAT them!" Her eyes flashed with passion.

"They are very tasty," returned Claudine. "What else do you do with 'orses that 'ave reached the end of zair life?" She shrugged gallicly.

"Let them die a peaceful death in a place like this," said Dora, barely containing her emotion.

"Zis one, 'e is nice." Claudine strolled to Copper's stable. "'E is not an, 'ow you say, old nag?" She reached up an experienced hand to pat Copper's neck, and Copper, the traitor, nuzzled her expectantly, ears pricked.

"Definitely not," Dora said shortly, then mellowed slightly as she watched Claudine rub Copper's face expertly. "His name's Copper Prince. He's my own horse. Pure bred Arabian."

"We must go riding," declared Claudine. "I am used to riding in ze best stables in France and ze best country in France. You can show me ze best country in Yorkshire."

Oh can I, thought Dora.

"Maybe I can ride your Coppair," Claudine continued.

"Maybe you can't," Dora said pleasantly. "He's a bit of a one person horse. He responds best to me. He can be a very difficult ride for people he doesn't know. I don't let anyone else ride him."

"Pah! You Eenglish! So sentimental!" Claudine snorted. "You find me a better 'orse in zis broken down yard, then!"

Dora felt anger well up inside her. She was tempted to kick the nearest stable bucket across the yard - either that or Claudine's shins - but said: "There are some fine horses in the Colonel's own stable. They're not super fit but they have been exercised over the last year or so. I'm sure there'll be one to suit you."

"They are 'unters. Not purebreds."

"They're Yorkshire horses that will give you a perfectly good ride across Yorkshire countryside, m'dear." The Colonel had hurried up as fast as he could, seeing the awkward body language between the two women. "I'm sure you two will find you have a lot in common after a nice long ride together. The two most important women in my life, eh?"

Claudine's face clearly said she didn't want to share the Colonel's affection or her own importance with anyone. She gave a smile that didn't meet her eyes, and said, "Of course, cheri."

"Claudine, darling, why don't you go and have a look at the cottage and introduce yourself to Slugger? He'll make you morning tea." The Colonel's face looked strained.

Dora smiled inwardly at the thought of Claudine faced with one of Slugger's pots of tea. Slugger's tea could clean blocked drains. She watched the elegant form strut across the yard oozing dudgeon.

The Colonel slapped Copper's neck affectionately. "He's filled out into a fine horse, hasn't he, Dora? You must be very proud of him." Copper lipped the Colonel's hands, looking for carrots, and then sniffed each pocket in turn until he found one and pulled it out of the Colonel's coat.

"Very. He's beautiful. Uncle, you look worried. Is there anything wrong?"

The Colonel looked at the deep blue spring sky as if it held the answer and sighed deeply. "Just a bit financially, m'dear. No, no," as Dora started to say something, "Nothing about Follyfoot. No, the problem is, Claudine has a place in France much like my own house here. A chateau. Lovely grand old place. But unlike my house, full to the brim with dry rot, needs a new roof, in fact, needs complete refurbishment. And that costs money. More than I make from my investments and property in a year. I'm deciding whether it's worth selling something to help finance it. Some of the working farm, perhaps…" His voice lingered into nothing and Dora heard the unspoken words: Or selling Follyfoot.

He scuffed the soil in the yard, uncovering the stones underneath. "I hate to sell any of my land. But as I'll be marrying Claudine I'll be inheriting a chateau, too, so it's all for the future."

Whose future, Dora longed to say. You don't have children. "Does Claudine have family?"

"Like me, she's the last of her line. She's a widow without children, and the chateau was her late husband's." The Colonel leaned against Copper's stable and the horse nuzzled his shoulder. "I'll be honest with you, Dora. My house and a lot of the land is entailed. You know that. Primogeniture. Has to go to the next male in line. In this case your father. After that, a distant cousin. Bloody shame as I'd like you to have it. But since the war I've bought property adjoining the land to add to it, and that's my own to sell, as is Follyfoot, which I also bought after the war."

