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looked at Natalie. 'Someone said you'd been married before, but that can't be

true. You're too young.'

'I was young when I got married,' Natalie explained. 'He was a jockey too.

His name was Tony Drummond. You might have known him.'

Cathy shook her head. 'Before my time, probably. Did you divorce?'

Natalie shook her head. 'He was killed in an accident.' She saw something

small and pinched in Cathy's face suddenly, and added hastily, 'In a car

accident. Otherwise, we would have been divorced.'

Cathy looked at her meditatively for a moment, then she said, 'Well, you'll

be all right with Eliot.' She paused. 'Is that it? Shall we go up to the gallops

and see how they're getting on? We can take Calum's car.'

She took her welcome for granted, Natalie realised with a pang.

She said quietly, 'Yes, why not?'

Up on the moor, the air was clear and crisp. Grantham was there standing by

the Land Rover, rubbing his hands vigorously together. His brows rose

when he saw the girls, but he didn't offer any strictures about their presence.

'That damned Roly just up and went,' he told Natalie grumpily. 'Not a word

to anyone, Wes tells me. Serves me right for breaking my own rule and

taking on a casual. Well, he needn't send for his money, because he won't get

it.' He nodded at Cathy. 'Midstream's tried every trick in the book to get

Calum off so far, but none of them have worked. He's almost as bonny a

rider as my son-in-law,' he added kindly.

The two girls exchanged amused glances, then Cathy grabbed Natalie's arm.

'Here they come now.'

The horses swept into view at an easy, controlled canter. Midstream was

trying to force the pace, but Calum was holding him in, keeping him level

with Eliot on another black, Prince Igor.

Above the subdued thunder of the hooves on the short turf there was another

sound, like the crack of a whip.

A horse screamed in pain and terror, and Prince Igor's smooth onward rush

was suddenly, hideously interrupted. He plunged and reared frantically, then

took off at a headlong gallop, leaving Eliot lying motionless on the ground

behind him.

Natalie couldn't move. She stood, her hand at her throat, as the line of horses

was pulled to a startled standstill. She was aware of nothing but Eliot, lying

still. How many minutes ago had Cathy told her she didn't have the same

problem now that he was no longer a jockey? she wondered stupidly.

Calum had already dismounted and was bending over him. Sudden energy

filled her, and she ran, stumbling, to Eliot's side.

She said to Calum, almost whispering, 'He's dead, isn't he?'

'Like hell he is,' Cal retorted witheringly. 'You're just winded, aren't you, my

boy?'

'But Prince Igor kicked him—I saw it!'

'Well, what's a little kick between friends? He's had worse,' said Calum

robustly. 'Now don't you start passing out on us, girl!'

Eliot groaned, and muttered something suspiciously obscene.

'That's terrible language for a dead man.' Calum could not quite disguise the

relief in his tone. 'Cuddle him, Natalie. That'll bring him round quicker than

anything.'

Natalie went down on her knees beside her husband's recumbent body,

lifting his head gently on to her lap.

'Eliot—look at me, darling!' There was mud on his cheek and forehead, and

she began to gently wipe it away.

Eliot's eyes flickered open, and he looked up at her. 'Don't look so scared,

sweetheart.' He produced the words with an obvious effort. 'These things

happen. Has Wes caught that bastard yet?'

'Prince Igor?' Natalie was confused. On the perimeter of her awareness there

was shouting and scuffling going on, she realised.

'No.' Eliot sat up wincing, and holding his ribs. 'The swine who shot him. An

air rifle, I think.'

'So that's what it was!' Calum whistled. 'Now who'd do that to a

good-natured beast like old Igor? Now if he'd shot the thug I was riding...'

Eliot's voice was stronger. 'Perhaps he thought he had.' And they exchanged

glances.

'Hold hard,' said Calum suddenly. 'They've got someone.'

'And I could make an educated guess who it is.' Eliot hauled himself to his

feet, then pulled Natalie up beside him. His arm round her, they waited for

the struggling, blaspheming figure being dragged towards them.

