At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) (38 page)

*

Caspian leant over his half-door as she approached and whickered.

Mindlessly stroking the velvet-soft skin between his nostrils, Ginny considered Alex and Kerry inside. It all seemed so easy for them now.

‘I’m happy for them. Really, I am,’ she said to Caspian. ‘It’s just…’

The colt pricked his ears at her and blinked, the dark pools of his eyes glistening in the dark as he listened to his trainer.

Shame washed over her. She wasn’t even able to admit to her horse, a creature who couldn’t even understand her, what she was feeling. Jealousy didn’t come into it, but in a way Alex and Kerry finally finding each other seemed to accentuate what she had lost. It made her feel just a little bit like she was now left out in the cold, so to speak. Ginny shook her head.

‘I shouldn’t be so greedy,’ she whispered up at her horse. She had won her first Group One – the
Dewhurst Stakes
no less. She should be over the moon, but now all she could think of was what she had lost instead.

It’s silly really, she scolded herself. Julien was never hers to lose.

Caspian pushed his nose into her palm, encouraging her to scratch his cheek or behind his ears. She focussed her attention on him again and smiled.

‘All hail Prince Caspian,’ she murmured. ‘You did very well today, boy. You won more than just a race. Do you know that? You’ve given Ravenhill a second chance. Who knows where you’ll take us next year. We’ll let you have a nice long rest until the spring. You’ll enjoy that, won’t you? A great big paddock full of juicy grass that you can get fat on and grow up big and strong. You don’t have to worry about a thing…’

Contented, the colt placed his chin on her shoulder, gazing behind her as she stroked the short soft hair on his cheek.

The muted sounds of the music in the house drifted through the yard, and with a pang, she recognised the first gentle murmurings of
Show Me Heaven
. Beth must have got her
Days of Thunder
soundtrack out. It was a nice song, Ginny thought, but not a particular favourite, but oh, how much it meant to her now. Julien’s voice that day at the barbeque echoed through her mind. ‘
It’s our song,
’ he’d teased. The laughter in his face and eyes that day was a world away from the expression now imprinted in her memory – his look of farewell.

She sighed.

How and when would that this dark cloud of depression ease up? She felt exhausted, not physically, but emotionally drained. She was too tired to even cry, like someone had wrung every last drop of passion out of her body like a wet cloth, leaving her sapped of the will to confront the future.
Her
future. A future without Julien Larocque.

‘Oh, Caspian. What do I do now?’ she asked in despair.

Caspian blew hot breath across her collar in reply.

Suddenly, she felt the horse raise his head, feeling the muscles in his body tauten as his attention was captured by something behind her. The scrape of a heel against the brick walkway made Ginny spin round. Julien stood just a few paces away from her in the darkness, his face shadowed by the dim golden glow of the security light, and his pale blue shirt bright in the gloom. He had discarded his jacket, but didn’t seem to feel the chilly night as he stood there motionless in front of her, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets.

‘Julien –’ Ginny faltered. She stumbled forward but drew herself up short, when she saw his sober, unreadable expression. She searched his half-lit face for some sort of answer, even just a clue to explain why he was here, what this could possibly mean. ‘I – I’m sorry,’ she stammered, barely above a whisper.

Julien shook his head but didn’t move.

‘I never got to congratulate you,’ he said at last.

With a gasp of release, Ginny wavered, not able to take a step as he strode purposefully towards her. He cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her hard on the lips.

The rest of the world ceased to exist for Ginny, as she savoured the touch of his skin against hers, the warm taste of his mouth as he pressed it against hers. She breathed him in, felt her body tingle as he smoothed his thumbs along her cheekbones. With her hands lingering on his neck, she drew back.

‘Silver Sabre, is he –’ she began.

‘Don’t worry about him,’he reassured her.

‘But is he still yours?’ Ginny persisted, needing to know.

Julien shook his head.

‘Clinton Cole is booking first class tickets for them both back to America as we speak.’

‘I’m sorry, Julien. I never meant for this to happen.’

Julien shrugged and threaded her hair away from her face in a tender gesture.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore. This is what matters.’ Again, he kissed her and Ginny’s senses reeled. The breeze cooled her moistened lips as they parted. She hesitated still, not quite able to believe in her fairytale.

