The Heat of the Moment

by Margaret Carr

  Dark, overlong hair was smoothed back from his face allowing Frances a good view of fine bone structure from sloping cheekbones to long straight nose. The mouth was twisted into tight attention above a clean firm jaw line and Frances couldn’t help wonder what difference it would make should he relax and pull that mouth back in a smile.

  After lunch, she made a hasty exit. Normally she would spend the siesta in some shady part of the garden, but today a restlessness gripped her and she decided to walk down to the stables. She had made the rounds of the barns with Gilbert but never made the time to become acquainted with the horses there.

  As she wandered along the rows of stalls giving a pat and a quiet word to any head she found hanging over the door, she became aware of voices behind her. Not wanting to be caught and thought to be disturbing the horses’ rest period, she ducked into the next available space and found herself in the hay shed.

  ‘I just know you are the only person who can help me. Please, Kane darling, I want him ready for Munich.’

  The voice pleaded very prettily, Frances thought, and there was no question who the man was.

  ‘I’m sorry, Pilar. You know my feelings on the matter. The horse is too green, too flighty.’

  ‘You are just angry with me because I bought him without your approval. He is fast, supple and obedient. What more could you ask for?’

  ‘He drops his legs over the jumps and he has yet to learn to concentrate in the dressage arena.’

  ‘But you can teach him these things.’

  ‘Not unless he wants to learn and I have yet to be convinced that he does.’

  The woman’s voice took on a hard petulance.

  ‘Then I shall get Drago to train him. He can do anything with a horse.’

  ‘Including spoiling him.’

  Frances could almost hear the woman shrug.

  ‘He gets results, even if his methods are not your own.’

  There was a long silence and Frances wondered if they had moved on. Then Kane spoke again with a heavy voice.

  ‘All right, Pilar, bring him over, but I’m making no promises.’

  ‘You never do, darling,’ the woman purred.

  Frances could feel the heat run up her face as she realised the pair had probably been kissing. They were walking away now and Frances let go a sigh of relief. It would have been too awful if they had moved into the hay shed and found her eavesdropping on their conversation.

  She was back in the office on the dot of three when Kane walked in and shut the door behind him. Her heart leaped into her throat and she knew exactly how it would feel to be shut in a tiger’s cage.

  He was dressed in a yellow sports shirt and beige slacks. His golden tan below the short sleeves and above the open neck of the shirt added to the tiger image which was total when you let yourself look, as Francis did now, into those startling eyes.

  ‘Ms Gardiner,’ he began.

  ‘Mr Harding.’

  ‘I see you have made yourself at home.’

  ‘Well, whatever I have done it must be an improvement on what it was.’

  ‘Quite. I’m pleased to see you made it back from the stables in time for our meeting.’

  Frances felt all the wind rush from her body. With trembling legs she struggled to hold an outward composure.

  ‘I wasn’t aware we had a meeting scheduled.’

  He surveyed the room, taking in her pictures with raised eyebrows. Then his gaze switched back to her face, giving it a hard, thoughtful stare. ‘I want the livery accommodation listing for the next six weeks.’ Frances dropped her chin.

  ‘Certainly. If you will just acknowledge those requests and sign the cheques, I”Il have the listings in a moment.’

  He sat down at the opposite desk and with a swiftness she deplored, he scrawled over everything and came to stand behind her. She accessed the file she needed on the computer, keyed in her request and waited while the printer reeled out the relevant list. When she turned around to hand it to him, he was smiling.

  ‘The job is yours, Ms Gardiner.’

  ‘Fran.’

  He nodded his acknowledgement.

  ‘You had better call me Kane. Everyone else does.’

  Handing back the list he said, ‘See if you can fit in one more livery. The name is Firefly, the owner Senora Mendoza.’

  Startled, Frances repeated the horse’s name.

  ‘Firefly.’

  ‘You have heard of him?’ he asked with a frown.

