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She shivered, then drew the phone towards her and began to dial the feed merchant’s number. In deference to Beattie’s wishes, she would carry on here until Grantham’s health was assured, but then she would be off and running, she told herself grimly. And she would start looking round to see what jobs were available without delay. Grantham would find he was not the only one who could hold his cards close to his chest.
Her father came into the office half an hour later. She had half expected Andrew and Eliot Lang to be with him, but he was alone. He walked past her into the inner office, which was far smaller, and more luxuriously appointed, and which he kept for entertaining favoured owners.
‘Come through, will you,’ he said over his shoulder, as he disappeared through the door.
Oh, hell, Natalie thought, as she rose to her feet. Now I’m for it! And I swore I wouldn’t upset him.
She picked up the ledgers, and carried them through with her. She said meekly, ‘I thought you might like to see the accounts, Dad.’
‘All in good time,’ he returned. He reached for the big silver cigar box, drew it towards him, then with a resigned air pushed it away again. ‘I feel undressed without them, damn it,’ he muttered, then focused sharply on his daughter. He said grimly, ‘Disappointment is one thing, Natalie, although it’s fair to say you built your own hopes up. I never did. But bloody rudeness and cussedness is another, and it has to stop. Do I make myself clear?’ He paused. ‘I was at fault over the flat business, and I admit it, although I didn’t know you had any sentimental attachment to it. But it’s standing empty, and I’m paying rates on it, so it might as well be let or sold. And there’s no reason why Eliot shouldn’t use it while he looks for his own place. Is there?’
He waited, while she shook her head, slowly and reluctantly.
‘That’s settled then.’ he leaned back in his chair. ‘Eliot’s joining us here, Natalie, whether you like it or not, my girl. We signed the papers after lunch, so you’re going to have to make the best of it, and if you’ve any sense, you’ll get on with him.’ He gave her a dry look. ‘A lot of lasses seem to take to him. No reason why you can’t too, even if he has put your nose out of joint.’
‘Do you really think it’s that simple?’ she asked bitterly.
‘I think you’re making difficulties where there are none,’ he retorted calmly. ‘I’ll tell you something. Eliot’s more than ready to meet you half-way. He’d probably be glad of some company—someone to show him the countryside round here.’
Her lips parted in disbelief as she looked down at him. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘I’m not joking either.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve been living like a nun for the past three years, Natalie, and don’t tell me any different. But you can’t grieve for ever, lass, so why not get out a bit—live a little?’ He smiled. ‘You never know, you might …’
‘No!’ Natalie exploded. ‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking, and if wasn’t so nauseating, it would be ridiculous. Your first attempt at matchmaking worked, so be content with that. There’ll never be another. Eliot Lang is the last kind of man I’d ever want to be involved with. His—type revolts me. If he ever touched me—I’d die!’ She stopped with a little gasp, looking anxiously at her father, but he seemed perfectly composed.
‘Well, if that’s how you feel, I’ll say no more.’ He picked up a paperweight carved in the shape of a horse, and began to toy with it. ‘But there’s no accounting for taste, I must say. He’s got my Beattie eating out of his hand already,’ he added with a faint grin. ‘But you’re going to be civil to Eliot, and you can start by showing him round the yard—and the flat.’
‘Is that an order?’ she asked huskily.
‘If it needs to be,’ he said genially. ‘Now, off you go.’
Eliot was waiting by the tack room. Leaning against the door, his hands in his pockets, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun, he looked relaxed and very much at home.
‘Ah,’ he said lazily. ‘My guide.’ He looked at the bunch of keys dangling from her hand. ‘Shall we have a look at the flat first?’
She was taken aback. ‘But don’t you want to see the yard—the horses?’
‘I’ve done my homework,’ he said drily. ‘I know what horses are in training here, what they cost, and what the next season’s hopes are. Any more I want to know on that score, I can ask Wes Lovett, when he comes back for evening stables. I don’t want to intrude on his time with his family.’
‘I can tell you anything you want to know.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Tell me, Mrs Drummond, what makes you tick. And why I’m so clearly not the flavour of the month.’
Natalie looked past him, remembering Grantham’s strictures, and measuring her words accordingly.
She said abruptly, ‘You were—a shock. I had no idea Grantham was planning to take on an outsider as a partner.’
‘Then what did you think he’d do? Carry on as if nothing had happened? As if that attack had been a figment of his imagination?’
The note in his voice stung her, and she flushed. ‘No, of course not. But there was an alternative.’
‘What was that?’ he asked. ‘As a matter of academic interest, of course.’
She said baldly, and ungrammatically, ‘There was me.’
There was a long silence. Then Eliot said, ‘Everything suddenly becomes much clearer. Well, well. So you see yourself as a trainer of champion ‘chasers, do you, Mrs Drummond?’
