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‘Is something troubling you, Chico?’ Maria asked him with concern.
‘There’s never enough time, Maria.’ He half smiled as he said this, needing to put Maria off the scent. She could read him so easily after all these years of working closely together, and this was one occasion when he could do without her friendly advice. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he insisted as he took charge of the list. ‘I trust my selection team, which is why I appointed them.’
‘Of course, Chico,’ the older woman agreed, her gaze sliding away from his, as if she was only halfway convinced.
He couldn’t blame his team for this error. How were they supposed to know what had happened in his youth? People had only heard rumours. Even Maria didn’t know everything. There were some things Chico would never share, not even with Maria.
His stomach clenched as he thought back to the day Serena Fane had accused him of rape. It was a preposterous lie, but who would believe him, the poor boy from the slums of Brazil? He had stood no chance against the might of the British aristocracy. He had written to Lizzie on countless occasions after that first letter, begging for an explanation, so sure she’d write back. They’d been so close. She was the only young friend he’d ever had, and he’d trusted her completely. And, yes, she’d been beautiful, but Lizzie had been so far out of his reach, he had only dared to talk to her when she’d shown an interest in befriending him.
Rape was a word he’d associated with the murderers who had killed his brother, and his shock when Lizzie had ignored his letters begging her to clear his name was indescribable. He could only think that she had sided with them—her slutty mother and drunken father, whom he had guessed all along were only looking for ‘hush money’ from Eduardo. He had never discovered if any money had changed hands, as Eduardo would never speak of it, but he had his suspicions, especially as when Chico became headline news in the polo world Serena had reappeared, threatening to reopen the scandal if he didn’t ‘make her comfortable’.
He’d thrown her out, and had only baulked at bringing charges for blackmail against her because Lizzie’s grandmother had been so good to him, and he didn’t want to bring the old lady any more pain. Lizzie’s grandmother was the only other person, apart from Eduardo, who had believed in him, and she had helped Eduardo get him away when Lord Fane had brought his scandalous charges at the behest of his wife. Chico always paid his debts, and he never forgot a slight, but if only Lizzie had had the courage to speak out at the time none of this would have happened. And, yes, she was only fifteen at the time, but it was clear to him now that their friendship had meant nothing to her.
Too heated to remain in the office, he headed out to check the ranch. He did this every season when he returned from the polo circuit. It wasn’t a quick job as his land extended to tens of thousands of acres these days and took a few weeks to inspect. There were preparations to make before he left. While his students were settling in, this was the best time for him to be away. There were other tutors who would take care of them and start their training while he was gone. When he came back he’d check Lady Elizabeth Fane out, to see what the hell Lizzie thought she was doing here. His best guess was that from interrogation to deportation would take a lot less time than inspecting his ranch.
CHAPTER TWO
‘A COLD POULTICE was what you needed, wasn’t it?’ Stepping back, Lizzie took a long thoughtful look at the patient. She was relieved to see the pony was happy enough to start nosing a net of hay. ‘That, and a bit of a chat,’ she prescribed, stroking the polo pony’s velvety ears. ‘The swelling’s gone down and you’ll soon be back to your usual cantankerous self—answering back with a nip on the arm whenever I speak to you.’
‘Do horses answer back?’ Danny observed, throwing her arms wide on the hay. ‘Can I have a cold poultice please? All over my body, if you’ve got one big enough? I’m boiling.’
It had been a long, hard working day for both girls, who had been bringing in horses from the outlying pastures, but Lizzie refused to acknowledge that it was time to stop work until she’d finished the job in hand. There was never an official clocking-off time for Lizzie where horses were concerned.
‘It is hot,’ she agreed. ‘Would you like a mint?’
‘I’d love one.’
Lizzie smiled at Danny. ‘I’m talking to the horse.’
‘Then, will you please stop talking to the horse,’ Danny complained, ‘and concentrate on me? I’m slowly melting here while you run your equine counselling service.’
‘Here—’ Lizzie tossed a tube of mints across for Danny to catch.
‘Do you think we’ll ever meet our leader?’ Danny asked, cramming a handful of mints into her mouth. ‘Personally, I’m beginning to doubt he exists.’
