Country Affairs

ZARA STONELEY

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2015

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Praise for Stable Mates

'A great treat for readers who love their books jam-packed with sexy men and horses.'

Bestselling author Fiona Walker

‘Fans of Fiona Walker will love this book.’

ThatThingSheReads

'A delightful romp stuffed with fun, frolics and romance.'

BestChickLit

'Stable Mates is up there with Riders and Rivals.'

Comet Babes Books

'Move over Mr Grey, the Tippermere boys are in town! Highly recommended.'

Brook Cottage Books

'A seductive fascinating novel. Mucking out the horses just got sexy!'

Chicks That Read

To Paul

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Stable Mates

Dedication

Tippermere

The Residents of Tippermere

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Acknowledgements

Also by Zara Stoneley …

Zara Stoneley

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Tippermere

Welcome to tranquil Tippermere, set deep in the Cheshire countryside. Home to Lords and Ladies, horsemen and farmers.

Set on the highest hill, keeping a close eye on the village and its inhabitants, lies Tipping House Estate. In pride of place is the grand Elizabethan style mansion, sweeping down in front of her are immaculate gardens, well-kept parkland and rolling acres that spread as far as the eye can see.

Follow the stream down to the flat below, and nestling between copses and lakes, you find Folly Lake Manor and the sprawling grounds of the bustling Equestrian Centre. The country lane in front wends its way between high hedges to the village green, the church and two village pubs. Then fans out into tributaries, follow them further and you find a small eventing yard, a scattering of country cottages and rambling working farms.

Take the road north eastwards, travel on a few short miles and soon the elegant village of Kitterly Heath unfolds before you - a village whose origins were recorded in the Domesday Book. At one end of the ancient high street a solid 14th Century church stands sentry, with an imposing school at the other, and all around sprawl the mansions old and new that house the rich and famous…

The Residents of Tippermere

Charlotte ‘Lottie’ Brinkley – disorganised but loveable daughter of Billy. In line to inherit the Tipping House Estate and become the next Lady Stanthorpe.

Rory Steel – devilishly daring and sexy three day eventer, owner of a small eventing yard in Tippermere. Lottie’s boyfriend.

Tilly – head of the terrier trio that accompany Rory everywhere.

Todd Mitchell – Lottie’s ex. Australian surfer who abandoned her on the beach in Barcelona.

William ‘Billy’ Brinkley - Lottie’s father. Former superstar show jumper, based at Folly Lake Equestrian Centre.

Victoria ‘Tiggy’ Stafford – wife of Billy. As friendly, shaggy and eternally optimistic as a spaniel.

Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe – owner of Tipping House estate, lover of strong G&T’s. Meddler and mischief maker. Lottie’s gran, Dominic’s mother.

Bertie & Holmes – Elizabeth’s black Labradors.

Philippa ‘Pip’ Keelan – headline hunting journalist. Trim, sophisticated and slightly scary. Staunch supporter and ally of Lady Elizabeth.

Mick O’Neal – expert farrier, Irish charmer, dangerously attractive. Living with Pip.

Dominic Stanthorpe - dressage rider extraordinaire. Uncle to Lottie, son of Elizabeth, slightly bemused and frustrated by both. Husband to Amanda.

Amanda Stanthorpe – elegant and understated, delicate and demure. Owner of Folly Lake Manor and Equestrian Centre.

Tom Strachan - sexy ex-underwear model and single dad to Tab.

Tabatha ‘Tab’ Strachan – teenage daughter of Tom. Horse mad, smitten by Rory, but suitably unimpressed by most other things.

David Simcock - England goalkeeper, resident of the neighbouring Kitterly Heath.

Sam – partner of David. Lover of dogs, diamonds and designer delights.

Chapter 1

Adrenalin rushes were one thing, but this was a step too far Todd Mitchell decided, as his mount, Merlin, charged between the ornate gates, his tail high with excitement.

Hanging on for dear life, he inadvertently dug his heels in hard, and with a squeal of delight half a ton of horseflesh took it as a red light to go faster, speeding at what had to be a life-threatening pace towards the stone fountain that somebody had inconveniently placed down the home straight of Folly Lake Manor some twenty years previously.

Coming to Tippermere to talk to Lottie was admirable, Todd told himself, as he hauled ineffectually on the reins. However, riding heroically to her rescue might not be such a good idea, particularly as his one and only experience in a saddle had involved a donkey and a beach.

‘Christ almighty, are you trying to bleeding kill me?’ Spotting the very large and very solid-looking ornate angel, which stood guard on the edge of the water feature, Todd grimaced and wondered if he had time to bail out. Wings spread like scimitars, she smiled smugly at him and he knew he was seconds away from a grisly death by decapitation or a good dunking. He shut his eyes.

The horse swerved alarmingly, nearly unseating him, the sharp point of an angel wing tugged at his left shoulder and as the smell of freshly mown grass hit his nostrils he realised two things: he was alive and they’d changed course. With a relieved whoop and a grin Todd dared to look again.

As dinner-plate-sized hooves sent clods of earth in all directions, distant chatter floated across the air to them and the cob’s large ears flickered. For a second his pace slowed and his rider shifted into a more secure position on his broad back. Then hearing familiar voices, and anticipating mints and carrots, Merlin stretched his neck and picking up speed again he thundered across the immaculate lawns that stretched before the imposing house, his mane and tail flying out behind him.

Todd ducked to avoid being garrotted by the colourful bunting that marked the entrance to a cordoned-off area and then realised he was being carried down the red carpet towards bride and groom at a completely inappropriate speed. ‘Struth! Where are the anchors on this thing?’

It was the last thing that came out of his Aussie mouth before the horse took matters into his own hands and ground to a halt, expertly veering left at the last minute towards an attractive and to what he no doubt suspected was an edible flower arrangement.

Force of momentum kept Todd on his original trajectory and he would have landed in the Very Reverend Waterson’s lap if a quick-thinking Rory hadn’t dragged the shocked minister out of harm’s way.

Tranquil was the word most often used to describe the village of Tippermere, and Folly Lake Manor was one of its most serene corners. Usually. And today’s wedding, despite the celebrity status of the groom, had been planned as a quiet, family affair.

The assembled wedding guests, gathered on the lawns in front of a large marquee, watched open-mouthed as Todd rolled like an expert and got to his feet, brushing himself down as he went.

He straightened, six foot of muscle in jeans and open-necked shirt, topped by a shock of sun-bleached hair and a mud-spattered face and flashed his best grin at his shocked audience before spinning round to locate the man he’d been heading for.

‘Mate.’ He tipped a hand in the direction of his hat, which he’d actually lost a good few hundreds yard back along the way, then looked past the speechless vicar to the bemused bride and groom.

‘Hell,’ he took a step closer, ‘if you’ll pardon the language, Rev, but I never thought you wanted a bloody father figure, Lottie.’

Todd stared hard at the slightly tubby figure, who had been having his cravat straightened by a flustered Lottie, and shook his head. He’d decided quite rashly that it was his job to save her from whatever kind of matrimonial harmony she thought she was heading for, but it had occurred to him on the way over that he might have made a mistake (although once the horse had started to gallop, changing his mind hadn’t been an option). Standing here now, seeing her husband-to-be, he just knew he was doing the right thing. Whatever the man had to offer, Lottie deserved better. And younger. And preferably with more hair. ‘No way, Lots. Come on, hold your horses! You can’t be serious about marrying a guy like him?’ He raised his eyebrows and looked at the girl he’d shared a summer of love and lust with, then glanced back at the man beside her. ‘No offence, mate, but I bloody object, or whatever it is you’re supposed to say.’

Charlotte ‘Lottie’ Brinkley let go of the silk cravat, which she’d been clutching a little too firmly.

‘I can’t be serious? Father figure?’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘He IS my bloody father, you great…’ Oaf? Moron? Most unwelcome uninvited guest in the universe?

Of all the people that could have turned up at the wedding, the one person who had not been on the horizon (in an actual or metaphorical sense), as far as Lottie was concerned, was Todd. Her ex. As in very ex. As in the very last person she ever expected, or wanted, to see again. Todd was supposed to be riding the waves on the other side of the world, which was just fine by her. ‘And it’s you who should be holding your horse.’ She nodded in the direction of Merlin, who, sensing freedom, was heading straight for the refreshment tent. ‘Horses are not like surf boards you know. You can’t just dump them.’

Todd ignored the instruction, not quite realising the trail of destruction the large horse could cause when he set his mind to it. ‘Father? Isn’t there a law against that?’

‘Object to what? What bloody law? Who the—’ Billy Brinkley, Olympic-medal-winning show jumper, and the ‘bloody father’, raised an eyebrow and looked at the tall, blond man who had just spectacularly interrupted his wedding.

He’d been about to add a particularly strong swear word, but out of the corner of his eye had seen the vicar, who was turning a whiter shade of pale, and toned it down. ‘Hell’ didn’t seem an appropriate word either, in the circumstances.

‘I’m not marrying him, you idiot.’ Lottie, tried to resist the smile that was tugging at her insides, but she knew any minute now she’d lose the battle.

‘So who the hell are you marrying?’ Todd looked puzzled. Which made it even funnier.

‘Do you know this Australian chap, Charlotte darling? I must say I can understand now why you haven’t rushed to marry Rory.’ Lottie groaned and covered her face with her hands as Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe’s imperious tone carried clearly over the by-now murmuring guests. Explaining this to her father was one thing, but to her aristocratic grandmother? ‘I can imagine he’s very impressive without his clothes on. Reminds me of a gardener we once had.’

A chuckle spread through the guests like a Mexican wave.

‘I couldn’t give a monkeys what he looks like without clothes on. We’re supposed to be holding a bloody wedding ceremony. Mine! If he’s not got an invite he can shove off.’ Billy, determined to regain control, but used to the chaos that seemed to follow his daughter around, folded his arms and stared at Lottie. ‘Well, has he?’

Lottie didn’t hear. Oh God, if Todd had to reappear in her life, why did he have to choose right now? Right now was her father’s wedding day and everybody in Tippermere was there. And all of their family. And, of course, Rory Steel, top eventer – the man who warmed her bed and her heart. And who, after rescuing the vicar from Merlin’s hooves, had stood by quietly watching.

This morning, as she’d pinned up the bunting and straightened the chairs in the early- morning sunshine, she’d actually known for the first time that everything would work out fine. Mick, farrier and friend, had been right; when she’d returned to Tippermere her feet had brought her back to where her heart was. Here, with Rory, with her family, friends and the wonderful estate that one day would be her responsibility. She loved it and she finally knew with all her heart where she belonged. And she knew she could do this; inherit Tipping House and make her family proud of her.

She knew that she could never, ever be like her autocratic, to-the-manor-born, gran, and she was fairly sure she would never live up to the promise of her elegant mother, Alexa. But she would do it her way, and do the very best she could for the place that she truly loved.

Lottie had long ago concluded that she had inherited the happy-go-lucky side of her mother, but her looks and organisational abilities were all down to her father’s side of the family. Not that most of the residents of Tippermere would have agreed with her disparaging view. Lottie may not have been the whirlwind force of nature her mother, Alexa, had been, but she was kinder, gentler and her beauty shone through just as brightly. With her big green eyes, long legs, shapely body and honest, open face Lottie was as beguiling as her mother had been wild, impulsive and elusive. The mischievous, but strangely vulnerable, Alexa had enchanted all, and Billy had feared what her future as Lady of the Manor would have done to her. But Lottie, with her father’s stubborn, down-to-earth streak was different. Billy knew that his daughter could do this, and as each day passed he’d seen the growing certainty in her. The confidence. And he saw the same love for the place shine from her eyes as it had from her mother’s. There was no doubt in his mind that his scatty daughter was the true heir of Tipping House and that the Stanthorpe determination ran deep in her veins. He could also see the same glint of determination as she looked at the man standing in front of her.

Lottie glared at Todd, who she hadn’t seen since he’d been marched off a Barcelona beach and out of her life. It might not have actually been that long ago, but it seemed to have happened in a different lifetime now. Like some crazy adventure that had happened to somebody else, before she’d realised what really mattered to her. This place and these people, not some footloose and fancy-free Australian, who just wanted to share a beer and a laugh.

She shot a warning glance at Elizabeth, her grandmother, which she knew wouldn’t help at all, tried not to let Billy catch her eye as she just knew that was asking for trouble, then glanced anxiously over at Rory.

It looked like a massive penny had just dropped with a horrendous clang. He frowned, his hands tightening into fists at his sides and took a step forward.

It was just at this moment that a panting Tabatha arrived, slightly pink in the face, and made a grab for her horse just as he made his way into the marquee.

When her ex-model father Tom Strachan had made the decision to retire to the countryside, dragging his reluctant teenage daughter with him, Tab had been distraught. He had ruined her life.

Despite the fact that she was going through a goth phase, she’d envisaged a future of bright city lights, nightclubs and fashion ahead. Not a life of being stuck in the sticks to stagnate with old farmers and smelly sheep.

Discovering that several of her equestrian heroes lived on the doorstep had slightly mollified Tab, and being allowed to groom for Billy (who had superstar status, but let’s face it, was a bit over the hill) and Rory (who was the sexiest eventer on the planet, but still insisted on hanging out with the far from glamorous Lottie, unfortunately) had almost been enough to make her break out of her teenage sulk. She’d grudgingly (but not openly) admitted that Tippermere might be an okay type of place.

But when the amazingly attractive and very out of place stranger had arrived on the yard at Folly Lake Equestrian Centre an hour earlier, just as she was untacking Merlin, she decided there might be a God after all. He was gorgeous, he was fit, fun and with an accent to die for.

So when he’d vaulted on to the horse’s back, asked for directions to the wedding and set off across the field towards the manor, she was too busy staring to tell him that Merlin bareback might be a death wish. But he probably wouldn’t have cared. He was amazing. She was awestruck. She was finally going to get a shag.

Tab, who now had a firm grip on her horse, edged back closer to the proceedings, sensing that Todd’s no doubt dramatic entrance was only the start. Merlin, less entranced, tugged, nearly pulling her arm out of its socket. ‘Okay, okay.’ She passed him one of the mints she kept in her pocket for emergencies. No way was she going yet – things looked far too interesting here.

A red-faced Lottie was staring at Todd as if she knew the blond sex god intimately. Which was bloody typical, thought Tab, and would normally have annoyed her more, except she couldn’t see how she could lose. Lottie had Rory, which left Todd free for her (and she could still feel the smacker of a kiss he’d given her before leaping onto Merlin – which had to mean something). But if it turned out that there really had been something going on between Lottie and Todd, then surely Rory would be keen to take advantage of her shoulder to cry on?

She helped herself to one of the mints and passed another one on to Merlin, who was nudging her shoulder impatiently.

‘Well, if it isn’t Todd the tosser himself.’ Tab grimaced, it sounded as though Pip (who’d emerged from the wedding crowd with folded arms) knew him as well.

Tab stared at the immaculately turned-out journalist with her perfect blond bob. The older girl oozed a kind of professional polish and city know-how, and Tab still hadn’t quite decided if she admired her, envied her or liked her. She’d hated Pip at the start. The way she’d zoomed in on her father, Tom, then had bedded him had been so predictable, so bloody boring. But then they’d actually become kind of buddies when she’d shown her the ropes at Rory’s yard. And now it turned out even she knew the Australian sex god. Although that figured; Pip knew everybody and everything. And had tried them out between the sheets probably – the ‘everybody’ not the ‘everything’.

Great, Tab frowned, somebody interesting turns up and she was the only one who hadn’t slept with him. Which was the story of her life at the moment. One day they’d stop treating her as Tom’s kid and realise she actually wanted to ride more than bloody horses.

‘Todd.’ Rory’s voice broke into her thoughts, and from the sound of it he didn’t actually know him, it was more a statement of intent, possibly murderous, which could make things interesting but could completely screw up her plans. On no account was Rory going to be allowed to kill him, or hound him out of Tippermere. Not yet, please God! Tab, who had resolutely refused to even pretend to pray since the day she’d been born, decided that if this worked out she would make up for it.