‘Yes, I do. For years I’ve been begging my father to give me a chance—ever since I left school. When he was ill, I thought it was an opportunity to show him that I wasn’t—a useless female, but prove I could run things here.’
‘I see.’ He gave her a meditative look. ‘I’m glad to hear natural concern for his well-being wasn’t allowed to stand in the way of your ambition.’
Her voice shook. ‘You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. Of course I was worried—worried sick. But it wouldn’t have improved Grantham’s chances of recovery if I’d simply—sat back and let the yard go to pot.’
He nodded. ‘And on the strength of that, you expected to be made a partner in equal standing with your father in these stables.’ He gave her a long look. ‘Lady, you’re living in a dream world. You should know, none better, just how many million pounds you have on the hoof in this place. Do you imagine, in the long run, the owners are going to entrust their treasures to the care of an inexperienced girl, however eager to learn? How old are you, by the way?’
‘I’m twenty-three,’ Natalie said stormily. ‘And you couldn’t be more wrong. When Dad was first taken ill, a number of the owners got edgy and started talking about removing their horses, and I talked them out of it. I persuaded them I knew what I was doing. So some people were prepared to have faith in me, even if you and Grantham want to—shut me out.’
He said quietly, ‘Calm down, Mrs Drummond, and take a firm grip on yourself, because I’m afraid I’m going to have to shatter another illusion. No amount of sweettalking from you kept those horses here. Grantham gave me a list of those most likely to waver, and I made it my business to ring them, and tell them what was in the wind. That was what convinced them, darling. Not your well-meaning intervention.’
She tried to speak, to say something, but no words would come. At last she said hoarsely, ‘I don’t believe you.’
He shrugged. ‘As you wish, but Grantham will confirm what I say.’
There was a pause, then he added more gently, ‘But there’s no question of wanting to shut you out, on my part at least. Now, shall we take a look at the flat?’
Natalie felt humiliated to her very soul as she walked in front of him. If her attitude to Eliot had wounded his delicate male pride, then he’d had his revenge in full, she thought wretchedly. At the time, she had thought it was next to a miracle when one owner after another had phoned her back to say that perhaps they’d been hasty …
The flat entrance lay round to the side of the big garage block. Natalie unlocked the front door and stood back. ‘I’ll wait here,’ she said.
Eliot gave her a wry look, seemed as if he was about to speak, then thought better of it, and went up the internal staircase.
Natalie knew an ignominious urge to run away and hide somewhere, while his back was turned. He’d robbed her of everything now, not just the partnership which she recognised would probably never have been hers anyway, but also of her pride in what she had considered her achievements while Grantham was ill.
Oh, it had been cruel of him! Cruel, she thought, her teeth savaging the soft inner flesh of her lower lip. ‘Cruel to be kind’ was one of Grantham’s favourite maxims. Clearly Eliot Lang belonged to the same school of thought.
He was gone a long time. She was thankful that everything had been removed, every stick of furniture, every ornament and keepsake. She would have loathed the idea of him touching her things, using her chairs and table—her bed.
The thought struck her like a blow, her mind flinching from the images it presented, reviving memories she’d thought were dormant.
Tony, she thought wretchedly. Oh God—Tony!
Footsteps coming down the stairs gave sufficient warning for her to compose herself before Eliot rejoined her.
He said flatly, ‘You don’t leave many clues. That place is totally—empty.’ He sent her a narrow-eyed stare. ‘Are you Tony Drummond’s widow?’
‘Yes, what of it?’
He shrugged, still staring at her. ‘I should have made the connection before,’ he said, half to himself.
‘Are you—going to live there?’ She had to know.
‘Oh, yes, I think so,’ he said almost casually. ‘As I’m clearly not desecrating some private shrine. And it’s big enough to take some of the furniture I want to bring up from Lambourn.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Then everyone’s happy.’
‘A slight exaggeration, wouldn’t you say?’ he drawled. ‘Now I’d like to see the kind of accommodation the lads use. Is that possible?’
‘Of course,’ Natalie said ironically. ‘You’re the boss, after all.’
Eliot Lang shot her a sideways glance, but made no reply.
He was silent too as she showed him the block Grantham had built a few years before, with its big kitchen and recreation area on the ground floor, leading up to small, economically fitted single bedrooms upstairs.
‘Each room has a handbasin, but there’s a communal shower block at the end,’ Natalie told him, niggled that he wasn’t more openly impressed.
‘Just showers?’ he asked. ‘No bathrooms?’
‘Yes, there are two, leading off the shower room.’
‘Do they lock?’
Natalie shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Is it important?’
‘I think privacy can be very important. The bedrooms all have locks, I see.’
