‘He’s a bit of a perfectionist. He likes to do stuff for real. I don’t mind Seb that much, he’s okay. He can be a bit of a prick, but he’s not always scheming like Pandora is.’
‘You reckon she’s scheming?’
‘Well she always knows what she wants and she makes sure she gets it. To be honest, she has helped me a bit recently, but I don’t trust her.’
‘So she’s determined, but not very nice.’
‘And she doesn’t care who she hurts along the way.’
‘Oh. And where’s Xander gone?’
‘To do the horses. Look, do we have to talk about everybody else? I know you fancy the pants off him, but …’
‘I don’t!’
‘You do.’ He laughed. ‘I get it. Everybody does Sam, Lottie, even Tiggy.’
‘Bollocks. Are you jealous?’ She grinned, but his normal playful smile was absent. ‘Oh come on, Lottie doesn’t fancy him, she’s got Rory.’
Jamie raised an eyebrow and didn’t comment.
‘She doesn’t. Does she? You do know,’ she slipped an arm through his, ‘you’re catching the Xander grumps.’
‘You’re obsessed with him.’
Tab was just trying to come up with a suitable response when an unmistakable authoritarian voice stopped her in her tracks.
‘Ah, there you are.’ It was Elizabeth, standing on the stone steps that led to the entrance door of Tipping House. ‘Whatever have you been doing?’
‘I couldn’t find my clothes.’
‘Oh really.’ She gave Jamie a stern look. ‘I’ve been watching from upstairs. What a carry on. You two can come with me. Come along, I want to talk to you. Quickly, before that dreadful man appears and starts shouting again.’
‘He’s gone back to Kitterly Heath to recover.’ Tab giggled.
‘The man should stay there. He is such an unpleasant individual, so uncouth.’ She gestured for them to follow and went inside, heading for her sitting room. ‘Sit down both of you.’ They shared a glance, like naughty school children, then sat side by side on the Chesterfield, knees touching. ‘Now James, I seem to remember when you first came here that you were telling me all about the cause of our fire.’
‘Was I?’ He looked surprised at the sudden line of questioning.
‘You were. About that man – the bridegroom from that wedding. Speak up, don’t mumble.’
‘I don’t think I was telling you anything.’ He frowned. ‘I just asked if it was true, what I’d read in the papers, and online.’
‘Online. Exactly. I seem to recall hearing Samantha say something similar about this chap talking on, what was it? Face something or other?’
‘Facebook?’ Supplied Tab, wondering what this was all about.
‘That’s the one. Right, young James, you can make yourself useful. Pour me a gin and tonic, and you, Tabatha, can show me this Facebook thing. You can use my machine.’
‘Machine?’ Tab looked in astonishment at the tablet that was on the table in front of Elizabeth.
‘Philippa purchased it for me, so that I could talk to her on that sky system, you know where one can look and talk. I’ve told you about this once, James, haven’t I?’
‘Skype.’ He filled in, for Tab’s benefit.
‘That’s what I said. Think she wanted to keep an eye on me. Although it isn’t the same as being with somebody, is it?’ She looked, thought Tab, rather sad. Everybody knew that she missed Pip, who had been as naughty as she was. Together they had livened up Tippermere no end with their mischief-making, the staunch lady of the manor and the freelance journalist, who was always on the lookout for a story heavily laced with scandal and gossip. Elizabeth was determined to age as disgracefully as possible, and although she had encouraged Pip to follow her lover back to Australia, it had obviously left a gaping hole in her life.
‘Come along, girl. I really would like to find out what all the fuss is about, and then you can help me with a little investigation. These new-fangled ideas really aren’t my thing at all.’
Chapter 14
As Lottie rode out through the archway she realised how quickly she’d got used to the presence of the film crew. She had steered well clear of Seb since the dog incident, though, and felt that the greater distance from Pandora she had the better.
Although Lottie had experienced many insecurities over the years – like was she really a good enough rider to compete, was she really good enough for Rory, and would she ever be a worthy heiress as far as the Tipping House Estate went – she’d never felt that anybody had hated her. Until now.