Dora suddenly felt cold all over.

The Colonel noticed his niece had turned a pale colour, and patted her shoulder. "Now, Dora, I'm not selling Follyfoot. I can get a decent price for the other adjoining land from the next farmer. He's got a big place and wants to add to it. So that's what I'll do to finance the repairs in France. Follyfoot…" Again that look at the sky; it seemed he found an answer. "Follyfoot I'm leaving to you in my will."

Dora gasped. "But Uncle…that's marvellous…but…um…I hope it's a long time before I inherit it!"

His eyes twinkled. "So do I, m'dear! And I'm sure it will be. But rest assured, while I'm writing a new will that will include Claudine in cash investments, and stating that the sale of the extra land will be used for her repairs in case I crash the car next week, you'll have Follyfoot as your own. It's not part of the original entailment, you understand."

"Oh, Uncle Geoffrey!" Dora hugged him, feeling how frail he was under his favourite old tweed jacket that smelt of horses and pipe smoke. He patted her back. "Least I can do, m'dear. You would have got the extra land as well if it wasn't for Claudine. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. I'm so…astounded …you'd leave Follyfoot to me."

"Who else could I leave it to?" wondered the Colonel. "You're the only one I trust to keep it going."

But you're engaged to Claudine, Dora thought. Surely your wife… "Does Claudine know you're going to change your will?"

"Oh yes," said the Colonel, bringing his pipe out of his pocket, remembering doctor's orders that he wasn't to smoke it, but sticking it empty in his mouth anyway. "I've already changed it; found an English lawyer in France who did it under English law. Engaged people do that kind of thing when they're sure about each other. Now speaking of engaged, you and Steve?"

Dora brought her thoughts back from wondering about the wisdom of changing a will to include the awful Claudine. "Not engaged. But in love." She turned pink.

"Wonderful news. He's a good lad. Stable." The Colonel chuckled. "Not as in stable boy, though. A strong man and good hearted, I mean. Just what you need, I think!"

Dora's reply melted away as the vision of Claudine, her mouth a pursed up cat's bum after Slugger's tea, picked her way across the stable yard towards them. Her long black boots shone in the sun; mysteriously, dust and straw seemed to have no effect on them.

"What is zis awful tea, cheri? Does nobody in Eengland know 'ow to make coffee?"

* * *

The red sports car hadn't been parked in the high street when Steve started shopping. He loaded the groceries into the back of the Land Rover, checking Slugger's list to see he hadn't forgotten anything. Then he casually walked to the sports car and felt the bonnet. Still warm.

So the Colonel was out and about - and a good thing, too! He'd have lots of people to catch up with. Steve had a hunch he'd find the Colonel in The Black Horse, enjoying a drink with his cronies.

Rattling his change and thinking a pint might be a good idea - shopping was thirsty work! - Steve wandered into the pub. The main bar was deserted except for a couple of old men in cloth caps playing dominoes in one corner; the kind of old chaps who made a pint last an hour, whiling away the day in familiar, silent company.

Steve peered around the bar into the snug, and saw not the Colonel but Claudine, sipping a glass of wine with a dark haired man who couldn't look more French if he was wearing a striped top, a beret and carrying a string of onions. Dora was right; there was something indefinable about the French.

Steve hastily moved back before Claudine spotted him. But he had an image of her head close to the man's, confiding something. By the way they were sitting they knew each other well; the man's arm was resting on the back of the bench, his hand lightly touching Claudine's shoulder.

He heard a tinkle of laughter from the snug, and a shriek of "Oh, cheri!" There was a rumble in French in return, and more laughter.

Suddenly he'd lost his thirst. Steve, heavy hearted, walked out of The Black Horse.

What game was Claudine playing? That, Steve thought ruefully, was blindingly obvious. She wanted the Colonel's money. And a bit on the side as well; someone young and handsome who would laugh as they spent the Colonel's money together.

