Nessa considered threatening to leak this news in return for Barbier’s assurance that Paddy wouldn’t be prosecuted. But she realised, without even testing him, that Barbier was not a man who could be so easily manipulated.
Apart from which, she didn’t have the stomach for blackmail, and there would be no way that Paddy’s reputation could remain unsullied. He might never get the chance to prove his innocence, and with the stain of possible theft and corruption on his record he’d never get a job in the industry he loved again. It would ruin him. Not to mention the disappointment of their father and sister...
As if privy to her thoughts, Barbier said, ‘You’re the only insurance Paddy has at the moment. His only guarantee of any kind of protection. You walk out of here and that’s gone, along with any sliver of doubt I may have about his guilt.’
Nessa’s heart thumped hard at that. So there was a chance that Barbier might believe in Paddy, if she could just convince him to return and explain what had happened. She had to cling onto that.
Not even sure what she wanted to say but wanting to capitalise on any sliver of mercy she could, she started, ‘Mr Barbier—’
‘It’s Luc,’ he cut her off. ‘I don’t stand on ceremony with anyone, not even a suspected thief.’
He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, yet he would still allow her to call him by his first name. Nessa didn’t like how his bad opinion of her affected her. She’d never done a dishonest thing in her life—apart from creeping onto this property on that fateful night.
She told herself that she just didn’t like anyone thinking badly of her—and that Barbier’s opinion of her wasn’t important. But that felt like a lie.
‘Fine, I’ll work in the house.’
The corner of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly in a mocking smile. ‘I like how you give yourself the illusion of having a choice.’
Nessa controlled her facial expression, not wanting to let him know how much he got to her. ‘Was that all?’
Now he looked slightly frustrated, as if he’d expected something else from her. After a moment he just said coolly, ‘Yes, Mrs Owens will send for you and show you what she needs. You’ll move into one of the staff bedrooms here.’
So she was to be completely removed from the realm of the stud farm and racing stables. Her heart contracted at the thought of being away from the horses, but at the same time an illicit fizz started in her body at the realisation that she’d be sleeping under the same roof as Barbier—Luc.
She’d never be able to say his name out loud; it felt far too intimate.
And not that she’d even see him, she assured herself. Not that she wanted to see him! She’d probably be confined to cleaning bathrooms and vacuuming hallways. Nessa left his office with as much dignity as she could muster.
En route back to her own quarters, she diverted and went to the paddocks where the stallions idly grazed the lush grass.
One of the huge beasts came over and whinnied, pushing his face into Nessa’s shoulder. She dutifully pulled out the ubiquitous carrot she always carried and fed it to him, stroking his soft nose and feeling ridiculously at sea.
Being sequestered indoors and kept away from the bucolic expanse and the animals was more of a punishment than mucking out stableyards and stables ever could be. But Nessa couldn’t convince herself that Barbier was doing it out of spite. He really didn’t seem that petty.
Instead, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d taken her hand in his and looked at her rough skin so fiercely the other day. She’d felt self-conscious ever since then. She curled her hands inwards now and shoved them back into her pockets, backing away from the horse.
As she walked back to the main buildings she told herself it was ridiculous to imagine for a second that Barbier had moved her away from the stables for any other reason than just because she was bound to serve out her time here however he willed it.
The man couldn’t care less about her labour-worn hands, and, anyway, hot soapy water and housework were hardly going to be any less taxing or more gentle! She just had to get on with it and make the best of this situation until they could prove Paddy’s innocence.
* * *
It took a long time for the heat in Luc’s body to die down after Nessa had left his office. He’d had to battle the urge to push his desk aside and take that stubborn chin in his thumb and forefinger, tipping it up so that she presented her lush mouth to his. Silencing her in a way that would be unbelievably satisfying.
It was confounding. And irritating as hell. Especially as she was wearing nothing more provocative than a worn T-shirt, jeans and boots, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and no make-up. Yet there was something very earthy and sensual about her that made her all woman.
That, and the defiant tilt of her jaw and the look in her eyes, effortlessly enflamed him. He had the same impulse when he was around her that he had with an unbroken horse. A desire to tame it, and make it bend to his will.
He’d never before become so interested in one woman. Women had never enthralled Luc beyond the initial attraction, and it usually waned quickly. He’d be the first to admit his experience of women hadn’t been the most rounded. His mother had shown only the briefest moments of motherly love, before her addictions had swallowed her whole.
The girls in his milieu had been as gritty and tough as him, broken by their surroundings and circumstances. And if they weren’t broken then they got out and went far away, exactly as he had done.
Sometimes, the women who frequented the social sphere he now inhabited reminded him of the girls and women of his youth. They were hard and gritty too, but hid it under a shiny, expensive sheen.
But Nessa was none of those things, which intrigued him in spite of his best instincts. And she was out of bounds, for many reasons, not least of which was her suspected collusion with her brother.
He knew without arrogance that she was attracted to him. He saw it in her over-bright eyes and pink cheeks, her taut body that quivered slightly in his presence. He felt fairly sure she must know that he was attracted to her—in spite of his words that first night. I can’t say that you’d be my type. Apparently she was.
Yet she wasn’t testing him by using their chemistry to try and leverage any advantage. He didn’t think a woman existed who wouldn’t. Unless she was playing some game. That was far more probable.
He stood at his window now, the view encompassing the gallops in the distance where his thoroughbreds were being exercised, and the stud farm just out of sight on the other side.
He had both sides of the industry here—racing and breeding. It gave him immense satisfaction to see it all laid out before him, except today, for the first time, there was a slight dilution of that satisfaction. As if something had taken the sheen off it. As if something was reminding him that he hadn’t made it yet. Not really.
Luc scowled. He knew he hadn’t made it yet, not completely. No matter how many winners he had or sired with his stallions.
He wouldn’t have made it until he was respected by his peers, and not looked at with varying degrees of suspicion.
It