She couldn’t put her finger on exactly why; as far as she could remember she’d never even spoken to Sarah, or should she say Pandora, when they were at school, and she barely remembered her. It was all very strange, but there again Pandora didn’t seem particularly fond of anybody except herself, and maybe her husband.
After the disastrous scene with Tab word had spread, and much to Seb’s fury, there had been twice as many people paying the entrance fee the next day, many carrying cameras with very long lenses.
Lottie really did find him rather intimidating with his cold, grey, lizard eyes, which seemed to be constantly assessing everything and finding it wanting. Even when he was in a good mood. Which he clearly wasn’t today.
He’d been practically frozen with rage when he’d arrived on set to see them all neatly lined up behind the rope, and Rory and Lottie had been unlucky enough to be within hearing distance.
‘You, yes you two, come here.’
Rory grinned at Lottie, then leaned over from his horse and whispered in her ear. ‘This could be a laugh, come on, gorgeous.’ And he’d kicked his horse into a spanking trot and headed straight for the prickly producer, who’d flinched, but resolutely held his ground. Lottie had to hand it to him, despite his obvious distaste, and possibly fear, of horses, he was determined not to let anything get in the way of the film.
‘I thought I said that they,’ he pointed, his mouth tightening with disapproval, ‘had to go.’
‘You probably did, mate, but it’s not really up to you, is it?’
‘Get them out of here, and what is that old bag doing on the driveway? She’s not even behind the bloody rope. Somebody get her out of here. Jamie!’
Rory chuckled. ‘Rather you than me.’
Jamie, who had run over, waving at the ‘old bag’ on his way, awaited instructions. ‘Yes, Seb?’
‘Sort her out.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘We’re nearly ready to roll.’
‘Her?’ Jamie looked around, confused.
‘That!’ Seb pointed. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, do I need to do everything myself?’
‘Er, that’s Lady Elizabeth, Seb. Haven’t you met her yet?’
Seb, who had sorted all the contractual obligations out with Lottie, had certainly not met Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe. He glared at Jamie. ‘Well,’ his tone as coldly controlled as ever, ‘ask her and that hound to move, or I won’t be shooting a film and she won’t be getting paid.’
Jamie had done as bid (couching it more diplomatically), and Elizabeth had told him with a smile that of course she’d move. In her own time. And wasn’t it a beautiful morning? And how was he getting on with Facebook? So the two had edged slowly back towards the house, Elizabeth using her stick as theatrically as possible, while Seb had ground his teeth with impatience and wondered if he’d have any left by the time they left this goddamned awful place.
Two weeks on and the crowd, Lottie noted, had depleted. They’d grown fed up with the monotonous retakes and the absence of any real stars. After all, they could see galloping ponies any day of the week.
Mrs Jones, from the village shop, had told her they’d all be back when they knew there was going to be some beefcake on show, and then she’d winked in a rather alarming way and said she was relying on Lottie to keep her updated.
Lottie slowed her pace as she heard hoof steps not far behind and Badger, her horse, tried to turn so that he could see who it
was.
‘Mind if I join you? I need some exercise to stretch the kinks out of my spine. I’m getting too old for sleeping in horseboxes. Even luxury ones.’
She’d expected Tab or Rory, not Xander.
Xander looked sideways at Lottie as his horse fell into step with hers, and wondered if he’d been wise to come back to Tippermere, or more precisely to her. Maybe he should have followed his instincts and left as soon as he’d realised that the girl he’d been besotted with was still in Tippermere, and the heir to the Tipping House Estate.
At first he’d kidded himself that with the passing of time his feelings for her would have changed, then he’d convinced himself that the only time he’d be on the estate was when they were filming and so the chances of him seeing her were practically zero. Then it had become such a headache getting past the press that he’d been forced to move into his horsebox parked on the estate, and avoiding her had become impossible.
But he could cope. Even if she was as gorgeous as ever. She was a married woman now. All he had to do was keep his distance – so what the hell was he doing following her around like a sheepdog?
‘Is the hotel in Kitterly Heath really so bad?’ She was looking at him quizzically.
