Reckless Runaway at the Racecourse (18 page)

     A few minutes later, Hugo came in. ‘Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb.’ He was already backing out of the door.

     Fliss lifted her head and smiled at him through her wet eyes. ‘No, come in.’

     With all the caution natural to a middle-aged Englishman confronted by a crying woman, Hugo edged into the room and sat on the stuffed leather armchair furthest from Jill and Fliss. Fliss caught the worried glance he shot her mother.

     ‘It’s fine,’ she assured him. ‘I’m finished now. I don’t suppose you have a hanky I could borrow?’

     Hugo produced a beautiful navy blue silk square with pale aqua polka dots and handed it to Fliss who looked at it doubtfully.

     ‘Is it really okay to blow my nose on this?’

     They all laughed and Hugo nodded his permission.

     ‘Thanks. I’d better wash it before I give it back.’

     ‘No, you keep it, sweetheart.’

     Fliss beamed at him. ‘Thanks.’ She turned to her mother. ‘And thank you, too. I think I know what I’m going to do now. But first I have to go shopping. I really need some new shoes.’

Chapter Ten

     Pink. Glossy. Wedge heeled. Wellington boots.

     Wellington boots?

     Luke felt the smile creeping across his face. Glamorous. Frivolous. Utterly practical. Totally unexpected. They were the perfect shoes for a day at the races. All around the course, women were struggling with heels sinking into the good-to-soft ground and men were cursing them for putting their appearance above their common sense.

     But not Fliss. She had chosen the perfect shoes. Perfectly sensible and perfectly gorgeous.

     He’d spotted her walking across the track. Luke made his excuses to the friends he had been chatting to and elbowed his way through to the rails. He wasn’t going to rush out and toss her over his shoulder this time. He’d wait for her to come to him.

     ‘Great shoes,’ Luke said, when Fliss was near enough to hear.

     She lifted her foot slightly, giving him a better view. ‘Thanks.’

     It wasn’t just the shoes that had caught his attention. Her lime green dress was splashed with huge embroidered bright pink flowers and her pink hat clashed dramatically with her bright chestnut hair. Fliss had clearly dressed to be noticed.

     ‘Great outfit.’

     She grinned and returned the compliment. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’

     It was Derby Day and Luke was dressed to meet the requirements of the Queen’s Stand - full morning dress in a dark grey and traditional striped trousers, together with the requisite silk top hat. The outfit suited Luke’s tall, lean frame and he carried off the hat with panache. His waistcoat was a sober grey, but he had chosen a lavender blue silk tie which brought out the warmth of his cornflower coloured eyes.

     ‘I’m glad you came,’ he said.

     ‘Me too.’

     They had never had trouble finding conversation before but this felt ridiculously awkward. There were so many things Luke wanted to say and none of them were allowed.

     He wanted to ask how she’d been. Had she missed him like he’d missed her? Had she struggled to sleep at night in an empty bed? Or had she found someone else to fill that gap?

     Instead he carefully stuck to neutral subjects. ‘The Zhaos are here. I know they would like to see you again.’

     ‘I’d like that,’ Fliss replied. After a pause, she added, ‘How is Chrysanthemum?’

     Luke’s face remained impassively calm. ‘He travelled well and ate his breakfast this morning. We’re just trying to keep him quiet now.’

     ‘Can I see him?’

     ‘Not down at the stables but you can come into the paddock before the race if you like.’

     ‘Yes, please.’

     Luke nodded, studying her face carefully for signs that she might have changed her mind but Fliss gave nothing away. Her smile was just as wicked and her eyes just as tempting as ever.

Maybe he should have just thrown her over his shoulder like the first time and carried her away somewhere private where they could say all the things they really wanted to and then kiss each other senseless until nothing and no one else mattered. For a mad moment, Luke wondered if he could still try the caveman approach.

     Then Fliss spoke again. ‘Have you got time for a drink?’ she asked.

