The First Time We Met: The Oxford Blue Series #1 (21 page)

‘Don’t let her hear you say that.’

‘Perhaps I’d better not. Now, come here, I’ve got a proposition for you.’

‘Sounds interesting.’

‘Two propositions, actually. The second is that, later this morning, we go for a ride together.’ He pulls the lace trim of my cami away from my cleavage.

‘I’d love that but you’d better be gentle with me. I haven’t ridden for months.’

‘Oh, I’ll break you in gently, don’t worry about that.’ My skin tingles deliciously as he blows gently down the gap between my breasts.

‘And the second?’ I ask through half-closed eyes.

He lifts the hem of my cami and pulls it over my head. ‘I can break you in gently for that too, if you like.’

Some time later, we reach the stable block behind Falconbury House. The route through the house and out past the kitchens, laundries and offices at the rear has made me realize the scale of the place. As we walked,
I got Alexander to give me some details of the history of the house. It turns out there’s been a building on the spot since William the Conqueror invaded, starting with a Norman manor then a medieval priory, the remains of which are still in the grounds.

The magnificence of the house is window dressing compared to the sight of Alexander in fawn jodhpurs that leave nothing to the imagination, black leather riding boots and a short Barbour jacket that’s all the more sexy for having seen some action.

‘I had Talia saddle up a horse for you. I think you’ll like him.’

Alexander curves his big palm round the seat of my jodhpurs. At this rate we won’t get out of the yard.

The clatter of hooves announces the arrival of a magnificent bay stallion who has to be almost seventeen hands high, and snorts and stamps his feet while Alexander tries to soothe him.

‘Here’s Hotspur, sir, as lively as ever.’

‘Excellent.’ Alexander keeps a firm hand on Hotspur’s reins, while stroking his neck and shhh-ing him. Shoes ring out on the yard and there’s louder snickering as a stable boy leads a sparky grey into the yard. Alexander glances up and frowns hard. ‘Why is Calliope here? I thought I asked for Harvey to be tacked up for Lauren.’

Talia bites her lip. ‘I did get him ready, but Valentina has taken him out.’

‘Valentina took Harvey? You are joking?’

‘No, sir. She went off on a hack early this morning.’

‘When will they be back?’

‘She said she’d be gone most of the day.’

Alexander hisses in frustration. ‘What about Jupiter, then?’

‘I’m afraid he’s a little lame, sir, or of course I would have brought him out. In fact, the vet’s on her way now.’

He presses his lips together angrily.

‘Alexander, don’t worry. Calliope will do me just fine. She looks magnificent.’ I walk forward and take her reins and the grey mare backs away a little, her eyes flicking nervously about her.

‘She is magnificent, but she can also be a bitch.’

That sounds so much like someone else I know that I have to bite my tongue hard, but I laugh. ‘I’m sure that’s not true, is it, girl?’ I pat the horse’s muzzle and she rears her head.

‘She
can
be as quiet as a lamb, if she’s in the mood,’ says Talia. ‘But if Alexander thinks she isn’t suitable we can wait for Valentina to bring back Harvey.
If
he’s in a fit state after that, of course.’

‘I think we both know he’ll have had enough.’ He turns to me. ‘I think we’ll have to forget the ride for today, Lauren, and go for a drive around the estate instead.’

‘Go for a drive? After Talia has got both horses ready? You have to be kidding. I’ll be totally fine with Calliope. She sounds a really fun ride and it’s not as if I’m a novice. I go to the stables every couple of weeks back home.’

This is an approximation of the truth. I used to ride
every week – until about a year ago. I haven’t been on horseback more than half a dozen times in the past twelve months and not at all in the past three. I also don’t like the nervy look in Calliope’s eye at all, or the way she seems to flinch whenever I try to touch her. But there is no way on the planet that I am letting Alexander, Talia – and especially not Valentina – know any of this.

‘She’s not good with strange riders,’ Alexander continues, ‘and she spooks easily. I’m not entirely comfortable with you taking her.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘Oh, I trust you. It’s Calliope I’m not sure about.’

‘If I’m worried, I promise to let you know. Now, do you think we can get started on this ride before dusk?’

I see him hesitating, then he nods. ‘Talia. Can you hold Hotspur while I help Miss Cusack mount, please?’

‘Whatever you say, sir.’