  ‘Not this one, no. The horse I knew was . . .’

  She pulled herself up just in time. She had nearly said he had been a racer.

  ‘He was one at the local riding school. It must be a popular name for a horse, don’t you think?

  Oh, no! She was babbling.

  ‘You ride?’

  ‘No, yes, well, I did as a child, but I don’t any more.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Frances wished she was dead. This was getting worse by the minute. Stick to the truth, an inner voice was warning. Trim its edges but stick to the truth.

  ‘I had an accident. It scared me and I haven’t ridden since.’

  ‘That’s a shame. You must let someone help you get back into the saddle while you are here,’ he said, but it was obvious he had lost interest. ‘I will be over tomorrow morning to bring you up to date and answer any queries you may have and then you will be on your own. Here’s my phone connection. Give me a ring anytime you feel you don’t have the authority to deal with something.’

  He let his gaze slide once more around the office.

  ‘Good,’ he added. ‘Keep your personal life free of entanglements and you’ll do fine.’

  He smiled once more and left.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Patronising oaf, Frances fumed, deciding that his smile had done nothing for him after all. Chewing her lip she wondered about the other bit of information that had surprised her.

  Firefly had been a horse in Martin’s stable at the time of her accident. In fact he had belonged to the same couple who had owned her ride, Midnight Express. The Gregory family had been very kind, insisting that no blame be attached to either stable or jockey when Express was destroyed. It had taken its toll of their enthusiasm for the sport, however, and Firefly had been sold The three-year-old had been full of racing promise, so this couldn’t be the same horse, yet just the name had made her jump. At the time, friends had flooded her with promises of work on her return from the hospital but the doctors warnings had stayed with her. Riding, certainly racing, was extremely doubtful. Her arms would never be strong enough to control a racing horse again.

  Her love of horses had started early with twice-weekly rides at a local stable. When there had been no-one to hold and comfort a small girl she had taken her problems to a favourite pony. He listened patiently, never criticised and provided all the warmth her grandmother could not. Frances never questioned if this love could not be found with another human being.

  She had lived for the past six years in close company, with the shared love of her friends, Martin and Tessa, and had listened and commiserated with the other lads on their love affairs and marriage problems. Men had asked her out on dates and a very wealthy owner had once proposed to her. But no relationship ever provided the surge of adrenaline she got when the ground was flashing beneath her, the fear, the excitement, the flood of success that filled the heart near to bursting when she passed the winning post.

  No relationship had given her the courage to stand alone in a man’s world, to swallow the tears when she had broken bones, or failed to bring a horse up to scratch. Animals gave their trust and their love unstintingly. No human being Frances had ever known had done that.

  That evening, she left the office at six. She had promised to go and watch Gilbert’s last lesson of the day at seven and wanted to have a shower and change her clothes before that. Gilbert was fast becoming a good friend with a cheeky sense of humour. Tonight he wanted her to see another side of his work, for he
was devoted to his job.

  It was a private lesson, a young man who lived locally and in whom Gilbert had seen great potential. The young man was poor but all his money went into saving for the occasional lesson with Gilbert.

  ‘I’d love to come,’ she had confirmed when they had been sitting out on the verandah with drinks the previous evening.

  ‘Perhaps when you see how gentle I am you will let me teach you to ride again.’

  Frances had laughed.

  ‘You mean, you don’t chase your students around the school shouting, heels down, hands still, head up!’

  ‘No, no, I am much more subtle. I tell them to keep their derrière in the saddle.’

  Tonight was cooler so she let down her hair and wore a finely-pleated skirt with a matching close-fitting jumper. When she was dressed to her satisfaction, she thrust her feet into brown loafers, grabbed a lightweight jacket from the chair by the door and trotted lightly down the stairs and out on to the verandah.

  Here she hurtled headlong into Senora Mendoza. The woman stepped back with a small scream and sank her stiletto heel into the top of Kane Harding’s foot.

