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‘It has,’ she agreed coolly. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but I had to be sure I’d picked everything up, and that Flame was properly settled for the night.’
He inspected the work she’d done on the horse. She’d done a good job, but not good enough to meet his exacting standards. He’d pulled Lizzie’s report from her college. She’d passed out top of her class, which was why she had been awarded the scholarship to train under him at Fazenda Fernandez. He remembered her grandmother telling him that Lizzie needed something to lose herself in. He had understood immediately that Lizzie found the affection denied her by her parents from the horses she cared for, because he’d found that same solace, but what was driving her now?
‘Well, if that’s all?’ she said pleasantly.
She waited patiently for him to move out of the way. She had inherited none of the supercilious qualities of her parents, he noted, but her eyes were wounded. The past had damaged them both, but why had she chosen to believe her parents’ lies over him? The answer came to him as they stared at each other. However a child was misled or mistreated, they never gave up hope of winning the love of their parent, even if that parent was incapable of giving love.
‘You have a wonderful facility here, Senhor Fernandez. I’m thrilled to have been given the opportunity to train here.’
She was close enough to touch, to kiss, to reassure...
‘And we’re very glad to have you here,’ he replied in the same measured tone. ‘You come with an excellent recommendation from your college.’
She smiled in response to this, and tension crackled all around them, making him wonder if they would ever be easy with each other again.
‘Anyway, thank you,’ she said, breaking the spell as she hefted her belongings into a more comfortable position. ‘I really do appreciate the chance you’ve given me.’
‘My selection team did that. Everything I do here is in honour of my sponsor, Eduardo. You do remember Eduardo?’
‘Yes, of course I do.’ For a moment her confident mask slipped. ‘I was very sorry to hear of his passing. I read quite a lot about him before I came here.’
‘Oh?’
‘When you both came to Rottingdean I just knew him as a leading polo player in Brazil. What I didn’t realise was that Eduardo had devoted himself to providing education for children from deprived backgrounds.’
‘Children like me?’
‘Yes.’ She held his gaze, unflinching. ‘I don’t say that to offend you, Senhor Fernandez.’
‘I appreciate your honesty, Senhorita Fane.’
She slanted him a thoughtful look and almost smiled again. ‘I guess Eduardo got lucky with you.’
‘There are many deserving children,’ he argued sharply as their hopeful faces flashed into his mind.
Lizzie blushed bright red. ‘I realise that—I didn’t mean...I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant. You’re wondering how I can afford all this?’ Not by cheating like Lizzie’s parents, that was for sure.
‘No,’ she protested, and for the first time he thought he saw the real Lizzie, rather than the girl who was trying to please her boss. ‘It makes perfect sense to me. With your natural talent you were always bound to succeed.’
‘And you also realised that success such as mine pays well?’ he pressed, thinking of her mother and wondering if Lizzie had inherited any of Serena’s acquisitive traits.
‘Your financial success is well documented,’ she defended, her cheeks pinking up again beneath his suspicious stare.
Was she after a slice of the pie? ‘Hard work and straight dealing is my only secret.’
‘And a sponsor like Eduardo,’ she suggested, that steel he’d seen before returning to her gaze.
Even now, hearing Eduardo’s name coming from a member of the Fane family’s lips grated on him, though he had to admit that the fact Lizzie had no problem speaking up for herself was to her credit. Her parents had always delivered their barbs from a safe distance.
‘I’m in awe of the legacy Eduardo Delgardo left behind, and I don’t just mean his money,’ she explained. ‘He inspired so many people with his good works, including me.’
Her steady gaze convinced him that in this, at least, Lizzie Fane was being totally honest.
‘I should go to supper now. My friend’s expecting me—’ She started to move past him.
He wasn’t ready to let her go yet and stood in her way. ‘You bandaged him?’
‘Yes?’ Her concern was obvious.
‘Put your things down outside the stable, and come back in here.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Back in here,’ he repeated.