     Luke checked his watch. ‘No, I need to head down to the stables in a minute. But I’ll take you up to the Zhaos’ box first. I expect the champagne is already flowing freely up there.’

     The Zhaos box was right at the top of the Queen’s Stand. Fliss took one look at the balcony and retreated to a safe corner with her back to the window and a calming glass of champagne which she gulped down. Those railings hadn’t looked at all secure. If she tripped, she could easily fall through the six inch gaps between them. Or topple over the waist-high barrier. Much better to stay safely indoors and not think about the thirty foot drop outside.

     Fortunately, the room was packed with the Zhaos’ wealthy and glamorous friends and Fliss found plenty of people to chat to. Eventually, Mr Zhao announced that the Derby horses were on their way to the paddock. The crowd dispersed to place their bets. Mr and Mrs Zhao smiled broadly at Fliss and indicated that she should go with them to see Chrysanthemum. And Luke.

     She could see immediately that Luke was barely holding himself together. The cords in his neck were stretched taut and his lips were tightly pressed together. Fliss went to stand beside him and slipped her hand into his.

     Luke looked down at their joined hands in surprise but said nothing. He greeted the Zhaos warmly and answered their questions politely, though his eyes never left the dark horse prancing around the ring, barely held in check by his stable lad.

     ‘He’s looking lively,’ said Mr Zhao.

     ‘Yes,’ Luke replied briefly.

     Fliss had no idea whether that was a good sign or not and from Mr Zhao’s expression she guessed that he didn’t either, but neither of them dared ask Luke again.

     A bell rang and the grooms brought the horses into the centre of the paddock. Luke checked Chrysanthemum over briefly, then gave the jockey a leg up onto the tiny racing saddle. Chrysanthemum threw his head back and danced away.

     ‘Is he all right?’ asked Mrs Zhao anxiously.

     ‘Fine,’ Luke bit out.

     And indeed the jockey quickly got the horse under control, so that when the signal was given, Chrysanthemum trotted calmly out onto the course with all the others.

     ‘That’s it, then,’ Luke said under his breath.

     ‘You’ve done everything you could,’ Mr Zhao assured him. ‘We know that.’

     Fliss simply squeezed Luke’s hand.

     They were all silent on their way up to the Zhaos’ box. A waiter appeared as they entered the room, handing heavy cut-glass tumblers of whisky to the men. Luke offered his to Fliss but she shook her head. He clearly needed it more than she did.

     ‘They’re down at the start,’ someone called out.

     Luke strode towards the balcony. Fliss hung back nervously. He turned and held out his hand to her.

     ‘Watch with me?’

     Fliss took a deep breath. She stepped shakily towards Luke and slipped her hand into his. She could do this. For Luke, she could do this. She just wouldn’t look down. Or breathe. Or open her eyes.

     ‘I’m sorry.’ Luke slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘I should have remembered you don’t like heights. Shall we go down and watch from the stands?’

     ‘There isn’t time.’ The last horses were being led into the starting stalls.

     ‘We could watch it on the screen.’ The luxury box had a huge flatscreen TV with a livestream of the racing.

     ‘It’s the Derby, Luke. We have to watch it live. I’ll be fine.’ She managed a brief smile. ‘So long as you hold my hand.’

     Luke squeezed her shoulders briefly. ‘I can do better than that.’

     He led Fliss to the front of the balcony, setting both her hands firmly on the railing, then wrapped his own strong arms securely about her waist.

     ‘I won’t let you fall,’ he murmured into Fliss’s ear. Her heart fluttered at the scent of him and the whisper of his breath across her cheek. She opened her eyes cautiously. ‘Just watch the race and relax,’ he instructed.

     She raised her gaze to the far side of the track where the starting stalls were located. But with Luke’s broad chest to lean back on, Fliss barely noticed when the tape lifted and the horses sprang forward.

