“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Mo – although, as much as she hated to admit it, the get-up certainly suited him. The cap was maybe taking it to extremes though.
“You’re blushing, Miss Tremaine,” he teased. “Is it the breeches? I’d have worn them before if I’d had any idea you’d be so easily won over. Although, come to think of it, I seem to remember you rather liked the ones I wore at that masked ball too. Is it that Darcy thing?”
His long, lean yet strong thighs were made for tight breeches. Never mind Mr Darcy: with the boots and the crop and those saturnine features, Ashley could certainly rock the Poldark look. Mo dragged her eyes away from his snaky hips and strong shoulders, furious with herself for the knots of desire tightening in her belly.
“It’s the most impractical kit I’ve ever seen,” she snapped. “Those breeches will be filthy in minutes.”
“Now you’re talking.” Ashley’s eyes darkened. “Let’s get filthy. Hay barn or loose box, Red? It’s your call.”
Mo ignored his suggestive comment and returned her focus to forking dirty straw into her barrow.
“You can grab a fork and lend a hand in here shovelling up horse crap,” she told him. “That’s the only filthy action you’ll be having with me.”
“God, I love it when you talk dirty, Mo.” He leaned on the stable door. “I’ll decline if that’s all right with you.”
Mo dumped a huge fork load of muck into her barrow. “I wouldn’t expect anything else. Hard work isn’t your thing, is it?”
“Oh, hard work is fine and I’m more than happy to shovel shit,” said Ashley. “It’s just that from where I’m standing there’s a great view of your arse in those tight jeans.”
Mo straightened up instantly, only to see Ashley convulsed with laughter. “You, Red, are far too easy to tease.” Grabbing a spare fork, he stepped into Mr Dandy’s loose box and began to help, albeit in a rather clumsy and unpractised fashion.
“Try and leave some straw. It’s four quid a bale,” she said, choosing to ignore his last comment.
“Blimey.” Ashley gazed at his laden fork. “Now I’m starting to wish I hadn’t gone into property development and had bought a straw farm instead.”
Mo’s lip curled. “You’re such a townie. There’s no such thing as a straw farm. Straw is just the stalk leftovers of crops. The leftovers from farming.”
“Even better again,” he said mildly. “There aren’t any leftovers from what I do.”
“And what exactly do you do?” Mo demanded. “Other than ripping houses apart and then selling them for extortionate sums?”
“Nothing, apart from exactly that. I couldn’t have put it better myself, except that I don’t do the ripping bit, of course. I leave that to the likes of the Pollards.”
Mo tossed another pile of muck into the barrow. “So while they’re doing the hard work what do you do all day long? Lie in bed?”
It was odd, but as she said this it seemed to Mo that a shadow flitted across Ashley’s face.
“Something like that,” was all he mumbled.
“Well, nice for some,” said Mo. She grabbed the handles of her barrow and trundled it to the muck heap, calling over her shoulder, “While you’ve been lazing around for the past forty-eight hours, getting over the excitement of going out to sea, some of us have been working. It’s what us serfs do.”
“Nice to know you missed me, Red,” said Ashley. “I’m touched you’ve been counting the hours down.”
Mo snorted and tipped the muck, imagining that it was raining down on Ashley’s smug head in its silly Barbour cap. It was true that she hadn’t heard from Ashley since their boat trip, but this didn’t bother her in the slightest. She certainly hadn’t read anything into that kiss at all or thought about it since.
Not that much, anyway.
She marched the barrow back towards Mr Dandy’s stable, but Ashley was blocking the door.
“You can run me over in a minute,” he told her, “but just listen to what I’ve got to say first, will you? You never know, you may even like it.” His eyes creased as he added, “After all, not all of my ideas are bad, are they? I think you had a good time the other day.”
“It was all right,” Mo admitted grudgingly. Actually the dolphin-watching trip had been great fun and she’d loved every minute, but there was no way she was letting Ashley Carstairs know this. Mo was already surprised he could fit a cap on that big head of his.