‘Watcha mate.’ Todd, oblivious to the danger, grinned in Rory’s direction and was obviously impressed with the mark he’d left on his audience. He winked at Pip. ‘Long time no see. Didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.’

‘Don’t you “watcha mate” me,’ Rory was probably the only one who missed the murmur that was spreading through the crowd. ‘You’re the waste of space that dumped Lottie on that Spanish beach, aren’t you? Well?’

Lottie squirmed as the heat rushed into her face.

‘Well, to be fair, I wouldn’t exactly say “dumped”, mate.’ Some of the bravado left his voice as he registered the look on Rory’s face. ‘It was just one of those things.’

‘I’ll show you what’s fair, come here, you Aussie git.’

As Rory lunged, Todd decided not to come or hang about. He made a dash for it, straight towards the by-now bored Merlin, who had a half-eaten red gladioli hanging from his mouth. Making a split-second decision that he was sure he’d regret later, Todd vaulted on to the startled horses back before he, or Tab, had time to object.

Rory glanced around, his face set, spotted the quad bike at the side of the marquee and made a dash for it.

‘Jeez, fella, what is your problem?’ Not waiting for an answer, Todd dug his heels in and grabbed a handful of mane as Merlin plunged forwards. The horse rocketed back across the lawn, happily obliging his rider, with Rory in hot pursuit, waving a fist and yelling what everybody took to be obscenities.

‘Think they’ll be back?’ Pip grinned, this was turning out to be far more entertaining than she could have possibly imagined. And bringing a photographer along with her had definitely been a worthwhile investment. She could picture the newspaper headlines now.

Lottie Brinkley shut her eyes and a new image of Todd swam into her vision. Todd the last time she’d seen him – his bronzed body naked apart from a pair of swimming trunks, his impressive six-pack nicely oiled and the promise of a good night in shining from his eyes.

Until the dream had been demolished by a bevy of Spanish policeman all dressed in black, who’d surrounded them and waved a warrant.

Chapter 2

Apart from the humiliation of having to watch her lover being marched across the sand away from her, what had really bothered Lottie on the beach that day was that she hadn’t even been wearing a decent bikini.

It was one thing Gran bringing her up with the belief that one should always wear decent knickers, just in case one was run over, but whoever warned you that your beachwear should be up to the scrutiny of a half a dozen very sexy members of the Spanish Mossos?

If it hadn’t been for her new best buddy, Pip, who had helped her cram everything into her rucksack, booked emergency plane tickets and escorted her all the way back to Tippermere, Lottie wasn’t sure what would have happened next in her life.

Meeting journalist Pip Keelan in Barcelona had been a godsend. She was all the things Lottie wasn’t – organised and logical in everything, including her love life. The fact that she’d then actually decided to hang around and adopt Lottie’s home village as her own, and then proceeded to bring her own brand of fun and mayhem to Tippermere life was a source of constant amazement.

It seemed that for Pip country life was the perfect antidote to the city living that had started to turn stale, and the fit men were a bonus. And the fact that she was semi shacked-up with the fittest farrier for miles appeared to suit her fine.

‘He is so, so fit. How come you know so many hot men, Lot’s?’ Tabatha’s wistful tone brought Lottie back to the present and she glanced at the teenager, who was gazing longingly after her rapidly disappearing horse and the careering quad bike. Then her gaze fixed on Rory, who was alternating between waving his fist and frantically grabbing at the handlebars as he rocketed off course.

‘I’m not sure this lawn will ever be the same again.’ Amanda Stanthorpe, owner of all she surveyed, joined them, but seemed more preoccupied with what had been an immaculate expanse of green, than the cause of the destruction.

Agreeing to host the wedding at Folly Lake Manor had seemed the neighbourly thing to do, even if she did like everything neat and tidy. But Amanda did truly love the people she’d met in Tippermere and Kitterly Heath, and this had seemed the perfect way to thank them for everything they’d done for her.

After the death of her billionaire husband, Marcus, they had made her feel part of the community and, in fact, had made her feel worth something again. From the loveable Lottie and daredevil Rory to the scheming Elizabeth. From the unprincipled Pip and the brooding Mick, to the gruff Billy and charming Tiggy, and from the perfectly handsome Tom to his outwardly difficult, but inwardly, sweet daughter, Tab, they were all like the family she wished she’d had.

Even the glamorous, but warm-hearted and generous Sam and her charming footballer husband had supported her.

And, of course, there was dear, reserved and very proper Dominic. Her husband. She loved them all, but she loved him most of all.

And there was the crux of the matter, the main reason for hosting the wedding. It was a generous gesture of goodwill from Dominic, her husband, towards Billy Brinkley, the groom. Mending fences, building bridges.

Dominic and Billy had been childhood friends, but affection had turned to hatred after Alexandra, Lottie’s mother, had died in a tragic accident. Both men had outwardly blamed each other, but inwardly carried a burden of guilt for something that neither was actually responsible for. And it had taken Lottie and her grandmother, Lady Elizabeth, to unravel the puzzle and make them see sense. Make them see that neither was to blame for the death of Alexa – Dominic’s sister, Billy’s wife, Lottie’s mother. Force them to acknowledge that hate and disapproval wouldn’t bring her back.

Amanda sighed as all of a sudden the city girl in her, who she’d hoped had been quashed down, rose up in anguish. She loved Lottie, truly adored her, but the girl seemed doomed to a life of chaos and untidy disorder. And cavorting on horses was just not what she’d expected at this wedding, well at any wedding. Much as she’d tried to involve herself in equestrian life and appreciate the beauty of the massive animals, surely horses belonged in fields?

‘Are we getting on with this bloody ceremony? I need a beer.’ Billy’s blunt tones rang out into the shocked silence.

‘Sorry, Dad.’ Lottie gnawed on her bottom lip anxiously. It was very heroic of Rory to go after Todd like this. In fact, it was one of the most romantic things he’d ever done, but what if he caught him? ‘Er – doesn’t Rory have the wedding rings, though?’

Billy ruffled his hand through his hair and winked at his bemused bride, Tiggy, who was waiting as patiently as the spaniel that was sitting beside her, a red ribbon tied to its collar in honour of the occasion. ‘You can always rely on our Lottie to make sure the occasion is a bit different, can’t you? Come on, love, let’s just get on with it, shall we? The lad will be back soon enough.’

‘But he’s your best man.’ Lottie could easily see the day she’d so carefully planned (well the day she’d done her best to sort out, and which Pip, Sam and Amanda had tactfully prompted her about when she’d forgotten things), ending up in a state of chaos. Everybody was looking at her expectantly, as the man she loved disappeared into the distance in hot pursuit of her bigamist ex. She didn’t know whether to be pleased that Rory seemed intent on upholding her honour and wreaking revenge on her behalf, or upset that at her first event as Lady of the Manor to be (or should that be Lady in Waiting?) he’d abandoned his duties as best man and disappeared in pursuit of a horse. Going after them wasn’t an option, was it?

‘I think I’ll go after my horse and, er, check everybody is okay.’ Tab observed, but nobody was listening.

‘He’ll be back in time for the beer, love. Never known Rory to miss a party. Right oh.’ Billy rubbed his hands together and nodded at the vicar, who after a little hesitation decided to carry on where he’d left off. Lottie glanced back in the direction of the Equestrian Centre, which was where Merlin (irrespective of any rider intentions) was heading, then turned her attention back to her father. She was, after all, supposed to be responsible for arranging his marriage to the scatty Tiggy Stafford. And up until this point in the ceremony it had been going reasonably well, considering.

Organisation wasn’t her strong point, unless it involved horses and getting ready for a competition. That she could handle brilliantly, but managing events was different altogether, and it was so easy to get distracted. But she’d done this because she knew she had to. Discovering that she was the rightful heir to Tipping House Estate, not Uncle Dominic as she’d always assumed, had been a bit of a shock. Well, it had been a major shock.

It had all seemed a bit unreal, until Dom and Amanda had married, and he’d had less time for his caretaking duties. She had to get ready to take over the reins, he’d said (repeatedly, in his stern looking-down-his-aristocratic-nose way). To be fair, he’d spent an awful lot of time encouraging and helping her and she wanted to take over. She really did. She was far too independent to be on a lead rein and even before Lady Stanthorpe had dropped the bombshell, she’d known she belonged here. This place was part of her, she loved every shabby inch of it, and she really thought that Uncle Dominic was being a bit too much of a fussy mother hen. So she’d been determined to prove to him, and to herself, that she was more than capable of being Lady of the Manor. Of organising stuff. And organising her father’s wedding had seemed a perfect opportunity. And once Uncle Dom saw how brilliant she was, maybe he’d stop looking over her shoulder and trust her.

She sighed. Well, that had been the plan. And it had been going splendidly. Until Todd had arrived. A few months ago she might actually have been pleased to see him, but things were different now. She was different – her life had moved on.

‘Certainly. Right, I er…’ The Very Reverend Waterson straightened his dog collar and cleared his throat, waiting for the guests to settle. ‘Ah, yes, we were, hmm…’

Lottie stared at the vicar. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, which was a first. Maybe becoming a Very Reverend, as opposed to a Reverend, had cheered him up. Promotion was good for everybody, she supposed, even if you were never actually going to get the top job in his line of work.

‘If any of you can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now or else forever hold your peace.’ He smiled. Paused. ‘I charge you both, here in the pre—’

‘I do.’ Tiggy spoke for the first time, her soft voice singing out into the near silence with an unusual clarity. ‘Oops, I mean, I can.’ She giggled. ‘Show just thingy. Cause. I can show just cause why we can’t be, er, lawfully wed.’

For the second time that day there was a gasp of horror. Lottie looked in alarm at her father and tried to ignore the wicked delight on her grandmother, Elizabeth’s, face.

‘What? But. You can’t. I. Why?’ Lottie ran out of words. How could the bride have an objection? She wasn’t that up on weddings, but she had a damned good idea that any objections were supposed to come from the guests not the bride or groom. And she’d always thought Tiggy was so nice and harmless. ‘Dad?’ She made a grab for his arm, not quite sure what she was going to do next.

Billy guffawed, which wasn’t right. ‘She can’t, because she’s already married.’

All eyes swivelled from Billy to Tiggy and back again, as Lottie’s hands flew to her mouth. It was her worst nightmare.

‘Oh my God. Not her as well.’

Chapter 3

Lottie was on her second glass of bubbly and feeling slightly disorientated by the time Billy had finished the speeches, filling in for his AWOL best man, Rory, last seen riding his mechanical charger into the distance.

So far the day hadn’t gone to plan at all, she thought, as she gazed across the lawn towards Folly Lake Equestrian Centre, home to her father and his new bride.

She had been totally confused when Tiggy had dropped her bombshell, mainly because they both looked happy, and surely you were supposed to be devastated (or at least seriously upset) if it turns out your future forever person was on the verge of becoming a bigamist? She certainly had been when she’d found out that Todd had two weddings but no divorces to his name. I mean, she hadn’t exactly been planning on marrying him herself, but it was still the type of news that came as a bit of a shock.

So, it had been a toss-up. Did she burst into tears because she’d gone to all this bloody trouble organising this wonderful day for nothing? Did she have a ‘life is so unfair’ tantrum? Or did she follow Rory and Todd’s example and do a runner?

She’d opened her mouth, but nothing had come out. Which was when Billy had put a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘To me. She’s already married to me, Lottie. Sorry love,’ he didn’t look that sorry, in fact he looked very pleased with himself, ‘but we got married last month when we were away. Didn’t want to hang around any longer and, er,’ he gave her an apologetic look, ‘we didn’t know if you’d pull this off. So, it’s like a blessing, isn’t it Rev?’ He’d glanced at the vicar who nodded and smiled with, Lottie thought, a certain un-reverential smugness.

The fact that even the bloody vicar was in on it seemed so unfair, thought Lottie, why was she always the last to know everything?

But her Dad had looked so pleased with himself it was hard to be ratty with him, and he’d even given her a brief bear hug, which was almost unheard of. ‘And it’s a bloody good excuse for a party as well, of course. Right then, let’s get this wound up and get on the razz.’ He’d hugged Tiggy in close and there was a collective gasp of relief and outbreak of laughter from the crowd, who’d agreed that this topped even the best of the Brinkley’s previous disorganised events.

And talking of bigamists, which for a brief moment it had looked like her new step-mother had been in danger of becoming, Todd had almost slipped Lottie’s mind. ‘Do you think he’s okay, Pip?’

Pip, who was in the process of grabbing a bottle of bubbly from a passing waiter, topped up their glasses, resisted the man’s attempts to reclaim the bottle, and followed the line of Lottie’s gaze. It wasn’t hard to see where Todd and Merlin had been, and Rory had followed. ‘Who, the beach bum?’

‘No, Rory, silly.’

‘I wouldn’t like to say who’s the fittest. Who do you reckon has the most stamina?’ Pip raised an eyebrow and Lottie hoped she hadn’t gone the shade of beetroot she normally did when asked questions like that.

‘Rory, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘You never were very keen on Todd, were you?’

‘I didn’t need to be, he had it covered.’

‘That’s a bit mean. He was quite nice, really, until…’

‘Lottie that man spent more time looking in the mirror than both of us put together when we were in Barcelona. Hey, look. Is that them coming back?’

‘Crumbs, I’m drunker than I thought. I knew I should have eaten something, but I was frightened I’d bust out of my dress.’ Lottie squinted, and when that didn’t help she tried covering one eye, but she was definitely seeing double, or triple. There were only two men (two was good, they hadn’t killed each other) and one girl (that had to be Tab), but several…

‘Why’ve they brought all those horses?’ Pip said the words Lottie hadn’t dared, in case she actually was imagining it.

‘Thank heavens for that.’

‘What do you mean, “thank heavens for that”? You don’t bring horses to wedding receptions. Amanda was upset enough with just the one. She’ll have a pink fit if she sees this lot.’

‘I thought I was seeing things.’ Lottie giggled with relief. ‘I didn’t mean thank heavens for all the horses.’

‘Charlotte, what on earth is Rupert doing now?’

The giggles froze in her throat when she realised her gran was breathing down her neck. Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe had sneaked up in her usual manner and was now peering across the lawn at the rapidly approaching group. ‘And who is that fellow with him and young Tabatha? He doesn’t look like a groom. The man hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing. Terrible hands and just look at that seat! Looks like he’s about to come off the horse.’

Lottie sighed. For some reason of her own Elizabeth insisted on calling Rory by anything but his actual name, usually to his face. She was pretty sure her gran was actually fond of Rory (just as she was fond of Billy, who had married her late daughter and given her her only grandchild, Lottie), but for some reason she seemed determined not to acknowledge the fact. And Rory, just like Billy before him, refused to rise to the bait. Maybe it was some weird kind of test.

‘That’s the Australian.’ Pip supplied helpfully, and Elizabeth grunted and looked again.

‘I thought William told him to shove off?’

‘I do love the way you say that.’ Pip grinned. ‘Shove orff.’

‘I wish he had.’ Lottie muttered, wondering why on earth they’d all come back.

Rory and his entourage came to a halt several feet away, and this time Todd wobbled but he didn’t fall off.

‘How’s it going, Lots?’ All grins. The man she never thought she’d see again. She peered more closely. She’d expected to see at least some signs of a fight or a minor scuffle, or at the very least like Rory had told him off.

‘Who exactly is that man, Charlotte?’

Lottie brushed the feathers, once jaunty but now drooping sadly from Elizabeth’s hat, out of her face.

‘That man,’ Pip was enjoying herself, ‘is Todd, and he’s the reason Lottie came home.’

‘Well, at least he has some uses.’ Elizabeth sniffed dismissively and turned her attentions to Rory. ‘And what are you up to Richard?’

‘We decided to have a competition. Like a duel but without the death.’

‘A duel?’ Elizabeth had really perked up now, thought Lottie, unlike the feathers.

