by Fiona Walker
‘Longest day tomorrow.’ He pogoed alongside again, their stirrups ringing out as their legs brushed together. ‘The midsummer solstice.’ His voice dropped to purring seduction. ‘Sacred to lovers.’
Kat fell silent as they turned to trot alongside the small lake at the far end of the water meadow, sending a pair of wild ducks quacking off into the sunset. She hoped Sri would bolt again so that he couldn’t ruin the moment with his Pepé Le Pew moves, but he had her well anchored.
‘Will Badger Man be serenading you with his nose flute at dawn?’
‘If you’re referring to Russ, he’s playing at a vegan-awareness festival near Ludlow.’ She wasn’t about to explain to Dougie about Russ’s free-range life or last night’s new house rules. Letting him believe that Russ was her live-in boyfriend might be somewhat dishonest, but if it meant she got in the riding practice she needed without Eardisford’s disreputable new bad boy trying to add her to his bedpost notches, she was happy to keep the myth spinning. It wasn’t as though anybody would tell him differently. Russ’s walkabout season had truly begun, a nomadic round of music festivals while the apples ripened, his sleeping quarters constantly shifting, the caravan and hammock in the orchards backed up by a hide tent in the woods and an earth shelter by the river.
‘Can we gallop?’ she asked, eager to get some more in. The big grey mare’s trot was revving up as she turned for home.
Beside them, Sri pricked her curly ears at the word ‘gallop’, almost pulling Dougie’s arms out.
‘Are you sure?’ He glanced at the grey colossus powering past him. ‘That girl is seriously fast.’
Kat stood up in her stirrups as they broke into a canter. ‘If I’m going to gallop Sri into the end of the longest day tomorrow, I’d like a dress rehearsal.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re missing the vegan festival!’
‘Some things are more important than tofu.’
‘In that case, hang on very tight.’ He nodded at her, clicked Sri into action, and they flew past in an arc of divots.
Sitting on the grey mare as she accelerated behind them was like perching on a bobsleigh along an Olympic run. Kat had never felt anything so exhilarating. This was by far the most powerful horse she had ever ridden. Catching up effortlessly to streak across the meadow alongside Sri, she turned to Dougie and gave a thumbs-up.
‘That’s just her cruising speed. Amazing, isn’t she?’ he shouted.
It was only when they’d turned a big loop in the meadow’s basin and pulled up to walk, taking the horses back towards Lake Farm, that Dougie admitted the big grey had a terrible reputation. ‘I got her for a song from a friend of Dad’s because nobody there could ride her. My staff can’t hold her at all. She’s monumentally bloody-minded and strong.’
‘I think she’s lovely.’
‘Because you had confidence in her, you trust her. You should trust Sri. She has a very big heart.’ He patted the curved skewbald neck in front of him. ‘I normally don’t work with mares as trick horses, but I think she’d be incredible. There’s a third part to the saying “tell a gelding, ask a mare” which is “discuss it with a stallion”. This little Marwari reminds me of my Friesian stallion.’
‘Are you accusing my horse of being gender confused?’
‘I’m saying she’s got balls. And tackling the Bolt will take plenty of those. The same goes for you.’
She let out a cynical snort, remembering Nick and his firefighting cronies’ similar obsession with ‘cojones’, as though courage could only be weighed in a scrotal sack. Dougie clearly came from the same male chauvinist mould.
The horses had pricked up their ears as they spotted an old flea-bitten grey shambling towards them, led by the little Indian groom Gut, who was very out of breath.
‘Of course, Harvey has no balls whatsoever but he’s still the bravest bugger I’ve ever known.’ Dougie laughed as the horse let out a bellow of recognition and towed Gut towards them.
The little groom talked animatedly in Hindi, waving his arms around and huffing a lot before nodding farewell to Kat and walking Harvey on towards the main Eardisford yard.
‘He got in with your horses again,’ Dougie said apologetically. ‘Gut says he was a sod to catch.’
‘I didn’t know you could speak Hindi.’ She was impressed.
‘I don’t understand a word he says,’ he admitted, eyes smiling up at her through the long lashes. ‘But I know Harvey. He’s like me. Once he finds a kindred spirit, he can’t keep away. And I just can’t keep away from you, Kat.’
Battling hard to quash the tell-tale tangle of heart, stomach and lungs that squirmed inside her when he laid on the Everett Effect, Kat braced herself for another smooth invitation to share his bath. But before he could speak again, his phone began ringing in his pocket and he was forced to sit out a massive fawn-leap from Sri, who rocketed into the woods.
‘How come you have a signal here?’ Kat asked, when he finally got control and made his way back to the track.
‘Satellite,’ he explained. ‘Your boyfriend listens in to the walkie-talkies.’
‘So you’ve got something to hide?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Only my desire for you.’ His handsome face wore the most devastating example of his smile repertoire – as sexy as it was self-mocking. ‘If Badger Man’s away, you can invite me in for a drink.’
They had arrived at the Lake Farm gates. The phone was ringing in his pocket again. He ignored it. ‘You shouldn’t be all alone somewhere as isolated as this.’
