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