‘The hotel’s fine,’ he grimaced, ‘especially the bed, but it wasn’t much fun eating breakfast with a telephoto lens trained on the muesli.’
‘They had muesli?’ She grinned. ‘Gone upmarket in that place these days, then.’
He returned the smile, but it hadn’t been amusing at all. The real nightmare had been getting to his car. There were more press cars in the hotel car park than there were visitors. They weren’t there to see him, they were there to see Pandora and the actor playing her ‘rock star’ husband, but he didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. To get asked questions.
‘I didn’t know you were famous.’
‘I’m not. They’re not there for me. Look,’ he could see the questions that were going to follow on, ‘I’m not exactly famous, but I did get pretty well known when I was playing polo. These guys aren’t sports photographers, they chase celebs, but if my picture appears in the papers …’ He shrugged. He’d not spoken to anybody about exactly why he was so keen to keep a low profile. ‘There are reasons why I agreed to do this for Pandora.’
Lottie raised a questioning eyebrow and he smiled in response.
‘I could just tell you I needed the money.’
She grinned. ‘Really?’
‘Well I do, but I wanted a hideaway as well.’
Her big green eyes opened wider. ‘Carry on, you can’t stop now.’
‘Well I had some bad publicity.’
‘You don’t need to tell me what that’s like. Dad used to get some terrible headlines but they’re a bit kinder now. What did you do? Shag somebody you shouldn’t?’
He paused. Wondering why he felt a sudden urge to explain.
‘Shag two people you shouldn’t, at the same time?’ Her voice dropped to a new husky level that sent a shiver between his shoulder blades. ‘Kill somebody?’ He must have looked horrified rather than trying to resist feelings of lust because she held up a hand. ‘It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me. I was kidding, honest.’
He shook his head, the reality bringing him back down to earth with a bump. ‘I was riding in a pretty tough match and lost a horse.’
‘Lost? You mean …’ Those green eyes looked straight at his with a compassion that made it harder. ‘Oh gosh, how horrible.’
‘It was, she was a brilliant mare, the newspapers had a field day about how the ponies are mistreated.’
‘I meant for you.’ The tone of her voice gave him an unexpected jolt. ‘Although of course it was horrid for the horse, but I’m sure you’d never do anything to harm one of your animals. It must have been so upsetting.’
‘That’s not how the press saw it. I was the heartless bastard who’d flogged it to death. I actually hit the tabloids,’ he shrugged trying to rebuff the painful memories, ignore the knot of guilt that had settled low in his stomach, ‘front page and back, which is unheard of for a polo player. I’m just a bit bothered that if anybody recognises me it’ll all kick off again. I’d rather not give them the ammunition.’
‘So you’re not playing now?’
‘Nope. I needed a break, and to be honest I’m not sure my heart’s in the game like it was.’ It was a good enough explanation, and true, even if it wasn’t the whole story. But, if a journalist did recognise him and started digging into what he’d been doing for the last few months, then he didn’t know where it would end. The shit would really hit the fan if the state of his mother became public knowledge. ‘Horse killer’s mother in suicide attempt’ was not a headline he wanted to see, and if they moved on to trying to interview his father … Shit, it didn’t bear thinking about. The fewer people that knew the full story, the better. ‘So I let Seb and Pandora sign me up, but I never realised that there would be a media circus. I thought we’d all be safe and sound hidden away in some remote corner of Cheshire.’
‘You’re kidding?’ Lottie laughed. ‘There are too many juicy stories around here, the footballer wife stuff over in Kitterly Heath, stately homes going up in flames here.’ Her eyes were smiling at him, even though he knew it wasn’t a laughing matter. Lottie’s fighting spirit, that life force that had drawn him to her years before, was shining. The bright moon that pulled the restless tide close, then tossed it away. He was close to her now, closer than he’d ever been and if he’d been the shit the newspapers insisted on saying he was he’d grab her, before he lost the chance, was pushed away. Instead he settled for staring at her full mouth.
‘How come you call her Pandora, not Sarah? She’s your sister.’
