by Sara Forbes
Ken turns me around so I’m facing him. We’re both heaving. His face is infused with pleasure and awe.
He thumbs my tears gently away from my cheeks. “I love you, beautiful Countess,” he says. “You’re the only one for me.”
“I love you too.” I raise my head to meet his forehead with mine as our breaths slow down in unison. “But I’m not a countess yet.”
“Well, to me, you’re a queen.”
21
KEN
NEXT MORNING, MY MIND is on high alert. I could take on the world. Which is a shame because all I’m going to take on today is the backlog of crop yield plans on my screen at work. Seb is ready to explode because of all the things I’ve let slip recently, even though he was the one who gave me the time off. I’ll try to make it up to him and do overtime or whatever the farming tsar wants.
I stretch out my hand to feel for Liv, but it’s just an empty sheet where her beautiful warm body should be. She’s up already, morning person that she is. I sigh, rise, grab my clothes and head for her shower.
She enters the bedroom just as I’m pulling on my socks. “Hey, gorgeous. Can’t stay. Gotta get to work.”
“You don’t have to sneak out though.”
“Oh? Have you broken the news to your parents that you’re seeing the blackguard from next door?”
“Well my mother already knows.”
I say nothing. I’m like Liv’s dirty secret. I prefer such things to be official, out in the open. But I suppose she feels her mother has enough to worry about with her father’s health being what it is.
“So, what happened last night?” Liv’s tone is light, her glance curious.
“Well, I think you know what happened last night—”
“No, before that. We never talked about it.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“Did you get a horse from Longgate?”
“Not quite. I did better than that. I hit the problem at the source.”
Her brows knit. “Hit?”
“Greer. It’s him. I’ve always suspected, but yesterday I met two men disposing of a horse and they gave me the final evidence I needed.”
“Hit at the source. What do you mean?”
“I … beat him up and let him know it would be him being carved up for dogfood next time he tried to influence racing with his dirty tricks. Just what he deserved.”
“What? Are you joking?”
“No.” I slip on my shoe and give her a steely gaze. “Why would I joke about that? He had it coming, Liv.”
She’s wringing her hands. “Where did this take place?”
“Outside his house.”
“Does he have a family?”
“Trophy wife and a son if you can call that a family.”
Her hands fly to the sides of her head. “Good God, Ken! What have you done?”
I shrug. “What was needed. Look, I just knocked him up enough to get him squealing in fear and to think twice about ever doing anything like this again. The direct approach is the only way with guys like this. No amount of verbal warning or penalties or any of that shit is ever going to work. I think I cracked one rib. That was for Sill.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!”
Whoa, she’s really upset about this. Time for some damage control. “Liv. It’s a nasty business, but it had to be done. I can’t run the risk of his thugs coming around to your stables or anyone else’s. Besides—he deserved it.”
“But… he’d have gone back into his house all messed up and his kid would have seen him. Think what you did to that poor child. No, this is terrible, Ken, you can’t just go off like some vigilante and impose your will on the world.”
The way she’s pacing in front of me, you’d think I’d killed the guy. Which is of course what I should have done.
“It’s justice, not my will at all. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”
“Really? Are you even sure he’s the perpetrator? Martin never confirmed that, did he?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Did Martin confirm it?”
“Martin? Don’t talk to me about Martin. The MI6 couldn’t even protect Princess Diana. I certainly don’t expect them to help me with my trivial equestrian problems.”
“Well, couldn’t you have referred the matter to the police if you’re so sure that you’re right? Greer’s a bad enemy to have. He’s very well-connected.”
“You’re missing the point, Liv.” Then I advance toward her and scrutinize her face as an ugly thought suggests itself. “How do you know Greer’s well-connected? Do you know him? Is that what this is about?”
“No.” She turns away from me, strides towards the window, and looks out.
I stay where I am, near the door. “Liv,” I say to her back. “Let’s not fight. We’ll talk about it later when we’ve both calmed down. You, in particular.”
Because I’m calm. What I did was right.
“Oh, you’re impossible.” She tosses her head, and strides past me to the door and holds it open in a very obvious gesture that screams ‘scram out of here before I hit you.’
“I’m going, I’m going.”
“Oh, and if you happen to see my mother?” she calls after me. “Tell her she was right about you.”
◊◊◊
What the hell? Her mother was right about me? I don’t even want to know what Lady Strathcairn has been saying about me—basically what everyone else in Fernborough says about me. The wild one, the gambler, the third son who’s up to no good. Why can’t he be more like his lovely bothers, Sebastian and Alexander?
But I thought Liv saw me differently. I thought she knew what I was going through all these weeks. I thought she felt my mission with the same passion. I thought we were fighting the battle together.
Well, my mistake. The first drop of blood and her intentions vanish in a puff.
Now, if the look on the face was anything to go by, she’s horrified with me. By getting real with likes of fucking Edward Greer and all those guys who wouldn’t think twice about shooting me, I’ve rocked the boat in her perfect gentle world. I’m the man who beats up innocent men in front of their wives and children. I’m the bad guy.