     She noticed when Luke’s breathing started to speed up and when his arms tightened around her. She could feel the rapid pulse beating in his neck and the tense muscles in his jaw where it rested against her head.

     Fliss tried to focus on the race. Chrysanthemum’s vivid violet blue and emerald green silks were easy to pick out. He was in third place. Third was good. Third meant there were lots of horses behind him.

     Her fingers tightened around the railing. She remembered what Luke had said the first day they’d met. Training Chrysanthemum for this race was like training Linford Christie for the marathon. He was doing well now but there was no guarantee he could keep going right to the finish line.

     Luke watched in impassive silence. Fliss was back where she belonged in his arms, however temporarily. Chrysanthemum was going well, lying in a good position near the front of the field. Everything was as right as it could be.

     ‘Just don’t bugger it up now,’ he muttered under his breath.

     Fliss twisted her head round and raised an eyebrow.

     Luke dropped an impulsive kiss on her temple then dragged his gaze back to the track. Three furlongs to go and Chrysanthemum was moving forward into second place.

     ‘He’s going to do it,’ Fliss shrieked. ‘He’s bloody well going to do it.’

     Luke didn’t dare look away for a single moment. There was a grey colt coming up on the outside with a sudden spurt of speed. But Chrysanthemum was holding on, holding on, holding on…

     As they passed the one furlong post, with just a couple of hundreds yards still to run, three horses were vying for the lead, matching each other step for step. A few yards further on and it was clear that the horse who’d been in the lead for most of the race was fading fast. That left just two in it: Chrysanthemum and the grey, Foxtrot Road.

     The crowd were cheering wildly, practically drowning out the official commentator. The Zhaos were jumping up and down in a very undignified fashion. Fliss was yelling and screaming as if she could propel Chrysanthemum past the winning post herself.

     Luke did nothing. He narrowed his gaze and blocked all the distractions out of his mind. Chrysanthemum was tiring. His stride was less even and he was blowing hard. Foxtrot Road was pushing on again. His grey nose was just ahead of Chrysanthemum’s dark bay. Half a head. A head.

     That was it, then.

     He’d lost the race, but Fliss was here. Luke tightened his hold, determined not to let her slip through his grasp again. She’d come today. She’d smiled at him, she’d held onto his hand when he needed it. She’d let him put his arms around her and hold her close. She’d trusted him to keep her safe.

     Luke hardly dared to start hoping that she planned to come back home.

     This was Fliss, after all. Running away was her speciality. For all Luke knew, she could be planning to head off on her round the world trip later that evening.

     A sudden gasp brought Luke back into the present moment. He blinked down at the track in amazement, hardly able to credit what his eyes were seeing. Chrysanthemum was rallying. The horse was proving himself a real fighter, battling his way back into the race with every stride.

     The winning post was getting closer and closer.

     The two horses were level again.

     Luke held his breath as they both plunged past the finish line together.

     The crowd were subdued, waiting for the official announcement of the photo finish. Up in the box, everyone turned to Luke for his opinion.

     He shrugged slightly. ‘On the nod. Too close to call.’

     Fliss eyed him closely. She knew. Luke squeezed her hand and tugged her away from the railings.

     ‘Don’t say anything,’ he murmured. ‘Not until they announce it for certain.’

     If the past ninety seconds had been stressful, the next five minutes were agonising. Fliss went down to the Winner’s Enclosure with Luke and the Zhaos, to greet Chrysanthemum with lots of congratulatory pats. Fliss dug out a packet of mints from the bottom of her handbag which the horse gobbled up greedily.

     Finally there was a whine from the tannoy, then the deep voice of the steward. The whole racecourse fell silent.

     ‘The results of the photo finish are as follows: First, number 17, Chrysanthemum…’

     The resounding cheers obliterated the rest of the announcement. Fliss was kissed and hugged by a hundred people she’d never met before. Mr Zhao gave her a big smacker on the lips and Mrs Zhao cried all over Fliss’s new dress.