Rory shrugged and grinned. ‘Well not exactly a duel. We just thought this party needed livening up, and old Todd here is game.’

Lottie looked at ‘old Todd’ and back to Rory. She didn’t like the sound of this at all. Well, it was good that they didn’t actually seem at loggerheads. In fact Rory seemed to have ditched the idea of protecting her honour, which she had to admit miffed her slightly. ‘Not a duel? You don’t want to kill him then?’

‘Kill him?’

‘I thought that’s why you were chasing him.’

‘Oh that. Well, I ran out of petrol and he fell off and we couldn’t be arsed to kill each other.’ He slid off his horse, landing at her feet and gave her a smacker of a kiss, which mollified her a little bit. ‘He explained everything, darling.’

‘He did?’

‘He’s sorry, it was just a bit of a cock-up. I think I might have overreacted a bit when I chased him.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘Thought he wanted to whisk you away, but he only came to apologise.’

‘A cock-up?’ Lottie stared. She wasn’t sure if it was good that Rory and Todd had decided they were buddies, or bad that she was the last one to get the explanation, as per normal. And the apology. She looked at Todd.

‘He’s spot on, Lots. I mean, I didn’t exactly have time to say goodbye or anything before they bundled me on the plane, did I? But it was all a misunderstanding, mate.’

‘The horses Robert?’ Elizabeth tapped her foot impatiently and looked disapprovingly at Todd, who wisely shut up.

‘Tippermere against the rest of the world. Once I’ve had a drink, that is.’ He nodded in Todd’s direction. ‘And you better have one too. Looks like we’ve some catching up to do.’

‘Whatever you say, mate. How do I get off this thing?’

It was at this point that Lottie realised the wedding was at a turning point, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Or about getting an explanation from Todd.

Her father, Billy, Uncle Dom and several of the other guests had already been drawn by the sight of the horses and the competitive spirit was kicking in faster than the alcoholic kind.

‘It’s you,’ Rory nodded towards Billy, ‘me and Dom against him,’ Todd got a look, ‘Mick and’ he looked round, searching the expectant faces for a suitable outsider.

‘And me.’ Tabatha, who had spent most of the afternoon chasing after the elusive Todd and Merlin finally spotted her chance. ‘Don’t you dare say I can’t.’

Rory chuckled. ‘If Todd’s happy with you, then it’s fine by me.’ Todd looked more than happy. In fact, the look on his face was one Lottie remembered well.

‘But you can’t.’

Tab scowled and Lottie hastily qualified the statement. ‘None of you can. I mean, I mean…’

‘Now, now Charlotte. No harm in a bit of fun.’ Elizabeth had a twinkle in her eye and stiffness in her backbone that Lottie hadn’t seen in a while.

‘But, they’re going to…’ She wasn’t exactly sure what they were going to do, but if it involved horses and teams it wasn’t the type of thing you normally saw at a wedding reception. Lottie looked around wildly for inspiration. ‘Amanda won’t like it.’

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her Uncle Dominic. It was what Dom thought about it all that she was more bothered about. She had been determined to impress him today, and not with her horsemanship skills.

They’d agreed that she would take the day-to-day management of the Tipping House Estate off his hands, so that he could spend more time with Amanda, and so that when the day came for the grandmother to step down (although it was a bit like waiting for the Queen to abdicate), she’d be ready to become the next Lady Stanthorpe.

The list of ‘things that needed taking care of’ was a bit like an Ikea catalogue: very large, very varied and very difficult to prioritise, but with the help of Dom she’d drawn up a plan of attack. And raising money to repair the roof was item number one. Mainly because, as Dom pointed out, if the roof gave way then the list would get considerably longer. And she really didn’t want that.

Her father’s wedding would showcase her organisational skills. Well, that had been the plan. And Rory was about to wreck it.

‘Nonsense, Amanda’s up for it.’ He gave her a hug.

‘And we have to get up early.’ She really had wanted to get up with a clear head so that she could go through the accounts her uncle had given her, and prove that not only was she an organisational whizz, but that she was the image of efficiency. And then he’d stop fussing and leave her to it.

And Rory had promised to do whatever was needed to help her out. In fact she had been hoping that he’d help her with one of the horses before breakfast, which he’d enjoy. Then he’d hardly notice when they moved onto looking at accounts, which he hated. Rory was the type of man who shoved bills in drawers and then conveniently forgot about them. Unless they were related to horse feed, of course.

With the wedding plans and all the little jobs she seemed to have taken on at Tipping House she had found it harder and harder to find time to ride with Rory. And she missed it.

‘Right,’ he smacked her bum, ‘that’s settled, let’s get the party started.’

‘But Rory, we do need to get up in the morn—’ It wasn’t that she didn’t want a bit of fun, it was just that when Rory had one of his ideas it never ended in an early night and sobriety.

‘This is going to be a wedding to remember, darling.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You’ve done a brilliant job.’ His lips moved down to her mouth. ‘Have I told you how gorgeous you look in that tight dress? I can’t wait to rip it off. Right, back in a bit.’

Seeing Todd again had been a nasty shock to Lottie’s system. One of the trickier aspects was that she couldn’t remember for the life of her exactly what she’d told Rory about the brief hiatus in their relationship, when she’d set off on her world tour to discover herself. And instead discovered Todd. Which had been quite a nice distraction until the police had turned up, of course.

‘Get me another drink, Charlotte dear, and do stop looking like a wet weekend. It’s your father’s wedding day, well his party, at least. And there’s no point in moping over that man. I’m not surprised he abandoned you, you’re not exactly his type, are you?’ Lottie took the empty glass that Elizabeth was pressing into her hand without thinking. ‘He’s very pretty, but totally irresponsible, I’d say from the look of him.’ She stared totally unselfconsciously at Todd. ‘How many wives did the man have?’

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him, Gran?’

‘I might do that. Somebody needs to stop him pawing young Tabatha. No idea of how to behave. No wonder the Spanish deported him.’

Lottie decided not to point out the obvious, that it was actually Tab who was doing the pawing, and that she was plenty old enough to look after herself these days.

‘Chop, chop dear. And do make sure it’s a double gin, or shall I ask Roger to get it?’

‘You know very well his name’s Rory.’

Rory was oblivious to the conversation. After tethering the horses to the pegs that held the marquee in place (which seemed a bit of a dodgy idea to Lottie), he was getting down to the serious business of planning the competition (on the previously pristine white tablecloth) and drinking. Which left Lottie with the job of getting another drink for her gran and wondering what the hell Todd was doing in Cheshire, well even in the UK, at all. Obviously they didn’t have long prison sentences for bigamy, well not long enough, or he’d just charmed his way out early.

***

Billy Brinkley was used to competing at the Olympia Horse Show, which always took place indoors and was guaranteed to be big, noisy and involve fancy dress and night-time events. And so were his horses. At the sight of strobing disco lights (somebody’s vain attempt to keep the party on track) his favourite bay stallion pricked his ears and got ready to party.

Perched bareback on top of his horse, still in his wedding finery (but minus the top hat), Billy couldn’t believe his luck. Despite being determined to make an honest woman of Victoria ‘Tiggy’ Stafford, the word ‘wedding’ had initially made his hands clammier than they’d ever been when he’d been about to represent his country at the Olympic Games. But Tiggy knew him so well and her suggestion to quietly marry in advance with the minimum of fuss so they could enjoy the occasion, followed by this unexpected competition, made it the perfect day. He winked at Tiggy, who he really did adore, then glanced back at Rory, gathering his reins up as he did so. ‘Keep the flowers on my right, champagne bottles to the left, eh?’

Rory gave the thumbs-up then grinned as his chestnut mare, Flash, who stoically refused to mature and settle, but retained the spirit she’d shown as a yearling, reacted in her normal aghast manner when a rider waved their hands about unexpectedly. She kicked out backwards, her heels narrowly missing the top tier of the wedding cake, before throwing in a buck and squeal for good measure. Todd visibly paled beneath his perma-tan. In fact, from where Lottie was standing he looking more a translucent shade of green than brown.

‘Here.’ Tab passed him a bottle of whiskey, her fingers touching his for a second longer than was actually necessary, as far as Lottie could tell.

The course that Rory had designed was interesting, to say the least. It involved jumping over several tables still laden with glasses and plates, before exiting the marque and re-entering it at the back. The horse and rider then had to clear a row of chairs and a table, followed by the final hurdle, which was the stand that now held the one remaining layer of wedding cake. A swift left turn then took the rider along the front of the bar, where the challenge was to grab a champagne bottle and take a swig before exiting the marquee for the final time.

Rory had insisted that Todd ride Merlin, as they’d bonded. And to be fair, he was the only horse that the poor man had a chance of sticking on.

‘Go Billy.’ Rory waved a piece of the bunting, which acted as a starting flag. Flash half-reared as the scrap of cloth whizzed past her eye, and then went swiftly into reverse and nearly cannoned into the solid bulk that was Merlin, who was unperturbed and looking around lazily for something to eat.

Billy went, the stallion flying into canter from a standing start like the old pro he was. They nearly took Elizabeth’s hat off when they cornered a bit too sharply, getting dangerously close to the guests, who’d wisely abandoned the main tables. Amanda covered her eyes and the wedding cake trembled alarmingly, but it was a clear round for Tippermere.

Bending down, Billy grabbed the grinning Tiggy, who screamed as he swung her onto the horse behind him.

Tab giggled and forgot her gothness for a second, and the fact she had a short skirt on. ‘I’m next, aren’t I? Rory, am I next?’ Rory, who was preoccupied trying to control Flash, who had gone into a spin, turned to Mick, who, true to form, had no such problems with his own horse, which was standing patiently behind him, as though jumping wedding cakes in a marquee was an everyday occurrence.

‘You are, treasure. Go show these Tippermereians what proper riding is.’

‘Will you hold Merlin for me? He’s totally ignoring Todd.’

‘Anything for you, my darling.’ Lottie watched as Mick O’Neal reached out with his spare hand, the other holding a large chunk of wedding cake, to take over the horse-holding duties.

If she hadn’t known better, she would have said Rory’s farrier had been avoiding her lately, but that was just her being stupid. He was busy and he was seeing Pip, and she was happy for both of them. But it had seemed quiet since he’d moved out of their yard and into Pip’s cottage. She did miss the chats they used to have, and his dark, slightly brooding, presence that simultaneously excited and unnerved her a little. And the calm way he assured her she could do anything, and the way he watched her with those dark eyes…

Well, thinking about it, it was probably good that he wasn’t around as much these days. Being excited by a strange man, well a man who wasn’t Rory, wasn’t right at all.

Lottie supressed a sigh. She had loved riding out with him, he made her feel supremely safe and gave her a confidence she’d never felt before. With Mick by her side she’d felt like she could do anything: ride any horse, jump any jump, which was too weird for words as she hardly knew the man.

It was probably just because he was good with horses and she admired him. He was calm and steady – that was all. The fact that his Irish brogue gave her goose bumps, and when he took his shirt off to work she couldn’t resist a peek, was beside the point.

He caught her eye, but didn’t wink as she expected, just stared with those searching eyes that seemed to see far too much. Lottie felt the heat rush to her cheeks; the last thing she needed was a man who could read her jumbled-up mind.

Luckily a shout of encouragement from Todd to Tabatha broke the spell and Merlin, thinking he was missing out on something, stamped on Mick’s foot. Mick swore, dropped his cake and Lottie forgot all about his mind-reading abilities and giggled.

Ignoring all offers of a leg-up, Tab leapt from one of the tables onto the back of one of Billy’s quieter mounts and, gathering up the reins, took off at a canter, her skirt flying up and treating the audience to the sight of some alarmingly pink knickers.

‘I thought she always dressed head to foot in black?’ Pip nudged Lottie, who by now had given up all pretence of trying to organise anyone or anything. Now that it was obvious she had no say in the matter, her only regret was that her figure-hugging dress would have needed a severe modification before she’d be able to climb on a horse, and her thighs just weren’t up to the type of scrutiny they’d get if she went for the split-to-the-waist look. Unless she had a couple more bottles of champagne first, by which stage she wouldn’t care if she even had any thighs, well-padded or not.

‘I used to wear knickers like that.’

‘And now you don’t bother at all?’ Rory, horse in tow, slapped her bum before kissing her neck in a way that was guaranteed to make her wriggle.

Tab, meanwhile, had narrowly missed one of the main poles in the marquee, which had made the whole place shake alarmingly, and decided to take a short cut along the back of the DJ and his equipment rather than exiting the tent. Mr Music Man (as his equipment stated) lurched forwards, his hands clutching at the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be his laptop, abruptly replacing the current smoochie track with some heavy rock.

As the bass kicked in, Tabatha’s horse plunged forwards, took off too late to clear the row of chairs and skidded to a halt in front of the disapproving Dom.

Lottie’s Uncle Dominic, who was more used to the controlled environment of a dressage arena and conducted his life in the same measured and precise way as he rode, gave a wry smile. He had standards, ones that Lottie often felt she fell woefully short of, and a natural aristocratic air that she knew she would never get close to. However much she practised in front of the mirror. Tab, however, not being a family member and having no reputation to live up to, just thought he was slightly stuffy but a bit of a softy. She grinned.

‘Amateurs.’ Dom shook his head and gave the horse an encouraging slap on the rear as Tab regrouped and aimed her mount at the final hurdle. As she did a victory lap around the tent there were a few shouts for her knickers, but even in her elated state it was a step too far for the hormonally challenged but inexperienced Tab, who elected to keep her bottom covered.

The next competitor, Dom, rather let the side down by riding in an efficient and completely controlled manner, as though he was out for a rather boring afternoon hack. Impressive though the riding was, it fell woefully short of the wow factor that the audience had come to expect from the other competitors. He did, though, earn an enthusiastic round of applause from the love of his life, Amanda, who had been keeping her distance from the excited horses. She got so carried away that she ran up to give him a chaste kiss as he dismounted, rapidly retreating when the horse struck one impatient hoof on the floor.

And then it was Mick’s turn. Mick was a true horseman in the way that only an Irishman, born and bred, can be. He understood his horses, knew how to cajole the best from any animal in a way that was a million miles from the flamboyance of most of the other Tippermere residents.

But today was not a good day.

Ever since Todd’s unexpected arrival and the resulting look of shock on Lottie’s face, Mick had been unsettled. And, as a man of few words, he’d found a bottle of whiskey to be a better partner than the eagle-eyed Pip, who he knew would spot his agitation and interrogate him.

It wasn’t that it was any of his concern – Lottie was very much Rory’s and in Pip he’d found a woman who was as undemanding emotionally as she was demanding in bed. He’d accepted the way things were, but the appearance of the man he knew had caused the sweet Lottie a great deal of distress bothered him. And he knew it bothered him more than it should. So he’d withdrawn. Which all meant that when he vaulted onto the horse’s back, his mind wasn’t fully on the job. Horses liked Mick, and now this one was confused by the light hands that had suddenly become heavy. It shook its head in warning, expecting reassurance and Mick suddenly realised he couldn’t give it. ‘Sorry old fella.’ The horse, sensing a difference in his rider, decided to step up to the mark. The round was careful, the gelding who was still young enough to be headstrong, ignored the temptation to be flamboyant and strong picking his way around, and coming to a gentle halt at the makeshift bar so that Mick could reach for the champagne. He gave the horse a rueful pat on the neck. ‘I think we’ll skip the bubbly this time, fella.’

On the far side of the marquee, Lottie frowned. Mick might not be a top competition rider like most of the others, but there was something wrong. He could settle and take care of any horse he rode, but this time it had looked as if the horse was taking care of him.

The holler took her attention back to Rory, who was back in the saddle and hanging on to Flash as though he expected the usual fireworks. Which the horse complied with, destroying the flower arrangement on the first table and landing a hoof in the wedding cake as her finale. A shower of icing coated all those standing near as the mare skidded to a marzipan-induced halt in front of Todd.

