Читать книгу Country Affairs - Zara Stoneley, Zara Stoneley - Страница 11

Lottie was on her second glass of bubbly and feeling slightly disorientated by the time Billy had finished the speeches, filling in for his AWOL best man, Rory, last seen riding his mechanical charger into the distance.

So far the day hadn’t gone to plan at all, she thought, as she gazed across the lawn towards Folly Lake Equestrian Centre, home to her father and his new bride.

She had been totally confused when Tiggy had dropped her bombshell, mainly because they both looked happy, and surely you were supposed to be devastated (or at least seriously upset) if it turns out your future forever person was on the verge of becoming a bigamist? She certainly had been when she’d found out that Todd had two weddings but no divorces to his name. I mean, she hadn’t exactly been planning on marrying him herself, but it was still the type of news that came as a bit of a shock.

So, it had been a toss-up. Did she burst into tears because she’d gone to all this bloody trouble organising this wonderful day for nothing? Did she have a ‘life is so unfair’ tantrum? Or did she follow Rory and Todd’s example and do a runner?

She’d opened her mouth, but nothing had come out. Which was when Billy had put a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘To me. She’s already married to me, Lottie. Sorry love,’ he didn’t look that sorry, in fact he looked very pleased with himself, ‘but we got married last month when we were away. Didn’t want to hang around any longer and, er,’ he gave her an apologetic look, ‘we didn’t know if you’d pull this off. So, it’s like a blessing, isn’t it Rev?’ He’d glanced at the vicar who nodded and smiled with, Lottie thought, a certain un-reverential smugness.

The fact that even the bloody vicar was in on it seemed so unfair, thought Lottie, why was she always the last to know everything?

But her Dad had looked so pleased with himself it was hard to be ratty with him, and he’d even given her a brief bear hug, which was almost unheard of. ‘And it’s a bloody good excuse for a party as well, of course. Right then, let’s get this wound up and get on the razz.’ He’d hugged Tiggy in close and there was a collective gasp of relief and outbreak of laughter from the crowd, who’d agreed that this topped even the best of the Brinkley’s previous disorganised events.

And talking of bigamists, which for a brief moment it had looked like her new step-mother had been in danger of becoming, Todd had almost slipped Lottie’s mind. ‘Do you think he’s okay, Pip?’

Pip, who was in the process of grabbing a bottle of bubbly from a passing waiter, topped up their glasses, resisted the man’s attempts to reclaim the bottle, and followed the line of Lottie’s gaze. It wasn’t hard to see where Todd and Merlin had been, and Rory had followed. ‘Who, the beach bum?’

‘No, Rory, silly.’

‘I wouldn’t like to say who’s the fittest. Who do you reckon has the most stamina?’ Pip raised an eyebrow and Lottie hoped she hadn’t gone the shade of beetroot she normally did when asked questions like that.

‘Rory, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘You never were very keen on Todd, were you?’

‘I didn’t need to be, he had it covered.’

‘That’s a bit mean. He was quite nice, really, until…’

‘Lottie that man spent more time looking in the mirror than both of us put together when we were in Barcelona. Hey, look. Is that them coming back?’

‘Crumbs, I’m drunker than I thought. I knew I should have eaten something, but I was frightened I’d bust out of my dress.’ Lottie squinted, and when that didn’t help she tried covering one eye, but she was definitely seeing double, or triple. There were only two men (two was good, they hadn’t killed each other) and one girl (that had to be Tab), but several…

‘Why’ve they brought all those horses?’ Pip said the words Lottie hadn’t dared, in case she actually was imagining it.

‘Thank heavens for that.’

‘What do you mean, “thank heavens for that”? You don’t bring horses to wedding receptions. Amanda was upset enough with just the one. She’ll have a pink fit if she sees this lot.’

‘I thought I was seeing things.’ Lottie giggled with relief. ‘I didn’t mean thank heavens for all the horses.’

‘Charlotte, what on earth is Rupert doing now?’

The giggles froze in her throat when she realised her gran was breathing down her neck. Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe had sneaked up in her usual manner and was now peering across the lawn at the rapidly approaching group. ‘And who is that fellow with him and young Tabatha? He doesn’t look like a groom. The man hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing. Terrible hands and just look at that seat! Looks like he’s about to come off the horse.’