He was already hunkering down to check the poultice when she returned to the stall. Apart from wanting to show Lizzie how her bandaging technique could be improved, and disregarding the obvious questions jostling in his mind, he was intrigued by this new Lizzie. Forget intrigue. He wanted her. In the past he had put her on a pedestal and wouldn’t have touched her. But now...
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_680e9acd-6831-5415-bf06-0b6eaf8c0d48)
COULDN’T THIS WAIT? There were classes tomorrow. What did Chico really want? He was such a compelling presence he made her feel tongue-tied. Her lips felt wooden and when she tried to speak her voice sounded hoarse. Seeing him again after all these years had completely thrown her. Had she really thought she was ready for this? Just because Chico Fernandez had been the stuff of her fantasies throughout all her teenage years, didn’t mean she knew him. She was keenly aware that she didn’t know him, not now, which was why she felt so awkward around him—and nothing could dilute the impact of a man dressed in nothing more than a pair of banged-up jeans and a black top that showed off his impressive muscles, who had turned from an attractive youth into the hottest thing on two powerful male legs.
‘It’s hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said, finding it hard to breathe suddenly.
‘Not overly so,’ Chico replied. ‘The temperature in here is controlled.’
Unlike her heart, she thought, feeling the effects of being trapped in a small stall with so much undiluted sex. Chico’s physical presence was overwhelming. Shoulders broad enough to hoist an ox, stomach flat, waist slim, from all his exercise on horseback—and, when he was hunkered down like this, a grandstand view of the tightest butt on earth. Added to which, a heavy-duty leather belt was drawing her gaze where it definitely shouldn’t wander. And his face—if Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, Chico Fernandez could launch a thousand erotic fantasies. He looked so stern, but his mouth was the mouth of a sensualist, and she loved his sharp black stubble. She had always loved his thick, wild black hair—
What was she thinking? She wasn’t a naïve girl now, daydreaming in the stables at Rottingdean. She was a woman with a goal, who had won a scholarship to Brazil, and who couldn’t afford to be distracted. What must she look like to Chico? Hot, sweaty, and grubby— Quite suddenly, she didn’t have confidence in anything—not in herself, or her work, or in her future. This wasn’t the youth she had made a friend of all those years ago. This was Chico Fernandez, acknowledged equine expert—and expert between the sheets too, she had no doubt; a man with testosterone flying off him like white-hot shards that pierced her body with sensation until she couldn’t think. Chico was said to be a man’s man; a lone wolf who ruled his territory like a feudal lord. Was she here to take him on? Was she going to suck him dry?
‘Not a bad job,’ he remarked, glancing up at her.
‘Really?’ The last thing she had been expecting from him was words of praise.
‘But not good enough for the standards we set here. That’s why you’ve come to train at Fazenda Fernandez, isn’t it, Lizzie?’
There was a flash of suspicion in his eyes, and for a moment she had no idea why she was here, only that she was mad to have come. Echoes from the past came back to haunt her—snatches of conversation, that she had barely understood as a young teen.
‘Are you listening, Lizzie? If you don’t pay attention, you’ll learn nothing.’
She shook herself round. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘If you intend to stay on here and complete the training—’
‘I will complete the training.’
Chico’s eyes sparked as he sprang up to confront her. A clash of wills was the last thing she had intended, but she had never learned how to admit defeat, and she was determined to achieve all her goals here, including keeping Chico Fernandez at arm’s length.
She regretted her outburst when she saw Chico’s expression turn cold. She would have to keep her feelings closely guarded in future.
‘You will attend my tutorial here, tomorrow morning, at six a.m. sharp,’ he said without a hint of warmth.
‘Yes. Of course.’
Her best guess was, Chico didn’t think she’d last the course, and he was notorious for failing students who didn’t make the grade. There were no second chances—except for Danny, who had somehow managed to get her heart broken by a polo player, and had been allowed to go home and restart this year.
From confronting him, she was thrown back into pleading her cause. ‘I just want to do my best for every horse.’
‘I would expect nothing less of one of my students.’
