‘Guest bathroom next door. Office opposite,’ Mark said, continuing on but making no attempt to show her either of these. ‘Master bedroom at the end.’
Using a dimmer switch, he lit the room until it was bathed in soft dusky lighting. Ginny found herself in a vast bedroom with a king size bed and built-in cupboards. A brass-handled door led off to the left to what was presumably an en-suite bathroom.
‘Very spacious,’ Ginny said, searching for a nice way to describe the room. It was just too sharp and pristine for her taste, and a bit of colour wouldn’t have gone amiss. Mark set his drink down on a chest of drawers and took Ginny’s away from her too. A fleeting thought of drink rings passed through her mind before Mark’s arms folded around her, and she tasted the champagne on his mouth.
Edging her dress off her shoulder, he gently kissed her collarbone and the base of her throat. With a practiced hand, he undid the zip on the back of her dress, brushing the straps down her arms until it fell in a soft heap around Ginny’s feet, leaving her naked except for her strapless silk bra and knickers.
‘God, you’re beautiful,’ he muttered.
With shaky fingers she slid his tie undone and started on the buttons of his shirt. After taking a few seconds too long with the first one, Mark took over, deftly flicking them open. He shrugged it off, revealing a broad chest. Ginny slid her fingers through the sparse covering of golden hair and pressed herself closer to him, breathing in the heat of his body.
With more urgency, Mark snapped open his belt and rid himself of the last of his clothing. Splaying his fingers, he traced Ginny’s ribcage before slipping his strong arms around her and unhooking her bra.
Ginny sucked in a lungful of air and gripped his forearms as he lowered his mouth to her bared breasts. It had been so long since she had felt this close to a man and her body was responding like a ship-wrecked sailor to fresh water. Her eyelids drooped with desire as Mark trailed kisses and soft caresses of his tongue over her hardened nipples and down her stomach. A low moan escaped from her throat as he slid her knickers to the ground, then straightening up, pressed himself against her. Ginny felt the burning heat of his erection against her stomach and hesitantly reached out to hold him.
‘Oh, Ginny,’ Mark groaned.
‘Is that okay?’ she said, still a little unsure.
‘God, yes.’ He ran his hands over the curves of her waist, then gently pushed her back towards the bed. He threw back the duvet and lowered her down on the silk sheets.
Ginny’s nerves lessened as her body reacted to his touch. She pulled his head down as he lowered himself on top of her and kissed him deeply, allowing him to nudge open her thighs with his hips. Any reservations she held were relinquished as his lips and practised hands coaxed her body to greater arousal, and just when she thought she couldn’t take any more teasing, he leant over the side of the bed and opened his bedside drawer to retrieve a packet of condoms.
Feeling bolder, Ginny completed the task, amazing herself at her brazenness as she stroked lingering fingers over his cock. Then running her fingers fleetingly over his hard abdominal muscles and up to his shoulders, she pulled him down towards her.
Chapter Eighteen
Ginny’s first waking thought was that of unfathomable guilt. She wasn’t quite sure why. There wasn’t anything wrong with sleeping with Mark. It wasn’t as if it was their first date. She glanced across to him and was surprised to find an empty bed. Rising, she opened a cupboard and took out one of Mark’s shirts, slipping it over her head still buttoned up. With her hand on the bedroom door knob she paused as she heard Mark’s voice. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying but his tone wasn’t a happy one. She stood for a few seconds, his voice becoming more audible as it rose in volume.
‘That was sixty grand we lost, dammit! …Five grand? That’s hardly a consolation, is it? This is the second time this month… of course you can help it! If you don’t think you’re going to pull it off, then tell me!’
Ginny turned away from the door, feeling guilty for eavesdropping. Trying to warn him that she was up and giving him the opportunity to end his conversation, she made as much noise as one possibly can when getting up in the morning, flushing the loo, washing her face with hot water, wagering a noisy geyser would kick in, and closing the door firmly as she left the bedroom. As she reached the end of the hallway, she heard the light smack of letters hitting the front door mat and made a detour before heading for the kitchen. Picking up the small haphazard pile of envelopes, she idly read the top one, addressed to Mr M. Wolfe.
