Romancing the Soul

by Sarah Tranter

  Realising he was going to have to attempt to take control of Susie’s horse, George approached in an arc. Drawing alongside, he uttered a prayer to the heavens, as he gathered his own reins in one hand, and reached across with his other hand to retrieve Susie’s. It took several attempts but he managed to keep his own horse under control and, when he finally had her reins in his grasp, he gradually pulled them up to bring the horse to a measured stop, rather than one which would see Susie catapulted through the air. The other three riders circled, helping to contain the horse. It was slowing, slowing. It had stopped. And Susie was still in one piece.

  Only now did George’s body start to shake uncontrollably. That fear that plagued him … He could have lost her. She could be dead. He could have lost her because of her own stupid, bloody-minded foolishness.

  The horse had stopped. Oh thank God. She wasn’t going to die. She was going to see George again. How ridiculously tragic would that have been? To have died now, just as she’d found him. It would have been just her luck. And he wouldn’t have been happy with her. He presently seemed as scared of losing her as she was of losing him. Perhaps it was catching?

  He need never know. If she told him, he’d never teach her to ride. Not that she felt like riding again at this precise moment, or indeed on this precise horse. It was all the bitch’s fault. If Porsche hadn’t turned up and issued the challenge to her horse, then none of this would have happened. But it was over now. And she wasn’t dead.

  Susie concentrated on the task in hand. It would be good to remove her hands from the horse’s mane and unclench her eyes right now. When nothing happened, she decided on taking things more slowly … Mmmm. Perhaps she’d just stay in this position a little longer and let her heartbeat slow down a smidgen and give her traumatised brain a tad longer to send the message through to her hands and eyes.

  ‘Susie?’ There was that dreamy voice. The one that reached so deep. She really wasn’t functioning properly. Shock, which no doubt accounted for the tingling, too, although just thinking of George could set that off. Or perhaps she’d fallen asleep on the bloody horse. It was, after all, taking an inordinate amount of time to get her body working again.

  ‘Susie? Let go of the mane, sweetheart.’

  ‘What exactly do you think I’m trying to do? Or do you think I’d choose to sit here frozen to the spot on this big, stinking …’ and he really stank, ‘beast that just tried to kill me? Why don’t you try and ask me to open my eyes, too?’

  A pair of wonderfully strong hands wrapped themselves around hers and began to pry each of her fingers from the mane. Ah ha. Who needed your own body when someone else’s was at hand? Particularly one that managed to make her body go all …

  And what do you know? That thought was enough to make her eyes snap open. She immediately shut them again.

  ‘Not happy to see me, sweetheart?’

  Those hands wound their way around her waist and she found herself being pulled off the horse and set to the ground. It was a good job they wrapped themselves around her so tightly because her legs were not performing. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, too, but they weren’t performing either. She rested her head against his chest, inhaled his scent and felt his chest rise and fall. It was rising and falling very rapidly. His heart was pounding, too.

  ‘Don’t ever do that to me again!’ he urged in her ear. Despite his voice sounding shaky, it had the force behind it of an order.

  ‘I don’t intend to,’ she squeaked, knowing what was coming next.

  But he took his time. She was impressed. But no matter how nice it was to be held like this, it wasn’t at all nice to anticipate what was coming next.

  ‘Go on!’ she cried. ‘Tell me how bloody stupid I am! Shout at me, please. I’d rather we get it over with because you’re killing me here. This calm before the storm stuff is worse than anything you could scream at me!’

  His arms clenched tighter around her. Gently, but in a voice threatening to break, he said, ‘You weren’t even wearing a hat.’

  ‘I forgot. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. If I’d known how it would all turn out I wouldn’t have … I just wanted to surprise you with how good I was getting.’

  George raised her chin and stared into her eyes. Oh, that connection. It was there pretty much all of the time now, even when she wasn’t looking into his eyes. But the extra kick was incredible.

  ‘You terrified me,’ he confessed and she could see it there in his eyes. ‘I have never been more scared in my life. Promise me you will never do that to me again.’

  ‘I’m not planning on it,’ she said, attempting to lighten the mood, but his eyes only darkened.

  ‘That’s not good enough, Susie. Promise me here and—’

  His words cut off as a gun sounded. They must be doing the shooting party scene again. Susie felt a breathtaking blow to her back. She was falling to the ground. And then pain shot through her head.

  ‘Susie? Susie? Sweetheart can you hear me?’

  There was that voice again, but it was sounding desperate, so desperate. Oh George. She hated him sounding like that.

  ‘Get the medic now!’ it screamed.

  And there were those hands. They were stroking her face so gently. But owwwww! Her back was killing her and her head felt like Mike Tyson had been let loose on it. She gritted her teeth against the pain and made to sit up. Her eyes were shut. She opened those, too.

  ‘Susie? Dear God. Don’t move.’

  She was being pushed back down, but didn’t want to be down. She was lying on her back and it hurt and … what had just happened? She started shoving the hands away, even though she knew they were George’s. She didn’t want him to start thinking she was some kind of invalid or something.

  ‘Let me up. I’m fine. My back hurts, I have a bit of a headache, but I’m fine. What happened?’

