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Salazar's One-Night Heir

Page 18

by Jennifer Hayward


  Because this was his wife’s dream. Because ever since her return to riding she’d been anchoring the American team on Socrates and been brilliant while doing it.

  If there was pressure here today, it was on the woman riding into the ring, hair caught up in a sleek chignon beneath her velvet helmet, navy coat and crisp white shirt perfectly pressed. But if there was anything he knew about his wife by now, it was that she was a fighter. A survivor. She would leave it all in the ring today.

  Cecily brought Socrates to a halt in front of the judges and took off her hat in a salute. The applause and buzz of the crowd died down until you could hear a pin drop in the stadium. And then there was only the sound of Socrates’s hooves pounding the sand as Cecily pushed him into an easy canter with a touch of her heels to his sides.

  His smooth, glorious stride ate up the ground as Cecily guided him to the first jump, a high, complicated juxtaposition of poles Socrates eyed as unfamiliar then proceeded to rap hard as he cleared it.

  Not an auspicious start. Adriana was right—both rider and horse were nervous.

  An easy turn to the next jump and Socrates was taking off too late, clearing the jump by the skin of his teeth, then roaring toward the next, where Cecily placed him at the jump too early, forcing him to exert a superhuman effort to make it to the other side unscathed.

  “Lord have mercy,” said his grandmother, covering her eyes. “I can’t watch.”

  A nice long gallop to the next oxer, he watched Cecily visibly collect herself and her horse. Good. They cleared the wide, imposing jump with perfect form. Then it was a quick turn to the triple combination that had felled every single rider thus far including Virginia, the jumps trickily placed off-stride to test the riders.

  Cecily attacked it with military precision, placing Socrates perfectly for the first jump, then sailing over the next two with shortened strides that efficiently addressed the challenge.

  His wife glanced at the clock with four jumps to go. She was close to time faults. She needed to avoid them and go clear for the American team to win. His stomach dropped as Cecily whipped Socrates around at a near suicidal angle and galloped toward the next combination at a speed that made Adriana gasp.

  “Dear God,” she said. “That’s a bad call—that’s—”

  Socrates whipped over the first jump, galloped flat out toward the second and annihilated it too.

  “—brilliant,” said his grandmother.

  She’s retiring, thought Alejandro.

  A sharp turn to the right and his wife was thundering toward the last jump. The crowd was on its feet now, caught up in the gutsy ride, its home team already out of it.

  One more jump, Alejandro whispered. One more jump, angel, you can do it.

  And then she did.

  * * *

  Cecily rode into the collecting ring where the media was assembled for the post competition interviews.

  She had nothing left for them. Had gone through every facet of the emotional spectrum out there on that course, her mother’s riding pin attached to her chest. When she caught sight of Alejandro waiting for her, Zara in his arms, a sob rose to her throat.

  Her husband set Zara down. Cecily kicked her feet out of the stirrups and slid off Socrates’s back and into his arms—the man who had never failed to catch her each and every time she’d stumbled over the past year: as she’d become a new mother, as she’d resumed her career, as she’d walked the tenuous road of balancing both.

  Alejandro cupped her jaw and kissed her. “No tears, meu carinho. You were magnificent. Your mother would be so proud.”

  The tears came then in a great big flood. For the things she’d lost. For the things she’d gained. For what was still ahead.

  A reporter from an American sports network descended on them, noting Adriana’s legendary presence. “Perfect. Can I have an interview with the complete team Hargrove-Salazar then?”

  “Team Salazar-Hargrove,” Adriana corrected. “And yes you may.”

  * * * * *

  EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT

  Being forced to spurn Nikos Kyriazis devastated Marnie Kenington. Years later, he offers to absolve her family’s bankruptcy—if she marries him! Nikos wants revenge – and he knows that in the bedroom he can take Marnie apart…piece by sensual piece…

  Read on for a sneak preview of debut author Clare Connelly’s book

  BOUGHT FOR THE BILLIONAIRE’S REVENGE

  ‘Now you will marry me, and he will have to spend the rest of his life knowing it was me—the man he wouldn’t have in his house—who was his salvation.’

  The sheer fury of his words whipped Marnie like a rope. ‘Nikos,’ she said, surprised at how calm she could sound in the midst of his stormy declaration. ‘He should never have made you feel like that.’

  ‘Your father could have called me every name under the sun for all I cared, agape. It was you I expected more of.’

  She swallowed. Expectations were not new to Marnie. Her parents’. Her sister’s. Her own.

  ‘And now you will marry me.’

  Anticipation formed a cliff’s edge and she was tumbling over it, free-falling from a great height. She shook her head, but they both knew it was denial for the sake of it.

  ‘No more waiting,’ he intoned darkly, crushing his mouth to hers in a kiss that stole her breath and coloured her soul.

  His tongue clashed with hers. It was a kiss of slavish possession, a kiss designed to challenge and disarm. He blew away every defence she had, reminding her that his body had always been able to manipulate hers. A single look had always been enough to make her break out in a cold sweat of need.

  ‘No more waiting.’

  ‘You can’t still want me,’ she said into his mouth, wrapping her hands around his back. ‘You’ve hardly lived the life of a monk. I would have thought I’d lost all appeal by now.’

  ‘Call it unfinished business,’ he responded, breaking the kiss to scrape his lips down her neck, nipping at her shoulder.

  She pushed her hips forward, instinctively wanting more. Wanting everything.

  Her brain was wrapped in cotton wool, foggy and filled with questions softened by confusion. ‘It was six years ago.’

  ‘Yes. And still you’re the only woman I have ever believed myself in love with. The only woman I have ever wanted a future with. Once upon a time for love.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘For…less noble reasons.’

  Don’t miss

  BOUGHT FOR THE BILLIONAIRE’S REVENGE

  by Clare Connelly

  Available August 2017

  PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Copyright ©2017 Clare Connelly

  ISBN: 978-1-474-05266-5

  SALAZAR'S ONE-NIGHT HEIR

  © 2017 by Jennifer Drogell

  Published in Great Britain 2017

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or
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