Читать книгу Country Affairs - Zara Stoneley, Zara Stoneley - Страница 9

Adrenalin rushes were one thing, but this was a step too far Todd Mitchell decided, as his mount, Merlin, charged between the ornate gates, his tail high with excitement.

Hanging on for dear life, he inadvertently dug his heels in hard, and with a squeal of delight half a ton of horseflesh took it as a red light to go faster, speeding at what had to be a life-threatening pace towards the stone fountain that somebody had inconveniently placed down the home straight of Folly Lake Manor some twenty years previously.

Coming to Tippermere to talk to Lottie was admirable, Todd told himself, as he hauled ineffectually on the reins. However, riding heroically to her rescue might not be such a good idea, particularly as his one and only experience in a saddle had involved a donkey and a beach.

‘Christ almighty, are you trying to bleeding kill me?’ Spotting the very large and very solid-looking ornate angel, which stood guard on the edge of the water feature, Todd grimaced and wondered if he had time to bail out. Wings spread like scimitars, she smiled smugly at him and he knew he was seconds away from a grisly death by decapitation or a good dunking. He shut his eyes.

The horse swerved alarmingly, nearly unseating him, the sharp point of an angel wing tugged at his left shoulder and as the smell of freshly mown grass hit his nostrils he realised two things: he was alive and they’d changed course. With a relieved whoop and a grin Todd dared to look again.

As dinner-plate-sized hooves sent clods of earth in all directions, distant chatter floated across the air to them and the cob’s large ears flickered. For a second his pace slowed and his rider shifted into a more secure position on his broad back. Then hearing familiar voices, and anticipating mints and carrots, Merlin stretched his neck and picking up speed again he thundered across the immaculate lawns that stretched before the imposing house, his mane and tail flying out behind him.

Todd ducked to avoid being garrotted by the colourful bunting that marked the entrance to a cordoned-off area and then realised he was being carried down the red carpet towards bride and groom at a completely inappropriate speed. ‘Struth! Where are the anchors on this thing?’

It was the last thing that came out of his Aussie mouth before the horse took matters into his own hands and ground to a halt, expertly veering left at the last minute towards an attractive and to what he no doubt suspected was an edible flower arrangement.

Force of momentum kept Todd on his original trajectory and he would have landed in the Very Reverend Waterson’s lap if a quick-thinking Rory hadn’t dragged the shocked minister out of harm’s way.

Tranquil was the word most often used to describe the village of Tippermere, and Folly Lake Manor was one of its most serene corners. Usually. And today’s wedding, despite the celebrity status of the groom, had been planned as a quiet, family affair.

The assembled wedding guests, gathered on the lawns in front of a large marquee, watched open-mouthed as Todd rolled like an expert and got to his feet, brushing himself down as he went.

He straightened, six foot of muscle in jeans and open-necked shirt, topped by a shock of sun-bleached hair and a mud-spattered face and flashed his best grin at his shocked audience before spinning round to locate the man he’d been heading for.

‘Mate.’ He tipped a hand in the direction of his hat, which he’d actually lost a good few hundreds yard back along the way, then looked past the speechless vicar to the bemused bride and groom.

‘Hell,’ he took a step closer, ‘if you’ll pardon the language, Rev, but I never thought you wanted a bloody father figure, Lottie.’

Todd stared hard at the slightly tubby figure, who had been having his cravat straightened by a flustered Lottie, and shook his head. He’d decided quite rashly that it was his job to save her from whatever kind of matrimonial harmony she thought she was heading for, but it had occurred to him on the way over that he might have made a mistake (although once the horse had started to gallop, changing his mind hadn’t been an option). Standing here now, seeing her husband-to-be, he just knew he was doing the right thing. Whatever the man had to offer, Lottie deserved better. And younger. And preferably with more hair. ‘No way, Lots. Come on, hold your horses! You can’t be serious about marrying a guy like him?’ He raised his eyebrows and looked at the girl he’d shared a summer of love and lust with, then glanced back at the man beside her. ‘No offence, mate, but I bloody object, or whatever it is you’re supposed to say.’

Charlotte ‘Lottie’ Brinkley let go of the silk cravat, which she’d been clutching a little too firmly.

‘I can’t be serious? Father figure?’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘He IS my bloody father, you great…’ Oaf? Moron? Most unwelcome uninvited guest in the universe?

Of all the people that could have turned up at the wedding, the one person who had not been on the horizon (in an actual or metaphorical sense), as far as Lottie was concerned, was Todd. Her ex. As in very ex. As in the very last person she ever expected, or wanted, to see again. Todd was supposed to be riding the waves on the other side of the world, which was just fine by her. ‘And it’s you who should be holding your horse.’ She nodded in the direction of Merlin, who, sensing freedom, was heading straight for the refreshment tent. ‘Horses are not like surf boards you know. You can’t just dump them.’

Todd ignored the instruction, not quite realising the trail of destruction the large horse could cause when he set his mind to it. ‘Father? Isn’t there a law against that?’

