by Primula Bond
Miss Sugar gave a dry chuckle, and went back to sit behind her desk.
‘A mere trifle, Mimi. Don’t worry. It won’t take her away for long. Not even a night. I daresay she could do what I have in mind standing on her head.’
I shook Miss Breeze off my shoulders and stood up. Sir Simeon was very tall and upright and exuded a cool mixture of confidence and serenity. I reckoned he was in his late fifties. Unlike a younger man, who would have been unable to keep his eyes off my still-exposed breasts, his eyes were totally unwavering, and they were fixed on my face. I wanted to measure up to him, and rose on tiptoes to equal his height.
‘The ranch?’ I queried. ‘Where’s that?’
‘My house in the country,’ he explained. ‘I have some guests arriving there for the weekend and I need someone to prepare the horses for them. Escort them on the hunt, too, if you like.’
‘I was hoping to show her the ropes here, Sir Simeon,’ Miss Breeze objected, sweeping across to the filing cabinet and getting out some pink files. ‘We’ve got full bookings ahead for the weekend.’
‘And you shall have her back before you know it, Mimi. But this way Miss Summers gets to see the stately pile. Call it an initiation. If she’s as good with horses as the CV says she is, perhaps we might think about expanding the services of the club one day. After all, several of our members keep horses at their own houses.’ There was a pause. Sir Simeon flicked a glance over all three of us. ‘Just a thought.’
‘Will you not be there to do all that?’ I asked him.
He shook his head, and tapped his leg.
‘I can’t do much of the vigorous stuff with this old injury. Certainly can’t ride to hounds with the upper crust bunch. I fractured my femur when I was a young man, in a bit of a state over a woman and galloping about like a madman. Got knocked off my horse by an overhanging branch. If I’d been the horse they’d have shot me.’
‘And the horse? Was he all right?’
He laughed, a deep laugh that reverberated round Miss Sugar’s panelled office. Miss Sugar started fiddling with a file on her desk. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mimi looking from Sir Simeon to me and back again.
‘Perhaps it’s true that you’re happier with animals than humans?’
‘No,’ I said, laughing as well. He was like a sexy uncle, a trifle stern at first, but he already had me eating out of his hand. ‘Believe me, I’m good around humans as well.’
‘I’m sure you are –’ he paused ‘– because as Mimi and Miss Sugar have told you, that’s our business here. Anyway, the horse. Don’t you worry about him. He went out to grass, like his owner.’
The three of them were watching me now, and the room was suddenly buzzing with silence.
‘So, Miss Summers,’ Sir Simeon said quietly, ‘a trip to the country. Is that all right with you?’
They all looked at me. I had the odd feeling that they were closing in on me, but instead of feeling trapped I felt liberated and challenged. I felt as if I had been in this room, part of this odd little group, for ever.
‘And will you take the job?’ added Miss Breeze.
I tore the newspaper ad into tiny pieces and dropped them into Miss Sugar’s bin.
‘Consider me your “vacant position”,’ I said, almost saluting them all.
And as the two women pressed up against me again, I thought I heard Sir Simeon say under his breath, ‘Oh, she won’t be vacant for long.’
4
I zoomed out of London that Saturday morning in a dove-grey MG which had been parked for my use outside the bed and breakfast. As I headed west past Heathrow, I craned my neck at the queue of jets lumbering in to land. I still yearned to be up in the sky, flying towards the sun, but the adventure I was driving towards had potential, too. I folded the map out on my lap and patted my pocket, where a wad of money nestled.
‘Sir Simeon said you might need this,’ Miss Sugar had sniffed yesterday as she handed me the roll of notes together with the car keys.
‘Looks more like some kind of gangster payment,’ I had remarked, counting out the money. ‘I’d have thought he’d have written me a Coutts cheque instead of handing me a wedge of used tenners.’
‘That’s all part of his charm. He’s a man of many parts,’ Miss Sugar had replied sombrely, but when I started to giggle at the double meaning of what she’d said, she allowed herself a tiny curl of one lip. ‘As you’ll find out, Summers. Do be sure to tell me all about the house when you come back, won’t you? I’ve never been there.’
