CHAPTER TEN #3
‘Your sodding brother,’ Rosy was spitting at Rafe, any attempt to address him respectfully abandoned.
‘He pitched up, dumped his second horse, fully tacked up and covered in mud, in a stable next to his other one who he’d left in a similar state – and swanned off with some bimbo on a stupid-coloured horse.
He didn’t say a word – just handed me a poxy twenty-pound note as if he was doing me a great favour. The flaming cheek of the man!’
Sage fingered the note in her pocket in dread.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rafe, lifting his hands in mock surrender. ‘Really, I am. Louis is impossible sometimes. I’ll cover you an extra hour’s wage and have stern words with him.’
Rosy nodded, satisfied. She smiled at Rafe but it fell from her face as she had to brush past Sage as she finished packing up.
Rafe opened the passenger door of the Audi for Sage, but she stood indecisively for a moment.
‘My boots are filthy, Rafe – can I take them off?’
‘Why yes, m’lady.’ He went around the back of the car, from which he produced a wooden boot pull with a flourish.
‘You’ve thought of everything!’ said Sage as she started to prise her boots off; she had been wondering how on earth she was going to do so, given how tightly they fitted.
‘It’s not my first time.’ Rafe sounded solemn and nodded his head thoughtfully, but a playful smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
‘No, I can tell,’ said Sage, looking at him intently as he turned away.
Rafe started the engine and they fell into a comfortable silence.
She wanted to ask about the girlfriend in America, she wanted to ask about the groom with the catty attitude, she wanted to ask about his family, she wanted to ask if he liked her.
The questions burnt inside her. Instead, she asked something else that had been gnawing away at her.
‘What were you so angry with one of your lads about? He was riding a beautiful bay colt. You made him get off the horse and walk. What happened?’ The memory of Rafe’s hard face still haunted her but she was finding it harder and harder to match it with his calm, kind temperament.
Rafe looked at her curiously. ‘A few weeks ago?’
Sage nodded. Rafe continued in clipped, curt tones.
‘He was drunk, and I had already given him a warning. He was being heavy-handed on my best horse. The horse did not appreciate it and neither did I, so I sacked him.’ Rafe clearly had no regrets, and he was certainly not going to apologize for it; he turned and got into the car.
Sage understood. Turning up drunk to ride was unforgivable.
She stood alone in the dark stable yard, the freezing gravel biting into her stocking-clad feet. Bewildered by the intricate maze of her emotions, she gazed up at the full moon as fleeting wisps of cloud drifted across its cratered face, casting shadows that looked like wild geese on the wing.
They were quiet in the car. Rafe drove back to Newmarket quickly, softly swearing whenever traffic impeded his progress.
They sat with their arms barely an inch apart.
Rafe deftly wove his way through the other cars on the motorway and they soon turned off the A14.
Now that the adrenaline had faded she felt exhausted; her very bones ached after yesterday’s fall and an unaccustomed long day in the saddle.
She wondered if she had upset him. All she wanted now was to hold Hal’s comforting, solid little body close, eat something and then climb into a hot bath.
Rafe’s thoughts were almost entirely filled with horses: he had a couple of runners declared for Kempton the next day and needed to call their owners.
A day’s hunting was a real luxury these days, and he would be playing catch-up late into the night: he had emails to answer, vets’ reports to go through and race planning to get on top of.
Sage drank him in; she found herself wanting to lean over and touch his muscular arm that rested on the steering wheel.
Instead she settled for watching his handsome face as he focused on the fast-moving traffic.
She was relieved to see that she had not offended him as he caught her gaze and smiled at her, his eyes flashing in the darkness; she saw that he was just thoroughly absorbed in his own thoughts as he dialled another owner’s number.
Unable to help herself, she breathed in the intoxicating smell of him that hung in the charged air of the car, giddy with longing.
She was half-relieved when they finally turned into the driveway. In a few moments, she would say goodbye and the agony of not touching him would be over.
Rafe put the car into neutral, the engine idling, and turned to Sage. He did not bother to hide an impish grin.
‘Well, that was torturous,’ he said, exhaling.
‘Hell.’
Their eyes locked.
Sage leant across and placed a feather-light kiss on his cheek and then slipped out of the car. She could not bear to be so close to him, but as she walked up the steps to the house she realized that she hated moving away from him even more.