or shall I just enter at A?’
Knowing Rory as she did, she guessed it was probably a rhetorical question, but answered it anyway. ‘And exit three seconds later?’ She patted the docile Flash, who was looking like a tired donkey. ‘I suppose it might give you a chance of getting in the top twenty if you manage to scare all the others off.’ She worked on keeping a thoughtful face, but one glance of the sexily frustrated look Rory shot at her tickled her somewhere deep down and brought a grin to her face. It was hard to stay serious with him around, you either laughed with him, or, as he was so funny when he got angry, you had to laugh at him. ‘I don’t know what your problem is, call yourself a horseman, you could put a baby on her.’ She gave the mare a dig in the ribs as the horse was now resting a leg, and leaning half a ton of horseflesh against her. ‘Come on you old nag, let’s go bust some balls.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about, busting mine.’ Rory gave the mare a hearty slap on the rump as they walked out of the stall past him and flicked some shavings out of the long tail. ‘Call yourself a groom.’
‘No, I don’t actually. Remind me not to come to your rescue again you ungrateful sod.’
Lottie watched as he buttoned up his jacket and straightened the cravat. He was the type of man she couldn’t resist coming to the rescue of. One flash of that wicked grin and she came running like a bloody lapdog, well like his army of terriers. Which reminded her… ‘Are the dogs okay in the back of the lorry?’
‘They were trying to dig a hole in the floor when I left them, hope the floorboards are more solid than the rest of that rust bucket.’
‘At least that rust bucket,’ Lottie tried to look haughty and was pretty sure she’d failed, ‘is one up on your posh purple passion wagon, which wouldn’t even start.’ The wagon was nothing like the lorry that had been gifted to Rory by one of his rich owners, who liked only the best for their darling horse. But it was the only thing Billy would lend her. This one didn’t have shiny livery, full kitchen area, shower and double bed. It had space for three horses at the back, a narrow tack room with just enough room to swing a very small cat in the middle, and an ‘almost double bed’ squashed above the cab.
‘I suppose well used and dirty,’ he winked at her, ‘but in full working order, is better than immaculate and good-looking but can’t rise to the occasion.’
She followed his line of sight, straight to the upright and correct figure of her uncle, Dominic Stanthorpe. Dressage rider extraordinaire, or so a certain gushing woman’s mag had once labelled him. ‘Are you having a go at Uncle Dom again? And how do you know he can’t rise to the occasion?’ She raised an eyebrow, then held up a hand as he opened his mouth to answer. ‘No, on second thoughts, don’t go there. I don’t want to know what the latest trailer trash gossip is. I like Uncle Dom.’
‘You like everyone, darling. Which is why you call so many shits your friends.’
‘And are you one of those many shits?’ She checked Flash’s bridle as she spoke, straightening the bit, running a finger along the curb. Trying not to be concerned whether he answered or not. ‘Maybe you should try her in a hackamore?’
‘Maybe I should put my name on the suicide watch.’ His tone was dry. ‘And no, Charlott-ie,’ his firm, dry lips came down lightly over hers, ‘I try not to shit on my own doorstep.’ He pulled down the stirrup leathers and Flash, who’d gone back to resting a leg, nearly fell over as he landed lightly in the saddle.
Lottie grinned as they staggered sideways. ‘Never seen a half pass performed half-mounted before. Can you do them when you’re in the saddle too?’
‘Smart-arse.’ Rory gave her the finger and straightened his hat. ‘Maybe you should let the dogs out, might be a good distraction.’
She smiled and dropped a kiss on the mare’s velvet soft nose, breathed in the horsey smell. ‘Try and stay in the ring this time darling.’ Flash snorted in response, not a good sign, her nostrils flaring until she could see the pink lining.
‘What the fuck is he doing here in this backwater, anyway?’ Rory was still staring suspiciously over in Dom’s direction.
Lottie shrugged. ‘Gran probably told him, so he could keep an eye on us.’
‘Oh great, so we trek all the way out here where nobody can witness my death and Elizabeth goes and spreads the word to the whole county. I wondered why it was so bloody busy.’
‘You’re exaggerating, about the whole county and about your death. Stop being such a prima donna.’
***
Rory and Flash were early in the running, which was a bonus as the patch of grass set aside for warming up was quiet. If they were jumping, it didn’t matter how many other horses were around, Flash had the poles to concentrate on and everything else faded into insignificance. Given an obstacle-free area though and the horse seemed to think someone was waiting to plan a surprise, suspicion traced its way through every muscle in her body and anything from another horse to a spectator’s hat was guaranteed to wind her up.
However much she teased him, Lottie knew Rory was a good rider, and so did he. He was strong from eventing, a sport not for the faint-hearted or weak-bodied, but his muscle tone was long and lean rather than the short, compact build that her show-jumping father sported. And he didn’t seek to dominate, which was a saving grace when it came to a horse like Flash. He sat quietly, confidently, long legs wrapped around her – holding her in a safe embrace. When Flash spooked, he didn’t react, his body going with her, his hands giving but firm.
Lottie’s gaze was locked onto him. She couldn’t help but watch him. He might not portray quite the picture of elegance and control that Dom did, but it was almost like he was part of the horse. His body adapted, flowed in response, shifting like he had to do during the wild cross-country rollercoaster of twists and turns, ups and downs. She flicked her gaze from Rory to Dom and back again, so different and yet so the same. And yeah, Dom was so controlled, so distant almost, in contrast to the fiery ball of energy that was Rory, that she could see why each regarded the other with suspicion.
To Dom, Rory was a wild child with no respect for his own safety, and no style. The latter probably being the most injurious to his fine sensibilities. He distrusted the man’s apparent casual attitude to women, was wary of his easy sense of humour and cavalier approach to life. And to Rory, Dom was too prim and proper, totally unbending and most likely gay. Which was quite an accomplishment given his parentage and upbringing.
Lottie grinned as Flash fly-bucked and Rory did a good imitation of a rodeo rider, waving one arm in the air. She could almost feel the waves of disapproval emanating from Dom on the other side of the area. But whatever they said, she was pretty sure they admired each other in some weird, indefinable way.
The judge’s car horn went and Lottie checked the running order. She signalled at Rory, next in, and saw Flash’s ears flicker in what could have been warning or anticipation.
Enter at C, working trot was the official first line of the dressage test. The fact that Flash entered was in fact a bonus, but there was nothing that suggested ‘working’ and only a smattering of ‘trot’ in what followed. She danced in a zigzag combination that involved trot, canter and an amazingly good pirouette. Lottie could have sworn Rory closed his eyes briefly as he silently willed the horse down the centre line.
The next few instructions on the test would have been a mystery to even an experienced onlooker. The ten metre circle resembled a broken egg and the