‘Yes, and they can be opened from the outside by a master key in case someone’s taken ill.’ Natalie stared at him. ‘Why this obsession with locks and bolts?’
‘I’m thinking of offering someone a job,’ he said shortly. ‘So I want to make sure certain standards are observed.’
‘My God!’ she exclaimed derisively, ‘What are they used to—the Hilton? Let me tell you my father spent a fortune on this block, and it’s regarded as a model.’
‘Oh, I’ve no real criticism to make. All too often lads are allowed to shift as best they can while the horses get the five-star treatment.’
‘You don’t approve of that either?’ she demanded tartly.
‘I think there’s reason in all things,’ he returned.
She glanced at her watch. ‘Perhaps we should move on. The lads usually go down to the snooker club in the village this afternoon, and they’ll be back shortly. With your passion for privacy, you’ll understand they may not care to find us snooping round their sleeping quarters.’
His mouth twisted slightly. ‘Then let’s go on with the tour.’
‘You mean you’re actually going to let me tell you about the horses?’ she marvelled. ‘I’m honoured!’ She paused, a small frown puckering her brow. ‘But I don’t usually go into the yard empty-handed.’
‘We won’t today,’ he said. ‘I begged some carrots from your stepmother. I left them in the tack room.’
As they walked back under the arch, Natalie was bitterly conscious of Eliot’s presence beside her, looming over her, a shadow in her personal sun. He must have gone very hungry a lot of the time to keep his weight to a reasonable level for his height, she thought vindictively.
She hated the way he looked around him as they walked along. It was—proprietorial, as if he’d already taken charge.
Well, he could be in for a shock. He was only the junior partner, and he would find, unless she missed her guess, that Grantham had every intention of remaining firmly in the saddle.
Eliot said, as if he’d broken in somehow on her thoughts, ‘Your father has made quite a name for himself in schooling difficult horses.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He’s fantastic with them.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ he said. ‘What a pity one can’t apply the same techniques to difficult women.’
He opened the tack room door and motioned her ahead of him with a faintly mocking gesture. He was smiling.
But not for long, she thought.
‘Tell me, Mr Lang,’ she said, poisonously sweet, ‘are those teeth your own?’
‘Indeed they are, Mrs Drummond,’ he said gravely. ‘Would you like me to prove it by biting you?’
She saw the bag of carrots on a shelf, and was glad of an excuse to move away from him. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’
‘What a pity,’ he said. ‘Because it’s time someone made a mark on you, sweetheart.’ He’d followed her, and as she reached for the carrots, he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, picking up her slim, ring-less left hand and studying it, brows raised. ‘Because the unfortunate Tony doesn’t seem to have left much of an impression, in any way.’
Outraged, Natalie tried to pull away from his grasp. ‘Let go of me!’
‘Why?’ he jeered. ‘Because you’ll die if I touch you?’ He mimicked a falsetto, and smiled cynically as her lips parted in a soundless gasp. ‘Well, let’s risk it and see.’
She tried to say ‘No’, but her protest was stifled as his mouth descended on hers. He was thorough, and not particularly gentle. All the antagonism between them was there in the kiss, but charged, explosive with some other element she could neither recognise nor analyse.
When at last Eliot released her, flushed and breathless, she took a step backwards, leaning against a cupboard, aware that her legs were trembling so much she was in real danger of collapsing on the floor.
Eliot’s hand reached out, half cupping her breast, his fingers seeking the place where her heart hammered unevenly against her ribs.
‘You see?’ he said drily. ‘You survived, after all.’
Was this survival, Natalie thought dazedly, this crippling confusion of mind and body? This strange quivering ache deep inside that she had never known before? And all this for a kiss that hadn’t been a kiss at all, but some kind of punishment.
Mutely she stared up at him, seeing the mockery fade suddenly from the hazel eyes, watching them grow curiously intent as his hand moved with new purpose on the swell of her breast, his fingers seeking the tumescent nipple through the thin dark blue cotton of her dress.
And was as suddenly removed. He said, ‘I think we have company.’
In a disconnected part of her mind, Natalie heard the sound of voices, the crunch of boots on gravel. Wes, she thought, and the others coming back for evening stables.
Eliot reached past her and retrieved the bag of carrots. His arm brushed against her, and her body went rigid. He was aware of the reaction, and smiled sardonically down into her white face.
‘A piece of advice, Mrs Drummond,’ he said lightly. ‘In future when you want to slag me off, keep your voice down—unless you want to suffer the consequences.’
He walked away, leaving her still leaning against the cupboard as if she had neither the strength nor the will to move.
CHAPTER THREE (#u1293e7cf-52a0-5751-8d18-68e81968c7eb)
AS SOON AS she had pulled herself together, Natalie went up to the house and straight to her room, bypassing Beattie who could be heard humming happily to herself in the kitchen.