  ‘Susie.’ Despite the warning note to that voice, it still reverberated through her doing that X-rated thing.

  ‘Don’t Susie me. Let me up!’

  ‘You were knocked unconscious and you’ve blood streaming down your face. You’re going to do one bloody thing I ask here without arguing or God help me—’

  ‘Or God help you what, George? You’re going to need more than God’s help if you don’t stop pushing me back down again. Please! I’m fine.’

  ‘Or God help me, I’m going to have to tell you how much I love you and ask you to marry me!’

  Oh George. And there was nothing for it. Nothing at all. ‘I love you, too, for what it’s worth and yes please. Although, are you really sure? Divorces are expensive. And before I black out, I’m coming to the premiere.’

  Everything went black.

  George sat by the bed staring at a sleeping Susie. Possible concussion, severe bruising to her back and ribs, but the doctor insisted she should be fine. Both times she’d lost consciousness was for less than a minute, but each time George thought he’d lost her and it had been pure, unadulterated agony. No wonder the fear haunted him. If he lost her, his heart couldn’t … He could honestly say, it would kill him.

  Susie was playing it all down, not at all happy with the attention. But she hadn’t been standing where he had. Hadn’t seen the horse – his horse at that – panic at the shots and rear up. By the time he saw what was happening and covered Susie, while the other men brought the horse under control, the hooves had done their damage.

  And she’d lain there, so pale, so still, blood pouring down her face from a head wound. He’d doubted he could live through that again. And then she’d damned well done it to him again. The bloody woman! After saying she loved him and would marry him.

  But divorce? They were definitely going to talk. He knew her fears but – Jesus! He could never leave her. Never betray her. He thought he’d reassured her on that front.

 
Unless of course she was talking about leaving him? Fuck! They would talk as a matter of urgency. Straight after he’d covered every square inch of her in the tenderest of kisses to remind himself she was still alive.

  George poured himself another coffee from the flask. The doctor had suggested observation for twenty-four hours. He wasn’t going to take his eyes off her, not for a second.

  And he’d been right about the bodyguards, despite feeling guilty as hell for employing them. Call it a sixth sense, call it a simple response to his irrational fear, call it – God he didn’t know what to call it – but without them today, he’d never have been there and … he couldn’t allow himself to think of what might have resulted.

  George ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his forehead furiously. He was going to have to call Cassie, too. He’d picked up a message from her earlier. Made before the accident it seemed. She’d insisted it wasn’t safe for Susie to ride.

  And he needed to know just how the bloody hell she had known that?

  Saturday

  Vow to me now Hannah, you will NEVER put yourself at such risk again – if not to save your own neck, but mine!

  My darling, I can stand it no more. My place is there at your bedside, not beside myself with worry and helpless here! No more secrets, I beg of you. I will manage the talk and your mama and papa.

  Promise to marry me now! The Montague Ball is a week away. Be on my arm, my love. Let me finally cry from the rooftops, I beg of you!

  Yours forever, Freddie

  My dearest darling Freddie,

  Yes! Yes! Yes! Let us be wed now, my love, so I can be in heaven upon this earth every second of every day. Our separation is too big a price, together we will stand tall.

  Be reassured, I am quite well and not remotely lost to you. Nor will I ever be. My love for you is so great that should we ever be parted in this life, I will find you in the next. We will always be together, my Freddie.

  Pray forgive me my utter foolishness? I only hoped to surprise you with my improved seat upon a horse. The encounter with Miss Argylle and her brother’s shots were merely bad luck. And the vow is yours. I will now ride only with you at my side, for I would do everything with you at my side.

  I will be at your ball, Freddie, but cannot help but fret about everyone’s reaction. I know I can never be good enough to be seen upon your arm. Pray for me, Freddie, so that I may not disappoint and that I may make you proud.

  Do we meet as planned on the morrow? I need to hold you again within my arms. It is a necessary medicine and will revive me as nothing else. You are my life tonic Freddie, and I am much in need of my missed doses. I am quite, quite well and beg of you not to deny me our lesson. Fencing feels so daring and you look so very dashing.

  Eternally yours, Hannah

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘I can’t keep avoiding his calls! What do I tell him?’ It was Monday morning and a desperate Cassie watched George’s number flash up on her mobile yet again.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rachael said, taking a bite from a golden-syrup smothered cream cracker. She sat mirroring Cassie’s position at the other end of the sofa, her back resting against the side of the arm, her feet up. ’I really don’t,’ she continued through her mouthful.

  ‘Will you watch the crumbs?’ Cassie snapped. ‘How you got past thirty living on that crap I don’t know.’

  ‘Suse. She did the cooking. But I’m afraid George’s calls are pretty inevitable after you warned him off the horse.’

  ‘You warned Susie, too!’

  ‘Yep. But, it’s not Suse calling is it? She never asks me for any explanations. And note how much notice she took of my warning.’ Rachael released a frustrated sounding sigh before haphazardly brushing off yet more crumbs from her person and reaching down to pick up a large plate from the floor by the sofa, which she proffered. It held a number of crackers with an extraordinary array of multicoloured toppings. Cassie rapidly shook her head. Particularly as she’d seen what went on them.

