two-point position, put her legs on and Belle responded eagerly, her legs working like dark pistons making holes in the white snow.
Belle knew the terrain here well and, even though it was covered in snow, Georgie trusted the mare to be sure-footed as they cantered on. It felt so good to have some fun instead of walking around getting in touch with your seatbones!
As they crested the top of the hill, Georgie pulled Belle back to a trot as she saw the rider up ahead of her. At a distance all that Georgie could make out was the colour of the horse – a chestnut – and the rider’s jersey – ice blue, the colour of Burghley House. Knowing her luck it would be Conrad Miller, and he would find some pathetic school rule about not being allowed out in the snow and give her Fatigues.
She had just decided to turn round and give them a wide berth, when the rider on the chestnut horse waved to her.
Georgie steadied Belle and peered at the horizon. The rider on the chestnut waved once more and then urged his horse on into a canter, coming up the hill from the other side towards her. Georgie watched the way he rode, completely fearless, relying on his perfect balance to control the horse, with reins held so long they were almost at the buckle. And then she realised that she knew him.
It was James Kirkwood.
James cantered right up to her and pulled his horse to a halt. “Hi, Parker. Have a good holiday?”
Suddenly face to face with him, Georgie’s first thought was her hair. The hair earmuff trick had worked – her ears were nice and toasty. But she knew that she must look ridiculous, like some sort of demented Pippi Longstocking. And here she was for the first time with the boy who had dumped her last term.
“My holidays?” Georgie said, self-consciously trying to flatten her sticky-outy plaits. “OK, I guess.”
James grinned. “Don’t give me too much detail, will you? We might end up having a conversation.”
Georgie wanted more than anything to pull her helmet off and fix the plaits, but she was certain she would have helmet-hair underneath. Luckily James didn’t seem to have noticed the weird hairdo.
“I went back home to Little Brampton,” she said. “Dad cooked a massive Christmas dinner and everyone came over. Apart from that I was at Lucinda’s helping out at the stables. How about you?”
“The usual Kirkwood family Christmas,” James groaned. “The stepmom spent the whole time planning cocktail parties for people that she doesn’t even like. Dad disappeared with the hounds every day and Kennedy and I managed to stay in different wings of the house most of the time so we could avoid speaking to each other.”
“Sounds like fun,” Georgie said dryly.
“Belvedere misses you,” James added, referring to the big brown hunter that Georgie had ridden when she had stayed at the Kirkwood mansion. “I took him for a hack to cheer him up and we went down to the edge of the woods – you know, where we went that day?”
He gave Georgie that cute lopsided grin of his. She knew the woods that James meant. They had been out hunting and they had somehow ended up there alone. That was when he kissed her. Georgie felt herself blush. Was James flirting with her again?
“So anyway,” James tried to sound casual, “are you still seeing that guy? The one you were with at the School Formal? What’s his name again?”
“Riley,” Georgie said. She wasn’t about to tell James that she hadn’t spoken to Riley since the Formal, or that she wasn’t even sure if she was still dating him.
“He doesn’t go to Blainford, does he?” James asked.
“No,” Georgie said, “he’s at Pleasant Hill High School.”
“So this Riley,” James said. “How did you meet him if he doesn’t go to school here?”
“He’s Kenny’s nephew,” Georgie said. “He was helping me to school Belle.”
“So, he’s some kind of horse whisperer?” James sneered.
“No,” Georgie said, “He rides trackwork. Racehorses.”
“Does he have his own stables?”
“You’re asking a lot of questions about him,” Georgie frowned. “You’re acting like my dad.”
“Am I?” James said, a fraction too quickly. “I’m just wondering what you see in him, that’s all. A guy like that…”
“Like what?” Georgie said.
“You know,” James said. “He’s not one of us, is he?”
“I didn’t know there was an ‘us’,” Georgie said.
“Oh, yeah,” James said. “Totally. There’s a ‘you’, and there’s a ‘me’ and I definitely think there’s an ‘us’…”
As he said this he reached out a hand and gently touched Georgie’s cheek. “You’ve got a snowflake on you,” he said. “I thought I’d better wipe it off.”
Suddenly Georgie’s cheeks burned so hot they could have thawed a snowdrift.
“I better get back,” she somehow managed to get the sentence out. “It’s getting late.”
“I’ll come with you,” James said. “This snow is getting pretty heavy.”
They walked back down the hill, both of them staying off the subject of Riley. Instead, they talked about their new classes for the term. James was a year ahead of Georgie and he was a showjumper. But he’d already decided that next year he would switch his option and major in polo.
“I tried to fight it, I guess,” he said. “It was just such a cliché, what with my dad being on the school polo team when he was at Blainford. I wanted to be different, but I’m playing for Burghley this season and Heath Brompton, the polo master, thinks I could go pro one day. I guess it’s in the blood, you know. Like with you and your mom and eventing.”
“Not so much,” Georgie groaned. “I’m out of the cross-country class this term, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” James winced. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. What are you taking instead?”
“Dressage,” Georgie said.
“And it’s not going well?” “It’s so boring,” Georgie said. “And everything is complicated. It’s like she’s speaking a foreign language.”
“German?”
Georgie giggled. Bettina was also her German teacher. “I’ll get used to it, I suppose,” Georgie said, trying to sound positive.
They had arrived at the turn-off that led to her stables.
“Well, this is me,” she said.
“I guess I’ll see you later.” “I guess you will,” James said. He turned his chestnut to ride away and then he halted the horse and looked back at her.
“By