‘Your turn, mate.’ Rory waved his by-now empty bottle in Todd’s direction. ‘And I’ve lowered the cake jump to give you a chance.’

‘That is so unfair. He’s not going to make it round the course, you know he can’t ride.’ Tab was hanging on to Merlin’s head looking as if she was afraid her sweeties were about to be taken away. Which they probably were. It would be just her luck to find the man of her dreams, only for him to be hospitalised before she even got a snog.

‘Unfair?’ Rory’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s not some kind of cissy. You’re up for it, aren’t you Todd?’

‘Well it’s not fair on me.’ Tab realised what she’d said too late and turned the colour of her knickers.

‘You?’ Rory looked confused. ‘What’s it got to do with—’

‘Lottie, you don’t want him to do it, do you?’

Lottie, who hadn’t really disapproved of the whole event, just Rory’s involvement in it, hesitated. ‘I don’t mind, honest.’

‘But he’ll fall off, and you don’t want him to get hurt, do you? Please, Lottie.’

‘Well, I, well no.’ Lottie knew as she said it that she didn’t. Todd was the kind of guy you could actually split up with and still like. Once you’d got over his method of splitting up, not to mention his unexpected reappearance. It was the last bit that had shook her up, but it was surprising how much a few drinks could change the way things looked. And in fact she quite liked the new assertive Rory who had emerged. She still thought his apology had been pretty half-hearted, well, pretty much non-existent, in fact, and she would have been quite happy never to see him again. But he obviously hadn’t known what he was agreeing to when he’d cooked up this plan with Rory.

‘Relax, it’s cool.’ Todd grinned, then turned his attentions to the worried Tab. ‘Do I get your pink knickers if I make it round?’ Tab blushed again, but a shade lighter than the lingerie under discussion this time. ‘Can’t be that bloody difficult after all, can it? Bet I can get round in record time and have a drink on the way. Pass us the bubbly, mate.’

He didn’t get a drink on the way, or get round in record time. Tab letting go of the bridle was a mistake. Merlin took one look at the course and his sensible, lazy cob brain decided it all looked too much like hard work. Freed of Tab’s firm hand, he did what all good ponies do – and headed for his hay net. Which unfortunately was half a mile due southeast, back at the equestrian centre stables. ‘Blimey. What the hell do you feed this thing on?’ Todd, who thought he was fit after a lifetime of mornings in the gym and afternoons on the surf, pulled two-handed on one rein to no avail as the horse swerved past official jump number one and headed out of the marquee. Merlin wasn’t a surf board. He kept his course, his neck resolutely set, totally ignoring his riders ineffectual attempts to influence matters. One of the pink balloons that festooned the marquee caught in his tail as he veered to avoid the diving Tab, then he set off at a resolute trot, the balloon bobbing gently behind as they made their way across the lawns along a route he now knew so well.

‘Had I better go and get him?’ Tab looked hopefully from Rory to Lottie.

***

Lottie went barefoot, carrying her high heels in one hand, as she and Rory made their way down the drive towards the equestrian centre, the string of horses ambling behind them. She had been planning on talking to Rory about Tipping House Estate, about their future, about how she thought that one day soon they needed to move into the House. But as she glanced out of the corner of her eye at him she didn’t want to spoil the moment. It was too perfect. He was just so damned handsome, in his sharp white shirt, sleeves rolled up and collar open, his bowtie still somehow dangling untied around his neck. He caught her looking and grinned. Warm, uncomplicated. The only man she’d ever wanted.

On a warm night like tonight all they needed to do was throw new haynets in and check water buckets. As she pushed the last door firmly shut and breathed in the sweet smell of horse, Rory’s warm hands settled on her waist, his breath against her neck.

She shivered.

‘So,’ Rory stroked a finger lazily down her back, taking the zip with it. ‘How did Todd know where to find you?’

Which was a question that had been on Lottie’s lips since he’d careered back into her life several hours earlier, along with the more important question, why?

But as she turned to face Rory her gaze lingered on a copse of moonlit trees that lay to the east. Nestled behind them was Tipping House Estate, where a far more pressing problem than Todd lay.

‘Hey, forget Todd.’ Warm lips traced a path along her jawbone, his teeth teased at her lower lip.

‘I already have.’

And as her dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet in the deserted stable yard she decided all the questions could wait for another day. She gazed up at the inky-black sky, spattered with diamond studs, the moon casting a ghostly glow over the buildings and finally forgot all about all her worries as Rory eased her thighs apart and headed for his final victory of the day.

Chapter 4

‘Morning, babe.’

Lottie, who was concentrating on the mobile phone in her hand as she walked down the stairs, was caught completely unawares by the deep male voice and simultaneously dropped the phone and lost her footing.

The mobile, which luckily was slim and light, shot out of her hands and hit one of the terriers, which was patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, squarely on the rump. With a surprised yelp the dog sprang to its feet, shot up the narrow stairs and completed the job of sending the still half-asleep Charlotte flying.

She landed face first in the crotch of the male in question.

Which was so not where she wanted to be – and opening her mouth to say so could have been seriously misconstrued.

For a moment she froze, not quite sure what to do next. Hoping she hadn’t been noticed was not an option. Nose-deep in a man’s unmentionables was also not an option. Especially when those private parts were not attached to her boyfriend.

‘And there was I thinking you didn’t care any more.’ He chuckled.

As she couldn’t decide where it was safe to put her hands to lever herself up, she settled for slithering to the floor, which was pretty undignified, but safe. Well safe-ish.

Tilly, the head terrier, relieved to see she was still alive, leapt on her thigh with a delighted whimper and proceeded to give her a reassuring kiss, which did nothing at all to help the situation.

Being caught in her Minnie Mouse PJ’s and bare feet was one thing, still having her bed hair and bad breath was another. Crouching on the floor with dog slobber on her face lowered her to altogether new depths. Low even for her.

‘Want one? Or had you got something tastier in mind?’

She looked up into the grinning face of Todd Mitchell, who was waving a bacon sandwich in her direction, and clearly had lots of things in mind - none of them remotely connected to bacon.

Todd in the kitchen eating breakfast was so not how her day was supposed to start.

‘Some knees-up you had last night. Your folk certainly know how to party.’

Lottie did her best to piece together the rest of the evening after Todd’s unscheduled departure, and failed miserably. There was a rather fuzzy memory of spin-the-bottle that probably shouldn’t be thought about too deeply, followed by an award-winning performance from Rory in the stable yard. She probably still had straw in her hair, just to finish off the sophisticated look. And she had a vague recollection of Uncle Dom insisting they had to talk. Whether they had or not was a different matter.

‘You okay, Lots?’

‘What are you doing here?’ She took in the smell of coffee and tried to decide if actually drinking some would make her feel worse or better.

‘Brekkie.’ He waved the sandwich in the air again briefly before taking a large bite. She watched him chew. Mesmerised. ‘Tab brought me over and told me to wait here while she did her horse business.’ It was definitely good when he spoke with his mouth full, made him far less attractive. ‘Good type that Rory, when you get to know him. Makes a mean bacon sarnie.’

Lottie looked at him suspiciously, wondering what kind of male bonding could have possibly taken place over a pan of crispy bacon and when nothing came to mind she rescued her beeping mobile from the dog’s basket before it got chewed up. Uncle Dom, it seemed, had been busy this morning, texting and calling her, which was a bit weird. For him a phone was a functional item to be used only when necessary. Maybe somebody had died. Or she’d done something exceptionally outrageous at the wedding. Or, more likely, forgotten to do something she’d promised.

Had they put all the horses away or had they left some on his front lawn? She was tempted to put the mobile back in Tilly’s basket and hope the terrier ate the evidence.

‘I didn’t mean what are you doing in my kitchen? I meant what are you doing in the country?’

‘Oh, I get you now.’

‘So you’re not in prison then?’ The faint note of optimism was probably just a little bit mean.

‘Let out early for good behaviour.’ He winked.

Laid-back could be good, but it could also be annoying at times. Todd must be the only man on the planet who didn’t think being dragged off a beach by the police was an issue, and who could shrug off imprisonment. Did nothing ever get under his skin?

She’d been to hell and back wondering what was going to happen to him, what it was all about. And it didn’t even bother him a teeny weeny bit. It looked as though he’d just ridden the wave and come to carry on where they’d left off. Except he couldn’t. No way was she ever going to trust a man like Todd again, and anyway she’d moved on. Or, more accurately, moved back – to the life she used to have, except this time it was better. Now she knew Rory loved her. And she felt needed; by him, by her family and by the massive, beautiful estate that plucked at her heartstrings.

But even with the hangover from hell, she couldn’t stay sore at anybody for long. Not even Todd.

‘Going to give me a hug, kiss and make up?’

That was pushing it too far, though. Time to change the subject. ‘Don’t you think she’s too young for you?’

‘Who?’

‘Tabatha.’

‘Tabatha?’

‘The one with the pink knickers, remember?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, no chance of forgetting those pink knickers. Bit young for me to what?’ And grinned. ‘Seriously,’ and for a second the smile did disappear, ‘I am sorry, and I never actually was in prison, you know. We just forgot to post that final divorce thingy, what do you call it? Absolute, decree absolute. Why you Brits have to complicate everything beats me. All that bloody legal stuff.’ She watched as he took another healthy bite out of his sandwich. ‘And would you credit it? My second bloody marriage was never legal.’ He laughed: a loud, healthy laugh that reminded Lottie that her head hurt. In a kind of throbbing, pounding way. ‘These beach weddings on remote islands have hidden benefits. Paperwork’s a shambles.’ He grinned and displayed a good set of perfect white teeth. ‘So hey presto! No probs and here I am.’

Not that she saw ‘here I am’ as ‘no probs’, which took her neatly back to the ‘why are you here?’ question.

‘I was sorry about the whole beach thing,’ he was giving her his earnest look, ‘I was looking forward to that paella.’

‘It wasn’t the paella that was the problem. It was the police.’

‘The police?’ He looked blank. ‘They didn’t bother you, did they?’

‘Not apart from surrounding us on the beach and then dragging you off it.’

‘To be fair, they didn’t drag, hun.’

‘But they were there. They arrested you. I was sunbathing. I was in a bikini, and,’ she paused at the critical bit, ‘it wasn’t even my best one.’ Humiliation had not been the word for it. It was like that nightmare of arriving at a party in fancy dress only to find out that the event was actually black tie. Well, that was one of her nightmares, along with the one when she sat down for dinner and then realised she was naked. She probably should talk to somebody about her weird dreams. Or maybe not.

Todd looked confused. Obviously, getting arrested on the beach was just a normal occurrence for him, and what else would you be wearing on a beach? ‘Anyhow, all in the past now. Thought I’d come and see what your neck of the woods looked like. No,’ he held up a hand to stop the words she wasn’t going to say, ‘no worries about putting me up. Got it all sorted.’

Putting him up? Was the man mad? He had to go. Soon, now, immediately.

All Lottie wanted to do was bang her head on the wall, or just curl up on the floor, shut her eyes and try to blank him out.

‘So you didn’t actually come here to find me and say sorry?’

‘Well, I am sorry, babe, honest. I know it was all kind of unexpected, and it was me who persuaded you to head to Spain.’ He shrugged, ever nonchalant, but she could see in those deep-blue eyes that he actually was at least a tiny bit bothered. ‘And it worked out better for you in the end, didn’t it?’ He gestured round the kitchen. ‘You were getting bored of beach life weren’t you? Couldn’t wait to get back to all this, eh?’

‘That’s beside the point. It was a shock. But you’re right, I am happy to be home.’ She paused. ‘I’m fine, so you’ll be, er, moving on now you’ve got that off your chest?’

He shrugged. ‘Thought I might hang around for a bit and explore your neighbourhood.’

‘You can’t.’ That did sound mean. ‘I mean why? I mean shouldn’t you be surfing or something?’

‘A change is as good as a rest, isn’t that what they say?’

‘You don’t need a rest, Todd. You surf and you lie on beaches and er…’ She racked her brains for some valid reason that didn’t sound like ‘I’m far too busy to babysit you’, and drew a blank. ‘You’ll be bored, you don’t like horses and…’ He couldn’t stay, he really couldn’t. She had meetings with Dom and roofs to mend (literally) and horses to look after and her inheritance to, well, inherit. ‘I’m very busy.’ She finished lamely.

‘No bother. I’ve sorted digs. You won’t even know I’m here.’

Todd had known, better than Lottie, that their time together had a very limited span. And he knew that for both of them it had just been a good dose of sunshine and harmless fun. It would have just been better if it had ended differently. At an airport, with a farewell kiss before they boarded different planes. In normal circumstances they would never have met, but they had. And it was his fault, of his making – as was the abrupt and unconventional ending to it all.

He should have just left it at that, given it up as a bad job and gone back to his normal life. But he couldn’t. What ever happened to riding the waves, having a few tinnies and a lot of belly laughs? When the hell had he grown up and developed a conscience? Well, the honest answer to that one was probably when he realised that blood really is thicker than water.

The knock on the door made them both jump guiltily, along with the three terriers, who all hit the floor running and scrambled for pole position, hurtling towards the door like cannonballs, yapping at each other and the as-yet unseen visitor. Lottie had long since learned that you let the dogs get to the door first, unless you wanted bruised shins and burst eardrums. Her early habit of jumping to her feet when the doorbell or phone rang had long since departed after a few catastrophic collisions that had taught her just how unstoppable a terrier in full flight was. It was safer to fall off a bucking horse than be swept along by a pack of rampaging Jack Russell terriers.

The whirlwind of brown and white fur went into reverse as the door swung open to reveal a neatly dressed Pip, sleek blond hair in a neat ponytail, clothes that suggested she wasn’t about to get stuck into mucking-out duties. She was waving a copy of the Daily Mail.

‘You have just got to see this—’ She stopped dead on seeing Todd, then shoved the paper in his direction with a smirk. ‘This picture of our surfer dude.’

Lottie got to the paper before Todd did and spread it out on the pine kitchen table. It was the perfect homage to a Thelwell cartoon. The barrel bodied Merlin was flying (along with the bright-pink balloon that was attached to his tail), the terrified Todd clinging to his mane, long legs stuck out in a futile attempt to put the brakes on.

‘Oh and Dom said he needed to track you down, Lottie. Where’ve you been all morning? I’ve been trying to call you.’

Todd was frowning as he stabbed a finger at Wizard of Oz? ‘Hey, what’s with the funny headline?’

Which meant Lottie didn’t need to explain she’d spent the best part of the morning in bed, and it also meant she didn’t have to wonder why Dom was so determined to track her down.

‘Merlin, the horse is called Merlin, you know as in King Arthur?’

‘Oh, right.’ He obviously didn’t know.

‘Wizard as in Merlin, Oz as in Australian?’ Pip shook her head and gave up the explanations as a lost cause when she saw his blank expression. ‘You even got in the Manchester Evening News, which normally doesn’t do horse stuff.’

‘Didn’t know the press were invited to the party.’ He held the paper at arm’s length, unsure whether to be pleased at what had to be a spectacular entrance to English country living or disappointed with the pink balloon, which really wasn’t his style. ‘Anyhow, what’s with all the fuss? You never seen a stranger in this neck of the woods before?’

‘Nothing quite like you, no.’ Pip suddenly relented and smiled. ‘I’m the press.’ She might have forsaken the daily grind of a journalist’s life in London, but writing was her life and Pip had found that working as a freelance in Cheshire was remarkably lucrative, given the fact that the place was awash with scandals and celebrities.

Tippermere might appear tranquil, but underneath the surface lurked secrets begging to be uncovered. And as for nearby Kitterly Heath, you didn’t even have to delve under the surface. In a place where footballers brushed shoulders with rock legends and film stars it was more a case of picking which stories to publish and which to ignore. And Todd’s abrupt entrance at the wedding had been an unexpected bonus.

‘Oh yeah.’ Todd looked at her speculatively, the more relaxed Pip had caught him unawares. He’d forgotten all about the slightly jaded chief reporter version of Pip that he’d first met in Barcelona. All that seemed a long time ago. ‘I thought you did fashion shows and red-carpet events, not country weddings and horsey stuff.’