The tangle in Kat’s chest tightened uncomfortably at the memory of banishing her growling bear. There was no reason she couldn’t invite Dougie in for a Sui-Cider, which would be only polite, given she’d already taken several drinks off him and he was helping her so much, but self-protection had to come first.
‘I’m not alone,’ she reminded him, as the dogs that had stayed napping in the yard surged out to greet those who had accompanied Kat out riding. ‘And I’m not inviting you in.’
‘How is it progressing?’ Dollar cross-examined Dougie as he rode back to the main stableyard, the line lagging badly with a satellite delay, making her deliberate monotone sound more computer-generated than ever. ‘Have you seduced her yet?’
‘We’re saving ourselves for our wedding night.’
‘This is excellent news. You must keep the pressure on. Your time will soon be taken up providing sport for Seth’s guests, so make the most of this opportunity. We would ideally like her gone within a month.’
‘I don’t think I’m quite ready to book tickets to Las Vegas,’ he said, shocked.
‘Then you must increase the pressure.’
‘I’m intending to,’ he assured her, already looking forward to galloping into the sunset. He found the riding challenge far more interesting than the seduction one, which he strongly suspected was still going nowhere. Kat’s company was a lot more fun when he laid off the Casanova stuff, although she certainly wasn’t immune to his charms. She had a curious way of looking at him, which was one part desire to one part fear, the rest amusement, which put him off his stroke. She was far too defensive to risk going in fast and hard. In any case, Dougie had discovered a curious anomaly in the past two days. The less he flirted, the more attractive he found Kat Mason. When they were having a riot, like this evening’s gallop, he forgot his motivation for being there.
‘The flat in Rickmansworth’s still available,’ Dawn told Kat when she called her for another after-bath debrief. ‘And Pervy Buyer’s had a cash offer, so we’re back in business. I definitely think we should live together again. We had such a laugh as students.’
‘I’m going nowhere. This is the best fun I’ve had in ages.’
‘Just don’t forget how truly terrible Dougie Everett’s reputation is.’
‘Like the grey mare’s,’ said Kat, still reliving the feeling of pure power beneath her. ‘She just gave me the ride of my life.’
‘As soon as the house sale co
mpletes, I’m coming up to Herefordshire to see you,’ Dawn insisted. ‘Don’t do anything silly before then.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not nearly ready to ride the Bolt.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the Bolt.’
Chapter 40
On the morning of the summer solstice, Kat found speckled grey Harvey in with her herd again. He was standing quietly beside the old hunter, nose to tail like two commuters on a tube train.
As she crossed the field to catch him, Harvey bobbed his freckled face as though nodding in welcome, his eyes incredibly wise. Kat knew he was just shaking off flies, but there was something almost human about him – she half expected him to bow courteously again. When she led him back along the lime avenue and up the parkland ride to the estate stables, she heard him grunt as he walked, like an old man humming under his breath.
At the Eardisford yard, Gut managed an energetic mime to thank her for bringing the horse back and explain that Dougie and his kennel man were out with the hounds. But by lunchtime Harvey had broken back in with the retired herd again and was nibbling the old hunter’s withers.
This time when Kat took him back, Gut mimed that Dougie was at the feed merchants, although it could have been that he was at lunch or possibly even committing hara-kiri.
An hour later, Kat heard excited whinnies from the horse field and groaned. She went to the gate to find Harvey and the hunter racing around like a pair of youngsters.
The klaxon was ringing to alert her to a land-line call, and she found Dougie on the line, profuse with apologies. ‘He’s with you again, isn’t he?’ His voice was fabulous on the phone – that husky, clipped timbre like warm oil in an aching ear. ‘The old grey bugger can get out of any field or stable if he sets his mind to it.’
‘Perhaps he should stay with me for a bit,’ Kat suggested, quashing a ridiculous suspicion that she was being set up, especially when Dougie said he’d personally bring him Berwick Cockles as well as paying for his keep. But Harvey’s presence seemed to soothe the old grey hunter, which had now stopped charging lamely alongside the rails and hedges in search of poor Sid. Exhausted after his grief-stricken week, he was happy to nod off under the big chestnut tree with his new chum, ears flopping, one hind hoof rested on its toe.
‘He can stay as long as he likes.’ She was glad that her herd was happy again.
Feeling guilty that she’d refused to offer Dougie a drink the previous evening, Kat brought cake and home-brewed cider in a backpack, which she and Sri reduced to fizz and crumbs as they jogged all the way to the hidden meadow, anticipating a full-throttle gallop. It was only when she was almost there that she realized Harvey had jumped out of his newly adopted field and followed them.
Dougie was on foot for once, standing knee-deep in grass that was as golden-blond as his hair in the evening sun, and from which Quiver the puppy bounded to catch the old tennis ball he was throwing for him. He laughed as Harvey loped up and nuzzled his jeans pockets for mints. ‘Let him watch if he wants to,’ he told Kat, who was shrugging off her backpack while Sri danced sideways. ‘Give her five minutes’ warm-up then take her for a gallop and see how you do.’
‘On my own?’