Alexander ignores Talia’s doubtful face. I find it more difficult as Alexander shoves two hands under my boot and boosts me up on to Calliope, who whinnies shrilly and stamps her feet as I lift my leg over her quarters.

‘It’s an English saddle, miss; we do have a Western but Alexander said you’re from the East Coast so I guessed you’d be used to the traditional style?’

‘I am, thanks, Talia.’ I take the reins, relieved that Calliope stands quietly enough as I get comfortable. Next to me, Hotspur’s breath mists the chilly morning air, his hooves ringing out on the yard as Alexander mounts him, shhh-ing and steadying him.

With a tight hold on the reins, he throws out a smile to Talia. ‘Thanks.’

‘A pleasure, sir, as always.’ There’s a definite edge of irony in her voice and she sashays back to the stables, her bottom wiggling in her mud-spattered jodhpurs. It occurs to me that she and Alexander might have … before I dismiss such suspicions as my imagination working overtime.

‘Everything good with Calliope? I hope she won’t give you any trouble,’ he says as we walk slowly out of the yard.

‘She’s good as gold,’ I say. The tang of woodsmoke fills the air and ravens cry as we ride past the end of the stable block on to a rutted track that skirts the woods. I imagine a fox trembling in the thicket and suppress a shiver at the thought that the hounds might pick up its scent tomorrow, by accident or otherwise. I don’t care how naive anyone accuses me of being, I’m entitled to my opinion and I’ll fight my corner again if I have to. For now, all seems peaceful and idyllic, as our horses settle into the gentle rhythmic thud of hooves on earth. Alexander is thoughtful beside me.

‘Are you riding Hotspur to the hunt tomorrow?’ I ask.

‘Hotspur? God, no. I’ve got an ex-steeplechaser for that.’ He pauses, then says, ‘Would you like to see the whole estate?’

‘If you’re sure we’ll be back before dark?’

He shakes his head at my teasing. ‘It may be touch and go whether we have to stay out all night.’

‘Sounds terrible.’

He smiles and kicks Hotspur’s sides. ‘Come on.’

A few hours later, my fingers are numb despite my gloves, my nose is pinched with cold, but there’s a glow inside me. I know I’m going to be stiff tomorrow, but it’s so glorious to be out together that I feel as if I could ride all day. Alexander has taken me on a tour around the estate, skirting the woods and deer park, then through muddy fields and along a river bank, the reeds dusted with frost, melting in the late morning sun. Then we headed out into the lanes beyond, the rhythmic clop of hooves strangely soothing. After her initial flightiness and a nervy encounter with a tractor, Calliope has lived up to her ‘lamb’ reputation. I suspect Alexander of being over-protective and I’m really glad I didn’t let myself be spooked into giving up the ride. I can’t wait to see Valentina’s face when I get back.

‘Enjoying yourself?’

‘It’s fabulous. I’d ride more often if I had time, but my free time in the States has always been taken up with my art and dance classes. It was Mom who wanted me to have riding lessons, partly for social reasons, but also because she’d secretly love to have an Olympic show-jumper for a daughter.’

He laughs out loud and I realize that I’ve rarely seen him so happy. He’s in his element, no matter what he says about wanting to leave Falconbury, but I’m not going to point that out now.

‘Shall we go back past the old priory?’ He reins in
Hotspur at a gap in a stone wall that must lead back onto the estate.

‘A priory sounds very dramatic.’

‘It’s been in ruins since the Reformation so don’t get too excited.’

He sounds so terribly British that I can’t help but laugh. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.’

A kick of Hotspur’s flanks and he’s off to a brisk trot. Feeling more confident, I decide to see what Calliope can do when a sound like a gunshot rings out from behind us. Ravens scatter, screaming into the air, and before I can steady her Calliope bucks and rears. I try to rein her in, clinging to her with every muscle, but there’s another shot, then another and she takes off.

Oh God, I’m flying through the air, clinging on to her neck for dear life. My heart’s thumping and I can’t even find the breath to cry out as she hurtles towards a wood. Dark trunks and spiky branches race towards us, but all I can do is hold on with every ounce of strength. I try to see Alexander and I think I hear him shout, but the thunder of hooves and the rush of wind is too loud.

I know I’m going to fall or be thrown. I pray that it’s soon on the muddy field, not in the wood. Think, think … what did they tell me in training? Use your seat to brake? God, what if I lose the stirrups. I think I hear Alexander shouting. I could steer for a high hedge, a really high one, too high to jump. But what if Calliope does jump it and throws me off – or she might forget about jumping at all and just plough through it.