As I drove under a brick archway smothered in winter ivy, I wondered briefly why Miss Sugar had never seen Sir Simeon’s stately pile. But then, as the car bumped over the cobblestones of the cluttered stable yard, I saw why. This was the countryside, complete with mud, rain and animals. Somehow I couldn’t see her tiny feet picking their way through this earthy scenario.
On the other hand, as I slammed the car door and went to stroke the long nose of a big bay hunter looking at me from the nearby stable, I felt right at home.
I walked along the row of stables towards the tack room and was surprised to see that most of the horses were already groomed up and ready to go on parade. Sir Simeon had said he needed at least four horses to be available, and that the yard manager would let me know. I suspected that my role today was mainly meeting and greeting, just as it would be at the club.
The rattle of an old engine shattered the early morning peace, and a battered old truck bumped under the arch and into the middle of the stable yard, brakes squealing as the driver pulled up just behind my knees.
‘They like you,’ said a deep voice as I carried on my inspection of the horses. ‘The horses, that is. It’s all peace and harmony here this morning.’
I’d heard that deep voice before. Or a very similar one, perhaps a decade or two older. I turned and was pinned to the spot by a pair of bright blue eyes. The man who’d jumped out of the old truck looked like a Native American brave, not a hoary handyman. The black, glossy hair flopping across his eyes and flowing past the collar of his thick lumberjack shirt, the angular cheekbones and full lips were pure Cherokee. A silver earring glinted in one ear. He smelt of horse sweat and the stuff I used to rub down leather saddles with.
‘Linseed oil,’ he said. He wiped his hands on his torn jeans and gripped my hand in his long, brown fingers, momentarily more like a gentleman than a stable hand. He dropped my fingers abruptly and eased a sugar lump between the eager nibbling lips of the horse I was stroking.
‘That’s a funny name,’ I said, raising my eyebrows.
‘That’s what you’re sniffing. I can tell. Sorry. I haven’t had time to get cleaned up or changed into the riding gear yet. The name’s Merlin. Which is also a funny name, I admit. Though Linseed would probably suit me better.’
My nostrils were still pricking. The sharp, potent smell coming off him and off the horses was as familiar to me as my own skin. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I was pleased to be back in my natural habitat or if I would be happier escaping back to London.
‘I’m Suki Summers. I’ve come to meet some of Sir Simeon’s friends. He wants me to escort them to the meet this morning, and go out hunting with them if I want, or if they want. Generally look after them, I suppose.’
He dropped my hand. ‘No need for you to be here. The meet’s right here, up at the house. And they only need two horses. It’s all taken care of.’ He frowned, and yanked open the tack room door. ‘He knows I’m here to do all that. Why doesn’t he ever trust me to get the job done?’
‘I daresay he just wanted me to do a bit of mingling, then.’
‘No need for that either. So he’s shipped you down from his new toy in London, has he? One of his glossy new PR types, I suppose. Good at all that sort of thing, are you?’ Merlin was chewing his bottom lip with his white teeth.
‘Not really, no. I’m new to the club and all the hostessing bit, and he knows it. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m actually far more used to wo
rking with –’
‘So do you actually know one end of a horse from another?’
He didn’t wait for a reply, but simply walked off.
Something was bugging him. It had started the minute I said I was sent by Sir Simeon, but I wasn’t prepared to take any lip from this yob. I’d better start as I meant to go on, and I had to start as Sir Simeon’s representative. Which meant putting some of his other employees in their place.
I followed Merlin in to the tack room, racking my brains for something tough to say. But when I got inside I nearly gasped out loud. He had taken off his jeans and was in the process of pulling off his shirt. It was like walking into a Calvin Klein ad. Despite the miserable English weather this Merlin was showing me a heavenly body. Taut, tanned stomach and cute buttocks clad only in tight black boxers.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I asked. I failed to keep the shiver of nervous laughter out of my voice. Was he pulling his clothes off to scare me off, or something? The horses liked me, but he apparently didn’t.
‘One of us has to get going,’ he replied. His voice was muffled as he rummaged in an old leather bag. ‘So if you’ve nothing better to do than gawp at me dressing, you may as well go back to London. You’re obviously way out of your depth here.’