Lottie sighed. For some reason of her own Elizabeth insisted on calling Rory by anything but his actual name, usually to his face. She was pretty sure her gran was actually fond of Rory (just as she was fond of Billy, who had married her late daughter and given her her only grandchild, Lottie), but for some reason she seemed determined not to acknowledge the fact. And Rory, just like Billy before him, refused to rise to the bait. Maybe it was some weird kind of test.

‘That’s the Australian.’ Pip supplied helpfully, and Elizabeth grunted and looked again.

‘I thought William told him to shove off?’

‘I do love the way you say that.’ Pip grinned. ‘Shove orff.’

‘I wish he had.’ Lottie muttered, wondering why on earth they’d all come back.

Rory and his entourage came to a halt several feet away, and this time Todd wobbled but he didn’t fall off.

‘How’s it going, Lots?’ All grins. The man she never thought she’d see again. She peered more closely. She’d expected to see at least some signs of a fight or a minor scuffle, or at the very least like Rory had told him off.

‘Who exactly is that man, Charlotte?’

Lottie brushed the feathers, once jaunty but now drooping sadly from Elizabeth’s hat, out of her face.

‘That man,’ Pip was enjoying herself, ‘is Todd, and he’s the reason Lottie came home.’

‘Well, at least he has some uses.’ Elizabeth sniffed dismissively and turned her attentions to Rory. ‘And what are you up to Richard?’

‘We decided to have a competition. Like a duel but without the death.’

‘A duel?’ Elizabeth had really perked up now, thought Lottie, unlike the feathers.

Rory shrugged and grinned. ‘Well not exactly a duel. We just thought this party needed livening up, and old Todd here is game.’

Lottie looked at ‘old Todd’ and back to Rory. She didn’t like the sound of this at all. Well, it was good that they didn’t actually seem at loggerheads. In fact Rory seemed to have ditched the idea of protecting her honour, which she had to admit miffed her slightly. ‘Not a duel? You don’t want to kill him then?’

‘Kill him?’

‘I thought that’s why you were chasing him.’

‘Oh that. Well, I ran out of petrol and he fell off and we couldn’t be arsed to kill each other.’ He slid off his horse, landing at her feet and gave her a smacker of a kiss, which mollified her a little bit. ‘He explained everything, darling.’

‘He did?’

‘He’s sorry, it was just a bit of a cock-up. I think I might have overreacted a bit when I chased him.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘Thought he wanted to whisk you away, but he only came to apologise.’

‘A cock-up?’ Lottie stared. She wasn’t sure if it was good that Rory and Todd had decided they were buddies, or bad that she was the last one to get the explanation, as per normal. And the apology. She looked at Todd.

‘He’s spot on, Lots. I mean, I didn’t exactly have time to say goodbye or anything before they bundled me on the plane, did I? But it was all a misunderstanding, mate.’

‘The horses Robert?’ Elizabeth tapped her foot impatiently and looked disapprovingly at Todd, who wisely shut up.

‘Tippermere against the rest of the world. Once I’ve had a drink, that is.’ He nodded in Todd’s direction. ‘And you better have one too. Looks like we’ve some catching up to do.’

‘Whatever you say, mate. How do I get off this thing?’

It was at this point that Lottie realised the wedding was at a turning point, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Or about getting an explanation from Todd.

Her father, Billy, Uncle Dom and several of the other guests had already been drawn by the sight of the horses and the competitive spirit was kicking in faster than the alcoholic kind.

‘It’s you,’ Rory nodded towards Billy, ‘me and Dom against him,’ Todd got a look, ‘Mick and’ he looked round, searching the expectant faces for a suitable outsider.

‘And me.’ Tabatha, who had spent most of the afternoon chasing after the elusive Todd and Merlin finally spotted her chance. ‘Don’t you dare say I can’t.’

Rory chuckled. ‘If Todd’s happy with you, then it’s fine by me.’ Todd looked more than happy. In fact, the look on his face was one Lottie remembered well.

‘But you can’t.’

Tab scowled and Lottie hastily qualified the statement. ‘None of you can. I mean, I mean…’

‘Now, now Charlotte. No harm in a bit of fun.’ Elizabeth had a twinkle in her eye and stiffness in her backbone that Lottie hadn’t seen in a while.

‘But, they’re going to…’ She wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to do, but if it involved horses and teams it wasn’t the type of thing you normally saw at a wedding reception. Lottie looked around wildly for inspiration. ‘Amanda won’t like it.’

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her Uncle Dominic. It was what Dom thought about it all that she was more bothered about. She had been determined to impress him today, and not with her horsemanship skills.