  ‘I’ve got to tell him,’ Cassie groaned. ‘I’ve no choice. They have to be warned. But … but … Just how the hell am I supposed to tell him history is repeating itself and that if it continues to do so …? Oh God! And this is all happening because of me! If I hadn’t started this story …’

  Rachael shook her head and abandoned the crackers. ‘You can’t tell him all that and you know it. And you have to stop jumping the gun here, Cassie. You’re worried, I get that. But it will stop. Very shortly. Because it has to. You could warn him off Michael and Porsche, tell him what you’ve found out.’ She looked pointedly at Cassie’s phone; on silent mode, it was flashing up George’s number again. ‘But that would of course involve talking to him. And in any event, from what I gather, he already knows your views on those two. As for the rest? Providing the explanation he’s no doubt after? Even I’m struggling with history repeating itself so imagine what his reaction will be. He’d most likely never listen to a word you say to him ever again. And all over something you don’t know has or is happening.’ Rachael shook her head rapidly as Cassie went to interrupt. ‘You don’t know! And before you suggest it, I’ve not a hope of talking to Suse. She wouldn’t even give me the time of day on this. We reached an agreement on that front a long time ago. A decade ago to be precise.

  ‘And here’s the thing. I’m not even sure it’s safe to tell them about this stuff. Look what happened in the consulting room. They don’t remember Hannah and Freddie and that’s got to be for a reason. And with Susie’s hang-ups? Whose to know she wouldn’t still run away screaming and never come back?’

  Cassie again saw George lying unconscious on the floor of Rachael’s consulting room. She felt her accompanying terror afresh. It hadn’t been down to the regression because Susie had lost consciousness too. Could that happen again? Could telling him be dangerous? And could Susie leave him? What would that do to him?

  ‘This is hell!’ she cried, clutching her head in her hands. ‘I’m powerless and … and … I’m never powerless! There has to be something I can do!’

  If only she could find a way to remove Michael and Porsche from the equation. But she’d found nothing in her investigations to date that could secure that. Which was the only thing that would give her peace of mind right now.

  ‘I’ll grant that what you’ve found isn’t good,’ Rachael said.

  ‘Isn’t good?’ Cassie shrieked. ‘Isn’t good!’

  Rachael had the good grace to grimace. ‘No. Not good. Not good at all but—’

  ‘The parallels between the past and the present are horrific, Rachael. We already knew Porsche wants George, as Prudence wanted Freddie. All those things she said in the press about Susie are a complete giveaway. But just as Prudence was fragile, Porsche has seen shrinks galore! She’s exactly the kind of person Matthew – or Michael! – would have a field day with.’

  Cassie had a hunch there was more to find out about Porsche. Some kind of history between her and George that Cassie’s research hadn’t revealed. If only she could talk to George. Not that it would change a damned thing. The woman wanted him, just as before. And look how that had turned out!

  ‘George has got her sussed though, Cassie. He’s refusing to spend time with her so is already on to her which—’

  ‘But what about Michael?’ Cassie wailed. ‘He’s been his manager for years. And he’s a master manipulator just like Matthew was!’ She took a deep breath as she recalled what she’d found out about Michael’s failed marriage and the psychological games he’d played. His ex-wife was still in counselling nine years on! And as for his motive … Cassie pictured her notepad. Under the heading of ‘Matthew’ she’d scribbled down what Kathryn knew had driven him in the past: gambling debts; significant financial losses from the 1825 crash; in desperate financial straits. She’d been forming a list entitled ‘Michael’ this w
eek, adding to it as she discovered more. She swallowed hard. She’d been forced to write: ‘gambling debts’ and ‘significant financial losses from a series of overseas property investments due to the recent global crash.’ His bank balance was in the red to the tune of millions and the banks were calling in their loans.

  She’d also had to add ‘drugs’ to Michael’s list. His expensive drug habit was only compounding his financial difficulties. But no matter how hard she’d looked, she’d found nothing on that front that was capable of getting him locked up. She took a deep shuddery breath because what her searching had revealed was the nature of some of the underworld characters he owed money to. They would soon start baying for more than their money, if they weren’t already doing so.

  ‘We don’t know Michael is acting on things,’ Rachael said. ‘Just because he’s—’

  ‘He’s got to be as desperate as Matthew was! He’s in dire financial straits. And if George reduces the number of films he does to spend more time with Susie, then—’

  ‘Cassie! Will you please stop this! We don’t even know they were involved in what’s just happened! It doesn’t look good and the two of them being around is … unsettling, but—’

  ‘It still played out!’ Cassie cried. ‘Without us! Why else—?’

  ‘We don’t know it’s played out! It may simply have been Suse wanting to learn to ride, just as she did in the past; a personality trait that has carried through into this life which would make it … coincidence. Stop looking at me like that. We don’t know what happened so there’s zero point in panicking. You’ve been avoiding George so can’t get the facts from him and Susie refused to elaborate when we spoke. In fact, I got very little sense out of her. It was all about a “bloody stinking horse” and something about shire horse flatteners.’