Maybe all her horror at the treatment of Sill and those other horses was lip service. Politeness, even. She’s nobility. She’s been trained in etiquette and courtesy all her life. She can’t not be polite. That’s the Liv I know.
I’m already late for work but what’s another half hour? Right now, I need to see the friendly face of the Silmarillion and tell him I’ve avenged him. He might appreciate it, if no one else does.
So instead of taking the left turn to the exit, I turn right towards Liv’s stables. I call Seb on the way. Alex answers his phone and tells me Seb’s out of the office at a trade fair and I have two hours’ leeway before he returns. Guess it’s my lucky day.
Jim greets me at the door. Instead of his usually guarded expression, his gaunt face is bathed in smiles.
“Looking rather jolly this morning, Jim,” I remark.
“Good news, boss.”
“Yeah? I could do with some of that.”
“Dr. Conway was just here. He thinks Sill can run. As long as we don’t give him any medication his blood will be clean enough for—”
“Doncaster,” I finish with a fist pump. “Yes! But what do you say, Jim. Is he fit? He’s lost an awful lot of stamina, and muscle tone.”
“Nothing that a bit of targeted training in the next fortnight wouldn’t fix,” the groom says with determination. “Sill’s no ordinary horse, m’lord, he’ll make up the ground.”
“That’s what I like to hear, Jim.”
My mood elevated, I go to Sill. He’s standing looking perky, with his head bobbing out his window as if to say “Sick? Who’s sick?” I laugh and enter his stall to throw my arms around his neck. “Oh, you silly, wonderful, beautiful, brave creature. You showed them, didn’t you?”
Sill bobs his head and gives a huge sno
rt in agreement.
“Thanks Armageddon,” I call over to the horse in the adjacent stall. I’ve a feeling that Sill was determined to recover quicker just to impress his new neighbor. He whinnies in response.
I pat him all down his neck. “Wonderful beast that you are. You’re going to rewrite the last chapters of your biography, you know that? You’re going to show those bastards. Okay, okay, there’s so much to do now, so much to get organized. Registration for the race. Training. Get my jockey back. Fix the transport. I better get started.”
Crossing that line in front of Greer’s nose will be the sweetest revenge of all.
22
LIV
TODAY WAS THE DAY Ken and I were going to officially register our horse sanctuary as a charity organization, but Ken seems to have forgotten all about it. Frankly, after that heated conversation three days ago, I think I’m better off doing this on my own. All of it. After all, one of these days Ken may find himself extremely busy getting himself arrested for assault and battery.
So, I register “Strathcairn Sanctuary” online under my tax number, filling in the forms meticulously, and scanning in the necessary documents. Then it’s time do my rounds in the village, checking in with the employees and the tenants I didn’t get around to visiting last week.
Staying busy is good. It keeps the thoughts at bay—thoughts of Ken losing his mind, and thoughts of Daddy losing his battle with cancer. Catching up with friends is good too, reminding me that there’s life beyond the Strathcairn and Belgrave estates.
Letty comes over for lunch in celebration of my setting up business officially. In typical Letty style, she’s got a chilled bottle of vintage French Champagne stuck in her Louis Vuitton tote. She doesn’t ask why Ken’s not around, and I’m quiet on the subject too. I’m still pissed off with him but my body wants my lover back so badly that my resolve is crumbling. I certainly don’t need to remind myself of him by dragging him into every conversation.
After lunch, we take a wander to the stables. I want my best friend to see Sill before he’s sent away to some top-secret training yard.
“Don’t see why he can’t be trained here,” Letty says, feeding Sill an apple.
“Martin says it’s imperative.”
“Martin?” Letty swings around.
“It was him who located this yard apparently.” I know this from Jim, not Ken.
“Did he?” She’s quiet for a moment then says, “Oh, it would be such fun if Sill did run at Doncaster. It would give the finger to whoever poisoned him.”
“Uh … yes. But I hope it all doesn’t end in some kind of nasty escalation. Some people are such bad losers.”
“Well, our dear elusive Marty’s going to have the Secret Service all over Doncaster. It’s so cool!”
“I’m trying not to worry,” I agree.
“Don’t fight it, girl.” Letty beams at me, as she opens the stable door. “We’re all beyond excited. And you’ve got the villagers all tripping over themselves to help you with your sanctuary. Have you googled yourself online recently? It’s insane. The animal welfare types are coming out of the woodwork and singing your praises in their blogs, all while condemning the sport as barbaric, of course.”
“Yes, we’re sitting on a bit of a fence, all right.”
“Still, I bet even they will be rooting for the poisoned horse in secret.”
“Hope so.”
“I’d really like to know who did this. And how,” Letty says. “The stable is locked at night, and it was locked that night. It can only have been someone who knows where to find the key.”
“I can’t hold back the truth another moment. “Letty, Ken thinks he’s found the source of the problem. Edward Greer—who controls a mini-mafia, apparently.”
“Edward Greer?” She frowns. “I know that name.” She snaps her fingers. “Old school-chum of Peter’s, right?” Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Got his fingers in so many pies. But rather common.”