They’d agreed that she would take the day-to-day management of the Tipping House Estate off his hands, so that he could spend more time with Amanda, and so that when the day came for the grandmother to step down (although it was a bit like waiting for the Queen to abdicate), she’d be ready to become the next Lady Stanthorpe.

The list of ‘things that needed taking care of’ was a bit like an Ikea catalogue: very large, very varied and very difficult to prioritise, but with the help of Dom she’d drawn up a plan of attack. And raising money to repair the roof was item number one. Mainly because, as Dom pointed out, if the roof gave way then the list would get considerably longer. And she really didn’t want that.

Her father’s wedding would showcase her organisational skills. Well, that had been the plan. And Rory was about to wreck it.

‘Nonsense, Amanda’s up for it.’ He gave her a hug.

‘And we have to get up early.’ She really had wanted to get up with a clear head so that she could go through the accounts her uncle had given her, and prove that not only was she an organisational whizz, but that she was the image of efficiency. And then he’d stop fussing and leave her to it.

And Rory had promised to do whatever was needed to help her out. In fact she had been hoping that he’d help her with one of the horses before breakfast, which he’d enjoy. Then he’d hardly notice when they moved onto looking at accounts, which he hated. Rory was the type of man who shoved bills in drawers and then conveniently forgot about them. Unless they were related to horse feed, of course.

With the wedding plans and all the little jobs she seemed to have taken on at Tipping House she had found it harder and harder to find time to ride with Rory. And she missed it.

‘Right,’ he smacked her bum, ‘that’s settled, let’s get the party started.’

‘But Rory, we do need to get up in the morn—’ It wasn’t that she didn’t want a bit of fun, it was just that when Rory had one of his ideas it never ended in an early night and sobriety.

‘This is going to be a wedding to remember, darling.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You’ve done a brilliant job.’ His lips moved down to her mouth. ‘Have I told you how gorgeous you look in that tight dress? I can’t wait to rip it off. Right, back in a bit.’

Seeing Todd again had been a nasty shock to Lottie’s system. One of the trickier aspects was that she couldn’t remember for the life of her exactly what she’d told Rory about the brief hiatus in their relationship, when she’d set off on her world tour to discover herself. And instead discovered Todd. Which had been quite a nice distraction until the police had turned up, of course.

‘Get me another drink, Charlotte dear, and do stop looking like a wet weekend. It’s your father’s wedding day, well his party, at least. And there’s no point in moping over that man. I’m not surprised he abandoned you, you’re not exactly his type, are you?’ Lottie took the empty glass that Elizabeth was pressing into her hand without thinking. ‘He’s very pretty, but totally irresponsible, I’d say from the look of him.’ She stared totally unselfconsciously at Todd. ‘How many wives did the man have?’

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him, Gran?’

‘I might do that. Somebody needs to stop him pawing young Tabatha. No idea of how to behave. No wonder the Spanish deported him.’

Lottie decided not to point out the obvious, that it was actually Tab who was doing the pawing, and that she was plenty old enough to look after herself these days.

‘Chop, chop dear. And do make sure it’s a double gin, or shall I ask Roger to get it?’

‘You know very well his name’s Rory.’

Rory was oblivious to the conversation. After tethering the horses to the pegs that held the marquee in place (which seemed a bit of a dodgy idea to Lottie), he was getting down to the serious business of planning the competition (on the previously pristine white tablecloth) and drinking. Which left Lottie with the job of getting another drink for her gran and wondering what the hell Todd was doing in Cheshire, well even in the UK, at all. Obviously they didn’t have long prison sentences for bigamy, well not long enough, or he’d just charmed his way out early.

***

Billy Brinkley was used to competing at the Olympia Horse Show, which always took place indoors and was guaranteed to be big, noisy and involve fancy dress and night-time events. And so were his horses. At the sight of strobing disco lights (somebody’s vain attempt to keep the party on track) his favourite bay stallion pricked his ears and got ready to party.

Perched bareback on top of his horse, still in his wedding finery (but minus the top hat), Billy couldn’t believe his luck. Despite being determined to make an honest woman of Victoria ‘Tiggy’ Stafford, the word ‘wedding’ had initially made his hands clammier than they’d ever been when he’d been about to represent his country at the Olympic Games. But Tiggy knew him so well and her suggestion to quietly marry in advance with the minimum of fuss so they could enjoy the occasion, followed by this unexpected competition, made it the perfect day. He winked at Tiggy, who he really did adore, then glanced back at Rory, gathering his reins up as he did so. ‘Keep the flowers on my right, champagne bottles to the left, eh?’