He walked up and down the high street, hands jammed in his jeans pockets. Could he say anything to the Colonel? Probably not; the Colonel, a man in love, wouldn't believe him. The only way was to show him, to have him catch Claudine with her friend and see what excuse she could offer.

The pub would still be open for another hour; Steve decided to drive to the Colonel's house and see if he wanted to go for a drink, a welcome home drink. What a nice idea, who could resist it?

When he got to the house, however, the Colonel was in no state to head to the pub. He opened the door shakily. "Steve! Come in, lad. Sorry, not feeling terribly well at the moment. Would you excuse me?"

The Colonel left Steve at the door and thumped down the hall to the downstairs bathroom; Steve heard the embarrassing sounds of vomiting and didn't know whether to stay or go. He opted for stay.

"Have you seen your doctor?" Steve said when the Colonel returned.

"Yes, yes, of course," was the impatient reply. "They told me after my op - old war wound, you know - I could expect nausea for a bit. Rather unfortunate still being sick this long after the op. And that was a nice lunch I'd had, too. Claudine's quite clever in the kitchen, more inventive than Mrs Makepeace."

Steve heard the faint trill of an alarm bell in his head. "Maybe what you need is good old English food, though, Colonel. Plain stuff, roast beef and Yorkshire pud like Mrs M makes."

The Colonel had a wistful look in his eyes. "Oh, roast beef! Haven't had that for a year. What a splendid idea! I'll see if Claudine can manage it; she does love adding her herbs and spices, it'll be a challenge for her to cook something plain."

"I was thinking more of Mrs Makepeace," Steve hinted. "You know she loves to cook a good roast and she's missed cooking for you. It'd be a treat for her and… er… maybe Claudine could learn her tricks of the trade."

"Splendid idea, Steve. I'll give her a ring. See how she's feeling. Would you like a cuppa? Or a medicinal brandy?"

"Actually, Colonel, I dropped in to see if you wanted to go for a drink at the pub. My round. You know, to welcome you back."

"What, now?"

"Why not?"

"Why not indeed?" Looking positively cheerful, the Colonel picked up his cap and jacket and followed Steve to the Land Rover. "We might even bump into Claudine in the village. She was going for a look around."

We just might, thought Steve grimly, driving the Land Rover into the village as fast as he dared, listening to the Colonel's exclamations about each farm and the changes he saw since he was last here.

The sports car had gone. The snug was empty. Steve hid a sigh and bought the Colonel a whisky.

"Doctor told me I shouldn't have too much of this, but I do enjoy it." The Colonel held his glass up to the light, admiring the way the amber liquid shone.

Half an hour later the publican eased them out the door. "Closing time, gents. Open again at six."

"Well, thanks, Steve." The Colonel pulled himself awkwardly into the Land Rover. "That was a good welcome home drink; makes me feel like I haven't been away. On the other hand, so much has changed, hasn't it? You and Dora, for starters."

Oh oh. Steve smiled politely and roared the Land Rover into life.

"I'm glad for both of you. She's a handful, my favourite niece, but I'm sure you're strong enough to withstand her." He clapped Steve on the shoulder and Steve let out a careful sigh of relief. No snobbery with the Colonel; not like Dora's parents. "And I'm sure you find the cottage much more comfortable than the loft." Slugger had obviously been sneaking.

"Um, much," Steve agreed, pulling out behind a Citroen with French registration. He didn't pay much attention to anything else the Colonel said in a hearty fatherly tone as he followed the car. The driver looked the man who'd been Claudine in the pub.

"Humph," said the Colonel. "You'd think I was still in France, look at that Cit in front. I hope Claudine remembers to drive on the left over here," he mused.

The Citroen turned off, heading west. If Steve had been alone he'd have followed it; instead he drove the Colonel home.

"Claudine's not back yet, I see. I suppose she's enjoying our lovely villages. They're pretty in the spring. Best time of year to bring her here, eh, Steve?"

"Definitely," Steve agreed. The Colonel's garden was in full bloom, a magnificent riot of daffodils and other bulbs artfully springing up in carefully tended clumps.