“So trust me on this one, then. Put that wheelbarrow away, and let’s go.” Energy seemed to crackle from him – a nervous and urgent energy at odds with his usual laid-back and mocking demeanour.
Giving up, she dropped the barrow with a clatter. Mr Dandy, tethered outside the stable and pulling at a hay net, shot her a reproving look.
“Go where?”
Ashley sighed. “You really need to improve those listening skills, Mo. I thought I’d just told you? I want to buy a horse, so I’m hiring you as my consultant.” He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and started scrolling down the page. “There’s a couple I’ve picked out. If we get cracking now we can be there by lunchtime.”
“You seriously want to buy a horse?” Mo couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “What on earth for?”
“To ride. What else?”
“But you don’t ride,” Mo pointed out. “Minor detail, I know, but quite important in the general scheme of things.”
“Always looking for a problem, Red. That’s where you come in. You’re going to teach me and have the horse on livery.”
The nerve of him! “Oh, I am, am I? Nice of you to run it past me first and check that I have room or even the time.”
Even as she was saying this, Mo knew just how ridiculous she sounded. Cashley might not be able to tell one end of a horse from the other, but even he knew what an empty loose box looked like – and it was only too obvious that there were plenty of those. As for time, with Mr Dandy out of action for the season Mo would have more than enough spare hours to teach a client, and God only knew she could do with the extra money. She was dreading the feed merchant’s next bill.
Ashley shrugged. “Fine. I’ll just pop over to Leeza Walls’ yard then and ask her.”
Leeza Walls ran a yard five miles away. With her indoor school, brand new American barn and horse walker, she was Mo’s biggest rival. Most of Mo’s liveries had already defected. Leeza was also blonde and busty and made Mo feel like an awkward schoolgirl still wearing a training bra. Whether or not he knew it, and she suspected that he did, Ashley had just played an ace. There was no way Mo was letting Leeza have any more of her business. Or get her mitts on Ashley.
“Oh all right then, although I must be mad,” she grumbled, returning to the barrow and collecting a bale of straw. Trundling it back into the stable, she added over her shoulder, “If you really want to do this then you’d better have somebody with you who knows what they’re doing, or else you’ll come home with a three-legged donkey.”
He grinned. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Mo, busy scattering straw onto rubber mats, said, “Any horse dealer would see from a mile off that you haven’t a clue what you’re looking for. Let me do the talking.”
He saluted. “Sir. Yes, sir!”
“Instead of taking the piss, how about you grab a fork and lay this bed?”
“You want me to lay you? Christ, I’d have bought a horse years ago if I knew this was the effect it has on women! The straw could be a bit prickly though. Maybe your caravan is a better idea?”
She shoved the fork at him and ignored the comment. The way he was looking at her was making Mo feel hot all over. Remembering that he was just being his usual mocking self, she said tartly, “I mean start fluffing out the straw and getting the stable ready. You’d better get used to it. Horses are hard work and there are a lot of chores.”
“I thought that’s what you’re for,” Ashley pointed out mildly, but he did as he was told anyway while Mo watched him, her a
rms folded, barking instructions about how to make banks and to fluff up the straw so that Mr Dandy had a soft, deep bed. By the time he was finished Ashley seemed exhausted. His face was white and he looked ready to collapse. Honestly! What a wimp, thought Mo. He’d never cope with owning a horse. She’d humour him until he got bored and changed his mind, just like Ella had. Until then, the extra livery money would come in very handy.
Once Mr Dandy’s bed was finished to Mo’s satisfaction and the yard was swept, Ashley sank onto a bale of straw, put his head in his hands and inhaled deeply.
“Blimey,” said Mo. “I thought you went to the gym?”
He looked up and gave her a suggestive glance, marred a little by the pain that dulled his eyes. “So you have noticed my amazing physique then?”
Actually, Mo had – but she wasn’t ever going to admit it. “I just thought it was something you city boys did in between driving sports cars and twanging your braces.”
“And saying lunch is for wimps?” Ashley asked. “You’re very eighties, Morwenna.”