Oh, Jesus … My heart’s racing and my thighs scream as I hang on, with the trees racing towards us.

‘Pull one rein. Make her turn!’

Alexander’s voice reaches me but I can’t see him.

Make her turn. Make. Her. Turn. Heart hammering, I pull on one rein and make a grab for the strap over her withers. The thicket seems almost on top of me.

Calliope swerves. My feet part company with the stirrups and I hear a scream. My scream, because I know I’m going to fall and then … the thicket moves away to my right because she’s turning. And slowing. Just a little, then a lot and then I get my feet in the stirrups again and I’m slumped over her neck, gulping in air like a drowning woman as she comes to a stop.

Finally, she stands still, breathing hard, clouds of steam rising from her body into the frosty air. Sweat glistens on her neck and she’s snorting and blowing hard. Underneath me, she’s breathing so heavily I feel like I’m on a choppy sea. There’s mud spattered over my boots and jodhpurs, and the same sort of silence you get after a car crash.

The silence is shattered as Alexander reins in Hotspur at my side. ‘Lauren! Are you all right? Christ, I thought you were going to come off in the trees!’

‘I’m OK. See? She’s quiet as a lamb now.’ I pat her damp neck.

‘I kept calling at you to turn her.’

‘Funny, I found it hard to hear for a while.’

‘Well, thank God you haven’t been hurt. I warned you about Calliope, but you insisted on riding her.’

‘It was either that or be chauffeured around like the Queen!’

He hesitates and then suddenly his deep laugh echoes in the still air. ‘Believe me, I can’t think of anyone
less
like the Queen than you.’

I don’t know whether to hit him or burst into tears, then I think better of any dramatic actions while Calliope is between my thighs.

‘I’m delighted you think it’s funny, Mr Hunt.’

‘I don’t. Not really. I’m simply admiring your balls.’

‘Now that really
would
be funny.’

Sliding down from Hotspur, Alexander shakes his head and takes Calliope’s reins from me. ‘Let me help you down.’

He takes my gloved hand, and I’m glad of it, because when my feet touch terra firma, my knees are distinctly wobbly. Wisps of steam rise from me too, and I realize I’m soaked in sweat. I imagine what I must look like and cringe.

Keeping one hand on Calliope’s reins, Alexander pulls me to him with the other arm as Hotspur stands obediently by.

‘You know,’ he says softly, ‘you did pretty well to stop her. Most people would have gone flying over the withers. You’re lucky she took straight off with you under her, and didn’t whip round when she heard that bird scarer.’

‘I don’t think “lucky” is the word I’d use, but you needn’t have worried, I had everything under control.’

‘Sure you did,’ he replies in a terrible East Coast accent.

‘You know that doesn’t sound the least bit like me.’

‘Sure it does.’

‘OK, you do, but I wouldn’t give up the day job yet, if I were you.’

‘Perhaps, I won’t. How about we walk the horses to the priory, although I don’t think Calliope will be spooked again. That bird scarer is miles back now. I ought have known it might go off.’ Now he tells me, but it’s with the utmost reluctance that I wriggle free from his embrace because, sweaty, shaken and stirred, I could still rip down his jodhpurs and make love to him this instant.

He grins and pats Hotspur’s neck. ‘The priory’s in the middle of the wood in a clearing. There’s a path, but be careful.’

Leading our horses, we pick our way over roots and fallen branches, the dead leaves crisp under hooves and boots. The trees are a mix of bare-branched oaks and dark spruce and yew, and the sharp tang of damp hangs in the air. Ahead of us, I glimpse pools of pale sunlight where the clearing opens up and, all at once, we are at the priory. ‘This is it.’

He was right: the priory is a roof-less shell of tumbled stones, smothered with green moss and rusty lichens. The muted colours, myriad textures and the sense of melancholic timelessness seem to cry out for a Turner painting and make me want to return with my own sketchbook or watercolours. Next to the ruins a small stone-walled building stands apart under the trees,
perhaps the only building that was spared by Henry VIII’s ‘reformers’. Its roof is certainly a few centuries younger than the decayed and shattered building in front of us.

An old fence post makes a convenient place to tether Hotspur and Calliope, now behaving like an angel. Clambering over a mossy rock after Alexander, I let out a low groan as the strained muscles in my thighs and butt remind me of my wild ride.