Telephone conversation obviously finished and already re-composed, Mark was in the kitchen, dressed in white boxer shorts, showing off his muscular torso. With an appreciative expression on his face, he surveyed her up and down as she entered the kitchen. Overcome with shyness, she looked down at her scarlet toenails and felt like a guest on her best behaviour. The fact that she had slept with her host didn’t make things any easier.
‘Post,’ she said awkwardly, holding up the bundle and putting it on the counter. Mark swaggered towards her, holding her waist and pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.
‘Thanks. I’ve never seen my shirt look quite so attractive. Nor have I ever received a bill with such pleasure,’ he murmured. He kissed the tip of her nose and drew back to look at her.
Ginny batted her eyelashes.
‘Coffee? Tea?’ he offered.
‘Coffee, please.’
Mark turned away to prepare her drink and Ginny glanced at the letter again. ‘Who’s M. Wolfe?’
‘Who?’ he said then nodded in recognition when Ginny motioned to the post. ‘Some guy who used to live here, I guess. I get mail for him every now and then. Help yourself to toast,’ he said, pointing to a stacked silver toast rack on the breakfast counter. ‘There’s cereal in that cupboard up there if you prefer.’
Ginny smiled her thanks and took a slice.
‘What time do you have to be back in Newmarket?’ he asked as he poured fresh coffee from the percolator into a glass mug.
‘I’ve got Raccoon running in the two-fifteen and Kenya in the three-fifty, so I’ve really got be back by half eleven. What’s the time now?’
‘We’ve got plenty of time. Don’t rush.’
Thinking of his earlier telephone conversation, a sudden thought occurred to Ginny.
‘Are you still going to be able to come to the races?’ If there were problems at work, Mark was usually on top of them right away.
‘Of course,’ Mark smiled. ‘You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.’
‘No. I didn’t mean – I meant that –’ Ginny stuttered but was silenced by Mark pulling her against him.
‘Shush, angel,’ he murmured, and bent to kiss her.
Ginny placed her toast and trembling mug of coffee on the table before she dropped them and draped her arms around his neck. With her body giving the green light, Mark didn’t hesitate and swiftly lifted her up on to the counter. The granite worktop was icy cold and Ginny sucked in her breath then giggled at Mark’s amused expression.
‘Last night I saw you in a completely different light,’ he said, running his hands over the curves of her waist. ‘And now with the sun shining, I intend to see you in another light.’
Ginny closed her eyes as he undid the buttons on her makeshift dress and slid it down her shoulders.
‘We can’t be late, Mark,’ she mumbled. ‘I have to do declarations.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he soothed, a sly smile on his lips. ‘You’ve got plenty of declaring to do and all will be done in time.’
*
Once Mark had dropped Ginny at Sally G’s gate, she hurried inside to shower and change. She arrived at the racecourse just in the nick of time to declare her horses and went in search of Kerry and Alex.
She found them in the saddling area, doubled over with laughter at some story Alex was regaling, attracting looks of curiosity from both human and equine passers-by.
�
�And where’ve you been, missy?’ Alex said, feigning a headmaster’s voice as Ginny joined them.
‘None of your business,’ Ginny replied. ‘How are Raccoon and Kenya?’
‘Don’t change the subject. Come on, spill.’
‘I’m not changing the subject. I went to the theatre with – a friend last night in London. You knew that, Kerry.’ Ginny really didn’t want to talk about it with this morning’s escapades still very fresh in her mind.
‘Yes, but we want details,’ Alex said without shame.
‘Will your friend be coming to watch his horse run this afternoon?’ Kerry said perceptively.
‘If you mean Mark, then yes, he’ll be along later.’
‘It was him though, wasn’t it?’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Oh, come on, Ginny,’ Kerry laughed. ‘You’ve got guilt written all over your face!’
‘It might have been him, yes,’ Ginny confessed.