'Ben Watson?' Natalie found her voice. 'You?'

'Yeah, me.' He glared at Eliot. 'And what's Mr Millionaire Strang going to

say when he hears his future champion's got a pellet in him?'

'He won't hear it.' Eliot's voice was steel. 'Because it didn't happen. Your

sidekick should have hung round a bit longer, then he could have told you I

wasn't riding Midstream today—that his jockey was going to be up instead.

And what's our mutual friend Kevin Laidlaw going to say when he hears you

shot at the wrong horse?' He turned to Wes. 'Take him down to the stables

and keep him there until the police come. Has someone gone after Igor?'

'Robbie's gone, boss.' The look Wes turned on Watson was blood-chilling.

'Maybe we should have a shot— at rearranging your features, you little

weasel. The boss could've been killed!'

'Pity he wasn't,' sneered Ben Watson. He sent Natalie a gloating grin. 'Did

better with your pet horse, didn't we, you bitch!'

'You let Jasmine out?' She couldn't believe it.

'Roly did. He's my cousin, and he worked for Laidlaw before he lost

two-thirds of his horses, thanks to you. I didn't realise we looked so much

alike, until
she
started in about having seen him somewhere before. Nosey

little cow!'

Eliot's face hardened. He said curtly, 'Let go of him.'

'No!' Natalie laid an imploring hand on his arm. 'Don't hit him. He's not

worth it.'

'And that's more than the truth,' said Calum with quiet disgust. 'Leave him

for the lads in blue, Eliot, for God's sweet sake. And let's get your wife

home, and give her some brandy.'

The next few hours seemed to pass in a blur for Natalie. She was aware of

the police arriving, and statements being taken, and her father saying that the

vet had easily removed a pellet from the flank of poor bewildered Prince

Igor, and he'd soon be as good as new.

She obediently drank the prescribed brandy, and ate some of the goulash

which Cathy practically forced down her throat, but nothing seemed real.

She knew that Eliot had telephone Kevin Laidlaw and told him curtly that

Ben Watson had confessed everything, and he too would have allegations to

answer.She found she was hugging Cathy and Calum and promising them

they would all get together very soon.

Then suddenly, everyone had gone, and the bubble of unreality which had

enclosed her burst. Suddenly it was just Eliot and herself, facing each other

across the fireplace of the sitting room.

She moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue. 'Do you think Kevin

Laidlaw's mad?' she asked.

Eliot shrugged. 'Desperation can drive people down some strange paths,' he

said.

She nodded. 'But why Jasmine?'

'Oh, that had nothing to do with Laidlaw. That was a piece of private spite on

Ben Watson's part, aimed more at you than the stables, although it caused us

a lot of trouble and bad publicity.'

Natalie shuddered. 'That's sick!'

'It's a sick world.' He got up, wincing slightly. 'What a hell of a day!'

His grimace of discomfort had not been lost on her. She said, 'Eliot,

shouldn't you go to the hospital for a check-up—X-rays?'

He said patiently, 'I've already told you a dozen times, I haven't broken

anything. I'm just a bit bruised. Do 1 have to strip to prove it to you?'

'Yes,' she said-baldly.

Their eyes met in a tingling silence.

Eliot's brows lifted in faint amusement. 'Here—and now?' '

'Not,' Natalie swallowed bravely, 'necessarily.'

He continued to watch her, a disturbing gleam in his hazel eyes. Then he

said casually, 'I think I'll have a bath, to take some of the aches away.' He

added gently, 'A Scotch and soda would make an ideal accompaniment.'

The parting smile he sent her was hardly more than friendly, with a touch of

speculation.

Natalie gave him ten minutes, then she poured some whisky into a tumbler

and added a dash of soda.

She thought as she went down the passage, He doesn't think I'll do it. He

thinks I'll bottle out. But this time I can't...

The bathroom door stood invitingly ajar, and she pushed it open and walked

in. Eliot was lying back in the water, eyes closed, his head pillowed in a

folded towel. At her entry, he looked round, his surprise evident.

