Kimber's Daughter - Tommy Shelby x Reader Fan Fic

Chapter 11

Thomas ran a steady hand across the horse's shiny coat, giving him a small pat of reassurance. He checked the horse's teeth, then his eyes, finally lifting a leg to inspect his hoof. We were in the large, open stables, the door open to the paddock.

"He's new," Tommy offered by way of explanation. "I'm hoping he'll win us a few races."

I stared at him glumly. "You think my father will allow you to race anywhere north of London after all this?"

Tommy retrieved a gleaming saddle and placed it on the horse. He began to tighten the girth, all with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

"We'll see," he answered.

I stroked the horse's face as Tommy adjusted the stirrups, looking at me thoughtfully as he did so. He slipped the bridle over his head and then stepped back, hands in his pockets, looking at me expectantly.

"What?" I asked.

"Go on," Tommy said.

I looked at him stupidly. "Would you like me to walk him?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "I want you to ride him, Kimber."

I flushed red. "I don't know how."

"It's easy," he shrugged. "Hop on, and I'll talk you through it."

I stared at the horse for moment. I was frozen, unable to move, my brain already impeded by the whiskey and now surprised confusion. The horse was as tall as me, and I couldn't work out how to get on. There was no mounting stump nearby.

Not wanting to look foolish in front of Thomas, I approached the horse slowly, running a leathered stirrup through my fingers in hesitation. Staring at the horse's dark brown coat, I reached up for the saddle, planning to grip and hoist myself up with all my strength, but found I didn't have it in me.

"Here."

I flinched at the sound of Tommy's voice, his breath sending goosebumps across my neck. I hadn't heard him approach but he stood immediately behind me. His fingers brushed against my ankles, then he ran his hands up my bare legs beneath my dress. I released a small gasp as his palms settled against the bottom inch of my thighs, right where my knee began. His hands pressed together around my flesh and he cupped my knee with both hands. My nerve endings came alight, flame flickering up my sensitive skin, all the way to my navel.

"A leg-up," he said, quietly, so close that I could still hear him.

I became all too aware of his arms pressed against me, his shoulders, his torso. The heat of him mingled with the smell of whiskey and smoke. I put my trust in this man, still blind on the sense of being half-drunk and having Thomas Shelby so close to me. It had caught me unaware.

He was intoxicating.

I put my weight in his hands and he lifted me effortlessly, allowing me to swing my other leg over the saddle, heat rising to my cheeks. The saddle was hard beneath me, resting against my seat-bones. Thankfully, Ada's dress was thick enough and loose enough it swung across my legs and I had no more than my ankles on display.

Tommy's hands did not withdraw, as I expected. His touch burned into my bare skin. He gazed intently into my eyes as I sat high above him, looking down from on horseback. His hands were hot against my skin as they moved higher, moving to my outer hip. My brow furrowed, my thoughts misplaced, then I whipped my head around to check our surroundings. If somebody saw us in such a compromising position....

Tommy withdrew his hands sharply, as though he'd been burnt. My eyelids flickered in a mixture of relief and confusion, and then I saw it. The glint of metal in his palm. I stiffened, clutched at my pocket.

"No," I whispered sharply.

Thomas's lips spread into a hint of a smile. "I'll sleep a lot better knowing you can't put a bullet in me, Kimber."

"Don't count on it," I threatened through clenched teeth.

"You're awfully flushed," he commented, slipping the gun into his own pocket. "Did it exert you, mounting the horse?"

Before I could reply and tell him to go fuck himself, his hands were on me again, palms flat against my calves, though he had the decency to keep them over the dress this time.

"Legs back," he instructed, moving them into place as he spoke. "Heels down." He reached up for the reins and threaded them through my fingers. "Thumbs on top, there you are. Now, tap him with your heels when you want him to move, pull back on the reins when you want him to stop."

I still couldn't move. I'd seen the horses at my father's races, against his best efforts. I'd seen them in training. I was finally atop a horse, and absolutely terrified at the prospect. I stared at the thin reins in my fingers and wondered how on earth they would be enough for me to hold onto, when the horse took off at a gallop.

Tommy seemed to read my mind, observant as ever. "He won't go fast, not at first," he said. "You'd have to kick him hard for that. And you grip..." His hands slipped upward once more, though still above the fabric of Ada's dress. He lay his palms against my outer thighs and pressed, gentle pressure. "With these," he finished.

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks once more. It was enough for me to gather my courage and tap with my heels, the fear of Thomas Shelby noticing me blush once more outweighing my fear of the horse.

He jerked into motion and my heart gave a wild leap, my stomach feeling as though it was still in the stable as the horse made his way outside. I'd seen enough people riding that I didn't look a total fool, or so I hoped, locking my elbows into my waist. The horse was only walking, but quickly picking up pace, clearly rearing to go faster. I gripped the reins tighter and then, remembering Tommy's advice, squeezed my legs against the saddle. I was thankful for it when we broke into a trot, and I bounced around until he grew impatient even with that and we cantered through the paddock.

I let the horse dictate where we went at first, nervous to guide him with the reins, but soon got the hang of it. I learned his tolerance for a pull on the reins to slow, for a tug in either direction to move. I soon relaxed into it. For the first time I noticed the wind whipping at my hair, at my skirts, the sting in my eyes. A wide grin threatened to spread across my face, though I suppressed it as hard as I could.

This must be what freedom felt like.

I relished the sensation as I rode, and couldn't tell how long it had been when I finally trotted back to the stable. Tommy wasn't anywhere to be seen outside, and I worried at first. I didn't have a clue what to do with the horse when I finished. But as I slipped down and led the horse back in, I saw Thomas was still in the stables, but in a deep stand-off with an old, broad man with a grey moustache. I saw Tommy's hand twitch toward his gun pocket.

"What's going on?" I asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Oh, nothing,"said the older man, thick Irish accent. "Chief Inspector Campbell," he introduced himself. "Just checking in with the local residents."

"He was just leaving," Thomas said coldly.

Campbell nodded in defeat, beady eyes roaming the stable. "And who might you be?" He asked.

I set my jaw. Refused to answer.

"Very well then," he finally sighed. "I'll be seeing you around. My love to your family, Shelby."

He gave one last wicked glance around the stable before leaving.

"What was that about?" I asked Tommy as he came to help me remove the saddle from the horse.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't answer.

"Isn't it interesting," I said lightly, as conversationally as I could manage, "that both he and the barmaid enter your life, from the same country, at the same time?"

I saw his hands clench into fists. I didn't say another word, and we worked in silence, though the Chief Inspector's presence left me with a sense of terror.