‘Might have been? God, that sounds even more loose,’ Alex said.
‘Okay, okay. It was him.’
‘Ha! You owe me a tenner, Alex Napier!’
‘You were betting on me?’ Ginny exclaimed.
Alex and Kerry grinned like naughty children. From behind her, Ginny heard a harrumph and turned to see Julien Larocque glaring at her. She wondered how much of the conversation he had heard, but by the looks of it, the whole thing.
Too late now, she thought with a twinge of regret. The Frenchman walked on without saying anything or even nodding a greeting and Alex whistled softly.
‘Didn’t look very happy, did he?’
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d have said he was jealous,’ Kerry added.
‘That’s ridiculous. Julien can’t stand me.’
‘That look said differently,’ Kerry insisted.
‘Kerry,’ Ginny warned. ‘Julien Larocque is the last person to be jealous of me or Mark.’
‘Suit yourself,’ she shrugged. ‘But he knows now that Mark scored a double yesterday, beating him twice.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mark’s horse, Symbolic Band won last night at Lingfield, beating one of Larocque’s well and truly, then of course Mark scored with you…. And he didn’t,’ Alex added with extra emphasis.
‘He won? He didn’t mention it.’ Maybe he hadn’t wanted to make her feel awkward by telling her his horses with other trainers were winning when the one she had wasn’t. That was the only possible reason.
*
After a disappointing run from Raccoon, Ginny was almost begging Kenya to win her race. They had dropped the filly back in class, hoping to get a win out of her.
The start of the race was delayed, and anxious to see what the hold-up was, Ginny reached for her binoculars only to find they weren’t there. She had lent them to Mark to watch the previous races.
‘Mark, have you got my binos?’
‘Dammit, I must have left them down at the saddling area. Sorry, Ginny. Can you see okay?’
Not really, Ginny wanted to say, feeling a bit miffed. Her binoculars were expensive and not something which you put down and forgot about. But what would be the point in saying it?
‘No, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll catch most of it.’
The cheer of the crowd signalled the start of the race and Ginny screwed up her eyes to follow the race closely. The pace was quick, ideal for Kenya’s style of running, and the filly bowled along in fourth place, behind a row of three horses. Ginny’s breath quickened with excitement. Kenya was moving so strong, she knew she would take the world of beating to stop her. The horses skimmed the inside rail coming into the home straight, the jockeys getting to work, scrubbing their hands up and down extended necks and fanning their whips. Ginny realised she and Mark hadn’t chosen the most ideal position from which to watch the race, and she struggled to pick out their horse amidst the bunched up field. Just able to make out Damien, Ginny was excited to see he was hardly having to do any work on Kenya. Her eager smile faded however, when she noticed Samurai Prince, Julien Larocque’s entry, racing on her outside. Razor Sharpe wasn’t moving either, but more than that he was blocking Kenya’s side door and stopping her from making her run.
‘Come on, Razor, stop it!’ she yelled, forgetting Mark by her side and right-hooking the air. ‘Get out of the way!’
The horses in front of Kenya began to fade, and it was only when the filly began to lose momentum, that Razor flicked his reins and fired his mount down the centre of the track. Wrenching Kenya’s head sideways, Damien went to follow, throwing his reins at the filly and slicing the air with his whip. But having to build up momentum again, Samurai Prince was impossible to catch. Kenya could only reach the Larocque gelding’s flank as they hurtled under the shadow of the winning post. Ginny was so furious she could hardly speak.
‘I’m going straight to the stewards,’ she said through clenched teeth, but stopped when Mark placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
‘Don’t, Ginny. What’s the use?’ he said. ‘They won’t change the placings. I don’t think Kenya would have caught him, even if she was a little boxed in. She’s just had such bad luck. Poor girl.’
‘You’re going to let them get away with that?’ Ginny retorted. ‘Mark, we would have won!’
‘I’m sorry; I know how much you wanted to win this. But I don’t think we would have.’
For the first time, Ginny almost lost her patience with Mark.
‘It’s not about me wanting to win, it’s about what’s right and fair.’