  ‘You clumsy girl. Why don’t you watch where you’re going!’ she screeched at Frances.

  Kane was rubbing his injured foot up and down the calf of his other leg, the bright green eyes fixed on Frances.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’

  Pru was giving her a sympathetic thumbs-up from the sidelines.

  ‘Realise what, you stupid girl?’ then she let out another shriek as she saw that the narrow heel was dangling from the shoe.

  ‘Come along, Pilar. José will mend your shoe. I’ll see you in the office in the morning, Frances,’ Kane snapped.

  With a nod of her head, she acknowledged his rebuke then with a wave to Pru, ran down the steps and followed the gravel pathway to the second school standing some one and a half miles from the main house, where Gilbert was working with his pupil.

  The boy was good. Though she had little knowledge of either show jumping or dressage, she could recognise a promising rider. His natural empathy with his mount and its willingness to follow his commands made the oneness of their movements beautiful to watch.

  Gilbert was taking the boy through basic work, crossing and re-crossing the school, changing the horse’s leading stride and rhythm again and again. After a while, to Gilbert’s quiet command and with no outward sign on the boy’s part, the horse began to undertake more complicated movements. Frances was enthralled.

  Never in her life had she seen a man and a horse combine to such effect. Oh, racing was beautiful and a good combination of horse and jockey could create a fantastic power. But it was a wild power, a surge of natural energy. What was happening here before her was something totally different.

  At the end of the lesson Frances climbed down from the viewing gallery and waited patiently for Gilbert and his student to come out of the great double doors of the school. The horse was a grey stallion and he came out full of his own importance. A groom took the horse off to his stable. Gilbert touched the boy on the arm and led him over to where Frances stood.

  ‘Fran, I would like you to meet Juan Carlos Lopez. Juan, Senorita Frances Gardiner.’

  The young man swept off his hat and bowed over her hand.

  ‘It’s good to meet with you, Senorita Gardiner.’

  ‘I was very impressed with your riding, senor.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He moved around restlessly, as though in a hurry to leave, his eyes flickering from left to right.

  Gilbert frowned, then giving the boy his monkey grin said, ‘It’s time to go.

  ‘Goodbye, senor, senorita.’

  He left them, his long legs carrying him like a fleeting shadow across the stones.

  ‘He’s in a hurry,’ Frances remarked.

  ‘He is not welcome here. He knows this and does not like to linger.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Gilbert tucked her arm under his and began to lead her back towards the house.

  ‘No, you should not understand. It is not for us to worry about.’

  It was still early for dinner so Frances went into the lounge for a drink while Gilbert went off in search of Connie. Pru was sitting with Eduardo and Maurice on the far side of the room and beckoned Frances to join them. Eduardo, was very Spanish, with stilted English and impeccable manners. He stood immediately to let Frances sit down before pushing another chair forward into their group. Maurice Beckworth, on the other hand, was a North country Englishman who was sprawled in his chair, and merely lifted a hand in greeting.

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly managed to endear yourself to our Pilar,’ he said, followed by a warm chuckle.

  Frances grinned back.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Oh, the shoe wouldn’t mend and his lordship whisked her away to his castle for a spot of magic,’ Pru replied.

  ‘You say the stupidest things, Pru,’ Maurice growled from the depths of his chair.

  Pru made a face at him before asking Frances, ‘So how’s your working relationship with his lordship progressing?’

  ‘I’m a permanent fixture, if that’s what you mean,’ Frances replied, beaming from ear to ear.

  ‘Good for you, girl. I never would have believed he would hire another woman. They all fell for him, you know. Tried every trick in the book to catch his attention. One of them went so far as to stow away in the horsebox when he went to Spain. She dragged around the course after him, making a fuss of the horses, flinging her arms around his neck when he was presented with a cup and getting herself in the papers. Then to crown it all, she swooped half-naked into a picture a passerby was taking as Kane was stripped to the waist washing down after the cross country. He was livid apparently but not half as mad as when he realised she had got hold of the photograph and sold it to the papers after he had fired her, woman scorned and all that.’