‘We know he exists,’ Lizzie said sensibly, wishing Danny hadn’t brought up the subject of Chico Fernandez. ‘He piloted the plane that brought us here.’
‘So, where is he?’ Danny demanded.
‘I don’t know. I’m in no hurry to see him. Are you?’
‘Liar,’ Danny accused. ‘Your face has pinked up, and your eyes are huge. I’m not going into any further anatomical detail on the basis that it wouldn’t be appropriate between friends. But, honestly, Lizzie, please don’t ask me to believe that you’re not eaten up with excitement at the thought of seeing Chico again.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. I blame Chico for my obsession with all things equine, and nothing else.’ Which was also a lie, but Danny didn’t need to know that.
‘I remember,’ Danny mused. ‘Since the moment you met Chico, you talked of nothing but having a life with horses, just like him. And now here we are, on his training ranch,’ she exclaimed.
Lizzie faked a laugh, wishing she could join in Danny’s upbeat mood. True, everything on Fazenda Fernandez had surpassed her wildest expectation, and she was more determined than ever to excel and pass her diploma with top honours, but when it came to Chico...
‘Suck him dry, Lizzie, and then take his ideas back to Scotland, so you can use them to set up in competition and destroy him.’
She didn’t hate Chico as much as her father wished she did. In fact, she didn’t hate him at all, but she did feel disillusioned by him. She couldn’t even blame him if he had flirted with her mother, though she guessed Serena would be the instigator. Would Chico force himself on her mother? No. Would he rape her? Absolutely not. But Lizzie’s mother was still a very attractive woman, and Chico had always been a free spirit. But he could have been straight with her instead of promising to rescue her from Rottingdean House, and then disappearing without a word.
‘Share your thoughts,’ Danny insisted, crunching mints noisily as she sprawled out on the hay.
Not a chance, Lizzie thought ruefully. In this instance, she wouldn’t be confiding in her friend. ‘Hang up the tack for me, and then we’ll talk. It’s steaming in here. I’m melting after moving all that hay.’ Fanning herself, Lizzie started to peel off her breeches and claggy top. She relished the freedom of thong and sports bra for a few moments, before reaching for her jeans. ‘The heat, when you’ve been working as hard as we have, certainly takes it out of you.’
‘It’s not the only thing that’s hot,’ Danny observed with mischief in her voice.
‘The men?’ Lizzie pretended disinterest. Wiping her arm across her glowing face, she bundled her bright copper hair up into a band.
Danny opened an eye. ‘Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed them. The gauchos are off-the-scale hot, while the polo players are like gilt-edged invitations to sin.’
‘Really?’ Lizzie’s lips pressed down. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’
‘Like hell you haven’t,’ Danny scoffed.
There was only one man Lizzie was interested in, and their paths hadn’t even crossed yet. She guessed Chico must have been busy catching up with everything that had happened while he’d been away, and doubted he’d even recognise her when they met again. She was hardly fifteen years old now. Nor was she impressionable, or prone to having a crush on a man who looked like a barbarian, and who had the morals of a goat, according to the scandal sheets. It was hard to miss the bad boy of polo, as the sports pages called him, when Chico scored as many front covers on polo magazines as he’d scored goals this season.
Leaning her head back against the wall of the stall with her arms outstretched, she relished the breeze coming in from an open window on her naked skin. ‘Do you think anyone’s going to notice if I just forget to put on my top?’
‘Who’s going to see you?’ Danny pointed out. ‘There’s only one horse in the stable block, and we’re his grooms.’
Lizzie relaxed as her friend hefted the horse’s saddle over her arm, and picked up his bridle. Danny was right. Who was going to see her?
* * *
Coltish limbs and an intriguing flash of naked skin held him motionless for a moment as the girl struggled to pull on a fresh top over what appeared to be—at least to her, judging by her muttered curses—inconveniently large breasts. He wanted to check on a pony that had suffered a bad knock during a match while he’d been away. The pony’s spirit would benefit from human contact and he was keen to make sure it was as comfortable as possible. Anyone who believed animals couldn’t understand what was said to them was missing an empathy gene, in his opinion. He had heard the two female grooms talking, but one of them had left the stall and slipped out of the back entrance that led to the tack room where they stowed their gear. Grooms hanging round so late in the day were either up to no good, or were working late, which meant one of two things: they were dross he’d get rid of, or they were the best of the best. He was keen to find out which category he was dealing with. Shouldering a pitchfork to make the hay bed in the stall more comfortable for the horse, he grabbed a fistful of pony nuts and strolled down the line of stalls.
