CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #3
Sage walked further up the path that ran along the top of the hill.
She had blown it. It was surely all too much drama for Rafe.
Noble, kind, honest, beautiful Rafe. He would not want to upset her and he would never behave in an ungentlemanly manner, but the last few days must have been such a lot to contend with on top of the pressures of training.
She knew that it had been too good to be true. Her heart ached with sorrow.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she dialled her grandparents’ number.
‘Hello?’
‘Maggie. It’s Sage.’ She almost crumbled at the sound of Maggie’s warm, reassuring voice.
‘Oh, love, are you all right?’ cried Maggie, her Irish burr encasing Sage in long-distance affection.
‘Yes, yes, we’re fine. Is Gammy there, please? I really need to talk to her.’
‘I’ll go now and get her from down below, she’s in the drawing room.
’ There was a clatter as Maggie put down the telephone; Sage envisaged her bustling out to the elegant room where Betsy’s cup of coffee and papers were laid out on her desk every morning.
After a few moments, the receiver was picked up again.
‘Sage, darling. Are you there?’ Betsy asked urgently, her gentle voice fraught with worry.
‘I’m here, Gammy.’
‘Oh, Sage … We have been so worried about you, my love. We haven’t known how to get hold of you. Your phone has just been spouting that infernal message at me – it hasn’t even been ringing. Where are you, anyway? Rafe said that you were up in Scotland, of all places.’
‘Yes.’ Sage felt her stomach lurch at the mention of Rafe. ‘We’re fine but I want to come home. Has Santiago been about, or has he finally pushed off?’
‘I think he’s gone, darling. Casper was here earlier, and he said that Santiago has checked out of the hotel. It would be wonderful if you could come back.’
‘I’ll come home soon, Gammy. But I have to make sure it’s safe for all of you.’
‘We’re fine, I promise. Skylark needs you though, Sage – she’s dumped her lad three days on the trot, and your grandfather is pulling what’s left of his hair out! Casper’s racing up at Musselburgh tomorrow, perhaps he could bring you back down? We all miss you terribly.’
‘I’ll try him now, Gammy. I miss you too. See you soon.’ Sage hastily hung up before her voice cracked again. Taking a fortifying gulp of cold air into her lungs, she called Casper.
‘Sage! Thank Christ, your bloody phone—’
‘Cas, if I can get to Musselburgh racecourse tomorrow afternoon, can you drive me and Hal back to Newmarket?’ she asked without preamble.
‘Sure – I’m riding in the last but we can leave straight after that,’ Casper replied, his instincts telling him not to fire the many burning questions he had at his twin. He limited himself to a quick, ‘Are you OK, Sage?’
‘I’m fine. See you tomorrow, Cas. Thank you.
’ They might be able to sort things out in person, she thought.
How would she find the way to tell him that Santiago had threatened to turn his life upside down?
It was she who had brought Santiago into their lives, so maybe she would be able to fix it without telling Casper.
Her brother, who was only ever kind and supportive to her, did not deserve to be tarnished with Santiago’s vile attempts at blackmail and intimidation.
There was so much pressure on him at the moment, she knew this could destabilize him.
While starving and struggling with his weight he drove the length and breadth of the country on a daily basis to risk his life, sometimes six times a day.
He also had to be constantly polite and coherent to his owners and trainers, even after being buried in the mud at forty miles per hour.
Most people wouldn’t be able to get out of bed for a week afterwards, let alone have an animated business conversation about why the horse did not win.
The last thing he needed was this huge added worry.
Sage fixed her sights on the horizon. Perhaps she might have an idea how to stop Santiago herself, with no need to tell her brother anything.
She looked down at the billows and folds of the earth below her, from which all the colour and warmth seemed to have been washed away.
Rolling banks of blue and grey storm-lit cloud had covered the sun completely.
The birdsong had quietened. It felt eerie and lonely quite suddenly and Sage, shivering, turned and fled back along the path to find Kestrel and Hal.
They were peacefully packing away the sandwiches and glasses into the saddle baskets.
‘A storm is brewing,’ Kestrel decreed, looking at her shrewdly. ‘We must hurry down or we’ll get stuck in the middle of it.’
Hal laughed as Kestrel chivvied Goose into a trot.
The wicker hampers protested; they shrieked and wobbled precariously, making their contents clink and clatter while Hal sat majestically between them atop the sure-footed, steaming beast. He calmly raised his eyes to heaven as the first large drops of rain slowly spattered down on them.
‘We are going to get wet, Mumma,’ he said wryly in his sweet, clear voice.