‘As a matter of fact I’m perfectly in my depth,’ I said, hoping that raising my voice would replace my confusion with a semblance of authority. ‘I’ve been working with and breaking horses for the last five years.’
‘You’ll need to get changed.’ Now he was bending over with his back to me to pull on a pair of white breeches. Fury began to foment in my chest. He was deliberately ignoring what I’d just told him. Instead, he flung his arm out, still not looking at me, and pointed at two sets of tack hanging on the walls. ‘Then you can take those two saddles and those two bridles. The horses’ names are labelled above the hooks. We’ll each need to ride one horse and lead one up to the house.’
The muscles down his sides rippled as he moved, and my stomach stirred at the sight of the half naked body in front of me. I was mesmerised at the beauty of it and, before I had time to point out that I wasn’t here to take orders from him, thank you very much, Merlin swung round, fingers poised to zip up his flies. I clutched the door frame. In the shadows at the back of the room he looked almost sinister. His skin looked even darker brown in the weak winter light, and there was a thin line of hair trickling down the centre of his flat stomach and under the waistband. I could distinctly see a bulge in the crotch, but then any man’s tackle bulged when encased in tight breeches. I could swear he was tilting it towards me as he slowly pulled the zipper up, and my stomach stirred like a cauldron.
I shuffled my trainers in the doorway, staring at his stomach. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. He didn’t seem remotely embarrassed, but I guessed he could sense my reluctant interest in his body. He reached for a crisp white shirt and started to button it up over the tasty midriff. Now I had no more excuses for staring at him.
‘I’ll get changed then,’ I said, backing out of the room, ‘and then I’ll saddle them up.’
I ran back to the car, which luckily I had parked near an empty stable, and darted into the warm wooden shelter to get dressed. I hadn’t worn my formal riding gear for some time and now, like Chrissie’s suit, it was very tight. But I was determined to show young Merlin that I knew what I was doing. That these clothes were like a second skin to me. And once I was in my jodhpurs and black leather riding boots, I felt my confidence surging back. I bundled my hair quickly into a net, as always cursing its length and thickness. It would take Mimi days to pull out all the tangles, I thought, smiling at the memory of her hands in my hair.
I ran back to the car to check my reflection in the rear view mirror. Compared with the healthy glow of Merlin’s body, I looked pale. My Egyptian tan had already been peeled away by a few days in the English wind and by the shock of seeing a beautiful male body on display, yet untouchable, in an out of the way, deserted stable yard.
But once I had my riding helmet on, I was myself again. I did up the chin strap and saw a bright green glint jump into my eyes in the shadow of the peak. I allowed myself a knowing grimace. I’ll show you, Mr Cherokee upstart.
When Merlin emerged from his horse’s stable, I was already mounted on my beautiful chestnut mare and holding the reins of the bay hunter. He looked sensational in his pink jacket. He was knotting the white linen stock tightly at his throat. I glanced at his breeches. I couldn’t help it. It was like trying not to look at a ballet dancer’s lunch box when you’re supposed to be concentrating on Swan Lake.
The bulge that I’d seen earlier had mysteriously vanished, quelled into respectability behind the zippered flies and the well-cut jacket. He was an efficient horseman for now, not a sex god. But I knew it was there. I wanted to see it again. My own crotch gave a little twitch of secret intent. I rubbed myself surreptitiously across the smooth seat of my saddle, and a flush of pure satisfaction flowed through me as he literally stopped in his tracks at the sight of me.
‘If you’re so expert,’ he said after a moment, ‘you can tie this blasted stock for me.’
Without giving myself time to question why he’d suddenly become incapable, I leaned down from my saddle and flipped the ends of the stiff white material into the requisite cravat round his throat. We were forced to be up close, close enough to sniff each other. Close enough to kiss. I saw his Adam’s apple jump as he swallowed, but I refused to catch his eye. I just concentrated on what my fingers were doing.