Pip ignored him. ‘And Billy is a celebrity around here, well not just here, everywhere. You know, Olympic medals and all that jazz.’

‘So if he’s the celeb, why’ve they got my face on the front page?’

‘Well it isn’t exactly your face.’ Lottie said reasonably, taking another close look at the photo, which wasn’t quite as blurred now she’d got used to daylight. ‘You can actually see more of your bum than anything.’ She giggled and had a closer look.

‘Your arse is the one on the front page because you’re funnier. Billy can ride a horse and they’ve got fed up of running his bonking pictures.’ Lottie flinched, aware that Pip wasn’t intentionally being hurtful. ‘But a picture like that is one in a million.’ Pip tried not to look too smug, but she was pleased. She’d just known it would be worth shelling out to get Bob the photographer there, and he’d earned every penny of the three bottles of wine bribe it had taken to persuade her editor to send him.

‘Not sure how to take that, mate.’

‘I’d just go with the flow if I was you.’ Lottie, who had decided to risk the coffee, sat down and cradled a large mug of it in her hands. ‘You’re a novelty, they’ve got loads of pictures of Dad playing the fool. And Wizard of Oz isn’t a bad headline, he got Bronco Billy.’ She sighed. Even now she hated those headlines that had followed her around at school.

‘Really?’ He paused and stared at her. ‘What was that about then? Does he do rodeo riding as well?’

‘No, you don’t want to know. Honestly.’

‘I hardly knew you at all, did I?’ And it was true, thought Todd. The Lottie he’d met in Australia, the Lottie he’d taken to Barcelona with him had just been a fun-loving girl looking for a good time. He knew nothing about Tippermere, her family, her real life, apart from the brief comments about horses, boredom and being taken for granted. Okay, he had known she came from the countryside, and he did know her dad was big in the horse world. Oh yeah, and he’d had an inkling about the whole gentry thing. But it didn’t seem to have anything to do with the girl he’d briefly known. He’d just seen flip flops and fun. And, well, a great deal of booze and her glorious body.

Yesterday had been a bit of an eye-opener seeing her surrounded by men who might look out of place amongst body boarders, but seemed more than in control on the back of a horse. Which was one experiment he wasn’t going to repeat in the near future. Talk about chafing! His hand automatically went to his crotch.

And boy could they drink. Even the old girl she’d called gran had been knocking them back. In five hours he reckoned he’d seen more of Lottie (in the fully clothed sense) than he had in five weeks on a beach. And it suited her. He was seeing her in a whole new, and very appealing, light. Which was not how his mind was supposed to be thinking.

‘Think I’ll go and find Tab, then, shall I?’ Sensing he was on the road to screwing up again if he wasn’t careful, Todd was up out of his chair as he swilled down the last of his sandwich with a gulp of tea. ‘Nearly forgot. That posh dude was after you. Something about her ladyship. Catch you later, babe.’

Pip stared at the newspaper headlines. ‘Is he for real?’

‘Well, I was hoping that last night was a nightmare, or you’d slipped me some hallucinogenic drugs.’ Lottie slumped into the comfy chair next to the Aga and let Tilly cuddle up next to her. She stroked the dog’s muscled-up little body. ‘I can’t still be dreaming, though. I wouldn’t have a hangover like this, would I?’

‘No dream. Do you think Tab is going to give him a lift to the airport?’

Lottie gnawed the side of her fingernail with a worried expression on her face. ‘He said somebody was putting him up, said he was hanging around for a bit.’ She groaned. ‘She can’t be taking him back to her place, can she?’

‘You’re kidding. Can you imagine Tom’s face if his little girl arrives home with a man like Todd, well any man, really? And he adores you, so all you’d have to do was say the word and Todd would be out.’

‘I suppose so.’ Lottie hugged the little dog closer and carried on worrying.

‘Does it bother you, him being here?’

‘It’s not that. I mean I don’t know exactly what he said to Rory, but he doesn’t mind. And it’s weird, but it just seems like it was years ago, and it was fun, but…’ She shrugged, then grinned. ‘I’ve got Rory now.’ Then the smile faded as she remembered. ‘And I haven’t got time to look after him or anything, and I don’t really know why he’s here, to be honest.’

‘Mm. Maybe he’s bored? But look on the bright side, I’m sure somebody would be happy to take him off your hands.’

‘What am I supposed to do? I can’t just ignore him, and he doesn’t know anybody else.’ She paused, as she suddenly realised that he did know somebody else.

Pip caught the look and laughed nervously. ‘Oh, no.’

‘But you know I promised Uncle Dom I’d take on the running of the Estate, and I said I’d move into Tipping House soon,’ she glanced nervously at the door. This was something she still hadn’t managed to discuss with Rory properly. She had mentioned it, more than once, but they hadn’t exactly set a date. She’d thought that after the hugely successful wedding had taken place would be an ideal time, but it hadn’t been quite gone as planned. Either the wedding or the chat, given that Todd had stormed into the ceremony, and Rory had decided to liven up the proceedings that came after. If he’d only be serious just for one moment it would be so helpful.

‘Tell me you’re not serious, please Lottie.’

‘Well, er I was being serious. Is that a problem? I mean, you know him, and all you need to do is—’

‘No way.’

‘He’ll soon get bored and you can put him on a plane?’

Pip laughed at the note of optimism in Lottie’s voice. ‘Lottie, you know I love you, but you know me and Todd never really hit it off.’

‘Will you at least think about it? Can you imagine what Uncle Dom would say if he found out about Barcelona and Todd getting arrested?’

‘I think he might already know.’ Pip’s tone was dry.

‘Gran thinks it’s entertaining, but you know what Dom is like, he can be so…’

‘Stuffy?’

‘Particular. He’ll think I’m not being serious enough. And have you any idea what he wants? He’s acting weird, phoning me even more than normal, and this morning he actually sent me a text. An actual text.’

‘No idea.’ Pip stared at Lottie, and squashed her original intention for coming. She’d wanted to talk to somebody and Lottie had seemed the ideal person. But suddenly she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t the type to unburden herself and if she was going to she had to be sure it was the right person, right time, right place. She was the stable one, Lottie was the scatty one. She was the one who never let relationships get to her. Lottie was the one who had ex-boyfriends who left her in the lurch only to reappear months later. And Lottie was the one who would soon be inheriting a mansion complete with a leaking roof and mountainous debts. The one who needed good friends she could rely on.

But the niggles that Pip had squashed the first time she’d stripped herself bare in front of Mick had come back with a vengeance. And each day they were getting harder to ignore.

‘Are you okay?’ Lottie was frowning.

‘I don’t think he loves me.’ It was out before she could stop it. So much for right time, right person.

Lottie jerked upright from her slouch, letting go of the dog abruptly, her mouth dropping open as the little dog landed on the floor and started to run around in circles after her tail, barking. ‘You don’t mean—’

‘Any chance of a cup of—’

‘Go away.’ The two girls shouted out in perfect unison and Rory, one foot hovering over the threshold of his own home, beat a hasty retreat, taking the dogs with him.

‘Oh blimey.’ Lottie was mortified. She’d never shouted at Rory before, let alone at the same time as Pip, which had made it pretty forceful. ‘I better go and explain, hang on, don’t go away.’ And she was across the kitchen and out of the door, still barefoot, before Pip could speak. ‘You won’t will you? I won’t be a sec, honest. Stay, stay there.’

Pip sighed, wondering why she’d ever thought a quiet heart to heart was possible in such a chaotic place. She studied the photos on the wall opposite. Rory on the back of one of his favourite horses took pride of place, being presented with a cup by Princess Anne. He looked dashing and fun, tawny eyes dancing, pure joy spread across his open features, even in the face of royalty. And even the royal in question was entranced.

Why couldn’t life be more bloody straightforward?

Pip made a sudden decision. Elizabeth was the one she should be talking to.

She had just got out of the front door when Rory appeared, coming in the opposite direction, Lottie clinging on to him and squealing.

‘He said he’d give me a piggy back across the gravel, it’s a bugger in bare feet.’ She was red-faced, which had to have more to do with where Rory’s hands were than it had to do with sore feet. ‘You’re not going are you? Oh please don’t. Oh Pip, I thought, but you had…’

‘I’ll catch up with you later, urgent call.’ It was only as she pulled out of the yard on her bright pink Vespa, nearly mowing down a jogging passer-by, that she remembered she’d promised to get Lottie to call Dom. Oh well, she had mentioned it, not that Lottie would remember, and she’d remind her again later. After she’d worked out just why her normally organised life had suddenly become an emotional whirlwind. And what she was going to do about it. About Mick.

***

‘You have to be the hardest person in Tippermere to get hold of, what have you been doing, Charlotte?’

Lottie who had finally given in and answered her phone (mainly because it wouldn’t stop ringing and the dogs steadfastly refused to eat it) stopped the examination of her feet, rubbed at the last bit of gravel and gave a worried sigh. ‘I’ve been here, Uncle Dom.’ She was only half listening as she watched one of the horses gallop enthusiastically around the paddock, kicking his heels in the air. A youngster, she really did need to work this morning even if she didn’t manage anything else.

‘Well, I asked that Australian chap to pass on a message if he saw you, and I asked Philippa, who is about the most reliable of your friends.’

Registering his tone, she picked up a pile of three-day eventing entry forms from the nearest chair, dropped them on the table and sat down. On the TV they always told people to sit down when there was bad news coming.

‘Charlotte, we have to talk. I’ve put this off as long as I can, but it can’t wait any longer. I’m coming to see you now, and don’t you dare disappear again.’

Chapter 5

‘Amanda is expecting.’

‘Expecting what?’ Lottie only had a fraction of her attention on her Uncle Dominic, partly because the two-year-old horse on the other end of the lunge rope had a way of knowing exactly when you weren’t concentrating, and partly because she had absolutely no idea why Dom was there and suspected she was about to get a telling off for something. And she was following the strategy of pretending he wasn’t there in the hope he’d forget and go away.

She loved Dom, but she didn’t love the disapproving looks or the lectures when she didn’t quite come up to his very high standards. Which was quite often.

‘Charlotte, are you listening?’

‘Of course.’ She glanced his way, and the stern look and folded arms meant he wasn’t going to forget, or go away. The black horse, which someone had imaginatively named Badger due to the broad white stripe down his nose, gave an experimental pull on the other end of the rope.

‘She is expecting a baby.’

‘What?’ She spun around to face him properly, inadvertently flicking the lunge whip as she went so that it caught the youngster on his nicely rounded rump. The horse gave a squeal of what could have been evil intent, or glee, and did the type of fly buck that was more often seen at a rodeo.

Dom watched in silence as Badger followed through by putting his head between his knees and arching his back in an even more impressive one, and his one thought, before the animal charged forward, was that the horse had incredible athletic potential. A loop of rein was dragged through Lottie’s hand, catching the lunge whip on its way, which narrowly missed her head before she fully came to her senses and took a firmer grip, desperately trying to keep her footing in the middle of the circle as the horse tore around at a dizzying pace.

‘Hey up, Dom, what are you doing here?’ Rory arrived just as Dom was trying to decide whether to step in and rescue his only niece before she was accidentally garrotted, or corkscrewed into the ground, or whether he should trust in her ability to slow the horse down. As Tilly the terrier tore into the arena, desperate to join in the fun, dodging hooves and curses, he decided that if he didn’t do something within the next ten seconds man (well woman) or dog was going to die.

But, just as Dominic vaulted over the wall, the horse miraculously slowed to a trot, dropping its head in a show of subservience. Lottie laughed and finally managed to pick up the lunge whip.

‘Wow, did you see that power? He could demolish a cross-country course.’

‘That’s what I bought him for darling.’ Rory sounded satisfied.

‘He nearly demolished you.’ Dom’s tone was dry as he climbed back out of the arena. The master of control, he was never quite sure whether to be in awe of, or despair of, the totally chaotic girl, who somehow carried some of the same genes as him. ‘And I couldn’t see the power the speed he was going.’

‘He’s only a b—’ Lottie was about to say baby, then it hit her. The word that had caused the explosion in the first place. She walked up to the horse, holding it firmly at its head, the other hand patting the strong neck, and stared at Dom. ‘Amanda is, you are, you’re both…’

‘Expecting. Yes.’

‘A baby?’ Just to be sure.

‘Woohoo. Didn’t know you had it in you, Dom. Congratulations!’ Rory gave Dom a manly slap on the back and nearly launched him back over into the arena again. ‘It is yours, I take it?’ Dom arched an eyebrow, stared down his aristocratic nose and refrained from comment.

‘Amanda’s pregnant?’ Lottie wanted to make doubly sure.

‘Isn’t that what I said, Charlotte?’

It was, but she was still trying to get her head around the statement, which was damned tricky considering she saw Dom as: A – too stuffy and pernickety to have a baby (or even sex for that matter) and B – too old. After all he was her uncle.

‘But…’

‘And I need to talk to you about your gran and Tipping House. Charlotte, I do appreciate that you’ve started to take on some of the responsibility, but I’m afraid we really do need to speed the process along.’

‘Speed it along?’ Lottie, who by now had forgotten all about the horse, but got a smart reminder when it gave her hand a sharp nip.

‘It’s your inheritance, and although I know I said I’d carry on helping until you were ready, the ball is now in your court.’ He shrugged, looked apologetic. ‘I’m going to have to support Amanda, which means I need to be in her home, our home, at Folly Lake Manor. And,’ he leaned forward in a way she didn’t like at all, and sighed, ‘unfortunately Mother has been ill, which rather brings things to a head. She needs assurance that you’re in control and she doesn’t need to have any concerns about the estate and everything it entails.’

‘Ill? Gran isn’t ill, she was at the wedding, and –’

‘She hides it very well, but she’s getting too old for all the worry, whatever she says.’ The small frown he couldn’t hide worried Lottie. ‘The doctors say she’s had a small stroke, and the best way to help is for us to take the pressure off.’

‘I will, I will. I can go and help her, visit more, spend time up there, can’t we Rory?’ Lottie had wild, and totally impractical, thoughts about making soup and taking dictation, neither of which she’d ever done in her life, while Rory did manly thing like standing at the fireplace and supplying Elizabeth with perfect G&T’s.

‘It’s not about spending time with her, Charlotte. It’s about money.’

‘But you’ve already told me about the money. I’ve got a plan and we’re seeing the bank manager, and I—’

Dom sighed. ‘What we’ve discussed is just the tip of the iceberg. That estate needs managing, it needs a cash injection—’

‘I know, I’ve thought about how to raise money and—’

He held up a hand to stop her words. ‘A serious amount of money, Charlotte. What we’ve talked about is the substantial sum needed for the essential repairs, that have been left for far too long, but there are also the huge day-to-day running costs as well as actually overseeing it all.’ His tone softened. ‘I’ve tried to break you in gently, but the bank manager had been running out of patience, and we really need to appease him. I think you’re the person that has to do it.’ Dom patted the horse, which had taken advantage of the situation and pulled away from the confused Lottie. ‘You are the next Lady of Tipping House, my darling girl, and we need you to become that Lady now, whether you’re ready or not. Come up and see your grandmother later and we’ll talk.’ He paused and looked at the horse again. ‘Nice-looking animal, needs some discipline, though.’ And he was off, before Lottie had time to ask him about babies, or her gran, or what he meant by a ‘small stroke’.

She looked at Rory. ‘I can’t manage the whole estate, can I?’

‘Of course you can, gorgeous. If that shower of relatives of yours can, then it must be a piece of piss.’

***

‘Stuff and nonsense.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Dominic straightened the painting above the mantelpiece and wondered just how many years attempting to prolong his mother’s life would knock off his own. ‘Doctor’s orders and you know it, Mother.’