“Yes. Keep it to yourself, Letty. I’m worried Ken’s going to find out that connection and try to implicate and punish Peter for it too somehow. Just being friends with the guy doesn’t turn Peter into a criminal”
“No, indeed.”
“Ken went over and battered Greer up. In front of his house where his wife and kids were inside. He broke his rib.”
And here I am talking about Ken again.
Letty clasps a hand to her mouth. “You’re joking, right?”
I shake my head. “Wish I were.”
“Oh, the blasted, infernal idiot.”
Yeah.
“Does he not know what he’s dealing with? It’s a huge network. I only dated Peter a few times—if you could even call it that, which you can’t really—but it was enough to get a blast of how connected he is. Ken’s going to be ostracized.”
“He probably knows that, but doesn’t care,” I say.
“You never know when it’ll come against him—or you. When applying for a bank loan for your business, or a top school position, or anything. Oh, the dunce, really. Why couldn’t he have just left it to the law?”
“That’s the question I’ve been asking myself all day. Still, my name and Ken’s name should be enough to counteract any nasty attempts of Peter’s to isolate us from society.”
Letty must see something in my face because she says. “Oh Liv, I know he’s an idiot sometimes but please don’t give up on Ken. It’d kill him. He thinks the world of you, always has done. Nobody else is good enough for that picky viscount.”
“I’m not giving up,” I say. “I’m just being careful. After Peter.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t blame you. But give Ken time to get over this madness. He’ll show you his true colors soon. I guarantee you.”
I nod. His true colors. What are they? The playful nobleman gentleman I knew two summers ago, the joker, the gambler, the perfectionist, too fussy to make his move? Or the angry warrior who beats up men and comes to my bed afterwards with blood on his hands, wrenching pleasure mercilessly from my body?
Can I live with such a man? I narrowly escaped one marriage. Do I really want to gamble my life away a second time?
23
KEN
What is love anyway? I said it to her and I meant it. I meant it more than I could ever mean it with anyone else on the planet. A million times more. But it’s just words, words, words. Not enough.
I need to see her, hear her, feel her, taste her. Love is doing, not talking.
We’ve been apart for nearly two weeks now and it feels like years. She’s punishing me for what I did to Greer. Fine. She’ll have to get over it at some stage though because I can’t undo it, nor do I want to. He hasn’t pressed charges which is as good as an admission of guilt in my books, whatever way Liv chooses to see it.
It helped—somewhat—to be away from Fernborough on the secret farm and training yard in Durham, way up north. But I’m back, and I’m going to make intense love to her tonight before the race. For luck. And also, to show her she can’t resist me when I drive her to an ecstasy so high she’ll be sobbing afterwards.
My mind’s exploding with all the possible ways of doing this and my dick is getting hard.
“Ken, are you ever going to finish that bloody forecast?” Seb scowls down at me and raps a pen against the laptop lid. “The corn will be grown and harvested by the time you’ve planned the seeding.”
“Any minute now,” I say, refocusing my gaze on the screen. I try to quiet my mind. My dick is harder to persuade. I feel dizzy with desire and I’m scheming about a quickie. During lunchtime? She’s probably down in the stables, feeding the new horses. All that soft hay …
No. Concentrate. I may not be the personality-type for a cubicle existence but I do badly need a reliable income in my life. Besides, it’s a matter of family duty to help out with the farm and I’ve been quite remiss lately.
When I’ve recovered myself sufficiently, and done enough figures to feel that I’ve earned
myself a break, I amble out to the reception hall for a coffee.
They’ve all gathered around the little Nespresso machine—my siblings—Seb, Alex and Letty.
“Uh, What?”
There’s a bottle of champagne, and a cake—in the shape of a horse’s head in profile. It looks absolutely terrible—dark icing, sloppily applied, with one ghastly eye leering out in some bright color—but it brings a lump to my throat.
I feel a huge silly grin spreading over my face. “Did you make this, Letty?”
“Yes! Doesn’t it look exactly like Sill?” She claps her hands in glee.
“The spitting image,” I assure her.
Alex claps me on the shoulder. “We all wanted to say congratulations for Sill and to wish you good luck, old chap. At Doncaster, but beyond that too. And with the book… whenever it comes out.”
My siblings all snicker.
“Ah, shucks.”
Seb eyes me solemnly. “It’s everyone, Ken. Our families. The whole village. All the tenants. We all feel the same way. Whatever happens, it’s enough that Sill’s running again. Just seeing him in the starting stalls at Doncaster is a win in my books.”
Everyone else nods.
I bow my head, appreciating his message. Appreciating my wonderful family.
We’ve all had a glass or two of the Champagne—an excellent vintage from a secret vineyard in Normandy which, Alex tells me, he valiantly discovered on one of his helicopter trips.
“All three cars are going to the race,” Seb announces, because he just can’t stay out of planning mode for too long. “Even Mother and Mrs. B wanted to see. So, will you take Letty and Mother?”
“With pleasure,” I say. I had hoped to go alone with Liv, but, yeah.
“Are you staying over at the yard in Durham tonight, or here?” Letty asks, wiggling her eyebrows.