'Your drink.' Oh God, why did she have to feel so hideously shy?

'Thanks.' He extended a wet hand, clearly expecting her to bring it to him.

Awkwardly, Natalie trod across the carpet and handed the tumbler to him.

He raised the glass in a mocking toast. 'You're full of surprises today,

darling. First I wake up with my head in your lap, and now you're bringing

me drinks in the bath. What next, I wonder?'

She flushed. 'Don't—torment me, Eliot.'

'Is that what I'm doing?' he questioned drily. 'But you didn't come here to

hear me ramble on. You wanted to inspect my bruises, I believe.' He drank

some of the whisky, then set the glass down on the rim of the bath, before

pulling himself lithely out of the water. He pointed to some discoloration on

his ribs, before turning so that she could see a dark contusion on his left hip.

'Satisfied?' His gaze met hers in undisguised challenge, as he reached

casually for a towel and began to dry himself.

He was waiting for her to retreat, to back off even now.

Huskily, she said, 'You know—I'm not satisfied.'

Eliot dropped the damp towel to the floor. He picked up his robe and

shrugged it on, belting the sash round his waist.

'So what do you want from me, Natalie? Sex? That's simple. I'm

desperate—crazy for you, as I'm sure you know.'

She shook her head. 'I—I don't think I know anything any more. If you feel

like that, then why have you left me alone all these weeks? Why haven't

you... ?'

'Because I was frightened,' he said harshly. 'Frightened that I'd look into

your eyes and see none of the things I want to see. Frightened that you'd turn

away from me, reject me like you did that first time.' He flung back his head.

'I'd rather never touch you again, Natalie, than see you consumed by guilt the

next morning, because you'd been unfaithful to Tony Drummond's memory.'

Her voice shook. 'But that isn't true! I—I tried to tell you so this morning

before Calum arrived. Perhaps Tony does haunt me, but not in the way you

think.'

He reached out and took her hand in his. 'Come and tell me about it,' he

invited gently.

At the bedroom door, Natalie hesitated, but Eliot drew her past it, and down

to the kitchen. He seated her at the kitchen table, then went to the

refrigerator and poured her a glass of chilled milk.

'Here.' He set the glass in front of her, before seating himself opposite to her.

'Keep your strength up with this. Now tell me about Drummond.'

She sipped the milk. 'You—said you didn't like him. Will you tell me why?'

'I'd prefer not to. I'd already broken faith with myself by saying that much.'

He paused. 'Why did you marry him?'

/

'Because he asked me,' she confessed, staring down at the table. 'I'd only

recently left school. I'd never really had a proper boyfriend, and Tony—just

swept me off my feet.' She laughed awkwardly. 'That's a terrible cliche.'

'It can happen.' Eliot's eyes never left her face. 'But eventually one's feet

generally touch the ground again. Is that what happened?'

She nodded. 'It—it was all a sham. He didn't love me, he was just setting up

a future for himself. He thought as Grantham's son-in-law he'd be the natural

choice to take over at Wintersgarth eventually. And it would probably have

happened. Grantham—liked him.'

'Did Drummond tell you this?'

'I managed to work it out for myself. He soon got bored with pretending to

be the devoted bridegroom.' Natalie bit her lip. 'He—still fancied me, I

suppose. During the first months, he—never left me alone.' She shuddered

uncontrollably. 'I tried to be—the sort of wife he wanted—really I did.'

'He didn't give you pleasure?'

She said with an effort, 'He said it was my fault, that there was something

lacking in me. That I was frigid. I— I bored him.'

'Was that when he started playing around?'

She looked at him, startled. 'You knew about that?'

Eliot said expressionlessly, 'He had a very big mouth. Let's leave it at that.'

'At first he was quite discreet,' she explained. 'But after a while, he couldn't

be bothered. He met this woman, who was a little bit older than he was. She

was divorced and had plenty of money. He bought her a lot of expensive