He loved his mother, every irascible inch of her, and the idea of her not being around was unthinkable. When Elizabeth died it would change not only his life, but the life of everybody in Tippermere. But handling her retirement would be like handling an uncut colt who knew you were just about to cut off the very part of his anatomy he held most dear. Separating her from her responsibilities would be like castration, if that was not too crude a way of putting it. Although the thought of what she might say if she could read his mind did lighten his mood slightly.

‘And what does that young whipper-snapper know? If I did everything the doctors told me I’d have been pushing up daisies for the past twenty years, just like your father. Gin is good for one. And do stop fiddling, dear.’

Dom stopped and resisted the urge to pour himself a stiff brandy. Tipping House Estate had been his home all his life, and he had at one stage wondered how he would feel when it came to letting go, handing the beautiful estate over to the care of its true heir, or more accurately, heiress, his niece, Lottie. But he now felt only a strange relief, along with guilt that he felt that way. Meeting Amanda had been his saving grace. She’d coaxed a caring side out of him that he never knew he possessed and now she was his priority. Along with his unborn child.

‘Thank heavens for that. Finally somebody who will talk some sense.’ Elizabeth’s backbone visibly straightened as Pip, with a wink in Dom’s direction, waltzed into the room. ‘Pour me a drink Philippa, and you,’ Elizabeth glared at her son, Dominic, ‘can take the dogs out for some exercise if you want to be useful.’ Bertie, the portly Labrador, picked precisely that moment to wander into the drawing room, a very fat but very dead rabbit hanging from his soft mouth.

Pip grimaced. Dead things, especially in the house, were something she could never quite get used to. She might have grown up surrounded by fields, but that was a Welsh mining village, where very little moved and very little died apart from the elderly residents.

She wrinkled her nose and sloshed a generous measure of gin into the nearest tumbler. Dom frowned and raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s for me. I need a drink.’

Dom wasn’t convinced. He’d asked Philippa along to the discussion because he knew his mother liked her. They had an unexpected affinity, which he could only put down to a shared interest in mischief-making, and maybe loneliness. They were of a type: fiercely independent, smart and undemonstrative. Elizabeth had never been one for shows of affection, but Dominic knew that beneath the surface she was as kind and caring as they came. But she wasn’t about to lay herself bare to anybody.

He sometimes wondered about his parents’ relationship, if his mother had ever truly opened up, even to his father. And he hoped very much that he was different. That he could share everything with Amanda, the woman he’d never expected to find. But his upbringing and genes meant it didn’t come naturally. But, there again, unburdening oneself and breaking down wasn’t always a good thing.

He studied Pip, who was sipping her gin with a look of mischief on her fine features. He didn’t trust them together, but he would use any means at his disposal to aid his attempt to get his mother to hand over the reins to her granddaughter. Going on as they had been was no longer an option. He was spending far too much time meeting with the new bank manager, who didn’t have any of the understanding of the old one, who had helped manage their money for years. He couldn’t explain the situation to Elizabeth and risk damaging her health even further. He’d been told to avoid stressing her. Although, he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly how dire the situation was, and had decided to ignore it. Something Lottie was very good at.

Although Lottie’s most recent attempt at organising an event, her father’s wedding, had not exactly been a success in the conventional sense, he was still convinced that she had to start to shoulder much more of the responsibility, had to prepare to be Lady of the Manor. And hopefully work out how to save it in the process.

And, although it made him feel very selfish, Amanda needed him. He’d never, until he met his wife, had anybody really need him. But he had now, and he wasn’t going to let her down. His caretaking duties had to come to an end sooner or later, and as Charlotte showed no inclination to get married and follow the path of inheritance, she could at least start to assume responsibility. It was all going to be hers one day soon, and sooner if she didn’t help him find a way to get the bank off their backs.

Pip opened her blue eyes wider, a hint of a smile wrinkling the corners. ‘Well, you said Elizabeth wasn’t allowed.’

‘She isn’t. But I don’t expect that will stop the two of you.’

‘I am not dead yet, you know, unlike that animal Bertie’s got. Where on earth did you get that from, you naughty animal? Do get Cook to hang it in the kitchen, Dominic. And Philippa, come and sit down.’ Elizabeth patted the seat next to her. ‘The pair of you can stop talking about me as though I’m not here. I’m beginning to sympathise with that Mark Twain fellow, who was presumed in his grave before his time, even if he was American. I take it we’re all gathered, so you can persuade me it’s time to take a back seat?’

Dom looked at his mother and wished, not for the first time, that she wasn’t so shrewd, just a nice old lady in her dotage. ‘Yes.’ He sighed, prepared for the fight.

‘Well about time too. Why you haven’t got Charlotte sorted before now is beyond me. The girl is more than ready.’

‘What do you mean, sorted?’ Lottie chose just that moment to arrive, swiftly removing the rabbit from Bertie’s jaws and dangling it out of his reach as she looked from Elizabeth to Dom and back again.

‘You need to organise things, dear. Now get rid of that carcass and pour us all a stiff drink. Your Uncle Dominic spends all his time trying to hide bank statements from me, but he appears to have forgotten that you need to feed and water the living.’

Dom opened his mouth to respond, then wondered why he was bothering and shut it again.

There was something wrong if Elizabeth was being compliant. She must be up to something, which probably involved getting her hands on a large gin and tonic.

Lottie wondered whether she could just shove the dead animal under the table, then decided to give it to Dom instead, before eyeing up the drinks suspiciously.

‘That’s Philippa’s G&T. Come on now, before we all expire. And pour your uncle a brandy. He’s looking a bit peaky.’ Lottie picked up the bottle and was staring at the assortment of chipped cut glass, trying to decide how much brandy was a good measure, when Dom returned from his disposal duties.

‘Let me.’ He took the bottle and ignored his mother’s gimlet stare. Intending to take charge was one thing, but he now had a horrible feeling that his plans were about to be hijacked, and pouring drinks might well be the most useful contribution he could make.

‘Now Charlotte, I’m sure Dominic will show you all the boring bank statements later, and those awful spreadsheet things. Damned confusing if you ask me, when all you need is a bottom line.’ The clearing of Dom’s throat was audible.

‘He’s already shown me some.’

‘Yes, well, I’m sure he has, dear, but he hides a lot of them, thinks I’m losing my marbles.’ She looked at Dom as though challenging him to comment, which he wisely didn’t. ‘We are in a bit of a mess, but nothing that you can’t deal with, I’m sure. When I took this place on things needed doing, but we muddled through and so shall you, dear. All you need to know is that I’m not having the general public tramping through the place and sticking that nasty chewing gum everywhere, so you can scotch that plan. When I’m dead and buried you may do as you wish, but as I am far from it,’ she shot Dom another glance, ‘I do want you to maintain standards. But I will not interfere.’ There was a splutter from the direction of her son. ‘And I don’t want the grounds destroyed. None of those yuppie hunting and fishing events. Just raise some money, dear,’ she had one eye fixed on Lottie and the other on Dominic and the bottle of gin, which he was being far too careful with, ‘young people do it all the time these day for charity, so if long-haired pop people like that Bob Dildo can raise a million or so, then why can’t you? He doesn’t even look particularly attractive. Dirt under his fingernails, I imagine.’

‘Do you mean Bob Dylan?’

‘Whatever you say, dear.’

‘Isn’t he all religious, or something, these days?’ Lottie was confused.

‘Charlotte.’ Dom decided things were going off-piste. ‘Can we concentrate?’

‘But, Bob Dylan?’

‘Bob Geldof.’ Intervened Pip with a grin, already enjoying herself.

‘Oh.’ Lottie paused. That made slightly more sense. ‘Isn’t he Sir Bob now?’

‘He certainly is not.’ Elizabeth looked at the bottle of gin pointedly. ‘He has a KBE and let that be enough.’

‘You knew all along it was him and not Bob Dylan, didn’t you?’

‘Charlotte, darling,’ Elizabeth as was her norm, didn’t deign to answer the question. ‘At the moment you do not appear able to raise a round of drinks, let alone money.’

‘But I can’t organise big events like that.’ Lottie thought her point had been proved by the wedding, which was fairly small-scale. ‘Uncle Dom is so much better at being organised.’

Dom, who was trying to decide if it was worth attempting to fob Elizabeth off with pure tonic, concluded that doing so might shorten his lifespan considerably and instead settled for pouring a very small, but very strong, one.

‘Dominic might well be, he’s had lots of practice. All you have to do is oversee things. It’s the ideas that are the important part. And you are perfectly capable. William’s wedding may have been slightly unconventional, but it was a success.’

‘But nobody had to pay.’ Lottie felt herself shrivel inside when she thought about her father’s wedding and just how much the event had cost. It wasn’t just the flowers (most of which had been eaten by the horses), but the general destruction that came when a marquee and trestle tables were used for show-jumping practice. And an awful lot of champagne had been drunk after most of the guests had gone. And the poor Mr Music Man had been a quivering wreck, so she’d sent him home, clutching his laptop, with double his normal fee and a bottle or two to calm his nerves.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that the venue, Amanda and Dominic’s home, had come for free, the whole event would have cost Billy more than he’d paid out for his latest show jumper. She’d also been driven to showering the caterers with gifts, in the hope that they wouldn’t refuse to come anywhere near Tippermere ever again.

‘Do a little gymkhana at your father’s place for practice, dear, the pony club is always up for a bit of support.’

‘No.’ Dom and Lottie spoke together. Both horrified at the thought of chaos that could ensue if dozens of pony-mad children on spirited mounts had the run of the grounds.

‘You’ll think of something. Right, let’s have that drink. I feel much better already.’

‘How about a dog show?’ Pip, who had taken the role of observer, decided it was time to chip in. Elizabeth looked at her as though she had grown an extra head.

‘You know, start small.’

‘Have you ever heard the expression “going to the dogs” Philippa?’

Pip laughed.

‘I’m not convinced that inviting every dog owner in the county to bring their animals to defecate on the premises will raise enough money to fix the roof.’

Dom grimaced. So she did know about the roof.

‘I was just thinking of how Lottie can improve her organisational skills. Okay, if you don’t want people traipsing in and out every day, and you want a big fundraiser, how about a pop concert?’ Pip grasped on Elizabeth’s earlier comment, knowing it would be harder for her to dismiss it. ‘Not that Bob Dildo, or even Sir Bob, will come.’

Dom rolled his eyes heavenwards.

‘I saw that, Dominic.’ Pip was not in awe of Dom in the same way that Lottie was. In fact, she was rarely in awe of anyone. ‘You know, party-in-the-park type thing. If it’s good enough for royalty, then….’

‘Royalty did not exactly have everybody in the front garden.’

‘For the Diamond Jubilee it was Party at the Palace.’ Pip finished triumphantly. ‘As in Buckingham Palace.’ Just in case anybody wasn’t following.

‘Well, you may do it at my funeral, dear, but not before.’

‘It would make a lot of money.’ Lottie gazed thoughtfully at Dom, who was looking his most stern.

‘Charlotte you had enough problems trying to control your father’s wedding guests. How on earth are you going to co-ordinate a pop concert?’

‘Well, there won’t be any horses, for one. And Prince Harry did it.’

‘True.’ Pip was almost buzzing with anticipation. ‘And if he managed, I’m sure you could.’ She grinned encouragingly. ‘He’s nearly as daft as you are.’

‘Well,’ Elizabeth drained her glass and put it on the table with a clatter before levering herself out of the chair. ‘As we’ve all agreed that Charlotte does need to step up to the plate, I don’t think you need me here interfering, do you? I could always move out to the Lodge for some peace and quiet, which I am beginning to think I will need.’

‘You can’t do that.’ Lottie looked horrified, and Dom thought his mother was now going a step too far in her bid to show indifference. She was definitely up to something.

‘Nonsense mother.’ His tone was mild, but she shot him an assessing look.

‘Jolly good! As long as we’re all in agreement. And I did notice how small that drink was, Dominic. Right, I am going to rest my eyes. This weather is very drying. Come on, boys.’ And she was off, the dogs’ claws click-clacking on the polished wood as they followed closely behind.

‘I think Prince Harry had considerably more help than you will get.’ Dom drained the last dregs of the brandy and sat down. ‘And he also has more contacts in the music industry.’

‘I have lots of contacts.’ Pip looked a bit disgruntled.

‘And we have a long-term problem here. One injection of cash isn’t enough.’

‘We could make it an annual event?’ Lottie sounded more hopeful than confident. ‘Like Glastonbury?’

‘I think you need something big to put you on the map, and then you need to capitalise on it. You know, let people visit, or something.’ Pip poured herself another drink.

‘Which is something mother has steadfastly refused to do, speaking of which I better check that she’s okay.’

‘But you never check…’ Lottie stared at Dom, her heart suddenly a lump in her chest. ‘Is there something you haven’t told me? She isn’t really ill is she?’

‘Would she have said yes to you getting involved otherwise?’ His voice was soft and he put a gentle hand on her shoulder, then headed off towards the stairs, tossing an ‘I won’t be long’ over his shoulder as he went. Which made the lump in her chest move up to her throat. There couldn’t be anything wrong with Gran, there just couldn’t. She was the one person who was never ill and never let anything stop her doing anything. Wasn’t she?

Chapter 6

‘Isn’t it something all girls want?’

Pip was only half listening to Sam, who had been waiting on her doorstep when she got home. Well, more precisely, waiting in her soft-top car with a dreamy look on her face. When Pip had glanced over her shoulder she’d been horrified to see that Sam was flicking through baby pictures on her mobile phone.

The news that Elizabeth was ill worried her. It was easy to forget just how old Lottie’s gran was as she meddled in the villagers lives, supped her gin and tonics and strode out in her Hunter wellingtons and Barbour jacket. Pip couldn’t imagine her not being around and nor, she imagined, could Lottie.

‘Sorry, what did you say? God, it stinks in here!’ There were many good things about living with Mick, the farrier, but one enormous negative. The smell. Of horses and burnt hoof. And open windows didn’t seem to solve the problem. And then there was, of course, the whole maybe-he-didn’t-love-her thing.

‘Are you okay, babe? You seem bothered.’

‘Bothered and bewildered.’

Sam stared, confused.

‘I’ve just come from Tipping House. I don’t think Elizabeth is very well.’

‘Oh no, not her Ladyship. You two get on so well, don’t you?’ Sam wrapped her arms around Pip in a spontaneous hug. ‘Although she is quite old, I suppose, but the Queen Mum went on for years, didn’t she? And Lady S is, like, related to her, isn’t she? I’m sure she’s got wonderful gene things. She’s not in hospital or anything is she?’

‘No, she’s not in hospital, but she’s only got the Queen’s genes several times removed. I guess I just forget she’s an old lady. She doesn’t seem like one.’

‘She’s a card, bless her.’

‘And Lottie is going to have to start behaving like a Lady.’ Lottie worried her as well. She’d been her normal scatty self when Elizabeth was there, but after her gran and uncle had left the room Pip had seen a glimpse of the woman her best friend was maturing into. Whatever Lottie thought, the Stanthorpe genes were obvious, the determination to succeed and do her duty impossible to ignore. Which was great, except she still seemed to be worried about the whole Todd situation and had asked again if Pip couldn’t at least keep an eye on him. And how did she get out of that one without seeming totally unhelpful and selfish? Assuring Lottie that they’d sort something out didn’t somehow seem enough.

‘Wow, that is so exciting, isn’t it? Lottie a real Lady.’ Sam clapped her hands together. ‘Does she get to hold tea parties on the lawn and wear a tiara?’

‘No, Sam. She gets to climb up and repair the roof if she can’t work out where to get the money from.’

‘Really? Does she know how?’

‘Nope.’ Pip raised a grin from somewhere, staying serious was impossible with Sam around. ‘Sorry, what were you saying before?’

‘Oh, I said wouldn’t you like one, babe? You know, a little mini-me. It would be so amazing.’

Pip, who was accustomed to hearing Sam talk about hair extensions and facelifts, hoped she’d misunderstood the question. ‘One what?’

‘You know, a baby. Doesn’t every girl really want one?’