Rory gave the thumbs-up then grinned as his chestnut mare, Flash, who stoically refused to mature and settle, but retained the spirit she’d shown as a yearling, reacted in her normal aghast manner when a rider waved their hands about unexpectedly. She kicked out backwards, her heels narrowly missing the top tier of the wedding cake, before throwing in a buck and squeal for good measure. Todd visibly paled beneath his perma-tan. In fact, from where Lottie was standing he looking more a translucent shade of green than brown.

‘Here.’ Tab passed him a bottle of whiskey, her fingers touching his for a second longer than was actually necessary, as far as Lottie could tell.

The course that Rory had designed was interesting, to say the least. It involved jumping over several tables still laden with glasses and plates, before exiting the marque and re-entering it at the back. The horse and rider then had to clear a row of chairs and a table, followed by the final hurdle, which was the stand that now held the one remaining layer of wedding cake. A swift left turn then took the rider along the front of the bar, where the challenge was to grab a champagne bottle and take a swig before exiting the marquee for the final time.

Rory had insisted that Todd ride Merlin, as they’d bonded. And to be fair, he was the only horse that the poor man had a chance of sticking on.

‘Go Billy.’ Rory waved a piece of the bunting, which acted as a starting flag. Flash half-reared as the scrap of cloth whizzed past her eye, and then went swiftly into reverse and nearly cannoned into the solid bulk that was Merlin, who was unperturbed and looking around lazily for something to eat.

Billy went, the stallion flying into canter from a standing start like the old pro he was. They nearly took Elizabeth’s hat off when they cornered a bit too sharply, getting dangerously close to the guests, who’d wisely abandoned the main tables. Amanda covered her eyes and the wedding cake trembled alarmingly, but it was a clear round for Tippermere.

Bending down, Billy grabbed the grinning Tiggy, who screamed as he swung her onto the horse behind him.

Tab giggled and forgot her gothness for a second, and the fact she had a short skirt on. ‘I’m next, aren’t I? Rory, am I next?’ Rory, who was preoccupied trying to control Flash, who had gone into a spin, turned to Mick, who, true to form, had no such problems with his own horse, which was standing patiently behind him, as though jumping wedding cakes in a marquee was an everyday occurrence.

‘You are, treasure. Go show these Tippermereians what proper riding is.’

‘Will you hold Merlin for me? He’s totally ignoring Todd.’

‘Anything for you, my darling.’ Lottie watched as Mick O’Neal reached out with his spare hand, the other holding a large chunk of wedding cake, to take over the horse-holding duties.

If she hadn’t known better, she would have said Rory’s farrier had been avoiding her lately, but that was just her being stupid. He was busy and he was seeing Pip, and she was happy for both of them. But it had seemed quiet since he’d moved out of their yard and into Pip’s cottage. She did miss the chats they used to have, and his dark, slightly brooding, presence that simultaneously excited and unnerved her a little. And the calm way he assured her she could do anything, and the way he watched her with those dark eyes…

Well, thinking about it, it was probably good that he wasn’t around as much these days. Being excited by a strange man, well a man who wasn’t Rory, wasn’t right at all.

Lottie supressed a sigh. She had loved riding out with him, he made her feel supremely safe and gave her a confidence she’d never felt before. With Mick by her side she’d felt like she could do anything: ride any horse, jump any jump, which was too weird for words as she hardly knew the man.

It was probably just because he was good with horses and she admired him. He was calm and steady – that was all. The fact that his Irish brogue gave her goose bumps, and when he took his shirt off to work she couldn’t resist a peek, was beside the point.

He caught her eye, but didn’t wink as she expected, just stared with those searching eyes that seemed to see far too much. Lottie felt the heat rush to her cheeks; the last thing she needed was a man who could read her jumbled-up mind.

Luckily a shout of encouragement from Todd to Tabatha broke the spell and Merlin, thinking he was missing out on something, stamped on Mick’s foot. Mick swore, dropped his cake and Lottie forgot all about his mind-reading abilities and giggled.

Ignoring all offers of a leg-up, Tab leapt from one of the tables onto the back of one of Billy’s quieter mounts and, gathering up the reins, took off at a canter, her skirt flying up and treating the audience to the sight of some alarmingly pink knickers.