“And you’re very out of condition!”
He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I’ve got a headache today, that’s all.”
Mo checked the kick bolt on Mr Dandy’s door and scratched her horse’s neck. “Hangover?”
“Hmm, something like that.” Ashley was delving into his gilet pocket and pulling out a bottle of pills. Necking two dry, he added, “So you’ll have to drive us, I think.”
“My Discovery’s off the road at the moment.” Mo felt pretty bleak about this. It would be at least another week until she could afford a mechanic to fix it. She’d been using Jake’s Ranger when she could, but he needed that for work – and trying to cram bales of hay into Granny Alice’s Fiesta was something of a challenge.
“So we’ll take my Range Rover,” said Ashley. “It’s parked in the entrance to Fernside.” He gave her a wry grin. “Unless the new owner’s had it towed away?”
“It’s still there,” Mo assured him. She’d been suffering serious car envy for the past few weeks. The sleek black Range Rover Sport was perfect for towing and yard duties; it seemed a terrible waste for it to be left abandoned under a layer of leaves.
“Then we’re sorted,” Ashley said. “Let’s go.” He stood up from his bale, looking rather shaky. Lord, thought Mo, that was one evil hangover. Next time she was in The Ship she was sticking to orange juice.
Being perpetually strapped for cash, Mo was used to driving ancient vehicles that spluttered and jolted and coughed their uncertain way around the Cornish lanes. Her old and poorly maintained Discovery had a habit of sticking in third gear and belching clouds of black smoke everywhere it went. So Ashley’s brand new Range Rover was a revelation, a bit like riding a big warmblood dressage horse after years of carting about on Bubbles. The seats were supple black leather and cradled her with the tenderness of a lover as she enjoyed the cool of the air con and the rich tones of the sound system. The car glided along as though on oiled tracks, its gears making easy work of the steep hills. The power steering was fingertip-light too. All in all this felt less like driving and more like having a first-class seat on a luxury jet. As she cruised the leafy lanes, Mo despaired: now that she’d experienced such luxury, she was ruined for life.
“Turn left,” said Ashley, who was navigating. “Then first right.”
Mo did as he said. He’d been very mysterious about where they were going, but she’d been having so much fun driving that it hadn’t really mattered. Cashley buying a horse was a crazy idea anyway – but in Mo’s experience people with more money than sense tended to do crazy things all the time, so who was she to argue? But all of a sudden, like somebody surfacing from a pleasant dream, Mo realised exactly where they were.
“This is Alex Ennery’s yard,” she said slowly.
“Certainly is,” agreed Ashley. “That’s where the horse is that we’re looking at today.”
Mo stopped the car with a jolt. “You never said we were coming here.”
“You never asked,” Ashley pointed out reasonably. “Why? Is there a problem?”
The quick answer was a resounding yes. Alex Ennery was a local eventer: handsome, talented and loaded, having been born with a silver spoon as well as a plum in his mouth. Beyond the ornate gates to his yard, rolling paddocks edged with solid post-and-rail fences stretched away as far as the eye could see. The land was dotted with quality horses as lean and as fit as Olympians. With its professional cross-country course, vast arena and giant horse walkers, Alex’s set-up was as far from Mo’s ten acres, tangles of electric fencing and homemade jumps as it was possible for a yard to be.
Mo didn’t have an issue with this, apart from the odd twinge of jealousy, and she didn’t have a problem with Alex either. Alex was fortunate to have a rich daddy bankrolling him, which made all the difference in the world of three-day eventing. He was a bit of an upper-class twit at times, but he was generally good fun and could ride too. No, Alex was fine. The problem Mo had was that Alex was now in possession of The Bandmaster: in a fit of spite, the horse’s owner, Ella, had taken Bandy from Mo’s yard to Alex’s. In Ella’s mind, this was what Mo deserved for allowing her eldest brother, Jake, to turn Ella down. Mo had adored Bandy and losing him had broken her heart.