She wasn’t sure now which was worse, worrying about Elizabeth and Lottie, or this conversation. ‘Sam, I don’t even want a dog, let alone a baby.’ She stared at the glamorous Sam and wondered what on earth it was that triggered baby lust in a woman after she’d been with the same man for any length of time. Personally, she was more interested in a different type of lust, which was pretty incompatible with babies, as far as she could see. And she’d thought Samantha Simcock would be the same. After all, if a girl is married to the seriously ripped England goalkeeper, lives in a mansion and has access to as many designer clothes as her heart desires, why on earth would she want to swap them for dirty nappies and middle-of- the-night feeds? ‘You’re not telling me you…?’

Sam shrugged, which Pip took as a bad sign. And even though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, she decided it was probably time to open the wine.

‘Your boobs will sag.’ She passed Sam a glass and hoped that the alcohol would help the conversation take off in a more sensible direction.

‘Ah, that’s no problem, babe. You can always have them done, you know – implants. A lot of men love them all pert and it shows you still care about them, doesn’t it? And you can have them any size you want.’ She grinned. ‘That’s what all the girls do, you know, after they’ve weaned the babbies off them, that is. They won’t do them straight away, of course.’

‘Urgh, I don’t want to hear.’ Pip put her hands over her ears and tried not to think what Mick’s reaction would be if she landed him with a baby and a new pair of boobs. ‘And you’ll get bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. Implants won’t help with those.’

‘Oh bags are just so easy to fix, babe. I know one girl who had a job lot, you know –boobs and a bit of lipo on her thighs as well as having her eye bags sorted. I’m sure she got a really good deal for having the lot done all at once.’ She looked at Pip with an earnest expression. ‘You shouldn’t let a bit of sagging stop you.’

‘I’m not, believe me. When you’ve had as many brothers and sisters as I have, not to mention a load of cousins. then it puts you off bum-wiping for life.’

‘You can’t mean that. I want lots.’ Sam had a dreamy look in her eye. ‘Davey would like a whole football team. And I could always get a nanny or au-pair or something. He’d love that too.’ She winked.

‘Does he know how much that’ll cost in nappies as well as plastic surgery?’ Pip had a sudden vision of Sam’s gorgeous body being lifted, sucked and tucked in all directions as daddy David drilled them into becoming mini-me goal keepers. Not that many people would object to a few David clones.

‘And you’d need a bigger Jacuzzi.’

Sam ignored her, too taken with the fantasy world she was busy creating in her head. ‘Oh, babe, can you imagine having a little girl to take shopping? Just think about all the gorg stuff you can buy. You can get all the same stuff for kids now as for yourself, you know. Even, like, mini Barbours from when they are really teeny tiny. And’ she was warming to the subject, ‘the girls could have cute ponies and join in with the jumping that everyone does here. They just look so good in white pants and those black jackets, don’t they? Have you seen Jordan when she does that dressage stuff like Dom does? She looks cool, and so glam too with her hair up and that red lipstick. Somebody told me she had to have her boobs reduced so she could ride properly. That can’t possibly be true, can it?’ She paused, obviously considering that dressage might not be the ideal pursuit for her as-yet unconceived offspring. ‘I mean, I can see that it might make it more difficult to jump, but that stuff is just on a flat bit, isn’t it?’

‘I haven’t the foggiest, although you don’t see many big-boobed riders do you? Not professional ones anyway. There’s lots on the hunting field.’ Pip paused, aware she was being drawn into the ridiculous conversation.

‘Maybe she was scared they’d pop if she fell off?’ Sam gave a hearty laugh and opened her big blue eyes wide in mock horror.

In her brief time with Lottie and the Tippermere crew, Pip had seen a fair few falls – some of them quite spectacular (and most of them arse over tit, as Billy liked to point out), but she could never remember seeing any breast implants explode. Never. It would have made a lasting memory and the easiest piece of journalism she’d ever done in her life. ‘I thought they were supposed to be robust. Anyway it’s probably better to fall on your boobs than your nose. Although I suppose you could get a nose job.’ The sarcasm was lost on Sam.

‘You can get anything fixed now, babe. I know some really good people. Them days of black eyes and having to hide away for weeks have gone. Davey said that Jose’s fiancée had her boobs done for the World Cup and was on the beach by the time they’d played their first match.’

‘I thought she was just his girlfriend.’ Pip was faintly miffed that not only had she somehow missed out on the news that the England football manager had got engaged without her knowledge, but that she still hadn’t managed to get an interview with him. When Sam and her footballing husband, David, had moved into Kitterly Heath she’d had plans to grab some headlines of her own, but somehow her eye had drifted off the ball once she’d moved in with Mick. And she hadn’t realised quite how much until now.

‘Oh she went all out for the World Cup and he was so pissed after they won it that he proposed. She would have been gutted if he hadn’t after having her nails and her tits done specially.’

It was at that point, when she really felt that the conversation was getting out of control and taking on a life of its own, that there was a loud rap on the door, followed by an unnecessarily long ring on the buzzer. ‘Here, pour us another glass while I see who that is.’ Hopefully sanity would have returned by the time she did.

***

‘Now aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Thought I was never going to find this place. Going to invite me in?’

Pip stared at the hunk standing on her doorstep and her heart plummeted straight to her boots. Todd. As far as she was concerned, the only solution to the Todd problem was to put him on a plane, not look after him. And now he was on her doorstep. With, she noticed in alarm, a rucksack. A big rucksack.

In Barcelona she’d never really got to know him that well, but she did know that he was a complete heel for dumping Lottie like he had. And if he’d come back and said sorry, like Lottie had said, then that was fine. But that was it.

‘I’m hallucinating.’ She was pretty sure that when Lottie had made the suggestion that she babysit Todd, she had not said yes. She had not even said maybe. Either time. She had definitely said no and changed the subject. ‘You’re not here and this is not happening. I thought you’d be on a plane by now.’ Pip clamped her mouth and the door shut simultaneously. Except that an oversized boot got there first. ‘You’ve done that before, I bet. Used to having doors slammed in your face, are you? Now move your bloody foot out of my doorway.’ She pushed harder, but he didn’t budge. Just grinned. ‘Just like you’ve done other things before.’ She didn’t add the ‘like get married before you get divorced’ bit, because she didn’t need to.

‘Ah come on, be a sport, give us a chance. I didn’t have you down as a tight arse. Thought you’d be pleased to see me again.’

‘Piss off, Todd. I don’t want to see you again, and neither does Lottie. She’s just too nice to tell you where to go.’ And they really didn’t need him right now, she could have added, when Lottie was settled with Rory and a line had been drawn under what had always had the potential to be a disastrous relationship. And Lottie had far more important and serious things to think about. Like raise mega amounts of money. ‘You’ve seen her and apologised.’ He grinned. ‘So you can go back Down-Under now before you cause any more problems.’

‘How do you know I haven’t changed?’

‘How do I know a dog’s got bollocks?’

He looked confused for a second. ‘Take a look under its tail?’

‘Exactly! And with you I don’t even need to look. Still got yours?’

‘You betcha, babe.’

‘Well, we don’t want to see them here. And leave Tab alone, she’s a kid.’

‘You’re not still sore about the whole getting-arrested-on-the-beach thing are you?’

‘Yes.’ She tried kicking her side of the door, in the hope it would hurt. But he didn’t even have the manners to flinch. ‘You just have no idea the state you left Lottie in, have you?’

‘You mean it really didn’t go down at all well?’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘She seemed okay about seeing me, all things considered. We had quite a chat and she was cool.’

‘Are you stupid? It went down like a lead balloon. She’s just being polite. Though God knows why.’ Maybe if she put her shoulder to it, it would help, she thought, still wrestling with the door.

‘Come on, mate, it’s not like I murdered anyone, now, is it? Be reasonable. I’m pretty damned sure Lottie is totally cool about it now. You saw for yourself at her old man’s wedding.’

‘Well, I’m not cool about it, totally or otherwise.’ I could be the one doing the murdering right now, thought Pip, wondering how the hell Lottie had ever fallen for the blond beach bum who was currently loitering on her Cheshire doorstep. Well, apart from the obvious, like the baby blue eyes, wicked grin and muscles. But he was a complication too far. Yesterday had been entertaining, today he was outstaying his welcome.

‘Anyway, weren’t you deported or put in prison, or something?’

‘Out early, for good behaviour.’ He saw the frown deepen. ‘Kidding, honest! I got off. No charges.’

‘How can you get off? You got married but forgot you were supposed to be single first.’

‘Didn’t Lottie tell you? Like I explained everything to her, the marriage was never, like, legal or whatever, no paperwork. So I did only get married once. Good eh?’

‘Brilliant. Only you could call a wedding that wasn’t legalised a stroke of luck. So was that the first one or the second? Or are there more we haven’t heard about yet?’

‘Oh the second, babe. Don’t think the first wanted to divorce me really, which you can understand, can’t you?’ He winked. ‘That’s why she didn’t make it absolute. But it’s done now, just been to the courts to sort it.’ He didn’t look remotely bothered. ‘That’s one of the reasons I came over to the UK.’

‘And you honestly think I want to talk to you? Even if Lottie is daft enough to forgive you, I’m not. You hurt her, Todd, don’t you get that? She’s my friend and if you think you’re getting another chance, dream on.’ He’d already found Lottie, gate-crashed the wedding and made himself a local celebrity. Wasn’t that enough for anybody? Tippermere was a small place. If anybody saw him here then she’d be the talk of the village as well. Murder was sounding more inviting by the second.

‘Me and Lots were only fooling, nothing serious.’ Which was the conclusion Pip had come to in the end, once Lottie had stopped crying, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Todd. ‘I reckon she was pleased to see me again.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you were doing – you were fucking married and you just abandoned her.’

‘Well, to be fair, I didn’t have much choice about leaving her.’

‘You could have sent a message, anything.’

‘Ah, stop nit-picking.’ He shrugged. ‘Come for a drink if you’re not going to ask me in. I need to talk to you.’

‘To me?’ Pip sighed inwardly. ‘Lottie didn’t tell you to come here, did she?’

He looked confused. ‘Lottie? Why would Lots send me over?’

Pip was actually feeling nosy and increasingly guilty that she hadn’t offered to help Lottie out. And she was feeling a bit miffed, as she’d been abandoned by Mick once again as he’d put a horse higher up in his list of priorities than her, which was why Sam had popped in. Except she hadn’t bargained on the baby and cosmetic surgery talk.

Lottie had tried to warn her about the whole men-and-horses thing when it had started to look serious with Mick. Told her she’d need to understand, but she still wasn’t convinced she wanted to. She’d bought into a relationship with Mick, not a stable full of horses. Yes, she wanted some independence and wanted them to do stuff on their own, but she loved him. And she wanted him to ditch the horses at weekends so they could do something different for a change. Together.

She was beginning to understand why Lottie had fled abroad, and into Todd’s bed. It did have a certain appeal.

Her last image of Todd, prior to his unexpected arrival in Tippermere, was in Barcelona jogging across the beach with his surf board. She’d left him and Lottie to soak up the rays while she’d gone off exploring the stylish bars and boutiques in the nearby El Born district. And, much later, after a good shopping trip and a couple of glasses of wine, she’d been shocked to find Lottie in tears. It had taken quite a while to make sense of her friend’s hysterical outpourings, but from what Pip could gather he was being escorted to the airport and onto a plane bound for Australia. And now he was here. The other side of the world. And nobody was quite sure why. If she let him in she might find out.

‘I suppose you can come in, but don’t put your rucksack down.’

He grinned. ‘Fair dinkums.’

‘Don’t dinkums me, you dingo.’ And with that she was engulfed in the type of man hug that amounted to borderline asphyxiation.

When Todd had arrived in Cheshire his plan had been quite simple. Find Lottie, apologise for the fiasco on the beach, and ask if she could put him up for a while so he could sort out some family business. But things had gone wrong from the start. The whole wedding thing had knocked him off his stride. He’d got completely the wrong end of the stick when Tab had gone on about ancient men and ‘Lottie’s wedding’ and had decided on impulse that as he owed Lottie one, and he did really want her to be happy, he had to get in his ‘don’t’ bit before she got in her ‘I do’.

All things considered, things has worked out quite well in the end, though. But he couldn’t ask her for a bed for the night. She and Rory, who had cropped up in more than one conversation in Barcelona, were obviously a serious item and he had a fair idea (thick- skinned though he knew he could be) that he’d outstayed his welcome.

He grinned. This solution could be perfect, though, once he won Pip round. Even if, with Tabatha’s directions, he’d spent the best part of an hour getting lost down the lanes before finally realising that the cottage he’d driven past three times was in fact the right place. England might be cute and quaint, he decided, but it was a hell of a lot easier finding a shack in the middle of the bush than locating someone in this village.

And one step further into the cottage convinced him it had been more than worth it. Perched on a bar stool, large glass of white wine in hand was the most glamorous woman he’d seen since landing at Manchester airport.

‘This is Todd.’ Sam and Todd exchanged admiring glances, which was worrying, given his track record, though at least it might stop the ‘lifting and tucking’ and nappies conversation for a bit.

Sam beamed. ‘Wow, I’ve heard all about you. Did Tab really let you ride that horse of hers?’

‘Well I guess to be fair, I didn’t really ask.’ He moved in closer and winked. ‘I was on it before she had a chance to say no.’

‘You were with Lottie in Barcelona weren’t you? That is just so romantic, just spending time chilling and not worrying about anything. When we go away it’s always to these places with your own chef and hairdresser and stuff. It must be cool not having any of that. When I was a kid we went camping, but my mum didn’t like the mud, and then when me and Dave first went out we went to Cornwall with these big caravans, you know before he got the contract, so I suppose it was a bit like that?’ She topped up the wine glasses. ‘The only time I’ve been to Barcelona is when Dave was playing and they arranged for this coach to take us to all the sights while the boys were training, then to this really posh tapas bar with these amazing cocktails where the stuff was like in smoke and froth, but it’s not the same as just sitting on the beach is it?’

Pip, seeing the look on Todd’s face sensed interesting times ahead. ‘Sam is married to David Simcock, the goal keeper.’ He didn’t look put off. ‘The England goalkeeper.’ Not that Sam would ever be interested in a beach bum with a penchant for bigamy. ‘Todd is a surfer, who’s married to lots of people.’

They ignored her, Todd plonking himself on the bar stool next to Sam and ditching the rucksack, which sat like an unwelcome guest in the corner.

‘Cool. So you go all over the world with him, then?’

‘A bit, but I like it here. I didn’t at first, did I Pip? Cos I didn’t know anybody, but Pip has been lovely and we got a dog.’

‘And she’s thinking of getting a baby next. Well, lots of them.’

‘Getting? Like Brangelina? All different colours? Good on you.’

Pip sat back and decided to watch this one out.

‘No, silly.’ Sam giggled, glad that somebody was actually interested. ‘I want to have them myself. Davey loves kids. So where are you staying then, with Pip?’

‘No, he’s not.’ She tried to avoid looking at the scruffy rucksack.

‘Well actually,’ Todd shifted in his seat and grinned, ‘I am. Rory introduced me to your man Mick this morning. He said you wouldn’t mind if I crashed here for a bit seeing as you’ve got a spare room. Seems like a good bloke.’

Pip would have dropped her drink, if it hadn’t been wine, which meant she instinctively held on. Clutching the stem in a death grip. ‘Mick said?’ So it hadn’t been Lottie, it was worse. Mick had sent him here. She took a deep breathe. Mick, why would he do that? And Mick had said there was a spare room? Was it worse than not loving her? Was he so bored he was thinking of a threesome? No, that was totally out of character, and anyhow men always went for the two-girl sandwich, didn’t they?

Or maybe Lottie had asked Mick. Yeah, that would make more sense. Except she wouldn’t do that, would she? That would be sneaky and not like Lottie at all, however desperate she was.

Letting Mick move in a while ago, so he didn’t have to use the groom’s flat at Rory’s, had seemed like a good idea. Now, all of a sudden, it didn’t. It was confusing. ‘He what?’ She needed this spelling out, just in case she’d misheard.

