side by side for a few moments, enjoying the view. They were standing very close, close enough to brush against each other, but then Rico’s stallion scented his master’s presence and squealed with impatience.
‘I think he’s trying to tell us that he’s been kept waiting long enough,’ Zoë said.
‘We had better go down,’ Rico agreed, ‘before he pulls that post out of the ground.’
She followed him down the steps.
‘We should find you a horse.’ Rico tipped his chin towards the stables. ‘Before Rondeno breaks free.’
‘Rondeno?’
‘A native of Ronda. My stallion is named after the most famous of all the White Towns in Andalucia. Ronda is surrounded by rugged mountains that once sheltered bandits and brigands.’
‘How very romantic.’ And how perfectly suited to Rico, Zoë thought, looking up at him. He would have made a very good pirate, with his swarthy, dangerous looks. Had Rico’s career taken a similar path to her own, she could see him as a leading man, breaking hearts on the small screen as well as the large. There was always a hunger for new talent. ‘Have you ever thought of acting as a career?’
‘Never.’ He slanted her a look. ‘I prefer reality to fantasy every time.’
‘Flamenco, cooking, riding…’ She smiled. ‘Is there no end to your talent?’
‘You haven’t even begun to scratch the surface yet.’ He laughed. ‘Come on, let’s get you that horse.’
At a gentle canter, and with the warm wind lifting her hair, Zoë began to wonder if she had ever felt so carefree before. The countryside was bathed in a soft, golden light, and the sky was as clear a blue as she had ever seen.
In this part of Spain the ground was well fed by a fast-flowing river, but now it was approaching the hottest months of the year the water was little more than a sluggish trickle. The pastures in the shadow of the mountains, however, were still green, and provided the perfect ground for riding over.
‘We’ll stop over there by the bridge.’ Rico had brought his stallion alongside her horse, and was keeping pace at an easy canter. ‘There should just be enough water for the horses to drink.’
As she cantered ahead of him, Zoë couldn’t believe she hadn’t ridden one of the horses stabled at the castle before. She had assumed they were in livery for any number of local riders, and therefore not included in her lease. Not so, Rico had explained. They all belonged to the same person—someone he knew, presumably. He knew the horses, and had chosen a quiet gelding for her to ride, saying Punto was perfect for her.
And he was, Zoë thought, patting the horse’s dappled neck. Punto was just the type of horse she liked: he was kind, and willing, and wore an American-style high saddle, which was a lot more comfortable than the English saddle she was used to.
Rico’s stallion moved ahead as he scented water. Urging her own horse forward, Zoë caught him up by the slow-moving stream. She allowed the reins to fall loosely on Punto’s neck and gazed around. Apart from the gurgle of water and the sound of the two horses drinking there was utter silence. Lifting her face to the sun, Zoë closed her eyes, allowing the light to bathe her in its warmth.
‘It’s so beautiful here.’
‘I agree,’ she heard Rico murmur.
She longed for him to lean over in his saddle then, and kiss her as he had kissed her before. This time she wouldn’t pull back. No bad feelings could intrude here, on such a beautiful day.
But Rico didn’t kiss her. He didn’t even try to touch her. He just sat patiently, waiting for their horses to finish drinking.
Of course he wouldn’t kiss her. Men couldn’t stand women who pulled away at the last minute. It was every man’s idea of a turn-off. There were only so many knocks to his pride a real man could take. Wasn’t that what her ex-husband had told her? He was right, and this was the proof.
She collected up the reins. ‘I’d better get back to the castle. There’s still so much to do. I have to get to the market before all the best produce is sold.’ She turned Punto away from the water.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Rico insisted. ‘Why don’t I get someone to collect what you need?’
The breeze flipped Zoë’s hair from her face as she turned to him. ‘That’s very kind of you, Rico, but I prefer to choose everything myself.’
‘Force of habit?’
‘That’s right.’
They began to trot, and then the horses broke into a canter. ‘So, are you still coming tomorrow?’ She had to yell to make him hear.
‘Try and keep me away. Shall we race back to the castle?’
The challenge excited her. Urging Punto on, Zoë loved feeling the wind in her hair and hearing the sound of Rondeno’s hooves pounding after her. She knew Rico had to be holding back, and, snatching a glance over her shoulder, she laughed with exhilaration. Rondeno was far more powerful than her own mount, but she could almost believe Punto was enjoying this as much as she was.
The control Rico exercised over his mighty stallion was the biggest turn-on of all, and Zoë’s heart was thundering louder than the combined sound of both horses’ hooves. The friction of the saddle as she brushed back and forth was something new to her. She had never taken notice of it before, but now she was intensely and electrifyingly aroused. Leaning low over Punto’s neck, she begged the horse to speed up and carry her away from Rico—and away from temptation.
He had to dig his heels into Rondeno’s side to catch up with her. His laugh of pleasure and surprise was carried away on the wind because they were moving so fast. She was quite a woman. He liked her spirit. In fact he liked Zoë Chapman—a lot, Rico realised, easing up so they were galloping alongside each other.
Her lips were parted to drag in air, and there was a faint line of pink along the top of her cheekbones that had not been put there by the wind. Her lips were moist where she had licked them, and when she flashed him a glance he saw that her exquisite eyes had darkened to the point where only a faint rim of turquoise remained.
She was not leading him on even a little bit—she was sexually unawakened. The realisation sent arousal streaking through him like a bolt of lightning. So much sexuality packed into one woman with everything to learn about the art of love. Even if he’d cared nothing for her, he would still have had to find that a turn-on. But after Zoë’s fearful response to him sorting her out in the sex department was starting to feel more like a crusade. Her frustration was obvious—something had to give. And he wanted to be around when that happened.
As they approached the castle they both reined in, but Zoë kept the lead. She laughed, and smiled across at him in triumph.
The change in her was striking. Where was the cool professional businesswoman now? Where was the frightened girl who had pushed him away? Right now she radiated confidence. The grey cloud that sometimes hung over her had vanished; he hoped it stayed that way.
She wanted to feel this good for ever, Zoë thought as she sprang down from the saddle. ‘Thank you.’ She turned to Rico, smiling. ‘That was
