‘Sounds like you’ve been rehearsing that,’ he said bluntly.
Pippa’s courage wavered. You have no idea, she replied silently.
They faced each other in silence, the birds’ singing in nearby trees and Berkeley’s whining from behind Jack muted to their ears. She searched his face for some sort of softening, anything that would remove the invisible barricade that stood between them.
‘I miss you,’ she whispered.
‘What am I supposed to say to that?’ he asked, his brow creasing in frustration.
‘That you miss me too?’
He raked a hand through his hair.
‘Pippa, you drive me crazy when you’re around. And you drive me crazy when you’re not. I don’t know how to deal with that. I can’t.’
Pippa felt like he’d wrenched her heart out with his bare hands. She wasn’t going to beg and she’d be damned if she let him see her cry. She swallowed a sigh and gave him an apologetic smile.
‘Then I’m sorry for disturbing your evening,’ she said.
Jack didn’t reply. Only the muscle in his jaw throbbed in response.
Her shoes scratched the gravelled ground as she trudged back to her car. Her senses were keenly attuned to Jack watching her leave, but not stopping her.
As she pulled out of the driveway, she looked back in the rear-view mirror to see him turning back inside.
Pippa sighed with exaggerated effort as her car trundled over the crest of the Gallops. Who’s the fool now, she thought wryly? A mirthless breath escaped her when she recognised a small herd of horses grazing in the adjoining paddock. She hadn’t even noticed them when she’d hurtled past a couple of minutes earlier.
Peace Offering raised his head as she rumbled towards them.
Pippa thought of the endless drive she’d have back to Tash’s now. Exhaustion flopped over her. Maybe she could spend the night at Hazyvale? Emmie and Billy hadn’t moved in yet, and no money had exchanged hands yet so technically the cottage was still hers.
She pulled up next to the four horses. Her mobile gave a plaintive beep from the footwell where it had fallen and she bent to retrieve it. There was a text message from Tash.
Sorry to make you panic, sweets. We had to do it. Hope you understand and all is well. T xxx
‘No, Tash. All is not well.’ Pippa tossed the phone down again and got out.
Peace Offering sauntered over to the fence, the blaze down his face tinted pink by the setting sun. She stepped carefully across the verge and went to greet him. In the distance she could hear a tractor’s growl.
‘What now, Peace Offering? I have no idea what to do now,’ she murmured, stroking his long bony nose. She smiled when she noticed a small wild flower among the grass shoots hanging from the side of his mouth. He looked like a typical country lad.
‘May I have that?’ she asked.
She threaded it out of his mouth, smiling as he tried to lip it back.
‘He loves me, he loves me not,’ she began. One by one, the white petals floated down to her feet.
‘...he loves me not,’ she concluded. She looked at the bald flower still in her fingers and ruefully threw it away.
Brushing the pollen dust from her hands onto her jeans, she looked up at Peace Offering who was regarding her with a quizzical air. She turned her gaze to the valley below, drinking in the peace and solitude and the exquisite masterpiece the sky was being painted. Wispy apricot clouds trailed across the deep amber horizon and the white-washed walls of the stables shone pink in the distance. Pippa sighed, knowing she’d never see skies like this anywhere else in her life. And now she was going to leave it?
‘Okay, best out of three. What do you reckon?’ she consulted her horse.
She bent down and picked another flower from the tuft growing by the fence post. If this came out right, then it was meant to be. It would be fate, beyond her control.
‘He loves me, he loves me not,’ she whispered.
If he loved her by confirmation of this flower, she would march back to his door and tell him so. She could be brave.
‘He loves me, he loves me not.’
If he didn’t love her by confirmation of this flower, she would leave and that would be the end of it. She could live life without him.
‘He loves me, he loves me not.’ Her voice wavered a little louder. ‘He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me –’ Pippa’s fingers trembled over the last remaining petal. She bit her lip, unwilling to cast this final sentence and seal her fate.