‘I thought she always dressed head to foot in black?’ Pip nudged Lottie, who by now had given up all pretence of trying to organise anyone or anything. Now that it was obvious she had no say in the matter, her only regret was that her figure-hugging dress would have needed a severe modification before she’d be able to climb on a horse, and her thighs just weren’t up to the type of scrutiny they’d get if she went for the split-to-the-waist look. Unless she had a couple more bottles of champagne first, by which stage she wouldn’t care if she even had any thighs, well-padded or not.

‘I used to wear knickers like that.’

‘And now you don’t bother at all?’ Rory, horse in tow, slapped her bum before kissing her neck in a way that was guaranteed to make her wriggle.

Tab, meanwhile, had narrowly missed one of the main poles in the marquee, which had made the whole place shake alarmingly, and decided to take a short cut along the back of the DJ and his equipment rather than exiting the tent. Mr Music Man (as his equipment stated) lurched forwards, his hands clutching at the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be his laptop, abruptly replacing the current smoochie track with some heavy rock.

As the bass kicked in, Tabatha’s horse plunged forwards, took off too late to clear the row of chairs and skidded to a halt in front of the disapproving Dom.

Lottie’s Uncle Dominic, who was more used to the controlled environment of a dressage arena and conducted his life in the same measured and precise way as he rode, gave a wry smile. He had standards, ones that Lottie often felt she fell woefully short of, and a natural aristocratic air that she knew she would never get close to. However much she practised in front of the mirror. Tab, however, not being a family member and having no reputation to live up to, just thought he was slightly stuffy but a bit of a softy. She grinned.

‘Amateurs.’ Dom shook his head and gave the horse an encouraging slap on the rear as Tab regrouped and aimed her mount at the final hurdle. As she did a victory lap around the tent there were a few shouts for her knickers, but even in her elated state it was a step too far for the hormonally challenged but inexperienced Tab, who elected to keep her bottom covered.

The next competitor, Dom, rather let the side down by riding in an efficient and completely controlled manner, as though he was out for a rather boring afternoon hack. Impressive though the riding was, it fell woefully short of the wow factor that the audience had come to expect from the other competitors. He did, though, earn an enthusiastic round of applause from the love of his life, Amanda, who had been keeping her distance from the excited horses. She got so carried away that she ran up to give him a chaste kiss as he dismounted, rapidly retreating when the horse struck one impatient hoof on the floor.

And then it was Mick’s turn. Mick was a true horseman in the way that only an Irishman, born and bred, can be. He understood his horses, knew how to cajole the best from any animal in a way that was a million miles from the flamboyance of most of the other Tippermere residents.

But today was not a good day.

Ever since Todd’s unexpected arrival and the resulting look of shock on Lottie’s face, Mick had been unsettled. And, as a man of few words, he’d found a bottle of whiskey to be a better partner than the eagle-eyed Pip, who he knew would spot his agitation and interrogate him.

It wasn’t that it was any of his concern – Lottie was very much Rory’s and in Pip he’d found a woman who was as undemanding emotionally as she was demanding in bed. He’d accepted the way things were, but the appearance of the man he knew had caused the sweet Lottie a great deal of distress bothered him. And he knew it bothered him more than it should. So he’d withdrawn. Which all meant that when he vaulted onto the horse’s back, his mind wasn’t fully on the job. Horses liked Mick, and now this one was confused by the light hands that had suddenly become heavy. It shook its head in warning, expecting reassurance and Mick suddenly realised he couldn’t give it. ‘Sorry old fella.’ The horse, sensing a difference in his rider, decided to step up to the mark. The round was careful, the gelding who was still young enough to be headstrong, ignored the temptation to be flamboyant and strong picking his way around, and coming to a gentle halt at the makeshift bar so that Mick could reach for the champagne. He gave the horse a rueful pat on the neck. ‘I think we’ll skip the bubbly this time, fella.’

On the far side of the marquee, Lottie frowned. Mick might not be a top competition rider like most of the others, but there was something wrong. He could settle and take care of any horse he rode, but this time it had looked as if the horse was taking care of him.

The holler took her attention back to Rory, who was back in the saddle and hanging on to Flash as though he expected the usual fireworks. Which the horse complied with, destroying the flower arrangement on the first table and landing a hoof in the wedding cake as her finale. A shower of icing coated all those standing near as the mare skidded to a marzipan-induced halt in front of Todd.