Emotion caught him square in the gut as a halo of red-gold curls gave the groom’s identity away. He would have known her anywhere, even after all these years. The half-naked body belonged to Lizzie Fane. Perfect.
‘Out of there, now,’ he rapped.
‘What?’ a girl who sounded in no way dismayed demanded. ‘Who is this?’
It was a shock to hear adult Lizzie sounding just like her mother. Not good.
‘I said,’ he repeated in a menacing tone, ‘get out of there now.’
‘Do you mind?’ she replied in the same honeyed voice. ‘Your tone is upsetting the horse.’
She had a nerve. No one cared about horses more than he did.
Had he really imagined he would know how it felt to be confronted by a member of the Fane family on his fazenda? He’d been nowhere close. Anger consumed him as the past rushed back. The humiliation he’d suffered—the expense to Eduardo, thanks to the false accusations made against Chico, and the fact that Lizzie had turned her back on him.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ she murmured.
Was he supposed to wait?
‘There are some things I need to pick up and put away,’ she explained, still in the same mild voice, and still mostly hidden from him in the stall.
‘The clock’s ticking,’ he warned, gritting out each word.
He rested against the wall, thinking back to when he’d been a youth and an easy target for two cheats with their eyes on the money of his sponsor, Eduardo Delgardo. Lies about him forcing himself on Serena Fane, Lizzie’s mother, had tripped so easily off their tongues. Even Eduardo had been hard-pressed to defend him, though the older man had remained his staunchest defender throughout, and had explained, once they were safely back in Brazil, that Lizzie’s grandmother had discovered the truth about the life her son and his wife were leading, and that when they used Chico to try and get money out of Eduardo, it was the last straw for the old lady, who had disinherited her son, and banished both him and his wife from Rottingdean House. Unfortunately, by this time, Lord and Lady Fane had stolen all her money.
For a man to steal money from his mother was incomprehensible to Chico, but he had soon realised that men like Lizzie’s father had no conscience. And now that man’s daughter was here on a scholarship, working towards a diploma, which he would award? You couldn’t make it up.
‘What are you waiting for?’ he snarled as the past blinded him with an angry red mist. He’d waited long enough. Switching on the overhead light, he bathed them both in stark white light, and, lifting the latch, he walked in.
* * *
The man she’d called her friend was right behind her. Smouldering, powerful, different. The Deceiver. The Liar. The youth who had told her that he understood how it must be for her living at Rottingdean House with parents who ignored her, and had promised to take her away. He had failed to deliver on that promise, and her forgiving nature was out of the door. Her body responded eagerly to the hard man of polo before she’d even turned around, but her thoughts were filled with anger and disappointment in the man she had once believed was her friend.
She would have to master those feelings, if she was going to complete the course, Lizzie told herself firmly. And with a muttered apology, she straightened up and turned around.
Light shimmered around Chico, pointing up his darkness. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. His glittering menace had never seemed more pronounced. As she had first suspected when she caught a glimpse of him on the plane, Chico was vastly changed. This wasn’t the ridiculously good-looking youth with the easy smile and relaxed manner, but a hard, driven man, whom life had made suspicious, a man with single-minded determination that had taken Chico Fernandez to the top. That didn’t stop her body burning with lust. Her reaction to him was primal. She had no defence against it. Her mind was scrambled, and yet she was acutely aware of him. Forbidden fruit had never looked this good.
All the more reason to keep her head down and get back to the job, Lizzie reasoned. There were always things to do in the stable, and she was here to accomplish something crucial for the future of Rottingdean, not to rehash the mistakes of the past. She might never be exactly sure what had happened all those years ago, but she knew what she had to do to secure the future of Rottingdean now, and make things right for everyone who worked on the estate, and that didn’t include falling like some heartsick teenager for a man who had proved conclusively that he cared nothing for her.