His horse danced sideways, bumping hers, and Xander patted the animal in apology and relaxed the thigh muscles he hadn’t realised had tensed. ‘Half-sister.’ He pushed his horse over with his inside leg to a safer distance. Thigh-to-thigh contact was the last thing he could cope with right now. He glanced back up. ‘Don’t look at me like that. It’s a fact. Her name wasn’t exactly spoken at the dinner table. Even Dad was furious that her mother followed us here to Tippermere, but I felt sorry for Pandora. She was an angry kid, like I was. Look, I know you’re not that keen on her …’
‘Me? She hates me.’
‘Pandora hates everybody and, believe me, my life would be hell if I called her Sarah. Anyhow, I don’t really care what she’s called. She offered me a distraction, I needed one, and so I’m here. It suits me.’ And it suits her, he thought, but didn’t voice the words. Was she so sadistic that she just wanted him there so she could watch him squirm in Lottie’s presence, or was there something more?
‘You hated me too.’ Lottie didn’t give him a chance to respond. ‘If we cut across this field we can get onto Dad’s land without being seen and have a pipe-opener, if you fancy it?’
‘Sounds good to me.’ It sounded bloody good. It might distract him from thoughts of dragging her out of the saddle. He paused. ‘And I didn’t hate you.’ Oh no, he hadn’t hated her. She’d been the most vivacious girl he’d ever known, quiet but with an inner confidence that said she knew she could do anything if she tried hard enough. But she’d been ‘one of them’ – and he hadn’t. The horsey set, the rich, the ones who had lived here for generations, and had the type of sense of self that money couldn’t buy. Unlike him. He’d watched her chasing Rory resolutely, and she’d never even noticed him until he’d pushed himself forward and made a complete fool of himself.
‘You ride a lot better now than you did then.’ There was mischief in her eyes, and the stab to his gut was as unexpected as it was raw. Which wasn’t the way it was supposed to be at all. So much for being grown up.
‘I’ll race you to the next gate.’ Without waiting, he kicked on, needing a rush of adrenalin to bring him back down to earth. His little mare, displaying her thoroughbred breeding, surged forward.
‘Cheat.’ Lottie’s shout,
and laughter filled his ears as she urged her larger, but much heavier, horse on beside him. Badger had been bred and trained as an eventer, and he was used to galloping across uneven ground. On the flat, the polo pony would have been at a distinct advantage, but here, as they pushed on up the hill, over undulating ground, the gelding was in his element. He was a nose ahead as they reached the crest of the hill, winning by a length as they started to pick their way down the steep fall on the other side. But as their hooves pounded over the flat field he lost ground to the nimble pony, and the two were neck and neck as they galloped over the expanse of open land towards the finishing post.
Xander’s pony spun to a stop and he laughed as Badger slowed ponderously.
‘You’re lucky to live in a place like this.’ They were both out of breath and when he managed to tear his gaze away from the rise and fall of her chest, it was to meet the gleam in her eyes. Which was worse. Better to concentrate on talking and stare across the field, seeing nothing.
‘I know.’ She patted Badger and let him have a long rein. ‘I never forget how lucky I am.’ They both stared down at the fields spread out below, a pale-green quilt broken only by the dark copses of trees, symmetry of fences and the meandering muddy brown stream. ‘I still don’t get why you came back, though, you never seemed to like it much here. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to say. You hardly know me, honestly.’
‘I wasn’t happy before, you’re right. But I was a kid. Teenage boys are supposed to be stroppy, aren’t they?’ He tried to grin as casually as he could. ‘All that testosterone. But,’ he shrugged, ‘it was just coincidence that Seb decided to shoot here.’ He hoped. ‘I’ve not got anything against the place, it was just a bad time and we weren’t here long enough to get to know people.’
‘And some people didn’t make life easy?’
There was a smile playing at the corner of her generous lips, the breeze tugged playfully at her hair, and a sudden pang of loss swept over him. It was a waste of time dreaming, though; she couldn’t be his, she never had been. Never would.
‘No, you didn’t make it easy, did you Charlie?’ His tone came out lighter than he thought it would.
Country Rivals Page 17
