No way was she going to admit that he wasn’t making any sense at all, that nobody around here told her a frigging thing. She really was going to give Rory a mouthful when he got back to the yard. How could he not tell her that he was expecting a film crew? What was it, a documentary on what a star-in-the-making he was, or just some other Tipping House promotion? And they had more than enough horses already. They’d better not be expecting her to muck out even more stables. ‘Well, there are a couple of boxes free, the horses Rory lost, but I’m not sure if he’s got other plans for them. I mean it isn’t really up to me, if you haven’t already agreed it with him. You need to check with him, really.’
‘Rory?’
‘It’s his yard.’
‘Oh.’ Xander frowned. ‘I thought it was part of the estate?’
‘It is.’ It was her turn to feel confused now.
‘Which is run by Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe?’
‘Oh no, it’s Lottie and Rory, her husband, that do all this. Elizabeth’s quite old. She doesn’t have anything to do with the yard.’
‘Lottie?’
‘Lottie’s her granddaughter. Lottie Brinkley, I mean Steel.’
‘Brinkley? Charlotte Brinkley?’
‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’
‘The daughter of that show-jumper?’
This would be funny if it wasn’t so confusing, Tab decided. And if he wasn’t so hot. In fact, if he hadn’t been so good-looking she’d have chased him out of the yard with the pitchfork by now. Tilly the terrier was ace at chasing idiots off the premises – she was unbeatable when it came to ankle-nipping. ‘Yeah, she’s Billy’s daughter. Why, do you know her?’
‘I might.’
‘Elizabeth’s like her gran on her mother’s side, but her mum died years ago.’ Tab shrugged. ‘Which is why she gets the place. And she’s Steel now,’ she could have sworn there was a flicker of irritation across those beautiful features. And despite the fact that she shouldn’t enjoy being the bearer of bad news (if that’s what it was), she was actually quite pleased, ‘since she married Rory.’ She’d scream if he was just here because he was after Lottie. She thought about adding, ‘Who she loves very dearly’ but decided that might be over the top.
‘Ahh. I had better go and find this Rory, then, I suppose. Any hints?’
‘He’s out teaching, but Lottie’s in. She’s up at the house.’ Tab waved vaguely in the direction of the yard entrance.
‘I suppose I better go and ask her, then.’
He didn’t look too enthusiastic, thought Tab. ‘She’s very nice, but you already know that, don’t you? I’m sure she’ll say yes. I mean I would.’ Oh God, I would, I would. ‘I can take you there if you want.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure I’ll find it.’
Which anybody but an idiot would, thought Tab. Who could miss a bloody big mansion that was literally yards away?
‘Catch you later. Thanks for the help.’
‘Any time.’ She was talking to his back as he strode off, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have a clue who he was, why on earth he’d want to stable his horses here, or why he seemed so reluctant to talk to Lottie. But it didn’t matter. He said he’d catch her later, which meant she’d see him again.
Chapter 9
‘Are you expecting somebody, babe? We’re not in your way are we?’ Sam, who had been busy filling Lottie in on just how many children she intended presenting her darling husband with, paused mid-sentence at the sound of the doorbell.
‘Not that I know of.’ Lottie frowned up, from where she was crouched on all-fours on the floor pretending to be a horse. ‘Unless it’s somebody with an offer for the house that I just can’t refuse, but I can.’ She sighed. ‘Why do people think that everybody has a price?’
‘Cos they usually do, hun. It’s okay, don’t you worry about it, I’ll get it. You carry on playing with Roxy. You’re so much better at it than I am, isn’t she princess?’ Roxy giggled, and Lottie heaved a sigh of relief.
Thinking about developers trying to buy the Tipping House Estate was bad enough, but she’d really started to wonder if all this baby talk was just Sam being Sam, or if she was in cahoots with Rory in a bid to persuade her that being pregnant was all she wanted to do with her life.
‘I bet it’s just one of them tenant farmers of yours. Some of them are really dishy, aren’t they? I’ll sort him out for you and if it’s anybody else I’ll tell them where to stick their offers.’