‘Ginny, please don’t make a scene,’ Mark said, lowering his voice and holding her shoulder. ‘Not now. Let’s just go home and take a look at where we go from here.’
She sighed.
‘Fine, I won’t go to the stewards, but I’m bloody well going to have it out with Larocque.’
*
Ginny’s fury was fuelled even more when she found Damien’s rough handiwork had cut Kenya’s mouth, evidence of pink froth flying from her lips as Kerry led her back to the saddling stalls. Referring to her race card, she saw Julien Larocque didn’t have a runner in the next, and she waited, like a cat abiding her prey, for him to return from Samurai Prince’s prize giving. She pulled him aside as he walked past her towards the stables.
‘What do you think you were doing out there?’ she demanded.
‘Pardon?’ Julien replied, inclining his head.
‘Out there, you and Razor. Did you plan it all beforehand?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Julien looked insulted.
‘Oh, don’t play innocent with me. You knew we had this in the bag, but you went and told Razor to keep Kenya boxed in. You were out to stop her!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Julien said. He glanced around to see if anyone was listening in then pulled her into the shadows behind a pillar.’You really think I cheated?’
‘The proof was right there!’
Julien looked at her with disdain.
‘Then why didn’t you call a Stewards’ Enquiry if you’re so sure?’
Ginny hesitated for a moment.
‘I wanted to, but Mark didn’t want to cause a fuss.’
‘I’m sure,’ Julien said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. ‘Mark Rushin didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Likes to keep a low profile, does he?’
‘You’re bloody lucky, because I would have you and Razor straight up there on the carpet in front of the stewards!’
‘Will you shut up! You are being rude and a bad sportsman. Your father would be ashamed.’
‘He taught me to stand up for what I believe in.’ She lifted her chin in defiance and gave him a challenging glare.
‘What – what you believe?’ he uttered. He shook his head, as if lost for words. Finally, grabbing her arm, he swung her round to face the stables. Ginny gasped in pain. Jabbing a finger towards the hosing bay, where Kerry was cooling Kenya down, he said,
‘See that?’ Then swinging h
er around to face the track, he stabbed the air again. ‘Now see that? That…’ he paused for emphasis and glared at her, his eyes flashing, ‘…is where angels fear to tread.’
‘What?’ Ginny said in complete bewilderment. Julien let go of her arm so abruptly she staggered backwards. The air in her lungs was knocked out as she collided with the pillar.
‘Go home and watch the race again, Ginny,’ he advised, before turning on his heel and carrying on his journey.
‘What the hell?’ Ginny was too puzzled to stop him. Was he threatening her? Was he warning her off the racetrack, telling her to watch her step?
Chapter Nineteen
With venomous thoughts of Julien Larocque pushed to the back of her mind, Ginny continued with Ravenhill’s battle to regain its form. Her one ray of hope was Caspian, now back in light training. The competition for the Dewhurst was now hotting up, the main contenders separating themselves from the rest of the crop. On the day of the July Stakes, Ginny knocked on her parents’ front door before letting herself in. She grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl as she passed the dining room and joined her father in the lounge, where he was already watching the racing.
‘Hello, lovie,’ he said without looking up.
Ginny crunched on her apple and made a greeting noise in return.
‘July Stakes at 2.40,’ he said.
‘I know. The Norfolk Stakes winner, Quillan, is running. Thought I’d watch it with you?’
‘Good, good. Oh, before I forget. This came in the mail today.’ Jim leaned over and picked up a white envelope that was lying on a side table and handed it to her. Ginny opened the gold-trimmed card.
‘Oh,’ she said in surprise. ‘It’s an invitation from Monica and Henry to attend their wedding reception. You remember Monica Sutton, don’t you?
‘I went to school with her,’ she added when Jim’s expression remained blank. ‘Anyway, I bumped into her at the Charity Ball the other week.’
‘You must go. You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure. When is it?’
‘End of next month. She’s left the invites a little late. I might have been an afterthought, mind you.’
At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) Page 14