  ‘Good grief! Where did he find these women in the first place?’

  ‘Perfectly respectable agencies. Not the agencies fault if our delectable boss sends them stir crazy.’

  ‘Where does Pilar Mendoza fit into all this then?’

  Pru looked thoughtful and pursed her lips.

  ‘Well, she’s the official brand and a bit of a problem. While her main function is to keep our lordship happy in a more personal way, shall we say, she’s a bit of a snoop. The boss doesn’t like it so she tends to keep it under wraps, so be careful how you treat her and be wary if you find her in your office.’

  At that moment, Kane and Pilar entered the lounge and were rapidly engulfed by eager horsemasters, all wanting, Pru said, to consult the lord and master as to their particular needs.

  ‘Pathetic, really, some of them.’

  ‘That’s a bit thick, Pru,’ Maurice objected.

  ‘I am with Pru, si,’ Eduardo agreed.

  ‘I saw a wonderful young student tonight,’ Frances burst out. ‘He and the horse worked like a dream.’

  The company around her fell silent and looked decidedly uncomfortable. It wasn’t until Gilbert’s hand fell gently on to her shoulder that she realised her mistake. He had said that the young Juan wasn’t welcome on the ranch.

  She smiled with relief when Gilbert suggested that they join an elderly couple Gilbert was tutoring. The wife had broken her hip in an accident. Frances’s sympathy went out to the woman who had ridden all of her life and was determined not to let the injury put an end to her riding.

  As she accompanied Gilbert in to dinner, she remarked on the woman’s courage and was shocked when he not only disagreed with her but condemned people who didn’t know when to let go. They were in the middle of a heated debate when Kane spoke from behind them.

  ‘I’m pleased to see it’s not only me she shouts at. A word, Frances.’

  His hand was on her arm, lifting her away from the table before Gilbert could open his mouth. They moved out of the dining-room and into the hall. ‘I wish
you would call me Fran. I dislike the awkwardness of my full name.’

  ‘Perhaps you would prefer Frank.’

  Frances decided to ignore that remark.

  ‘What can I do for you? I’m going to be late at the table.’

  ‘It will still be there when I have finished with you.’

  Frances didn’t like the sound of that.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  The green eyes narrowed and the twitching was back along his jaw. ‘With your work, no. I would like you to mingle more with the horsemasters.’

  ‘Mingle?’

  Frances was beginning to understand the chemistry that had driven his previous secretaries slightly mad. Just as well I’m immune, she thought. ‘Mingle? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I would also like you to play hostess at a dinner I’m giving a week from today. I would have told you in the morning but I’m afraid I won’t be able to make our meeting now. My day is fully booked.’

  ‘I see, well, if it’s part of the job I can hardly refuse.’

  ‘Do you wish to refuse?’

  ‘No, I don’t think I do.’

  ‘Good. Then perhaps in future, instead of avoiding me when I come into meals, you will join me in circulating with the horsemasters.’

  Heavens, was she to have no time to herself at all? She opened her mouth to complain, then stopped herself. Orders didn’t require replies. She looked up and caught him watching her. Neither spoke as he continued to explore her face with his cold stare.

  France’s eyes flickered nervously from side to side, then down to the ground and back up again. Shivers were running up and down her spine and spreading out to form goose bumps on her arms. She rubbed them automatically.

  ‘If that’s all, l”II get back to my meal.’

  ‘Of course. Until tomorrow evening then.’

  ‘No please or thank you from him, just orders,’ she told her friends when she was back at the table. ‘You will join me in circulating with the horsemasters,’ she mimicked Kane’s voice making Gilbert and Pru laugh.

  ‘Never mind,’ Pru said with an accompanying prod in the ribs. Just think of all that money mounting up in the bank. You’ll be wining and dining with some of the richest people in the world.’