‘All done. Now lead on,’ I said, fixing his gold pin and straightening up quickly in my saddle. I was glad I’d left my black jacket undone for the moment. I would button it up when we got up to the house. It was really very tight. I wore a white polo-neck sweater under the jacket. Sitting on the horse forced me to straighten my spine and, as the horse moved so I moved, my bottom sliding on the saddle and my breasts thrusting forwards with each step.
‘Mr and Mrs Grey will be impressed,’ he remarked, vaulting nimbly on to his horse without bothering to use the stirrups. He looked me up and down again before nudging his horse in front of me. ‘They’re the guests you’re meeting. I must say you look the part.’
‘This isn’t a part,’ I retorted, coming up beside him. ‘This is me at my best. And you don’t look too bad yourself.’
He glanced at me, his eyes a flash of wicked blue under his riding hat, then he clicked his tongue and we started to trot briskly out of the stable yard and up the long drive.
Already there was a crowd milling about in front of the mellow stone frontage of the big house. A couple of people dressed as footmen were passing round sherry and port on silver trays, and everyone was chattering loudly.
‘Merlin? At last. We thought we were going to miss the hunt!’
A woman’s voice sailed above the din, and Merlin jerked his head at me to bring the horses up to the front door. Mr and Mrs Grey, for I presumed that was who they were, stood between the pillars which flanked the entrance to the house. They were both dressed in full hunting regalia. From what I could see of her she looked hard-faced and mannish. He looked pleasant and slightly nervous, and kept licking his lips. But apart from that, it was difficult to make out the faces under the paraphernalia of riding helmets and chin straps.
‘Avril. Geoff. Meet Suki. She’s come down all the way from London to make sure you’re enjoying yourselves. Amazing, eh?’ Merlin said. He remained on his horse and pointed across at me with his riding whip.
I jumped down from my horse.
‘Let me help you, Mrs Grey,’ I offered, bending to give her a leg up.
‘I can manage, thank you,’ she snapped, pushing me out of the way. ‘I don’t need a young whippersnapper like you to make sure I’m enjoying myself. Sir Simeon has seen to all that already. He’s the master at making sure people enjoy themselves.’
‘But it was Sir Simeon who asked me to look after you.’
‘Nice thought, but can
we just get on with the ride, now we’re all here?’
The master blew his hunting horn to move off. Avril was up on the horse, and raised her foot to kick into its side. I stepped back to avoid her foot. She was wearing spurs, for God’s sake. I made a note to complain to Sir Simeon. I didn’t care if her husband was a treasured club member or not. But as I stepped backwards, I slipped on some dung just as my horse raised its hoof enthusiastically at the sight of all its fellows clopping across the gravel, and its weight came crushing down on the top of my foot.
I bit down hard on my lips to stop myself yelping, and shoved the horse off me. I twiddled my toes. I could move them, but already the pain was excruciating.
‘Come indoors, Suki. Quick,’ said Merlin. ‘We have to get that boot off and ice on before the foot swells up. They’ll have to go without their upmarket escort today.’
‘I’m not an escort girl. I told you. Sir Simeon told me to look after them.’
But I was already learning that Merlin never stayed still for long. He was busy tying up our two horses securely before leading me slowly into the dark interior of the house, and I didn’t bother to repeat myself. I only had time to gain a brief impression of a grand hallway – a lot of fresh flowers, dark panelling and brooding oil paintings – before he pushed through a door at the end of a long corridor. We were in a big modern kitchen. French windows at one end looked over an immaculate formal garden inhabited by topiary figures, which in turn looked over the parkland surrounding the house.
But the parkland could wait. Merlin was kneeling at my feet. He had chucked his hat on to the table. I was looking down at his smooth dark hair. It was all I could do to resist stroking it, but the thought was banished as he eased the tight-fitting boot off my foot and I stifled another yelp as the flesh and bones rearranged themselves.
‘This will help. We’ll finish the stirrup cup.’ To my surprise he laughed as he handed me a large glass of dark red port. The temperature between us had risen from frosty to summery. I started to enjoy his company. On the other hand, he was probably just enjoying seeing me incapacitated. ‘Even the staff have got the day off in honour of the hunt. So let the Greys enjoy their ride. I’ve heard that Mrs Grey always enjoys a good mount.’