She started as a hand reached out and enfolded hers and the flower. She spun round to face Jack. The softness she had searched for earlier now lit his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but only her escaping gasp filled the space between them.
Jack’s eyes twinkled. He slipped the flower from her hand. He held it between them for a moment, twirling it between his fingers by its stem. A smile twitched the sides of his mouth and he tossed the flower nonchalantly over his shoulder.
‘He loves you,’ he said gruffly.
Stepping forward, he gathered her into his arms. Warmth flooded through Pippa as she met his long slow kiss, feeling the solidity of his body against hers, tasted the sweetness of his mouth, the tenderness of his touch. Her heart thudded in her chest, restored and jubilant. Was this fantasy or reality? Could it be both? She had to be sure. She drew back from Jack to look at him, to make sure he was real.
‘He does?’ she said.
Jack nodded, his smile deepening.
‘I’ve been a fool. We’ve both been fools. You only drive me crazy when I can’t have you.’
‘But you can have me,’ Pippa replied.
He threaded a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, away from her face.
‘I know that now. But love distorts things until you don’t know what to believe or which way is the right way up. I’d shut you out before because what I felt scared the hell out of me. Then I convinced myself you had gone back to that Ollie guy –’
‘No!’ Pippa interrupted him, desperate to set the record straight. ‘Not at all. Was it you that called that night?’
‘I was in France,’ Jack said, nodding sagely. ‘Sitting in a bistro with just about everyone around me looking like they were happily in love. It made me miss you even more. So I tried to call... I’ve learnt never to go to Paris if you’re suffering a broken heart.’
Pippa wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
‘I’m sorry. Tash had taken me out to cheer me up. Then Ollie walked through the door. I promise I didn’t even speak to him. I didn’t want to.’
‘Really?’ Jack looked relieved.
‘In fact it made me realise just how little I cared for him compared to you. I don’t want you to have a broken heart.’
He unwound her hand from his neck and placed it on his chest.
‘All better now.’
Pippa grinned, feeling the rapid thud against her palm.
‘I love you, Jack Carmichael,’ she whispered.
‘And I love you, Miss Pippa Taylor,’ he replied, humour glinting in his blue eyes. ‘Will you come home with me? Promise never to go away again?’
‘Hand on heart.’
Jack laughed.
‘My heart.’
Drawing her close again, he sealed the promise with a slow kiss.
Pippa closed her eyes, seeing the swirling colours of everything around her in her mind’s eye. The greens of the paddocks, the pinks of the stables in the sun’s reflection, the oranges, the golds, the silvers, the blues... the Brandeis blue.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There are a fair few people who helped bring this book to fruition, directly and indirectly. First and foremost, my eternal thanks to the members of fictionpress.com. Without their encouragement and feedback Keeping the Peace would still be sat gathering dust in the bottom drawer, barely a third completed. This book is most definitely for them.
To the people who inspired this book, tho
se whom I greatly admire for the often unrecognised hard work which they put into the racing industry: the racing secretaries. Jo Cody-Boutcher and Sarah West were instrumental in contributing material for my research.
Thanks are also due to Weatherbys for taking the time to explain to me the finer details of entering horses in races and race requirements, and to the various racecourses across Britain, most importantly Aintree, who supply technical and geographical information on their websites.
I owe a debt of gratitude to the readers of the Romantic Novelists Association New Writers Scheme who gave me some much needed self-belief with their critiques of Keeping the Peace and their constructive feedback has helped it to become a better book.
To Thure Etzold, who has again come to my rescue and taken on the hair-tearing task of turning my manuscript into an electronically readable format and saved me many hours of frustration.
Last but by no means least, my thanks to friends and family, who have sat through my moaning and supported me in the bad times as well as the good.
Although I’ve done my best to make Keeping the Peace as technically accurate as possible, there are doubtlessly going to be some errors which are in no way a reflection on the expert opinions mentioned above and are solely of my own doing.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Keeping the Peace Page 41