‘I think it’s having another horse with her that winds her up so much. You’ll be riding the Bolt on your own, so it makes sense to find out now. Would you like me to take her for a pipe-opener first?’
‘No, I’m fine,’ she insisted, too proud to admit how wimpy she suddenly felt. ‘What about Harvey?’
‘Harv’ll stay where the cake is.’ He settled back in the grass to share some of the sweet crumb rubble with the grey horse. ‘This is seriously good. Did you make it?’
Kat was too anxious to discuss her baking prowess as she let Sri trot round, half listening to Dougie chat easily about his hounds. ‘People see the pack as a whole entity, but they’re wildly differing characters, all such amazing individuals. Humbug is the joker, Horace the old pedant, Hawthorn the flirt. There’s one called Honour reminds me of you. Her coat’s unbroken chestnut, which is unusual for a hound. She’s always getting into scrapes, setting off on her own course.’
Kat found being compared to a wayward hound strangely cheering compared to his usual heavy-handed flattery, although as he watched her, she was aware that her hair, which hadn’t been washed for three days, was a matted tangle in a lumpy plait secured with a post-office elastic band.
‘We need to take this a lot faster.’ His tone changed and he stood up. ‘Move her into canter and get up off the saddle so I can admire that gorgeous arse of yours, which remains my primary motivation for coming here, although the cake is a revelation. You’d be a very easy woman to fall in love with, Kat. I’m halfway there already.’
Kat was too flustered by the charm attack to notice that Sri didn’t buck once. ‘Do you flirt with everybody?’
The big smile revolved as she circled round him. ‘Do you ever flirt with anybody?’
‘I can flirt.’
‘I dare you.’
She glanced at him, wishing her body didn’t leap each time he issued a challenge. ‘Why would I want to encourage you?’
‘Because we’re attracted to each other,’ he said simply, turning faster now as he watched her careering around him. ‘You can’t deny it.’
Kat said nothing, aware that she was blushing furiously. She could feel her nipples hard as bullets against the hefty strapping of her sports bra, grateful that it was thick enough to hide the obvious double thumbs-up of agreement.
‘I think you’ve warmed up enough.’ He grinned. ‘Off you go.’
Delighted to escape the flirtatious interrogation, Kat laced her hands through the chestnut and white mane as she turned the mare to face the open arc of the meadow, closing her eyes tight and urging Sri onwards. Only too happy to oblige, she surged into action and this time stayed on a straight line. As they pounded across the turf, Kat opened her eyes, looked through those curved ears and whooped. The sunset was in her sights, warm air rushing past her face. It was heaven.
Leaving Dougie far behind, Quiver’s excited barking fading away, they thundered along the springiest stripe of turf, sending up skylarks in front of them and great divots in their wake as they ate up the ground between the millstream track and the nursery lake.
Then the water came closer, a sheet of gleaming gold guarded by the rows of newly planted maple whips, like spears. Kat tugged ineffectually at the reins, but nothing happened. They slalomed through the little trees, plastic wraps rattling against the mare’s legs.
‘Whoa!’ she bellowed, heaving all her weight against the slipping reins, but that just made Sri plunge her head around and increase her pace.
Dougie had taught her how to go fast, Kat realized, but not how to stop. The mare seemed blinded by the sun, not knowing what lay ahead.
On the brink of the lake, Sri suddenly saw the water and swerved dramatically right. Kat flew from the saddle and saw the water come towards her like the sky turned upside down.
The cold, whooshing suffocation that engulfed her stopped all thought. Eyes closed, ears muffled, breath halted, she let herself sink, let the heavy cage start to form round her stultified body.
Then, like a harpoon flying in her wake and spearing her consciousness to register pain, the fight came bursting out of her, legs and arms thrashing, water roaring in her ears, eyes blinking through the weed-choked gloom for the light.
As she fought her way back to the surface and erupted through it, she saw Sri’s wall eyes gazing down at her worriedly, joined seconds later by a far brighter, long-lashed blue pair as Dougie rushed to the edge of the lake.
Her first, illogical, thought was, how on earth had he got there so fast? Then she felt a tremendous tug from below as the reeds dragged her down again.
She thrashed away from them, resurfacing with a desperate gasp for air as Dougie was hauling off his sweater and tearing off his shoes to dive in, sending a great bow wave over her so that they both disappeared beneath
the surface. She saw his arm flail past in the gloom, his legs kicking away the reeds that entwined themselves around him too as he swam towards her.
But Kat was already at the bank, the water turning opaque with mud as she scrabbled out, coughing up great lungfuls of water.
Dougie dragged himself up alongside her, pulling her to his side, rubbing her cold arms. ‘It’s okay. You’re fine. Ssh. What the fuck happened?’
Kat looked up into his eyes, so blue and intense. His lashes were all wet, she noticed. She tried to say, ‘I couldn’t stop,’ but it came out as gobbledygook because her teeth were chattering. To her embarrassment, she started crying.
It took Dougie a while to piece together what she was saying, all the time trying to warm her, the sweater he’d abandoned on the bank now swamping her narrow shoulders, her water-filled boots and sodden breeches pulled off and baking in the evening sun. He’d never known anyone shake as much.