She’d cried more tears over that horse than she ever had over any ex-boyfriend. How would it feel to see Bandy today and know that he was lost to her? Would he still whinny to her for a treat or would he have forgotten her? And what would be worse?
Ashley’s hand covered hers as it rested on the handbrake, and squeezed gently. “Is something wrong?”
Mo struggled to swallow the lump that had appeared in her throat. Oh God, she was being ridiculous. Wasn’t don’t get attached the golden rule of working with horses? She had to get a grip here and be professional. Slipping her hand from beneath his, Mo shook her head and put the car into drive. She could do this. She was here as a consultant and she had to do her job. Besides, there would be nothing at Alex’s that would work for a novice rider. They’d be out of here in ten minutes and hopefully she wouldn’t even see Bandy. She could keep it together for that long.
At least, Mo hoped she could.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Really fine? Or woman ‘fine’?”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Really fine. Come on, let’s go and see this horse. If it’s one of Alex’s it’s bound to be totally unsuitable, so it won’t take us long anyway.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” said Ashley, settling back into his seat and watching the drive to Alex’s yard unpeel. “Just you wait! You’ll be surprised.”
“Hmm,” muttered Mo. She wasn’t a fan of surprises.
“Morwenna, darling!” brayed Alex when Mo clambered out of the Range Rover. Clad in spotless white breeches and a navy polo shirt, he was striding across the immaculate yard; rumour had it that his grooms scrubbed the cobbles on their hands and knees. He held out a large paw to Ashley. “Thrilled to see you both!”
Mo ducked her head hastily as Alex advanced. She’d once made the mistake of not being quick enough and had discovered that he snogged like a washing machine on spin cycle.
When hands had been shaken and cheeks had been kissed, Alex stepped back and beamed at them. “So, when are you taking this beast off my hands then?”
Mo rolled her eyes. Typical Alex, jumping the gun and assuming this was a done deal. She supposed that was public-school confidence for you.
“Calm down,” she scolded. “I need to ride the horse first.”
But Alex looked puzzled. “Haven’t you ridden it enough times already? Anyway, I thought you liked the animal? I can’t get a tune out of the bloody thing to save my life. To be honest I was relieved when Ella said she’d sold it on.”
“Alex, what on earth are you going on about?” Mo asked, starting to feel irritated. “This is nothing to do with Ella. I’m looking at a horse for Ashley. A schoolmaster, preferably.” To Ashl
ey, she added, “This is a waste of everyone’s time. Alex breaks and schools eventers; they’re no use for a novice. It would be like trying to learn to drive in a Ferrari.”
Alex looked from Ashley to Mo and began to hoot with laughter. “Aha! I get it. You haven’t told her, have you? Good luck, mate. I’ll just stand back and enjoy the fireworks.”
“Told me what?” asked Mo. She turned to Ashley, who was grinning down at her and looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t go mad, Red,” he said, “but I haven’t been one hundred percent straight with you. The truth is, I’d already bought the horse.”
Mo goggled at him. “You’ve bought a horse without even seeing it? Are you insane?”
Ashley shrugged. “Probably, Red, but I have been for a while now; ever since I got involved with you, actually. Besides, you’ve already seen the horse I wanted and I know you’ll like him.” He was still smiling at her. “Oh, Mo. Haven’t you guessed? I’ve bought myself a three-day eventer, and because I only ever buy the best I’ve made sure that I’ve chosen one you approve of. One you’ve told me over and over again is destined for the top.”
Mo stared at him. Her heart was racing as hope started to gallop through her body. Surely not…
Why would he…
“You’ve worked it out, haven’t you?” Ashley said softly. As he spoke there was a look in his eyes that made her pulse skitter and her knees grow shaky.
“The Bandmaster’s back, Mo. Your horse is coming home to Polwenna Bay!”
Chapter 8
“You’re crazy,” Mo told Ashley once they’d left the yard and Alex behind. “Off your head. Barking. Nuts. Mental.”
He flashed her a wolfish grin. “Probably, but wasn’t that fun?”
A Time for Living: Polwenna Bay 2 Page 7