Sam winked as she waltzed out of the room on her bare feet, her bracelets jangling. The pause for breath hadn’t lasted long and she was in full flow again, but at least it was nothing to do with swollen boobs, morning sickness, or dribble. ‘My mam still can’t believe this place, babe, she says she’s going to read that Lady Chatterley-thingy book and find out what you really get up to.’
Lottie’s groan was drowned out by the sound of the large front oak door being opened and then rather rapidly closed again. ‘Hang on, don’t go away.’
It didn’t sound like she was about to tell anybody where to stick anything. ‘What’s up, Sam? It’s not reporters again, is it?’
‘Oh my God no, babe.’ Sam was in the room, had grabbed her high heels from the corner, and was heading back into the hallway as she spoke, hopping on one foot as she tried to get a shoe on. ‘But it’s not one of your hunks in wellies either. I need to get me heels back on. Does my hair look okay? I can’t talk to somebody that looks like that when I look a state. I’d never forgive myself. Oh my God, babe, if he’s gay I want him as my new best friend.’
Lottie stared after Sam. She knew her friend was very happily married, but there was a definite husky catch to the normally bubbly, and quite loud, tone of her voice, which meant whoever was at the door had made some kind of impact.
She frowned. She wasn’t expecting anybody else now that she’d got her perfunctory meeting with Seb Drakelow over and done with. Gosh that man had been rude, most unpleasant. And she couldn’t think of a single man she knew that Sam hadn’t already met.
Sam, she knew, had never thought being happy should prevent her from admiring the scenery. A lot of men, in her opinion, qualified as cute, or fit, or smouldering, and worth a second look. And she liked to look her best, though no one would ever compete with her Davey.
Lottie rather hoped people would just take her how they found her, but Sam always wanted to make the right impression. Which was why, she supposed, she always looked a complete mess in photographs and Sam looked like a model.
There was the sound of the door being flung open again. ‘Sorry, babe, you caught me on the hop. Come in, hun, whoever you are.’
‘Charlotte?’ There was a slight edge to the deep, and very masculine, voice and Lottie decided that whoever he was he wasn’t gay. She didn’t even need to see him.
‘Can you say that again, babe? You have the most amazing voice,’ Sam giggled, ‘oh God, Lottie has got to hear you say her name, it is just so sexy. Did you hear that, Lottie? Actually can you say mine? It’s Samantha. I’m Sam, by the way, Sam Simcock. My Davey is a goalkeeper. Wow I am so pleased to meet you. This will cheer Lottie up no end, what with all her problems at the moment. Nothing like a new face. Come in.’ Sam finally paused. ‘Hang on, you’re nothing to do with them insurance people are you? Or the police or newspapers? Not that you look the type.’
‘No, I erm, am not the type.’ He sounded amused. ‘But I’m not sure having me here is going to make Charlotte feel any better, to be honest, whatever the problem is. In fact, I could be part of it. Is she in?’
‘Oh.’ Sam stopped, suddenly wondering if she’d misjudged. ‘Why do you say that, babe? You weren’t one of that wedding party were you?’
‘What wedding party? Look, I’m just with the film crew, and I know people don’t always want film crews invading their front gardens, do they? But, to be honest, I only came about the hors—’
‘Film crews? Oh my God.’ Sam squealed and let go of him so
she could clap her hands, then clamp one over her open mouth. ‘Oh my God you’re a film star. I knew it, I knew with a body like that.’ And she was clip clopping across the hallway as fast as she could in her five-inch heels. ‘Lottie, Lots.’ She might be used to mixing with premiership footballers on a daily basis, but Sam was as star-struck as the next girl when it came to actors, and this one just had to be famous. ‘Lottie you will never guess who’s here. It’s,’ she stopped short in the doorway and turned round. ‘Sorry, babe, who did you say you were?’
‘I don’t think I did. I’m—’
‘Sam, what on earth is going on?’ Lottie, who had been busy crawling across the floor with Roxy on her back stopped in the doorway and trying to listen to as much as she could, glanced up.