‘But what’s to stop this from happening again?’ she asked, a tremor of uncertainty in her voice.

A smile tugged at his mouth.

‘You mean we are still business rivals?’

‘Um, well, yes. We are, realistically.’

‘And do we always have to be realistic?’

Ginny didn’t reply. She didn’t want to lose Julien now that they had found each other but neither could she ignore the realities of their opposing businesses. Julien was silent for a moment then he looked to his left, to where Ravenhill Stables bordered with Cobalt Lodge.

‘That wall seems easy enough to knock through, don’t you think?’ he said.

Ginny stared at him, her eyes widening as it hit her what he was implying.

‘You mean – you mean
join forces
?’

Julien’s expression was serious again.

‘I have twenty odd stables now empty. I think you’ll be needing a few more than what you have now after annihilating us all with Caspian.’ He looked at her, searching for her response. ‘We could try work
with
one another, instead of against for a change. What do you say?’

At last, Ginny was able to smile without any doubt. Pulling his head down, she kissed him with abandon. As she closed her eyes, she felt the waves of torturous emotions which had crashed against the walls of her head and heart throughout the season, still into a gentle calm.

‘There’s just one thing,’ Julien continued, breaking away.

Ginny held her breath. Now that she’d actually allowed herself to believe in her fairytale ending, she hadn’t contemplated any terms and conditions.

‘What?’ she said dubiously.

‘This is a big decision to be making.’ Julien’s tone was grave and Ginny swallowed. He glanced behind him at Ravenhill’s office. ‘I think we need to close the deal.’

She nearly choked at his words. For the most romantic moment of her life, he wanted to go draw up a contract?

Julien smiled at her bewildered expression and raised an eyebrow.

‘And I don’t mean putting pen to paper.’

*

In the glow of the dim electric light, Ginny and Julien walked across the yard, his arm wrapped around her side. Ginny rested her head against his shoulder. Caspian watched them go, his head held high. Tossing it up in the air, he whinnied, calling for them to come back and give him some more attention. Neither of them acknowledged him. Through the darkness, he watched his trainer opening the door to the office and he waited for the light to be switched on. When the yard remained in darkness, he pricked his ears with anticipation of their return and a low whicker trembled at the back of his throat, ready for their reappearance. With interest, he watched Ginny and Julien’s silhouettes through the window, their bodies separated only for a moment before becoming one and disappearing from his view.

Caspian tossed his head once more, his thick forelock splaying over the star on his forehead. With a resigned snort he ducked back into his stable and reached down for a mouthful of hay, a sixth sense telling him he would be getting no attention from those two for a while yet.

THE END

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Read on for the first chapter of Hannah Hooton’s second racing romance,
Keeping the Peace
.

Keeping the Peace

HANNAH HOOTON

London waitress, Pippa Taylor has no interest in horses or country-living. But when she inherits Peace Offering, a hopeless racehorse, she embarks on a career change in order to see her late uncle’s wish to run him in the Grand National come true.
But having talked her way into a job as racing secretary to champion National Hunt trainer, Jack Carmichael and moved to the West Country, Pippa finds herself faced with more daunting obstacles than even the Grand National can throw at her. And that’s before her tempestuous relationship with her new boss can be considered.

Moody, fiery-tempered and particularly easy on the eye, Jack’s moral code is threatened by Pippa’s arrival. After a Christmas they would both rather forget, danger and deception threaten Pippa’s life in the country and as her time at Aspen Valley Stables draws to its conclusion she discovers Peace Offering is not the only thing she must fight to keep.
An Amazon bestseller, inducted into A Drop of Romeo Hall of Fame and Some Kind of Wonderful Awards runner-up for Best International Romance

Chapter One

Map-reading was bad enough when it appeared all of the road signs for the narrow country lanes had been pinched for scrap metal. But add to the mix an unfamiliar car and less than a hundred miles driving experience on your licence and one would begin to understand how Pippa was feeling.