‘Your turn, mate.’ Rory waved his by-now empty bottle in Todd’s direction. ‘And I’ve lowered the cake jump to give you a chance.’

‘That is so unfair. He’s not going to make it round the course, you know he can’t ride.’ Tab was hanging on to Merlin’s head looking as if she was afraid her sweeties were about to be taken away. Which they probably were. It would be just her luck to find the man of her dreams, only for him to be hospitalised before she even got a snog.

‘Unfair?’ Rory’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s not some kind of cissy. You’re up for it, aren’t you Todd?’

‘Well it’s not fair on me.’ Tab realised what she’d said too late and turned the colour of her knickers.

‘You?’ Rory looked confused. ‘What’s it got to do with—’

‘Lottie, you don’t want him to do it, do you?’

Lottie, who hadn’t really disapproved of the whole event, just Rory’s involvement in it, hesitated. ‘I don’t mind, honest.’

‘But he’ll fall off, and you don’t want him to get hurt, do you? Please, Lottie.’

‘Well, I, well no.’ Lottie knew as she said it that she didn’t. Todd was the kind of guy you could actually split up with and still like. Once you’d got over his method of splitting up, not to mention his unexpected reappearance. It was the last bit that had shook her up, but it was surprising how much a few drinks could change the way things looked. And in fact she quite liked the new assertive Rory who had emerged. She still thought his apology had been pretty half-hearted, well, pretty much non-existent, in fact, and she would have been quite happy never to see him again. But he obviously hadn’t known what he was agreeing to when he’d cooked up this plan with Rory.

‘Relax, it’s cool.’ Todd grinned, then turned his attentions to the worried Tab. ‘Do I get your pink knickers if I make it round?’ Tab blushed again, but a shade lighter than the lingerie under discussion this time. ‘Can’t be that bloody difficult after all, can it? Bet I can get round in record time and have a drink on the way. Pass us the bubbly, mate.’

He didn’t get a drink on the way, or get round in record time. Tab letting go of the bridle was a mistake. Merlin took one look at the course and his sensible, lazy cob brain decided it all looked too much like hard work. Freed of Tab’s firm hand, he did what all good ponies do – and headed for his hay net. Which unfortunately was half a mile due southeast, back at the equestrian centre stables. ‘Blimey. What the hell do you feed this thing on?’ Todd, who thought he was fit after a lifetime of mornings in the gym and afternoons on the surf, pulled two-handed on one rein to no avail as the horse swerved past official jump number one and headed out of the marquee. Merlin wasn’t a surf board. He kept his course, his neck resolutely set, totally ignoring his riders ineffectual attempts to influence matters. One of the pink balloons that festooned the marquee caught in his tail as he veered to avoid the diving Tab, then he set off at a resolute trot, the balloon bobbing gently behind as they made their way across the lawns along a route he now knew so well.

‘Had I better go and get him?’ Tab looked hopefully from Rory to Lottie.

***

Lottie went barefoot, carrying her high heels in one hand, as she and Rory made their way down the drive towards the equestrian centre, the string of horses ambling behind them. She had been planning on talking to Rory about Tipping House Estate, about their future, about how she thought that one day soon they needed to move into the House. But as she glanced out of the corner of her eye at him she didn’t want to spoil the moment. It was too perfect. He was just so damned handsome, in his sharp white shirt, sleeves rolled up and collar open, his bowtie still somehow dangling untied around his neck. He caught her looking and grinned. Warm, uncomplicated. The only man she’d ever wanted.

On a warm night like tonight all they needed to do was throw new haynets in and check water buckets. As she pushed the last door firmly shut and breathed in the sweet smell of horse, Rory’s warm hands settled on her waist, his breath against her neck.

She shivered.

‘So,’ Rory stroked a finger lazily down her back, taking the zip with it. ‘How did Todd know where to find you?’

Which was a question that had been on Lottie’s lips since he’d careered back into her life several hours earlier, along with the more important question, why?

But as she turned to face Rory her gaze lingered on a copse of moonlit trees that lay to the east. Nestled behind them was Tipping House Estate, where a far more pressing problem than Todd lay.

‘Hey, forget Todd.’ Warm lips traced a path along her jawbone, his teeth teased at her lower lip.

‘I already have.’

And as her dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet in the deserted stable yard she decided all the questions could wait for another day. She gazed up at the inky-black sky, spattered with diamond studs, the moon casting a ghostly glow over the buildings and finally forgot all about all her worries as Rory eased her thighs apart and headed for his final victory of the day.