Her gaze travelled over a pair of what even she could tell were handmade leather shoes, and up a pair of long legs, which were clad in brown-belted chinos that gave him a definite foreign appearance. His broad chest was hugged by a pale-blue open-necked shirt, which showed just enough of his tanned throat. The higher she went the hotter she felt. Her face was positively burning as her gaze lingered on the dark hair, which licked the collar of his perfectly cut jacket (which had to be a designer label, even though she was far from expert). She only stopped when her gaze locked with his, and she really wished that she’d been standing up like a normal person when he’d walked in, and not been caught giving him a once-over from the bottom up.
Suddenly that deep, rich voice that had sent a rash of goose bumps popping up all over her body, like a load of meerkats on full alert, made sense.
It couldn’t be him. No way. Not here in Tippermere. If there was one person in the whole world that she never thought she would see again it was this man, who was stood in her doorway.
‘I’m Xander Rossi, but I’m not a famous actor. I’m just helping …’ He finished, his words tailing off as he took her in.
She’d been totally besotted with Rory throughout her teenage years, but Xander Rossi had still made a lasting impression. It all might have been a long time ago, but the man was completely, and embarrassingly, recognisable. If anything, he was even more of an unmissable force. He’d filled out and muscled up (so had she, but not in a good way). The brooding boy had turned into a smouldering man.
Xander Rossi had been impossible to ignore at school. Despite only attending for two terms, he had been the pin-up of nearly every girl in her class. And in that short time he’d broken many a hormone-ridden teenage heart – and he’d seemed entirely oblivious. She hadn’t been one of that group – for her it had been worse. He’d hated her. That startlingly blue gaze had turned black when he’d seen her, and he’d seemed to do everything in his power to make her feel uncomfortable and stupid. But now he was smiling.
‘Xander.’ Shock that he was there and relief that he wasn’t glaring, so he must have forgotten their uncomfortable past, made the word come out far more breathy and flustered than it should have. Good heavens she was a very happily married woman with self-confidence and responsibilities. She didn’t care what he thought.
‘Charlotte, so it really is you. I wondered if I’d got it wrong.’
Lottie deposited Roxy on the floor, staggered to her feet, and tried again. ‘Xander, what on earth are you doing back in Tippermere?’
‘Oh my God, so you do really know each other?’ Sam squealed again. ‘Wow, that’s awesome, babe.’
‘Why have you stopped being my horsey?’ Roxy planted herself, hands on hips, at the side of Lottie and tugged on her polo shirt. ‘It’s not fair, he’s only a man. You can play with him later.’
‘Oh he’s not just any man, hun,’ Sam giggled, ‘and I’m not sure Auntie Lottie should be playing with him at all. Come here, I’ll be horsey.’
‘I’m not playing with him.’ Lottie tried not to scowl.
‘But Lottie is the best horsey. She goes faster and makes all the wight noises and bumps me up and down. I do need to pwactise, you know, if I’m going to Lympia.’
‘Pure chance that I’m here, if I’m honest, it’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you, actually.’ Xander shrugged. ‘I didn’t quite believe it could be you when your groom told me. But you’ve not changed one bit, Charlie.’
‘She’s not called Charlie, she’s Lottie.’ Roxy had decided the best way to regain attention was to position herself between Xander and Lottie and concentrate on the stranger. She tugged at the bottom of his jacket. ‘If she’s not allowed to play with you, I will. Do you want to see my horse? I’ve got a weal one, not just Lottie. I only used her to pwactise on.’
‘I’d love to see your horse.’ Xander put out a hand and Roxy instinctively slipped hers in it. ‘I didn’t realise you were Lady of the Manor now. You were the daughter of a famous show-jumper when we were at school.’ He smiled at Lottie gently. ‘Always in the papers.’
‘Oh I’m not.’ Lottie rubbed her knees, trotting across bare floorboards was not a good idea, especially with Roxy energetically bouncing on her back in an over-enthusiastic attempt at rising trot. ‘A lady, that is. I am still the daughter of a famous show-jumper, although he’s not that famous these days. It is still Gran’s place, really, but we kind of run it. Well we try, when she lets us, me and Rory, that is.’
‘So Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe really is your grandmother?’
‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Well no. Who’d have thought it? You kept that quiet. And Rory?’
‘Is my husband.’ Lottie blushed and wasn’t sure why. ‘Er, you probably remember him, well he was at school, in the year above us, but you weren’t there long, were you?’ Twenty-four weeks and two days, she could have added, but that was only because her best friend had kept count, and for years after he’d gone had lamented the one hundred and seventy days of lost opportunity.
