‘Really? That’s good, Maria.’
He made a point of standing next to Maria as he read the letter over her shoulder to assure her of his interest. The letter confirmed that Lizzie Fane was a member of that year’s new student intake. He smiled at first, remembering how Lizzie had teased him about his broken English, and how she’d patiently taught him, and how he’d loved those lessons. He had loved watching her mouth form the words more than the words themselves. It was a surprise he’d learned anything new, but Lizzie had assured him that he was her best student.
Her only student, he thought now, his hackles rising when he thought back to her parents, who hadn’t liked Lizzie to have any friends—in case they talked about what they saw at Rottingdean House, he had presumed at the time. They couldn’t get rid of him, because he was with Eduardo, but they had targeted Chico, levelling the most terrible accusations against him in the hope of getting Eduardo to buy them off.
At the time he was angry with Eduardo and Lizzie’s grandmother for spiriting him away before he’d had chance to clear his name, but now he realised they had saved him from going head to head with the establishment, which, back then, was a battle he could never have won. The only thing he didn’t understand about that time was why Lizzie hadn’t stepped forward to defend him. He had thought they were friends, but blood was thicker than water, it turned out, and she had chosen her lying, cheating family over him.
And now Lizzie was here on his ranch, hoping to benefit from his teaching? It was so incredible it was almost funny, but he wasn’t in the mood for laughing.
‘My success is thanks to you, Maria, and to the wonderful staff you have gathered around you,’ he said, determined to look forward, not back.
Maria turned to give him a glowing smile. ‘And to you, Chico,’ she insisted proudly. ‘Without you none of us would be working in this world-class facility.’
He watched fondly as Maria busied herself filing the letter away with all her other treasured possessions, as she referred to the many letters of praise they received.
‘As soon as we receive the official certificate I’m going to have it framed and hung on the wall with the rest,’ she told him proudly.
‘And I’m going to treat you and the staff to a party to celebrate, and thank you all for everything you’ve done for me, Maria.’ He gave her a hug.
‘We’ve come a long way together, Chico.’
As he released Maria and stepped back he could see in her eyes that Maria was thinking how easily Chico could have taken a very different path. His road out of the gutter had begun the day he wandered into Eduardo’s recruitment rally by mistake. Another do-gooder, he’d thought scornfully, contemptuous of the rapt faces all around him. He had believed Eduardo to be one of the rich pigs that came to hand out largesse in the slums to make themselves feel better. Soft bastardo! he’d thought viciously. Ten years old and all fired up, he had been on his way to confront the drug pushers who had killed his brother and Maria’s son, with a loaded gun stuck into his belt and murder on his mind. Eduardo must have seen something of this in his eyes and had called him forward. Chico had remained stubbornly planted, but Eduardo wasn’t so easy to refuse, and Eduardo was big, and hard, and firm, though Chico could still remember shooting venom from his eyes when Eduardo took a firm hold of him. He hated authority. What had authority done for him? Where were the police when his brother was shot? He hated the privilege that brought individuals like Eduardo sightseeing to the barrio and bought rich boys out of trouble. And he hated Eduardo for no better reason than the esteemed polo player was trespassing on Chico’s territory, confronting issues Chico was so sure Eduardo couldn’t understand. But Eduardo had his arm in an iron grip, and his gun was soon in Eduardo’s pocket. There would be no murders committed that day.
‘I owe it all to you and to Eduardo, Maria,’ he said now. ‘Everything I have is because you two believed in me.’
‘And we weren’t wrong, were we?’ Maria planted her capable hands on her ample hips as she confronted him. ‘Against all the odds, the poor boy from the barrio finds himself here.’ She said this expansively, as if they lived in a palace, rather than on a ranch as she gestured around ecstatically with another of her beaming smiles.