"Thanks for the drink, Steve. My round next time. Must phone Mrs Makepeace, I suppose. That roast beef sounds more appealing by the minute." The Colonel sketched Steve a goodbye and walked to the front door with a more sprightly step than Steve had seen from him in the last couple of weeks.

Thoughtfully, Steve drove back to Follyfoot, only to get an earbashing from Slugger about the cold groceries not being cold any more.

* * *

That evening Steve and Dora sat on the hills behind Follyfoot. Heartsease had sprung unbidden and grown wild, turning the hillside violet and yellow in the soft evening light.

Steve, lying in the grass with his head in Dora's lap and her hand stroking his hair, told her his suspicions about Claudine.

"It sounds like something out of a B grade movie, love, I know. But I think she's poisoning him. And I think she's seeing someone else on the side. Obviously she only wants him for his money. Ouch!"

Dora, in a sudden flash of anger towards Claudine, had pulled Steve's hair. "Sorry." She thought for a moment. "Of course we have to tell him. Or make him find out for himself."

"He'll have to find out for himself. We'll just set it up so he does. From now on, we keep tabs on Madame."

"I've got tabs on her tomorrow afternoon then," Dora said glumly. "She rang before dinner and wants to go riding with me tomorrow. She wouldn't take no for an answer."

Steve grinned. "She must be a tough cookie if YOU can't say no to her, bossy boots!"

Dora tweaked his nose. "Watch it, darling, or no sex for a week!"

"So you can't say no to Claudine, but you can say no to me? I don't believe that, not for a minute. Look, I'll show you that's not true." Steve sat up and pushed Dora down into the grass, and she squealed.

"Here?"

"Why not here? Who's about to see us?" Steve stopped her from saying any more by covering her lips with his own. As his tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, Dora wouldn't have cared if the entire North Yorkshire population had a ringside seat. She kissed him back, savouring the taste of his mouth and feeling his erection hard against her thighs.

Lips locked hungrily, their hands blindly undid each other's clothing and they wriggled out of them, giggling when they had to stop kissing for the odd millisecond to drag a shirt or underwear off. Dora's breasts sat pertly and Steve suckled one after the other, caressing her arms, her belly, her thighs and finally between her legs, where the silken wetness was irresistible. He rubbed her, feeling the nubbin under his fingers grow harder, and watched her eyes close in ecstasy.

"Going to say no now, girl?"

"Oh, I won't say no," she said softly. "You know I won't." And she pulled him on top of her, guiding his penis inside her until it could go no further.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, aware of Steve's hot body above her and the cool grass below, crushed and scented of spring. She looked at him, gilded in the late sunlight, a golden lad with even his black hair flicking with gold around the edges, and thought her heart would explode with love.

Steve moved inside her, slowly at first, deliberately, almost drawing out of her before plunging joyfully back in. Dora's hips moved in rhythm, getting faster, then it was her turn to tease him, and she stopped. "What?" moaned Steve.

"Roll over," Dora whispered, and lowered herself onto Steve. Her breasts bounced as she moved up and down, the sunlight turning them into twin beacons. She rubbed herself against Steve's body, so aroused by his hands on her breasts and the rough hair nuzzling her clitoris and his penis pushing up inside her that she orgasmed almost immediately, her breath reckless and gasping, body shuddering and shaking.

Steve rocked against her, feeling the sudden pulsing against his penis, and came in a series of bucks before pulling Dora down to lie beside him as he caught his breath.

"Oh wow," Dora said dreamily, as Steve rested his head on her breasts and dropped tiny kisses on each of them. "Outdoor sex… what a wonderful experience…"

"We stable boys like our sex basic," Steve said in between kisses. "A loose box, a hay barn or the great outdoors. Anything else is a luxury for the nobs."

"Idiot!" Dora giggled, her heart still pounding. "I love you, Steve the stable boy."