‘Ahh, isn’t that lovely?’ Sam obviously liked the idea, even if she didn’t. ‘It means I can get to know you. I’m here all the time, aren’t I, Pip?’

‘Mick said what, exactly?’

‘I could crash here. That’s not a problem, is it?’

Inspiration struck. ‘You can use the groom’s flat, Mick’s old place.’ Making sure Todd didn’t get under Lottie’s feet was one thing, having him under her roof was altogether different. She’d act as childminder in the day, not the night.

‘Afraid not.’

‘What do you mean, afraid not?’

‘Tab’s moving in,’ Todd grinned, ‘after all she is the groom and she’s getting fed up of being with her dad. She’s ready to fly the nest. I mean, a girl that age doesn’t want to live with her old man, does she? Watching her every move, if you know what I mean.’ He winked at Sam, who giggled.

Pip glared and tried to think of something to say, but she’d been wrong-footed. In an hour or so on the yard he’d found out all kinds of things that even she didn’t know.

‘And all that horse stuff isn’t really me, you know, more of a water type myself.’

‘Are you a Pisces, babe? Two little fishies.’ Sam snuggled in.

‘More a Taurus, me.’

‘Yeah full of bull, I’d say. Look, you can’t get away from horses here, Todd. You’ll hate it.’ Pip sighed, at least if he hung around for a bit she’d have a kindred spirit in the house, and she had to admit he wasn’t that bad. As daft and irresponsible as Lottie, maybe, and he probably hadn’t given being arrested another thought. Couldn’t comprehend the resulting meltdown for Lottie – which Pip suspected had come more from confusion than a real pain of losing Todd. Losing Todd had meant Lottie had just lost her alternative, had to face up to the truth of what she really wanted. Tippermere.

And she would be helping ease Lottie’s burden. Lottie, who had found her a job when she’d moved here, introduced her to everybody, was as generous and undemanding as a friend could be. Payback time.

‘Oh, you can escape the horses if you come over to our place at Kitterly Heath, Todd, we don’t have any, just dogs.’ Sam was practically clapping her hands with glee. ‘Are you going to be around for a bit, then? I can plan stuff, introduce you to some people if you like. You’ll love the girls.’

Todd grinned. ‘Yeah, that would be ace. Might even see if I can find a job round here for a bit. Must be some apple-picking or something I can do, eh?’

‘But why?’ Okay she sounded pathetic. ‘You’ll be bored. I mean a week or two is more than enough for most people. And it’s the wrong time of year for apples.’

He shrugged. ‘Bartender? I’m sure I can find something to fill the time in. You did, didn’t you?’ His blue eyed widened and Pip knew she was being made fun of.

‘That’s different.’

‘Hey, you never know, I might find some long-lost rellies in the UK.’

‘Rellies?’

‘Yeah, folk. Y’know, family. Aren’t we all related to your royal family, or something? Six times removed?’

‘Oh God, not another one.’ Pip was on the verge of putting her head in her hands and wailing. ‘I think you need to go over and see Tom and you can both dig up the past together. He’s obsessed with long-lost relatives.’ Which wasn’t entirely true. When Tom Strachan had arrived in Tippermere he’d been drawn to Folly Lake Manor, unaware that it was his birth place. But his obsession with the place had nearly driven her nuts, and had caused more than one raised eyebrow in the village. For a long time rumours had been rife about him and the current owner of the place, newly widowed Amanda, until her relationship with Dom had come out into the open, and the wily Elizabeth had finally revealed the truth. ‘You have met Tab’s dad I take it? Tom?’ She paused. ‘And no, you can’t be related to the Queen. No way.’

‘Dad? Well we didn’t exactly discuss him.’

‘No, I bet you didn’t.’ Her tone was dry.

‘You’ll love it here, you won’t want to leave, will he babe?’ This time Sam did raise a toast, delighted at the prospect of parading her newfound buddy around the area.

Although, thinking about it, he’d probably be a hit in Kitterly Heath. Maybe she should actively encourage him in that direction.

‘Never knew everybody would be so welcoming. Any chance of a drink, then, Pippa? Can’t wait to get to know you all better.’ Todd gave Sam the full-on beam, and Pip could have sworn she blushed. Oh God. It was getting worse by the hour. The man had barely introduced himself and he’d already done who knew what to Tab and now looked like he was setting his sights on Sam. The only advantage, she supposed, was that he genuinely didn’t seem to be here to sweep Lottie off her feet, so why was he here?

‘Mind you, I could do with a change of clobber – think this is a bit stinky.’ Todd pulled the t-shirt, which he’d had on yesterday on his horse-riding challenge, away from his body and gave it a sniff. ‘All that wrestling with the gee gees I guess. Can’t imagine why you lot do it for fun.’

Sam giggled and Pip raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t you dare strip off here Crocodile Dundee, I’ll show you the spare bedroom.’ Which she supposed meant that she’d accepted he was staying. ‘But if you as much as leer at Lottie I’ll put you on a plane myself.’

***

Todd dropped his battered rucksack on the floor of the bedroom and stooped to peer out of the small sash window. To the immediate rear of the cottage was a small well-kept garden, overflowing with the type of colour only a British garden can boast, and beyond it the lush green of grass and trees.

He rested his knuckles on the sill and had a sudden longing for the wide-open spaces of his home town in Australia, and the sea. Homesickness was a new one for Todd, and he didn’t acknowledge this feeling as that. He just put it down to claustrophobia.

The cottages might be quaint around here, but they were dark and crowded with heavy furniture, and an expanse of flat green pasture didn’t compensate for the surf and blue-to-the-horizon life he was used to.

What was he doing here? Sure, he’d felt a heel over the whole splitting up with Lottie thing and he did owe her an explanation and an apology. Being a bit careless and forgetful was one thing, but the whole charge of bigamy had knocked him sideways. He might be irresponsible at times, but he’d never meant to hurt anybody. And he’d never really been one for breaking the law. And if his second rushed marriage had been carried out formally, he guessed the whole misunderstanding would never have happened. Not that his first wife called it a misunderstanding. He’d seen the look on her face when his lawyer had finally declared the divorce absolute.

He stared out over the fields, not really seeing them. He’d married the first time in a mad lustful rush of youthful impatience, but within days the cracks had appeared. Marrying his English wife in her home town had been part of the plan, as had a move back out to Australia. But, they’d both soon realised that the day-to-day reality of living the dream was a nightmare.

After a year of hell, she’d headed home to her family and filed for divorce. And then changed her mind on seeing the decree nisi and realising what she was losing. So she had never filed for the absolute.

Except Todd hadn’t realised. As far as he was concerned it was done and dusted and he’d moved on. He’d been on a trail of proving his manhood and repairing his ego.

Coming back to the UK to tie up the loose ends had been one thing, but there was far more to it than that. He had to stay and fulfil the promise he’d made to his brother. His conscience wouldn’t let him escape from that obligation. Having good intentions was part of his character; being responsible wasn’t. And right now every bit of him was screaming out at him to leave this place and head back to the waves.

But he had made a promise, and it was one he didn’t want to break. Sometimes in life you only had one key chance, an opportunity to do the right thing, and he was pretty sure this was his.

Todd suddenly remembered why thinking wasn’t a good idea; it never made anything better. He turned back to the tiny room and, stripping his t-shirt over his head, realised that being six foot tall wasn’t a good idea in a cottage either. ‘Struth.’

‘What are you up to? Oh!’ He barely registered Pip’s brief knock on the door as he’d whipped his top up and received an unexpected rap on the knuckles as they’d made contact with the very old and sturdy beam that straddled the bedroom ceiling. She was now grinning at him and staring at his exposed midriff. ‘Just need a hook up there and I could hold you captive, at my mercy.’

‘Any time, hun. You get on and have your wicked way.’ He winked, then let his arms drop down to his sides, the t-shirt slithering to the floor. Both of them knowing it wasn’t going to happen, but the blood had rushed straight down to his crotch anyway. All these girls in skin-tight jodhpurs and designer gear was playing havoc with his libido. Bikinis he could cope with, but hidden delights was a new one on him.

‘I would, but,’ her head dropped to one side, exposing her long, lightly tanned, neck, ‘Sam is waiting. You did say you’d take us out for some grub.’

There was something about this English rose complexion and countryside thing that could make for an interesting summer, Todd decided. After he’d sorted what he came here for, although he could always run the two alongside. Why suffer more than he had to?

‘And you do know that Sam is out of bounds, don’t you? She’s very happily married.’ She stressed the ‘very’. ‘To a very rich and famous footballer.’

‘So you said. Looks like pretty much every woman in the county is out of bounds, eh?’

‘You got it.’

‘No harm in a bit of fun though, doll.’ He laughed at her annoyed expression, which he remembered well from Barcelona. How Pip and Lottie had ever met up he didn’t know, and how they’d become such close friends was even more unfathomable. ‘Ah come here for a hug, Pippy.’ He held out his arms.

Pip froze, her eyes fixed firmly on his naked torso, and took a gulp, not quite sure where a hug against that might take her. ‘I think you need to put some clothes on.’ As she scarpered down the stairs casting a ‘and don’t call me Pippy’ over her shoulder, he laughed to himself. He’d not expected that reaction. He genuinely adored the prickly Pip because he just knew that under that protective layer there had to be a warm heart. Or Lottie wouldn’t love her. And she was funny, entertaining and witty. Which had to be a bonus.

He pulled a clean t-shirt from the rucksack and put it on, taking more care not to fling his arms about this time. That Mick she was shacked up with was an interesting character too. A good craic, as the Irish would say, but touchy. Very touchy. He’d had a ‘don’t you dare’ look about him last night, then had been offering bed and board this morning. Which had been unexpected, but perfect. Well it looked like he might not have the surf to keep him occupied, but there were plenty of other distractions. But if he wasn’t careful, the way this lot partied, he’d have trouble keeping his eye on the ball.

He had one more try at lifting the sash window and letting a bit more air in the place, then admitted defeat when he managed to lift it barely two inches. He guessed this place could be more of a challenge than it looked.

Chapter 7

Lottie sat on the bale of hay, her gaze following Mick’s every move.

It wasn’t just that he was supremely fit, stripped to the waist, his dark hair plastered to the back of his neck and a tantalising bead of sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. It was also soothing. The watching bit. Well, that was her story and she’d rather like to stick to it.

The muscles in his arm flexed as he eased the shoe away from the horse’s foot, and then he straightened the kinks out of his spine in what could have been slow motion until he was upright. He winked and gave a half-smile.

‘You’re quiet, treas.’ He leant one arm on the horse’s broad, polished rump and studied the normally bouncy Lottie, who was wrapping strands of straw around her finger and twisting the ends until they tightened like a hangman’s noose. ‘Freud would have had something to say about that.’

She’d glanced down, embarrassed to be caught watching, but the deep chuckle made her look back up, straight into those deep eyes. There was something about Mick that had always frightened her, and something that was almost magnetic. She didn’t exactly feel like a rabbit caught in the headlights. More like one of those swinging silver balls that kept clanking against the others until it was torn loose. Only to be dragged back, almost against its will.

‘Freud what?’ It was a good job Mick was Pip’s man and not hers. Pip could handle him. Lottie always felt she’d drown in a man like that.

He grinned and nodded in the direction of her finger, the tip of which was rapidly losing colour as she cut the blood supply off. She let go abruptly.

‘So you met this Todd in Barcelona, then?’

‘Australia.’ She sighed, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was a dreamy look in her eye, or dust from the hay. ‘And then we went to Barcelona together. He said he wanted a change of scene, but maybe he was hiding from his wife.’

‘Which one?’ Mick lifted an eyebrow, which made him look deliciously naughty, before tossing the horseshoe in a bucket and moving round to the other side of the horse. He clicked and it obligingly lifted its hoof as he bent down. ‘But he didn’t break your heart, did he, darling?’

‘No.’ Lottie stood up and leaned on the horse so she could study the top of his head. The horse turned and nipped her bum, which was so unfair when all she was doing was standing there. It obviously didn’t appreciate anyone barging into its ‘me’ time with the farrier. ‘No,’ she grinned, ‘but he did seriously piss me off.’

‘You came back to Rory.’

‘Well, yes.’

He tapped up and snipped off the clenches, then started to lever the second shoe away.

‘So him arriving out of the blue isn’t a problem?’

‘Well, no.’

It wasn’t exactly a problem, but she didn’t get why Todd was here. Okay, maybe he did want to explain, although it was a bit late, like somebody delivering a Christmas present in August. When you know you should be grateful but the moment has gone, and it’s just a present. For no reason. Which can be spooky. When it’s an ex. And all of a sudden what was a nice private adventure had been announced to all your friends. And your boyfriend. She’d moved on from Christmas and into the realms of ‘this could be so embarrassing’.

‘But?’

‘It’s just a bit weird. And why is he here?’

‘Boredom? Curiosity?’

‘He’s not the curious type.’ Although she didn’t really know that, did she? Just as he’d remarked that he didn’t know her at all, she didn’t know him. Their fling had involved first names, sexual kinks and that was about it. Not that she was kinky – maybe preferences was a better word, except she’d told him about the chocolate sauce. Oh God. What if he told everybody? You see, that was the problem. It was all well and good having a no-holds-barred fling with a stranger when you were in a foreign country, but it wasn’t supposed to follow you home. There was a reason holiday flings were so much fun, and it had nothing to do with being held accountable.

‘Maybe he’s after your massive inheritance.’

‘Well, he’ll be bloody disappointed. I’m not inheriting a country pile, more like a pile of debt. Have you any idea how much it costs to repair a roof that size? I hadn’t until the other day.’ That had been a real shock to the system. You could buy more than one good horse with that type of dosh. ‘And do you know how much it costs to keep even just the East Wing heated?’ She hadn’t known that herself either until Dom had very gently started to introduce her to the less glam side of being a Lady, and the spreadsheet. But Todd didn’t strike her as a gold digger either (if you called men that, or were they prospectors?). But there again, he hadn’t struck her as a bigamist, or even a husband (ex or otherwise) at all, which was a bit worrying.

‘Not a clue. Did you know he’s staying with me and Pip?’

‘What do you mean? Why didn’t you tell me?’ She banged one palm down without thinking, the horse swung its rump around in retaliation and Lottie found her own bum in the bucket of cold water that Mick had set aside to cool the horse shoes down in.

‘I am doing. You didn’t know, then? Rory didn’t mention it?’

Lottie grimaced and went to stand up, only to find the bucket went with her. Which was her own fault for having a big arse. Although if she took over her inheritance she wouldn’t be able to afford chips and chocolate, so that would solve that problem. Maybe that was why a lot of rich people were thin, because they weren’t actually rich.

‘I’m stuck.’ She giggled as the horse nudged the bucket with its nose and sent a new cascade of water into her boots. The seal broken, it fell off with a clatter, the horse faking alarm reversed onto Mick’s foot and the terriers arrived at full belt, eager not to miss any of the fun.

Mick, armed with steel-toe-capped boots pushed the horse forward good naturedly and watched as the dogs circled them, barking with excitement.

What had ever brought him to this mad yard? Lottie was loveable but as scatty as they came, Rory was good natured but too easy-going and forgetful for anybody’s good, and the dogs just about summed it up. Chaotic.

Home with Pip was different. Tidy, ordered, animal-free. But he had to admit, the last bit bothered him. He didn’t have any particular need for a canine companion, but horses were his livelihood. His life. In his blood. A day without a horse was a day wasted. And the fact that not only did she not want to share that affection, but she was obviously beginning to get irritated by it, loomed like a large black cloud on the horizon. Her bossy nature and challenging outlook on life, plus her immaculate turn-out, had been what had drawn him to her in the first place. The challenge more than anything, if he was honest. But an insurmountable challenge was an altogether different prospect. He went back to looking at Lottie, which was always a nice experience. Even if she did have a habit of wearing mismatched socks with her breeches, and polo shirts adorned with horse slobber and hay.

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