He moved at the same time she did. They almost collided in the middle of the stall. He was close enough for her to smell the soap on his skin and the sunshine in his clothes, and the warmth of his impossibly powerful body, which was far, far, far too close for safety. Some of the buttons on his shirt were open, revealing tanned, hard-muscled skin—
‘When you’re ready?’
Chico’s voice was low and strummed her senses as she moved aside. He held her fate in the palm of his hand, yet her body was melting with want, which was insane, and absolutely the last thing she needed. She had to keep a clear head if she was going to achieve anything here, and being reduced to a mass of hormones was hardly going to help her do that.
‘Don’t let me keep you from your supper.’
There was a faint mocking note in his voice as if he knew the effect his brutal masculinity could have on even the most reluctant target.
‘Until tomorrow at six a.m.,’ she confirmed, taking care to keep her voice on the pleasant side of neutral.
She left the stall in a rush, and didn’t stop until she reached the tack room, where she stowed the medical supplies and then leaned back with her eyes closed and her body pressed up hard against the cool wall until finally she could breathe.
On her way from the courtyard to the cookhouse, she wished she could bind her breasts, or become a boy—lose these feelings, anyway. How was she supposed to stay here with so many dangerous fantasies in her head? She’d thought she’d got it all worked out and would be prepared for seeing Chico again. Not even close. Seeing him again had only confused her more. His eyes had assessed her, warmed her and heated her blood to the point where all she could think about was sex. And there was no way on earth she would ever sleep with him. Boss and groom was bad enough, tutor and student was forbidden territory, but everything that had happened in the past—all those rumours—made her thoughts taboo. And even if the past hadn’t stood between them—Chico Fernandez and Lizzie Fane? It could never happen. He was successful, famous, and rich, and she was no one. The only reason she was here was because she’d won a scholarship, and because her grandmother had insisted Lizzie must take up that scholarship, because an endorsement from Chico Fernandez was second to none.
And how did Chico feel about that?
Lizzie’s heart thundered with apprehension. If she didn’t make the grade, or he threw her out, who would save Rottingdean then?
‘Hey—wait up. You forgot something...’
She turned, and her heart went into overdrive when she saw the grubby top she’d discarded in the stall, hanging from the tip of Chico’s finger.
‘Rule one,’ he said, strolling up to her. ‘Never leave anything in a stable that could harm your horse.’
She was mortified. She never did. She never had before. She’d slung the top over the top of the partition between the stalls, meaning to take it with her.
Seeing Chico again had knocked everything out of her head. The sheer force of his personality swamped her as she took the top. Chico Fernandez was one of life’s primal forces, while she must look like the primmest thing on earth to him in her crisp white blouse, with its ironed and starched Peter Pan collar, her fresh-out-of-the-box sneakers, and her neatly pressed jeans. She had loved the outfit when she first put it on, because it was a parting gift from her grandmother. To bring her luck, Lizzie’s grandmother had said. And she still loved the clothes, but she had to admit they were more garden party than gaucho. Almost in defiance of that, her nipples were tightening and her heart was thundering out of control. She grabbed the chance to take a deep, calming breath as he paused to turn and talk to one of his fellow polo players.
‘Black eyes, black colours for his team, and a black heart has never stood in the way for Chico Fernandez when it comes to unparalleled Gaucho Polo success for this world-beater...’ This quote from one of the articles she had read about him seemed so relevant now. If Chico’s opponents on the polo field were subject to this same force field, no wonder they found him formidable. Most sports commentators said there had never been a player like him.
And what did most women say?
She didn’t even want to think about his other women. She guessed Chico accepted what was freely offered and then moved on, and could only thank her lucky stars that fate had decreed she would never be one of his discards.
What a great thought—such a sensible thought—that unfortunately had no influence on her body, and her body still wanted him. She blamed it on the primal imperative to mate with the leader of the pack.
‘Forgive me,’ Chico said brusquely, spinning round. ‘Before you go to supper, I have one or two more questions for you, Lizzie.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Oh?’
‘As a representative of the grooms, could you tell me, are your quarters comfortable?’
Why did he care? Was he trying to trip her up? Was he looking for an excuse to get rid of her? ‘Quite comfortable, thank you.’