* * *
Lizzie was bending over with her back to him, loading pots of salve and rolls of bandage into a carrying case. His glance swept over her. Lizzie Fane was all grown up. Long limbs, slender frame, generous hips, and still the same bright red wavy hair, longer than he remembered, and carelessly swept back and bundled into a glowing topknot with strands and curls escaping everywhere. He closed his mind to her attractions, and ground his jaw as the seconds ticked by. The least she could do was acknowledge her boss.
‘Sorry,’ she said, sounding not the least bit repentant, and looking even less so. ‘I had to finish what I was doing.’
He hummed as heat ripped through him, and it was a surprise to find the connection between them was as strong as ever, even after all this time. Once they had been drawn together by mutual curiosity—two people from very different backgrounds, both outsiders in their own way, with only horses in common, but now it was a hot-blooded man, and a beautiful, if icy woman, weighing each other up like prize-fighters from opposite sides of the ring.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ Lizzie announced in a businesslike way.
He replied to this with a steady look. The connection might be there, but they were strangers, he thought, and the steel in Lizzie’s eyes intrigued him. She had always been a tomboy, but there was something in her expression now that suggested she was still hurting because he’d let her down by leaving Rottingdean House all those years ago without saying goodbye. Had he meant so much to her?
When he was least expecting it, she relaxed and smiled. ‘I’m really pleased to be here.’
Now he was confused. What was he to believe? Lizzie with a grudge? Or Lizzie, the student determined to impress? She had always been good at hiding her feelings. She’d had to be. There was only one certainty here. The power of her stunning emerald gaze had hit him like a punch in the gut.
What was wrong with him? He shook her hand, and now he didn’t want to let her go? To feel her hand in his grip, so small, so slender, so cool, had made him want to ask her straight out: what happened to you? To us? Worse, he had to fight the crazy impulse to drag her close and kiss her hard.
‘It’s been a long time, Lizzie,’ he said finally with commendable restraint.
‘It has,’ she agreed coolly. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but I had to be sure I’d picked everything up, and that Flame was properly settled for the night.’
He inspected the work she’d done on the horse. She’d done a good job, but not good enough to meet his exacting standards. He’d pulled Lizzie’s report from her college. She’d passed out top of her class, which was why she had been awarded the scholarship to train under him at Fazenda Fernandez. He remembered her grandmother telling him that Lizzie needed something to lose herself in. He had understood immediately that Lizzie found the affection denied her by her parents from the horses she cared for, because he’d found that same solace, but what was driving her now?
‘Well, if that’s all?’ she said pleasantly.
She waited patiently for him to move out of the way. She had inherited none of the supercilious qualities of her parents, he noted, but her eyes were wounded. The past had damaged them both, but why had she chosen to believe her parents’ lies over him? The answer came to him as they stared at each other. However a child was misled or mistreated, they never gave up hope of winning the love of their parent, even if that parent was incapable of giving love.
‘You have a wonderful facility here, Senhor Fernandez. I’m thrilled to have been given the opportunity to train here.’
She was close enough to touch, to kiss, to reassure...
‘And we’re very glad to have you here,’ he replied in the same measured tone. ‘You come with an excellent recommendation from your college.’
She smiled in response to this, and tension crackled all around them, making him wonder if they would ever be easy with each other again.
‘Anyway, thank you,’ she said, breaking the spell as she hefted her belongings into a more comfortable position. ‘I really do appreciate the chance you’ve given me.’
‘My selection team did that. Everything I do here is in honour of my sponsor, Eduardo. You do remember Eduardo?’
‘Yes, of course I do.’ For a moment her confident mask slipped. ‘I was very sorry to hear of his passing. I read quite a lot about him before I came here.’
‘Oh?’
‘When you both came to Rottingdean I just knew him as a leading polo player in Brazil. What I didn’t realise was that Eduardo had devoted himself to providing education for children from deprived backgrounds.’
‘Children like me?’
‘Yes.’ She held his gaze, unflinching. ‘I don’t say that to offend you, Senhor Fernandez.’
‘I appreciate your honesty, Senhorita Fane.’
She slanted him a thoughtful look and almost smiled again. ‘I guess Eduardo got lucky with you.’