‘Object to what? What bloody law? Who the—’ Billy Brinkley, Olympic-medal-winning show jumper, and the ‘bloody father’, raised an eyebrow and looked at the tall, blond man who had just spectacularly interrupted his wedding.

He’d been about to add a particularly strong swear word, but out of the corner of his eye had seen the vicar, who was turning a whiter shade of pale, and toned it down. ‘Hell’ didn’t seem an appropriate word either, in the circumstances.

‘I’m not marrying him, you idiot.’ Lottie, tried to resist the smile that was tugging at her insides, but she knew any minute now she’d lose the battle.

‘So who the hell are you marrying?’ Todd looked puzzled. Which made it even funnier.

‘Do you know this Australian chap, Charlotte darling? I must say I can understand now why you haven’t rushed to marry Rory.’ Lottie groaned and covered her face with her hands as Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe’s imperious tone carried clearly over the by-now murmuring guests. Explaining this to her father was one thing, but to her aristocratic grandmother? ‘I can imagine he’s very impressive without his clothes on. Reminds me of a gardener we once had.’

A chuckle spread through the guests like a Mexican wave.

‘I couldn’t give a monkeys what he looks like without clothes on. We’re supposed to be holding a bloody wedding ceremony. Mine! If he’s not got an invite he can shove off.’ Billy, determined to regain control, but used to the chaos that seemed to follow his daughter around, folded his arms and stared at Lottie. ‘Well, has he?’

Lottie didn’t hear. Oh God, if Todd had to reappear in her life, why did he have to choose right now? Right now was her father’s wedding day and everybody in Tippermere was there. And all of their family. And, of course, Rory Steel, top eventer – the man who warmed her bed and her heart. And who, after rescuing the vicar from Merlin’s hooves, had stood by quietly watching.

This morning, as she’d pinned up the bunting and straightened the chairs in the early- morning sunshine, she’d actually known for the first time that everything would work out fine. Mick, farrier and friend, had been right; when she’d returned to Tippermere her feet had brought her back to where her heart was. Here, with Rory, with her family, friends and the wonderful estate that one day would be her responsibility. She loved it and she finally knew with all her heart where she belonged. And she knew she could do this; inherit Tipping House and make her family proud of her.

She knew that she could never, ever be like her autocratic, to-the-manor-born, gran, and she was fairly sure she would never live up to the promise of her elegant mother, Alexa. But she would do it her way, and do the very best she could for the place that she truly loved.

Lottie had long ago concluded that she had inherited the happy-go-lucky side of her mother, but her looks and organisational abilities were all down to her father’s side of the family. Not that most of the residents of Tippermere would have agreed with her disparaging view. Lottie may not have been the whirlwind force of nature her mother, Alexa, had been, but she was kinder, gentler and her beauty shone through just as brightly. With her big green eyes, long legs, shapely body and honest, open face Lottie was as beguiling as her mother had been wild, impulsive and elusive. The mischievous, but strangely vulnerable, Alexa had enchanted all, and Billy had feared what her future as Lady of the Manor would have done to her. But Lottie, with her father’s stubborn, down-to-earth streak was different. Billy knew that his daughter could do this, and as each day passed he’d seen the growing certainty in her. The confidence. And he saw the same love for the place shine from her eyes as it had from her mother’s. There was no doubt in his mind that his scatty daughter was the true heir of Tipping House and that the Stanthorpe determination ran deep in her veins. He could also see the same glint of determination as she looked at the man standing in front of her.

Lottie glared at Todd, who she hadn’t seen since he’d been marched off a Barcelona beach and out of her life. It might not have actually been that long ago, but it seemed to have happened in a different lifetime now. Like some crazy adventure that had happened to somebody else, before she’d realised what really mattered to her. This place and these people, not some footloose and fancy-free Australian, who just wanted to share a beer and a laugh.

She shot a warning glance at Elizabeth, her grandmother, which she knew wouldn’t help at all, tried not to let Billy catch her eye as she just knew that was asking for trouble, then glanced anxiously over at Rory.

It looked like a massive penny had just dropped with a horrendous clang. He frowned, his hands tightening into fists at his sides and took a step forward.

It was just at this moment that a panting Tabatha arrived, slightly pink in the face, and made a grab for her horse just as he made his way into the marquee.

When her ex-model father Tom Strachan had made the decision to retire to the countryside, dragging his reluctant teenage daughter with him, Tab had been distraught. He had ruined her life.

Despite the fact that she was going through a goth phase, she’d envisaged a future of bright city lights, nightclubs and fashion ahead. Not a life of being stuck in the sticks to stagnate with old farmers and smelly sheep.

Discovering that several of her equestrian heroes lived on the doorstep had slightly mollified Tab, and being allowed to groom for Billy (who had superstar status, but let’s face it, was a bit over the hill) and Rory (who was the sexiest eventer on the planet, but still insisted on hanging out with the far from glamorous Lottie, unfortunately) had almost been enough to make her break out of her teenage sulk. She’d grudgingly (but not openly) admitted that Tippermere might be an okay type of place.