"I love you too, Dora the Mistress of Follyfoot." Steve cupped her head in his hands, stroking her damp hair from her forehead, and kissed her slowly on the lips. "Mmm."

From not far away, they heard a dog bark. "Bloody hell!" exclaimed Steve. "Someone's out for a walk." Hurriedly they pulled their clothes on, Dora giggling so much Steve had to pull her jeans up for her.

By the time the woman and her two springer spaniels strode past, nodding "Good evening," they were sitting demurely on the grass holding hands.

"And that," said Steve, "Is why stable boys usually prefer the haybarn over the great outdoors. You can always find somewhere to hide."

The light was fading and the heartsease had lost their brilliance. Dora and Steve sat, arms around each other, content and sated. Claudine and The Colonel were pushed to the background. For now.

* * *

Claudine rode into the yard at precisely two o'clock the next day, immaculately dressed with a head scarf that complemented her fawn and red Pucci print shirt. She brought the Colonel's favourite hunter, Trooper, to a neat halt and waited in vain for someone to take the horse's bridle.

Slugger and Ron quickly busied themselves with the muck heap, and Steve disappeared into Alex's box. Dora was busy checking Copper's girth, so Claudine, with an audible sigh, rode Trooper up to Copper, who flattened his chestnut ears.

"Nearly ready," Dora said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice.

"We should 'urry, I am going with The Colonel to cocktails at four," Claudine said pointedly.

"I'll just get my hard hat."

Claudine snorted. "For 'eavens sake, Dora, we are not going 'unting! This 'orse is so unfit I doubt 'e can gallop. Can we just go?"

Dora pulled a face that Claudine couldn't see, and jumped nimbly onto Copper's back. "Fine. Where did you want to go?"

"I 'ave 'eard about your moors. What is the quickest way to see zem?"

"Through the high copse, down by the river, then up into the moors," Dora began, but Claudine had already turned her horse and was trotting to the gate.

French etiquette obviously left gates open. Annoyed, Dora reined in a fidgety Copper and shut it.

They trotted in silence across the fields and up the hill to the high copse. Dora noticed Claudine was a competent rider, her hands surprisingly gentle on Trooper's mouth. She thought wryly that the Colonel would only fall in love with a woman who could ride well, no matter her other shortcomings!

Copper snorted as they rode into the copse. After the open fields the closeness of the trees often made him see ghosts. It was always touch and go with him as to whether a canter here was a possibility, or whether he'd misbehave so much he'd be forced into a walk. Today his ears pricked and Dora sighed with relief. Much as she loved Copper, he could be a difficult ride. He wasn't bombproof like Steve's Alex; you couldn't relax for a second on Copper's back.

He'd earned his fun. She pushed him into a canter, and he dropped his head onto the bit and rolled along like a rocking horse. Behind her she heard the steady thud of Trooper's big hooves on the dirt.

Coming out of the copse there was a stretch along a rise which was always a good gallop, and Copper knew it. Dora let him have his head. Not for nothing was the Arabian horse the forerunner of the thoroughbred. His hooves beat a swift rhythm and his mane whipped tears into Dora's eyes.

"Take that, Madame!" she thought, fighting Copper back into a canter as the rise started to slope away again. Poor old Trooper was blowing and unfit when he finally caught up to them.

"Your Coppair, 'e can move!" Claudine said appreciatively. "This old boy, if 'e was fit 'e would be good. 'E 'as a nice action." She patted Trooper's hot neck, clearly mellowing as the ride went on.

Dora led the way across the stream. There was a particular area that was easy to cross, but even there the spring rains had been high and the water was over the horses' knees. Copper snorted at his own reflection and Trooper bent his head and took a drink.

Ahead lay the moors, wild and vast. Unless you knew where you were, and what the major bearings were, you could get quite lost. Dora told Claudine as much.

"See that pointy hill there? If you get lost any time, head towards it. You'll end up at a village on the other side of the Colonel's house and you can ride home along the road."