‘Oh, that Rory. Yeah, I remember him. No, you’re right, we weren’t in Cheshire long, but how could I forget the boy you were mad about? Guess not much has changed, then. You certainly haven’t.’
‘Oh my goodness, I have. We were only fifteen. I’m fatter and I’ve got grey hair now, look.’
‘Sixteen, and you haven’t. I’d know you anywhere. Even trotting across the room on your hands and knees.’
Lottie, feeling more embarrassed by the second, groped around for a change of subject. ‘What on earth are you doing here? Did you say something about the film crew? I never knew you acted. It’s not just me that’s kept things quiet.’
‘Oh Christ no, I don’t act, it’s not my thing at all. I am with Seb, though. I’m advising on all the horse stuff for the film.’ His expression looked more frustration than pleasure. ‘Heaven only knows why he needs me, but I suppose I’ve not got much else to do. I got roped in, more because he’s my brother-in-law than anything else.’ He shrugged, then smiled. ‘It is lovely seeing you again. You haven’t any idea where Seb is, have you?’
Lovely wasn’t quite the word Lottie would have used. ‘He’s gone.’ She couldn’t keep the note of relief out of her voice. Xander might be behaving much more nicely than he had as a teenager, but Seb really hadn’t been a character she’d warmed to. He’d gazed around their cluttered living room with an air of disbelief and stared in distaste at the chairs (which admittedly did have a good layer of dog hair on them). He’d shied away from Harry’s rather exuberant welcome and she could have sworn he wiped his shoes on the way out. In fact, he was altogether very rude and if she’d felt she had a choice she would have ripped his contract in half and told him where he could stick it. But that would have been stupid.
It hadn’t been a very promising start, though. Even Xander was a much more welcome sight.
‘Wow, this is a coincidence, though. I really can’t believe it’s you.’
‘It’s me, though I have to admit, I never thought I’d see Tippermere again and, to be honest, it never occurred to me you might still be here.’ He grinned disarmingly. ‘Though it’s great that you are, but I never in a million years guessed
this place was yours.’ Xander gazed around as though he was assessing her as well as her home, and Lottie wasn’t sure if he was just surprised or thought she didn’t belong there. ‘I guess you and Seb didn’t hit it off, then? I know he can come across as rude, but it might be worth cutting him a bit of slack, at least at first? He’s out of his comfort zone, hates the countryside. He’d shoot everything in a studio if he could, but at the same time he’s a perfectionist. Likes gritty reality,’ he laughed, ‘so he takes it out on everybody else. But he’s okay, really. He might grow on you – and the rest of them are fine. Honest.’
‘He was just so rude and bossy. Worse than Gran. How on earth did you get involved with him? Oh sorry,’ Lottie put her hand over her mouth, ‘that sounds terrible.’
‘He’s good at his job,’ his smile held a hint of apology, ‘no excuses for his behaviour, but he mellows a bit when he knows you, and, like I said, it’s hard to say no when it’s family.’
‘Oh I do understand that bit.’
‘Look sorry to barge in and out like this, but I will have to get a move on. I’ve got to sort the horses and your groom said you might have a couple of boxes free on the yard?’
‘Groom?’ Lottie had spent so long doing her own horses that she found it hard to adjust to the idea of staff, and, she had to admit, she thought of Tab as more of a friend helping out than a hired hand. ‘Oh, Tab.’
‘A couple of the ponies would settle better up here, if you had room, that is? She said something about some of yours had gone?’
‘A couple of ponies? How many are there?’
‘Enough for a game, of course.’
‘Oh.’ The enormity of it all started to hit home, to the extent that Lottie had a sudden overwhelming desire to tell Xander to go away, that it had all been a massive mistake. Instead she took a deep breath. This would be a success. It would. Even with the rather uncomfortable reminder of a past she’d rather forget, a cocky, control freak of a director, and a herd of horses, sorry polo ponies, galloping across the front lawn. ‘Well, I suppose so, but you’ll have to pay extra. Livery fees.’
Country Rivals Page 11