His face softened too. How could it not? Every day he relished this life, for Maria’s sake as much as his own. It couldn’t have happened if Eduardo hadn’t treated him like a son, believing in him, however hard Chico had made things for Eduardo. And Chico had made things hard, though he had idolised his mentor. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to have been chosen to work for such a famous polo player. Having taken him out of the barrio, Eduardo had shown him that there was so much more to life than drugs and guns and war, and when he’d died Eduardo had left Chico everything, knowing his devoted charge would pick up Eduardo’s causes and infuse them with new life.
He had used the money Eduardo left him to buy and develop a hand-to-mouth scrub ranch, which after years of hard labour he had transformed from an unpromising stretch of land into the most prestigious polo centre in the world. He had accomplished this because he was meticulous and driven, and because, as Eduardo had noted, Chico had a special way with horses. This gift came from the early days of working for Eduardo, Chico believed. When he could confide in no one else the ponies listened to him, and in return they gave him their trust. This interaction between man and beast had led owners and players alike to think he had some special magic. There was no magic. Polo ponies were competitive and he gave them every reason to trust him, so they obeyed his smallest command. They trusted him to keep them safe and bring out the best in them. Women thought the same thing, but unlike the animals, he had no interest in wasting his time or his emotions on women.
‘Chico...?’ Maria prompted hesitantly, seeing he was lost in thought.
‘Maria?’ He gave her an encouraging smile.
‘Would you like me to walk you through this year’s intake of scholarship students?’
‘No. Thank you, Maria, but I’ll take the list with me, and study your report later.’
He didn’t want anyone around when he did that, let alone the impressionable Maria. Reading that one name had been enough to make him feel as if his guts had been wrenched out and thrust down his throat, and he had to take a moment to control the emotion clawing at his senses that said someone would pay for this oversight.
Yes. He should pay. He should have checked this year’s intake before he went on the polo tour, and then this would never have happened.
‘Is something troubling you, Chico?’ Maria asked him with concern.
‘There’s never enough time, Maria.’ He half smiled as he said this, needing to put Maria off the scent. She could read him so easily after all these years of working closely together, and this was one occasion when he could do without her friendly advice. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he insisted as he took charge of the list. ‘I trust my selection team, which is why I appointed them.’
‘Of course, Chico,’ the older woman agreed, her gaze sliding away from his, as if she was only halfway convinced.
He couldn’t blame his team for this error. How were they supposed to know what had happened in his youth? People had only heard rumours. Even Maria didn’t know everything. There were some things Chico would never share, not even with Maria.
His stomach clenched as he thought back to the day Serena Fane had accused him of rape. It was a preposterous lie, but who would believe him, the poor boy from the slums of Brazil? He had stood no chance against the might of the British aristocracy. He had written to Lizzie on countless occasions after that first letter, begging for an explanation, so sure she’d write back. They’d been so close. She was the only young friend he’d ever had, and he’d trusted her completely. And, yes, she’d been beautiful, but Lizzie had been so far out of his reach, he had only dared to talk to her when she’d shown
an interest in befriending him.
Rape was a word he’d associated with the murderers who had killed his brother, and his shock when Lizzie had ignored his letters begging her to clear his name was indescribable. He could only think that she had sided with them—her slutty mother and drunken father, whom he had guessed all along were only looking for ‘hush money’ from Eduardo. He had never discovered if any money had changed hands, as Eduardo would never speak of it, but he had his suspicions, especially as when Chico became headline news in the polo world Serena had reappeared, threatening to reopen the scandal if he didn’t ‘make her comfortable’.
He’d thrown her out, and had only baulked at bringing charges for blackmail against her because Lizzie’s grandmother had been so good to him, and he didn’t want to bring the old lady any more pain. Lizzie’s grandmother was the only other person, apart from Eduardo, who had believed in him, and she had helped Eduardo get him away when Lord Fane had brought his scandalous charges at the behest of his wife. Chico always paid his debts, and he never forgot a slight, but if only Lizzie had had the courage to speak out at the time none of this would have happened. And, yes, she was only fifteen at the time, but it was clear to him now that their friendship had meant nothing to her.