Claudine nodded. "Zanks, Dora. Zis is very different to where I ride in France. I 'ave always thought England a tame country but zis could be a fierce place on zese moors." She looked around her, at buzzards circling in the sky, their eerie, thin calls faint on the breeze.

For half an hour Dora took Claudine in a wide circle on the moors, pointing out different plants and animals. She tried to make small talk, too, to find out a bit more about her uncle's future wife.

"What about your family?" Dora asked innocently. "Are you leaving any brothers and sisters in France?"

"I 'ave one bruzzer, and 'e will come over 'ere to visit me from time to time," Claudine said after a pause.

Liar, thought Dora. Uncle Geoffrey said you were the last of your line, which is why you have a big chateau that needs repair. So…the man in the pub is going to be your 'brother', is he? She filed it away as something to tell Steve.

Dora checked her watch. "We should get back, I suppose, if you're going for cocktails. I'm sure you'll want a bath after this."

"Indeed. One cannot go to cocktails smelling of 'orses." With that Claudine gave Trooper a little kick and the surprised gelding jumped into a canter which moved rapidly to a gallop, Claudine standing in the stirrups and pushing him on.

"Wait!" yelled Dora, pushing Copper after her. "That's the wrong way! Claudine! Turn left!"

Even though he was fast, Copper couldn't catch Trooper, who was having his first serious gallop in months.

Dora swore - "Bloody woman!" - as she saw Claudine was heading for the woods near the stream, far away from the crossing point.

Trooper's tail swished as Claudine kicked him on, and soon she was over the hill and heading down to the woods.

Dora fought with Copper to bring him back to a canter, but he wasn't playing. This was fun, his outstretched neck and pricked ears said.

Trooper and Claudine disappeared into the woods. Dora knew there was quite a wide, straight track there, but was astonished that Claudine, who didn't know her way around here, could be so stupid to gallop into a place where she didn't know the twists and turns.

As Copper belted down the hill she saw a glimpse of Claudine's gaudy blouse through the trees, slowing down it seemed.

Copper wanted to catch up to Trooper, and Dora leaned backwards, sawing at his mouth in a way she despised herself for. They dove into the darkness of the woods fighting with each other, Copper flinging his head, his gallop corrupting into a ragged canter. Both were so intent on getting the upper hand, neither saw Trooper in front of them.

Claudine was holding him firmly at a halt across the path as he sidled and stamped.

"Move!" yelled Dora, but well-trained Trooper, trapped between Claudine's thighs of steel and hands of iron, whinnied in fear and held his ground.

There was only one alternative; a tiny path branching off to the left. Dora didn't know where it went, but she wrenched Copper's head and pointed him in its direction.

Seeing a clear path in front of him, Copper lunged forward. Branches and twigs whipped Dora's face, stinging her eyes with tears. She couldn't see the fallen log in front of them, wasn't prepared for Copper's own surprised leap.

Copper rose in a high cat jump, grunting. Dora rose with him, off centre, flinging one arm out to keep her balance. She was so high in the saddle that her arm hit an overhanging branch, and she screamed as she felt herself dragged backwards from the saddle.

The world turned topsy turvy. The sky was on its side.

As she fell to the ground, aware of a piercing pain in her left arm, she thought she heard Steve yell, "Dora!" And that was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

With his broken home background, Steve was naturally a suspicious person. Knowing what he thought he knew about Claudine, he decided to tag along behind Dora and the Frenchwoman, keeping out of sight, just in case Claudine decided to get rid of one of the people standing between herself and her inheritance. For if Dora was out of the picture, the Colonel would sell Follyfoot; Steve knew he wouldn't have the heart to continue with the farm.

His instincts were right. When he saw Claudine push Trooper into overdrive and head for the woods, he knew she was up to something.

Copper's naughtiness in the woods was legendary. It was possible that the Colonel had told Claudine what a handful the chestnut was, and how nervous he was with the distractions of birds and animals around him. The Colonel loved telling horsy tales, and his clear pride in Dora and Copper must have riled Claudine even more.