He stabbed a glance at the utilitarian block where the students were housed. What could she possibly have to complain about? There was running water—possibly glacier melt judging by the temperature—and she shared her room with five other girls. No problem there. Only three of them snored. And thanks to the freezing water they were all quick in the shower.
‘Your bed’s comfortable?’
She frowned. ‘Yes.’
She would have gladly slept on a bed of nails for the chance to work at Fazenda Fernandez with the best trainer in the world on the best polo ponies in the world, and she really didn’t want to discuss her sleeping arrangements with Chico Fernandez. Was he determined to unsettle her?
‘Thank you, Lizzie. I had thought of making some improvements to the grooms’ accommodation, but I can now see that that isn’t necessary.’
Not necessary? Inwardly, she groaned. Imagine how popular this was going to make her.
And then Chico stopped dead and she almost crashed into him. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. ‘Enjoy your supper, Lizzie.’
‘I will.’
‘Perhaps I’ll see you later—’
Not if she could help it. She was going to stick to the original plan—keep her head down, work hard, do well, and then go home with her diploma and her pride intact, so she could set up a viable business. What was so attractive about a snarl and a swagger, anyway?
* * *
He couldn’t rest. The past wasn’t just back, it had punched him in the face, and he wasn’t in the mood for the raucous good humour of the cookhouse. He didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone, especially Lizzie Fane, and so he paced the vast, polished oak floor on the ground floor of his home as he tried to make sense of his feelings. He paused by the window where he could see across the yard to the cookhouse. What was she doing? Who was she with? He wasn’t fooled by her circumspect manner. Lizzie had turned her back on him once. When he was of no further use to her, would she do so again?
Probably, if he gave her the chance, which he wouldn’t.
So was Lizzie Fane a force to be reckoned with? He smiled at the thought of testing her out, but past events at Rottingdean stood between them. He couldn’t remember that time without being forced to accept that Lizzie had a damaged bloodline. Her father, Lord Reginald Fane, had been a dissolute pervert who beat his wife, while Lizzie’s mother had been a liar and a cheat. Only Lizzie’s grandmother, the Grand Duchess, had stood out like a beacon of light, but how much influence had the old lady brought to bear on Lizzie? Judging by Lizzie’s contempt for his many letters to her, very little, he guessed.
Horses were easier to breed than people, he concluded. You could be sure of a horse’s bloodline and its flaws. He’d been lucky that Eduardo had saved him, lifting him from the barrio like a drowning puppy in a sack in the river. Eduardo hadn’t just taught him everything Chico knew about horses, but how to live and work responsibly, and how to care for his fellow human beings. He’d taught him how to eat in a civilised manner, and how to behave in society. Losing Eduardo had been like losing a father—a good father.
Learning Eduardo had left him everything had been the biggest shock of his life. Eduardo’s last words had been to beg Chico to shrug off his past and learn from it, but how was he supposed to do that now that Lizzie Fane was back in his life? Leaving Lizzie twelve years ago had torn him up inside. How could they leave a fifteen-year-old child in the care of her nymphomaniac mother, and a violent, debauched father? he had asked Eduardo. He hadn’t known then what they had accused him of, or why Eduardo and Lizzie’s grandmother had been in such a hurry to get him away. He could still remember clutching his head as he raged about Lizzie’s situation for the whole of their journey back to Brazil.
‘It’s not your job to save Lizzie,’ Eduardo had told him firmly. ‘You have your career to think about, and Lord Fane is too powerful, too respected, for you to take him on.’
‘But I will one day,’ Chico had vowed.
‘No,’ Eduardo had told him flatly. ‘You will forget this and keep your mind on your work and your future career. And as far as Lizzie Fane is concerned, you will forget her too, and place your trust, as I have done, in Lizzie’s grandmother.’
Trust, he remembered agonising in mutinous teenage silence. What was that?
He knew now that trust was one of the most important parts of loving someone, and that Eduardo had trusted him like a son.
* * *
‘So?’ Danny demanded as she waited with Lizzie in the supper queue. ‘What happened with Chico?’