Too heated to remain in the office, he headed out to check the ranch. He did this every season when he returned from the polo circuit. It wasn’t a quick job as his land extended to tens of thousands of acres these days and took a few weeks to inspect. There were preparations to make before he left. While his students were settling in, this was the best time for him to be away. There were other tutors who would take care of them and start their training while he was gone. When he came back he’d check Lady Elizabeth Fane out, to see what the hell Lizzie thought she was doing here. His best guess was that from interrogation to deportation would take a lot less time than inspecting his ranch.
CHAPTER TWO
‘A COLD POULTICE was what you needed, wasn’t it?’ Stepping back, Lizzie took a long thoughtful look at the patient. She was relieved to see the pony was happy enough to start nosing a net of hay. ‘That, and a bit of a chat,’ she prescribed, stroking the polo pony’s velvety ears. ‘The swelling’s gone down and you’ll soon be back to your usual cantankerous self—answering back with a nip on the arm whenever I speak to you.’
‘Do horses answer back?’ Danny observed, throwing her arms wide on the hay. ‘Can I have a cold poultice please? All over my body, if you’ve got one big enough? I’m boiling.’
It had been a long, hard working day for both girls, who had been bringing in horses from the outlying pastures, but Lizzie refused to acknowledge that it was time to stop work until she’d finished the job in hand. There was never an official clocking-off time for Lizzie where horses were concerned.
‘It is hot,’ she agreed. ‘Would you like a mint?’
‘I’d love one.’
Lizzie smiled at Danny. ‘I’m talking to the horse.’
‘Then, will you please stop talking to the horse,’ Danny complained, ‘and concentrate on me? I’m slowly melting here while you run your equine counselling service.’
‘Here—’ Lizzie tossed a tube of mints across for Danny to catch.
‘Do you think we’ll ever meet our leader?’ Danny asked, cramming a handful of mints into her mouth. ‘Personally, I’m beginning to doubt he exists.’
‘We know he exists,’ Lizzie said sensibly, wishing Danny hadn’t brought up the subject of Chico Fernandez. ‘He piloted the plane that brought us here.’
‘So, where is he?’ Danny demanded.
‘I don’t know. I’m in no hurry to see him. Are you?’
‘Liar,’ Danny accused. ‘Your face has pinked up, and your eyes are huge. I’m not going into any further anatomical detail on the basis that it wouldn’t be appropriate between friends. But, honestly, Lizzie, please don’t ask me to believe that you’re not eaten up with excitement at the thought of seeing Chico again.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. I blame Chico for my obsession with all things equine, and nothing else.’ Which was also a lie, but Danny didn’t need to know that.
‘I remember,’ Danny mused. ‘Since the moment you met Chico, you talked of nothing but having a life with horses, just like him. And now here we are, on his training ranch,’ she exclaimed.
Lizzie faked a laugh, wishing she could join in Danny’s upbeat mood. True, everything on Fazenda Fernandez had surpassed her wildest expectation, and she was more determined than ever to excel and pass her diploma with top honours, but when it came to Chico...
‘Suck him dry, Lizzie, and then take his ideas back to Scotland, so you can use them to set up in competition and destroy him.’
She didn’t hate Chico as much as her father wished she did. In fact, she didn’t hate him at all, but she did feel disillusioned by him. She couldn’t even blame him if he had flirted with her mother, though she guessed Serena would be the instigator. Would Chico force himself on her mother? No. Would he rape her? Absolutely not. But Lizzie’s mother was still a very attractive woman, and Chico had always been a free spirit. But he could have been straight with her instead of promising to rescue her from Rottingdean House, and then disappearing without a word.
‘Share your thoughts,’ Danny insisted, crunching mints noisily as she sprawled out on the hay.