But when the amazingly attractive and very out of place stranger had arrived on the yard at Folly Lake Equestrian Centre an hour earlier, just as she was untacking Merlin, she decided there might be a God after all. He was gorgeous, he was fit, fun and with an accent to die for.

So when he’d vaulted on to the horse’s back, asked for directions to the wedding and set off across the field towards the manor, she was too busy staring to tell him that Merlin bareback might be a death wish. But he probably wouldn’t have cared. He was amazing. She was awestruck. She was finally going to get a shag.

Tab, who now had a firm grip on her horse, edged back closer to the proceedings, sensing that Todd’s no doubt dramatic entrance was only the start. Merlin, less entranced, tugged, nearly pulling her arm out of its socket. ‘Okay, okay.’ She passed him one of the mints she kept in her pocket for emergencies. No way was she going yet – things looked far too interesting here.

A red-faced Lottie was staring at Todd as if she knew the blond sex god intimately. Which was bloody typical, thought Tab, and would normally have annoyed her more, except she couldn’t see how she could lose. Lottie had Rory, which left Todd free for her (and she could still feel the smacker of a kiss he’d given her before leaping onto Merlin – which had to mean something). But if it turned out that there really had been something going on between Lottie and Todd, then surely Rory would be keen to take advantage of her shoulder to cry on?

She helped herself to one of the mints and passed another one on to Merlin, who was nudging her shoulder impatiently.

‘Well, if it isn’t Todd the tosser himself.’ Tab grimaced, it sounded as though Pip (who’d emerged from the wedding crowd with folded arms) knew him as well.

Tab stared at the immaculately turned-out journalist with her perfect blond bob. The older girl oozed a kind of professional polish and city know-how, and Tab still hadn’t quite decided if she admired her, envied her or liked her. She’d hated Pip at the start. The way she’d zoomed in on her father, Tom, then had bedded him had been so predictable, so bloody boring. But then they’d actually become kind of buddies when she’d shown her the ropes at Rory’s yard. And now it turned out even she knew the Australian sex god. Although that figured; Pip knew everybody and everything. And had tried them out between the sheets probably – the ‘everybody’ not the ‘everything’.

Great, Tab frowned, somebody interesting turns up and she was the only one who hadn’t slept with him. Which was the story of her life at the moment. One day they’d stop treating her as Tom’s kid and realise she actually wanted to ride more than bloody horses.

‘Todd.’ Rory’s voice broke into her thoughts, and from the sound of it he didn’t actually know him, it was more a statement of intent, possibly murderous, which could make things interesting but could completely screw up her plans. On no account was Rory going to be allowed to kill him, or hound him out of Tippermere. Not yet, please God! Tab, who had resolutely refused to even pretend to pray since the day she’d been born, decided that if this worked out she would make up for it.

‘Watcha mate.’ Todd, oblivious to the danger, grinned in Rory’s direction and was obviously impressed with the mark he’d left on his audience. He winked at Pip. ‘Long time no see. Didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.’

‘Don’t you “watcha mate” me,’ Rory was probably the only one who missed the murmur that was spreading through the crowd. ‘You’re the waste of space that dumped Lottie on that Spanish beach, aren’t you? Well?’

Lottie squirmed as the heat rushed into her face.

‘Well, to be fair, I wouldn’t exactly say “dumped”, mate.’ Some of the bravado left his voice as he registered the look on Rory’s face. ‘It was just one of those things.’

‘I’ll show you what’s fair, come here, you Aussie git.’

As Rory lunged, Todd decided not to come or hang about. He made a dash for it, straight towards the by-now bored Merlin, who had a half-eaten red gladioli hanging from his mouth. Making a split-second decision that he was sure he’d regret later, Todd vaulted on to the startled horses back before he, or Tab, had time to object.

Rory glanced around, his face set, spotted the quad bike at the side of the marquee and made a dash for it.

‘Jeez, fella, what is your problem?’ Not waiting for an answer, Todd dug his heels in and grabbed a handful of mane as Merlin plunged forwards. The horse rocketed back across the lawn, happily obliging his rider, with Rory in hot pursuit, waving a fist and yelling what everybody took to be obscenities.

‘Think they’ll be back?’ Pip grinned, this was turning out to be far more entertaining than she could have possibly imagined. And bringing a photographer along with her had definitely been a worthwhile investment. She could picture the newspaper headlines now.

Lottie Brinkley shut her eyes and a new image of Todd swam into her vision. Todd the last time she’d seen him – his bronzed body naked apart from a pair of swimming trunks, his impressive six-pack nicely oiled and the promise of a good night in shining from his eyes.

Until the dream had been demolished by a bevy of Spanish policeman all dressed in black, who’d surrounded them and waved a warrant.