‘There are many deserving children,’ he argued sharply as their hopeful faces flashed into his mind.
Lizzie blushed bright red. ‘I realise that—I didn’t mean...I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant. You’re wondering how I can afford all this?’ Not by cheating like Lizzie’s parents, that was for sure.
‘No,’ she protested, and for the first time he thought he saw the real Lizzie, rather than the girl who was trying to please her boss. ‘It makes perfect sense to me. With your natural talent you were always bound to succeed.’
‘And you also realised that success such as mine pays well?’ he pressed, thinking of her mother and wondering if Lizzie had inherited any of Serena’s acquisitive traits.
‘Your financial success is well documented,’ she defended, her cheeks pinking up again beneath his suspicious stare.
Was she after a slice of the pie? ‘Hard work and straight dealing is my only secret.’
‘And a sponsor like Eduardo,’ she suggested, that steel he’d seen before returning to her gaze.
Even now, hearing Eduardo’s name coming from a member of the Fane family’s lips grated on him, though he had to admit that the fact Lizzie had no problem speaking up for herself was to her credit. Her parents had always delivered their barbs from a safe distance.
‘I’m in awe of the legacy Eduardo Delgardo left behind, and I don’t just mean his money,’ she explained. ‘He inspired so many people with his good works, including me.’
Her steady gaze convinced him that in this, at least, Lizzie Fane was being totally honest.
‘I should go to supper now. My friend’s expecting me—’ She started to move past him.
He wasn’t ready to let her go yet and stood in her way. ‘You bandaged him?’
‘Yes?’ Her concern was obvious.
‘Put your things down outside the stable, and come back in here.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Back in here,’ he repeated.
He was already hunkering down to check the poultice when she returned to the stall. Apart from wanting to show Lizzie how her bandaging technique could be improved, and disregarding the obvious questions jostling in his mind, he was intrigued by this new Lizzie. Forget intrigue. He wanted her. In the past he had put her on a pedestal and wouldn’t have touched her. But now...
CHAPTER THREE
COULDN’T THIS WAIT? There were classes tomorrow. What did Chico really want? He was such a compelling presence he made her feel tongue-tied. Her lips felt wooden and when she tried to speak her voice sounded hoarse. Seeing him again after all these years had completely thrown her. Had she really thought she was ready for this? Just because Chico Fernandez had been the stuff of her fantasies throughout all her teenage years, didn’t mean she knew him. She was keenly aware that she didn’t know him, not now, which was why she felt so awkward around him—and nothing could dilute the impact of a man dressed in nothing more than a pair of banged-up jeans and a black top that showed off his impressive muscles, who had turned from an attractive youth into the hottest thing on two powerful male legs.
‘It’s hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said, finding it hard to breathe suddenly.
‘Not overly so,’ Chico replied. ‘The temperature in here is controlled.’
Unlike her heart, she thought, feeling the effects of being trapped in a small stall with so much undiluted sex. Chico’s physical presence was overwhelming. Shoulders broad enough to hoist an ox, stomach flat, waist slim, from all his exercise on horseback—and, when he was hunkered down like this, a grandstand view of the tightest butt on earth. Added to which, a heavy-duty leather belt was drawing her gaze where it definitely shouldn’t wander. And his face—if Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, Chico Fernandez could launch a thousand erotic fantasies. He looked so stern, but his mouth was the mouth of a sensualist, and she loved his sharp black stubble. She had always loved his thick, wild black hair—
What was she thinking? She wasn’t a naïve girl now, daydreaming in the stables at Rottingdean. She was a woman with a goal, who had won a scholarship to Brazil, and who couldn’t afford to be distracted. What must she look like to Chico? Hot, sweaty, and grubby— Quite suddenly, she didn’t have confidence in anything—not in herself, or her work, or in her future. This wasn’t the youth she had made a friend of all those years ago. This was Chico Fernandez, acknowledged equine expert—and expert between the sheets too, she had no doubt; a man with testosterone flying off him like white-hot shards that pierced her body with sensation until she couldn’t think. Chico was said to be a man’s man; a lone wolf who ruled his territory like a feudal lord. Was she here to take him on? Was she going to suck him dry?