Not a chance, Lizzie thought ruefully. In this instance, she wouldn’t be confiding in her friend. ‘Hang up the tack for me, and then we’ll talk. It’s steaming in here. I’m melting after moving all that hay.’ Fanning herself, Lizzie started to peel off her breeches and claggy top. She relished the freedom of thong and sports bra for a few moments, before reaching for her jeans. ‘The heat, when you’ve been working as hard as we have, certainly takes it out of you.’
‘It’s not the only thing that’s hot,’ Danny observed with mischief in her voice.
‘The men?’ Lizzie pretended disinterest. Wiping her arm across her glowing face, she bundled her bright copper hair up into a band.
Danny opened an eye. ‘Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed them. The gauchos are off-the-scale hot, while the polo players are like gilt-edged invitations to sin.’
‘Really?’ Lizzie’s lips pressed down. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’
‘Like hell you haven’t,’ Danny scoffed.
There was only one man Lizzie was interested in, and their paths hadn’t even crossed yet. She guessed Chico must have been busy catching up with everything that had happened while he’d been away, and doubted he’d even recognise her when they met again. She was hardly fifteen years old now. Nor was she impressionable, or prone to having a crush on a man who looked like a barbarian, and who had the morals of a goat, according to the scandal sheets. It was hard to miss the bad boy of polo, as the sports pages called him, when Chico scored as many front covers on polo magazines as he’d scored goals this season.
Leaning her head back against the wall of the stall with her arms outstretched, she relished the breeze coming in from an open window on her naked skin. ‘Do you think anyone’s going to notice if I just forget to put on my top?’
‘Who’s going to see you?’ Danny pointed out. ‘There’s only one horse in the stable block, and we’re his grooms.’
Lizzie relaxed as her friend hefted the horse’s saddle over her arm, and picked up his bridle. Danny was right. Who was going to see her?
* * *
Coltish limbs and an intriguing flash of naked skin held him motionless for a moment as the girl struggled to pull on a fresh top over what appeared to be—at least to her, judging by her muttered curses—inconveniently large breasts. He wanted to check on a pony that had suffered a bad knock during a match while he’d been away. The pony’s spirit would benefit from human contact and he was keen to make sure it was as comfortable as possible. Anyone who believ
ed animals couldn’t understand what was said to them was missing an empathy gene, in his opinion. He had heard the two female grooms talking, but one of them had left the stall and slipped out of the back entrance that led to the tack room where they stowed their gear. Grooms hanging round so late in the day were either up to no good, or were working late, which meant one of two things: they were dross he’d get rid of, or they were the best of the best. He was keen to find out which category he was dealing with. Shouldering a pitchfork to make the hay bed in the stall more comfortable for the horse, he grabbed a fistful of pony nuts and strolled down the line of stalls.
Emotion caught him square in the gut as a halo of red-gold curls gave the groom’s identity away. He would have known her anywhere, even after all these years. The half-naked body belonged to Lizzie Fane. Perfect.
‘Out of there, now,’ he rapped.
‘What?’ a girl who sounded in no way dismayed demanded. ‘Who is this?’
It was a shock to hear adult Lizzie sounding just like her mother. Not good.
‘I said,’ he repeated in a menacing tone, ‘get out of there now.’
‘Do you mind?’ she replied in the same honeyed voice. ‘Your tone is upsetting the horse.’
She had a nerve. No one cared about horses more than he did.
Had he really imagined he would know how it felt to be confronted by a member of the Fane family on his fazenda? He’d been nowhere close. Anger consumed him as the past rushed back. The humiliation he’d suffered—the expense to Eduardo, thanks to the false accusations made against Chico, and the fact that Lizzie had turned her back on him.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ she murmured.
Was he supposed to wait?
‘There are some things I need to pick up and put away,’ she explained, still in the same mild voice, and still mostly hidden from him in the stall.
In the Brazilian's Debt Page 2