By the time Steve saw Dora fighting with Copper, recklessly belting down the hill, he was on his way towards her from his hiding place behind a large clump of gorse bushes. Alex was reliable in any situation, and followed Copper with pricked ears.

When Steve saw Claudine blocking the path, his heart froze. The only thing Dora could do would be to drag Copper to a stop or take the small path that Steve knew petered out to dense woodland a few hundred yards on. It was a track made for accidents; he'd ridden down it once but all it was fit for was badgers. It was full of rabbit holes, and nobody who didn't have a death wish should ever ride down it. Especially at speed.

Her scream stopped time.

In a daze Steve pulled Alex to a trot and took in Claudine's surprised expression as she saw him.

"Stay there!" he said roughly to her, angry, and frightened for Dora. He reined Alex to a rough halt, jumped off and ran to Dora's side.

She was unconscious, but still breathing. Her left arm had a bend to it that it shouldn't have had. Copper had stopped his reckless flight and walked back to his mistress, standing patiently and penitently on the other side of the fallen log.

Steve dragged his old leather jacket off and laid it over Dora, careful not to touch her arm. He knelt beside her and gently felt the back of her head; the size of the duck egg there made him catch his breath.

A noise of hoofs back on the main path brought Steve straight to his feet. "Claudine!"

She was carefully walking Trooper away, trying not to make a noise.

"Claudine! Stop! I know what you're up to!" Steve yelled.

Claudine turned and raised an elegant eyebrow.

"I know about the man in the pub. I know about the Colonel's food. I know you're only marrying him to get hold of his money and I'll be telling the police you staged Dora's accident unless you stop." The menace in his voice caught Steve almost by surprise. It certainly had an effect on Claudine.

She halted Trooper. "All 'eresay. 'Oo would believe a stable boy instead of a French noblewoman?" But her face didn't look so confident now.

"The Colonel, for one. And I bet if the police look around they'll find your first husband didn't die of totally natural causes." Steve held her gaze, his eyes burning.

Claudine said nothing.

"Do you know your way back to Follyfoot from here?" Steve said. Someone had to get help, and he had no intention of leaving Dora in the tender hands of Claudine.

"Ees over there, where zat ridge is, you cross ze stream and ride through ze copse and across the fields."

Steve grabbed Claudine's ankle in a vice grip. "Then do it. Now. Call an ambulance, and say there's someone hurt in Thorn Hill Wood. Got that? Thorn Hill Wood. And if an ambulance isn't here in half an hour, I won't just set the police onto you, I'll come after you myself."

He glared at her. "It's not just the French who can play dirty. Believe me, if anything happens to Dora I'll hunt you down and strangle you with my bare hands."

Claudine believed him; the raw anger hung around Steve in a palpable haze. She was suddenly scared of this man. He was no middle-aged Colonel keen to have a pretty wife; he was a man in love who'd take revenge.

Abruptly he let go of her ankle and slapped Trooper on the rump. The horse lurched forward with a snort. "Hurry, Claudine. HURRY!"

Steve watched Claudine kick Trooper into a canter, tied Alex to a tree and turned his attention again to Dora.

Seconds stretched to minutes, minutes to days. He sat beside her, holding her right hand, telling her how much he loved her and how help would be here soon. There was no response; Dora was far away from him, unable to wake up.

When several years had passed, and Dora hadn't stirred, the siren sounded in the distance and Steve heaved a sigh of relief. He leaned forward and kissed Dora's forehead. "Back soon with help," he whispered, and he strode out to the open ground, waiting for the ambulance men and their stretcher. He left Copper watching over her, breathing grass breath onto her face.

* * *

"Old men can be fools in love," said the Colonel glumly a week later. Dora stood beside him, a little shaky still but sick and tired of lying in bed. Her left arm had been put into plaster and felt awkward and heavy in its sling.

They leaned on the Follyfoot gate, watching clouds scud overhead, casting grey shadows on the greenness.

