Patrick quietly closed the door of his one-room cottage behind him. Inside, his seven children were still sleeping. Since his wife died in childbirth last year, his eldest daughter had taken on the role of head of household. She will see to her brothers and sisters until Patrick returns later this evening. There won't be much food for them today -- there never is -- but they just about find a way to survive day-to-day.
In the half-light of a West-Cork June dawn, Patrick made his way down the boreen towards the big house. Every second cottage is deserted and falling down, indicating the toll the Irish potato famine took here 30 years ago. Patrick was just over 10 years old at the time and was lucky to survive. Some of his siblings didn't.
He hurried along with the long strides of a tall man in a hurry. In just a shirt on this warm morning, his lean muscularity, resulting from many years of physical work combined with a diet that just about staves off starvation, was evident. His jet-black hair, hazel eyes, and dark looks indicated his ancestor's deep roots, reaching back to a time before the Vikings brought the fair-skinned red-haired look now associated with the island.
He passed through the rear service gate that gives entry into the estate of Lord and Lady Gregory, English gentry who had estates and interests in both Ireland and England, the so-called Anglo-Irish; protestants who, in the main, were loyal to the Crown. The loyalty of the Gregory family never waivered, and when the potato blight struck, they followed the instructions of Victoria, dubbed "The Famine Queen" in Ireland, and they continued to ship the produce of their estate to markets in Dublin and England. The carts full of produce left the estate and trundled down the boreen past the emaciated starving families whose cottages, once full of life, now serve as cenotaphs to those lost.
Lady Gregory is to ride out this morning so, as the head stablehand, Patrick needs to get her mare ready. Lady Gregory is in her mid-forties and has fulfilled her duties by giving Lord Gregory five healthy children. However, she is now surplus to requirements. Lord Gregory has been spending more and more time "looking after affairs" back in London. It is rumored that he has a young mistress on the go who he has ensconced in her own lodgings. He has been in London for the last month and there is no word on when he is expected to return.
As Patrick approaches the stable, he is surprised to see the main door off the latch and slightly ajar; there should be nobody here for several hours yet. He quietly eases the door open and enters. He sees Lady Gregory a few stalls down with her back to him. She is dressed in her riding breeches, a short riding jacket, and tall riding boots -- she has a riding crop in her hands. The sharp features of her pretty face have rounded out with age and flecks of grey hide amongst her brown hair. Her rounded, fleshy figure fills out her breeches like the rump of her own mare.
Viewing Lady Gregory from behind, Patrick feels an ache in his groin. He hasn't been with any woman since the last time he slept with his late wife. And he won't get to experience that pleasure again until he remarries, thanks to the hold the Catholic Church has over Ireland.
Lady Gregory did not notice Patrick approaching from behind. He was surprised to see that she was not at the stall of her grey mare, Ciara, but at the far end of the stable at the stall that housed the chestnut stallion, Kane. Kane was nervous and pawing the ground. His huge member was engorged, with veins throbbing, and a moist silken sheen setting it glinting in the half-light of the stable. It seemed to move around of its own accord, twitching and jerking, like a ship seeking a port in a storm.
Lady Gregory was looking intently at this potent sight and Patrick could swear that a small drop of drool could be seen collecting in the corner of her mouth. Ciara was whining and restless in her stall at the far end of the stable.
"He is indeed a fantastic specimen, isn't he" remarked Patrick. Lady Gregory startled and turned around with a blush flooding her face.
"Patrick, don't just sneak up on me like that! I just heard that he was unsettled and came over to see what was wrong with him. Don't you think it is cruel to keep these two virile beauties apart?"
"M'lady, you know very well that Ciara nearly died last year during foaling. If she was to go through that again, she may not survive," Patrick politely replied.
"Patrick, these horses, just like us humans, have innate desires that can drive them mad if not sated. Surely it is worth taking a risk to quench the fire, even if only for a short time."