The small hire-car juddered as if in disgust at being made to travel at twenty through the potholed West Country. Pippa grinded the gears, frantic to change down and keep from stalling. Living in London, she hadn’t needed to drive anywhere and had only ever used her driver’s licence for ID when getting into clubs. Of course, when she did need to use a car, there was always Ollie.

She allowed herself a smug smile. She had been dating in-between-roles actor Ollie Buckingham for three years now. He had a gorgeous red sports car over which he was terribly protective. Also charming and creative, Pippa liked to think that had he not had an audition first thing tomorrow, he would have offered to be her chauffeur for the day. On the other hand, she wanted to sort this business out herself. Dave Taylor’s posthumous involvement somehow made it more personal. Anyway, Ollie had never been too keen on Pippa’s rather capricious uncle. Or the countryside for that matter.

‘It wouldn’t be so bad if any of the roads had signs on them,’ she grumbled. She batted down the centre fold of the map onto the steering wheel. Squinting ahead into the darkening afternoon, she saw the outline of some life form approaching and it wasn’t a cow or a sheep. Pippa sighed with relief. A human at last!

She stopped the car and wound down her window.

‘Excuse me,’ she called to the jogger.

The young man, his face shiny and his sandy blond hair damp with sweat, slowed to a halt beside her. He rested his hands on his thighs to catch his breath.

‘Y’right there?’ he said with a deep Irish brogue.

Pippa’s eyes widened. She knew she was lost, but Ireland... was it possible? She shook her head, ridiculing herself. There was no way she could drive to Ireland on one tank of fuel.

‘Not really.’ She gave him an apologetic smile. ‘I’m trying to find Aspen Valley Racing Stables. I think I must have taken a wrong turning somewhere.’

‘Aye, but you’re not far off course. Go back the way you came, take the first road on your right. That’ll take you for a mile or so to the old oak. Aspen Valley is the next turning on your left after that.’

Relieved that she was still in England, Pippa closed her eyes, reopening them to find the man grinning at her. Could he tell what she was thinking?

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘God knows where I would have ended up if you hadn’t stopped.’

‘Helensvale more than likely or at worst, Bristol. But you’re all right. You’ll be there in ten minutes.’

‘Thanks for your help.’

‘Not a bother. Good luck.’

*

Pippa watched his disappearing figure in her rear-view mirror before moving again. This could be tricky. She hadn’t done a three-point-turn since her test eight years ago and certainly never on this sort of road.

‘Maybe three is a bit ambitious,’ she muttered a few moments later as her fourth manoeuvre wedged her across the entire road.

A loud hoot from her left made her jump. Frantically, she rammed the car into First. The car shot forward into the hedge.

‘Bugger, bugger, bugger. Shit, shit, shit.’ She hauled the wheel anti-clockwise and the car groaned. It lurched backwards as she dragged it into Reverse. The silver Land Rover waiting flashed its headlights at her.

‘I know you’re there, you prat,’ Pippa exclaimed. ‘What do you expect me to do?’

It tooted its horn again.

Her blood already pumped with panic, Pippa experienced the cocooned safety of road rage for the first time.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ she yelled, slamming her palm on her horn in response. ‘Just have a little patience!’

She saw the driver’s arm appear out of the window in a heavenward gesture. Pippa gritted her teeth.

‘You are just going to have to wait.’

Two minutes later, she sank back into her seat. The Land Rover blasted past, rocking her car from side to side, and roared off round the next blind bend.

‘Arsehole,’ she muttered, drying her palms on her skirt.

At a more sedate pace, she followed in its wake. Before long, she found the road the jogger had referred to, almost hidden by the bordering hedges. With a triumphant smile, she identified the oak tree and a red and white sign heralding Aspen Valley Racing Stables. The bumpy driveway snaked up a rise, flanked by post and rail-fenced paddocks. Long distorted shadows seeped across the emerald-lush grass from several horses grazing with the setting sun warming their supple bodies. Up ahead she could see two barns. Beside them was a large block of brick stables and offices shaped into an EI block with the stables making up the E and the I consisting of offices and store rooms. Her blood chilled momentarily when she noticed a silver Land Rover parked at a haphazard angle in the gravelled car park up ahead.