"I'll never forgive myself for putting you in danger, Dora." He squeezed her waist with one arm and she smiled at him. "If I've had had any inkling about what was really in her heart, and how she thought I'd sell Follyfoot if it wasn't for you, and let's face it, it's worth a lot more than those spare fields I was going to sell…" His voice trailed off. "Do you know, she'd sneaked out with her wretched Frog boyfriend a few days before and discovered the wood and decided how to stage an accident for you."

"Well she didn't kill me, did she? Concussion and a broken arm," Dora said lightly, hating the strain on her uncle's face. "And she didn't kill you either, but if you'd have given it time she might have."

"No wonder she liked all that garlic in our food. Disguised the taste of whatever she was using to poison me." The Colonel shook his head.

Claudine and her lover had been arrested in a hotel in Harrogate. Steve had described the Citroen car in detail to the police. Nobody had heard yet what she'd been charged with, but attempted murder was possible and there would probably be an investigation into her first husband's death.

"Well, m'dear, we two crocks can get better together, can't we?" he smiled at Dora. "D'you know, I haven't been sick once this week, feeling much more like my old self. Must be Mrs Makepeace's cooking." His tone was a bit too hearty.

"Uncle," Dora said gently, "I'm sorry that your heart's broken. And don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes. You deserve someone nice who really loves you for you, not your money or house or anything else."

"Oh, I'll probably stick to horses for a while. Had enough of pretty women right now. I think I'll get back into taking a stronger hand in the farm management on my estate. The estate manager will hate me but it'll give me an interest. I can ride about the farm like a lord of the manor."

"You can always come here to Follyfoot," Dora reminded him. "We love seeing you here."

"Ah yes, Follyfoot. Now Dora, you know how I said I was leaving you Follyfoot in my will?"

"Yeeesss?" Dora gave him a quizzical look.

"Well, I've changed my mind." The Colonel had that firm set to his mouth that stated more than anything he was on the mend.

Dora's heart sank. So she wasn't Mistress of Follyfoot any longer? The Colonel was obviously going to start running Follyfoot again too, to give himself an "interest". She bit her lip.

"I'm going to sign it over to you while I'm still alive. The papers are at my solicitor's."

"What?" Dora, lost in her thoughts of how things might change once the Colonel took over the reins again, didn't think she heard him right.

"Follyfoot's yours. Or it will be in a couple of days. I'll still help out financially, I've made provision for that, but you've shown me you can run the place as well as anyone, in fact we're almost making a profit. I want to you have it and I want to be alive to watch you enjoy it." The Colonel's eyes sparkled at Dora's astonished face. He laughed.

"Oh Uncle Geoffrey! I don't know what to say! Thank you! Thank you so much!" Dora awkwardly hugged him, her plaster thumping against his ribs.

"It IS what you want, isn't it? You're not going to decide that you'd rather be in London or swanning about with your parents?"

Dora shook her head violently. "Never. This will always be home now."

She turned around and looked at the yard. Her yard. Her horses. Her responsibility now, totally. She wondered idly what Slugger and Ron would think of Follyfoot changing hands, and decided that things had changed so subtly in the last year it wouldn't make any difference.

And of course, there was Steve. Now that she was the owner, would it alter their relationship, as the touchy subject of money had in the past? Mentally she shook her head. They'd gone beyond that; forged something stronger.

As if he read her thoughts, the Colonel said, "Hadn't you better tell your young man the good news?"

Dora walked slowly to the hay barn, where her young man was sitting with a cup of tea. Hesitantly she told him that Follyfoot was now truly hers. Steve jumped up so quickly that he split his tea on the ground, the mug smashing into countless pieces, and held her in his arms.

"That's bloody wonderful!" He kissed her gently, aware that her head still throbbed. "You deserve it, and the Colonel's a man in a million."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm the owner now? A rich property owner?" Dora teased.

A wicked grin split Steve's face. "Tell me, girl, are you going to make a will? And leave it all to your boyfriend?"

The end.

© 2005 Sabrina Davis