“It’s open seating, but I believe Mr. Thornton was saving two places for you and your husband.”
“Mr. Thornton?”
“Yes, Craig Thornton. Unfortunately, you just missed him.”
“Craig Thornton? I missed him?” Jeez, I sound like a dumb parrot. The woman, Carla Smyth by her name-tag, nodded.
“Carried out his thoroughly sloshed wife. An infamous trollop, she is. Can’t imagine why a nice man like Craig suffers her antics. I’m surprised you didn’t see him on the way out.”
The maroon Jag, pulling out as I arrived. The mysterious guy from the show. Craig Thornton? And he was looking for me, too! Damn that storm. At least now I’ve got his name.
“I think he was just driving off.” She sighed. “Thanks. I’ll go in and find a seat.”
“There should still be two places waiting for you. Second table to your left as you enter.
Ashley nodded, turned, and pushed through the door. She found the open seats immediately, opposite two couples and a young blonde woman. Pulling out a chair, she nodded to them.
“Hi. I’m a very tardy Ashley Easton.” The two men rose, the elder moving quickly to help seat her.
“We’re the Baines… Marlon and Buffy… and the DeMonds. And my granddaughter, Leslie. Delayed up by the storm?”
“Yes. In a near-accident, actually, but survived without a bump or scratch. Really nasty out there, though.”
“It certainly was,” Marlon Baines said, as he settled back in his chair, “but I believe it’s starting to let up.”
A liveried waiter appeared with a shrimp cocktail and Caesar’s salad, as a second was pouring a glass of red wine. “How would you like your filet done, ma’am?”
“Medium-rare, please, and hold the butter on top, if you serve it that way.”
“Yes, ma’am. Please take your time with the shrimp and salad. There’s plenty of time to finish before we start dessert.
“Thanks, and a cup of hot tea, if possible.”
“Of course.” He hurried toward the kitchen.
“You’re Craig Thornton’s friend?” The girl, Leslie, asked.
“Casual acquaintance, actually.” And that’s stretching it. Maybe a future friend, though, as he seems as interested in meeting me as I am him. “Do you know Craig?’
“Oh, we just met.” She smiled. “I thought I’d like to know him better. He’s a divine dancer. Then that horrible woman, his wife, showed up, drunk as a skunk. And so foul-mouthed. A shame, ‘cause he seems so nice. A real gentleman.”
Nice… and a divine dancer… and he apparently wanted to meet me. Maybe we’ll finally meet… soon, I hope. I think I’d like having someone interested in horses I can talk with.
She attacked her shrimp, first realizing how hungry she was.
But she was totally unaware of the winds of fate, infinitely stronger than the storm she’d just braved, swirling around her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Keith arrived at the North Loop Spa early Tuesday afternoon. He’d said good-bye to Kristine for the last time Saturday evening, while Ashley was hobnobbing with her new horsey friends. He wanted to find Nicole before the class began, but the dark-haired enchantress was nowhere around.
April sat pertly behind her desk, and they had a very pleasant chat. Her warmth and intelligence only amplified her considerable beauty. It was perversely amusing… a terrific lady like April, relegated to second fiddle by the incandescence of Nicole Phillips.
Nicole arrived in the aerobics room at 3:55, erotically draped in a brief purple, backless outfit that hid nothing and displayed everything. She immediately began preparing for her class, pointedly ignoring the small covey of drooling male admirers flocking around her.
She started fast with a rigorous, high-energy routine. By Five o’clock, the only ones with gas left in their tanks besides Nicole were two women fitness instructors on busmen’s holidays.
Keith slid to the floor in a quivering heap, his breath coming in scorched gasps. And he was supposed to be a jock! A very out of shape jock.
He leaned against a wall, watching her, as his heart slowly quit trying to tunnel its way through his chest. She shut down the sound system, picked up a few hand weights left scattered on the floor, and was toweling off when he finally heaved himself up onto still shaky legs. If nothing else happened here, he certainly was going to get fit again.
"That's some brutal class. You almost killed most of us, those last few minutes."
"Oh? Sorry if you think I over did it. You did say you’d been doing this at your old club, so I thought I’d do something a little challenging for you."
"Well, you more than succeeded. At the end, I thought I was about to die and wished it would happen already. You know, put me outta my misery.”
She chuckled. “But, you were still on your feet at the final bell, so you managed to survive.”
“Yeah, well I never quit. Not on anything. There’s something I want, I go get it. Which brings me to the question of you.”
"Oh?" Her smile set him afire, her malachite eyes twinkling. "I didn't realize I was a puzzle to you. I thought you were interested in April."
"She's a great gal, but it's you I'd like to know better."
She shrugged, and bent, fishing in her gym bag, every sensual curve masterfully displayed. Slithering into a warm-up jacket, she left it unzipped for his unhindered view
Damn! Fully aroused, he managed to hide the evidence behind a bunched up towel.
"How about that drink you promised me?"
"A drink? I don't remember promising you anything. When did I say that?”
"Well, you didn't actually say it. You… well, sorta smiled it last Monday."
"Did I? Smiled it, huh?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a new one. But, I always keep my word… spoken or smiled. Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. We’ll go to O'Toole's. It’s just down the street. All right with you?"
"Yeah. I'll be there."
So the seduction began, impelled by forces greater than either imagined. A few hours invested in research on Google and the phone revealed to Nicole exactly who her suitor was. That he was married was no obstacle, because he was “The Brass Ring.”
Too clever to submit quickly, Nicole taunted him for five dates… until he gave her the emerald that Thursday evening, while dining together at Mon Petit. That was their first night as lovers, fatefully bound.
During the nearly two-weeks of their courtship, Nicole’s erotic teasing built sexual tension in Keith no longer relieved by Kristen. Ashley happily found herself the subject of his passion… wonderful love-making, descending into the vision of that idyllic meadow, always tempered by the onset of that damned Terror.
She’d fight through the fear, thrilled at again being loved by her husband. Where had this been for four months, when their last brief foray into passion had come and gone so quickly, leaving her pregnant with their third child? And they had been without the most intimated act of love for years before that. What had suddenly rekindled his ardor? And will it last, this time?
Ashley was hurt and confused when those sixteen days of wonderful love-making ended abruptly, and without comment, that Thursday night when he returned after midnight, smelling faintly of jasmine. Keith rarely touched her after that, as they again drifted apart. She had only two outlets to salve bitter loneliness and rejection: her children and Injun.
Jumping and training Injun filled her free time, creating a buffer, however hollow, against a growing solitude Ricky and Beth could hardly dent. Ashley ached for real friendship, more even than passion, to bring some fullness to her life.
Were Keith and she ever really buddies? She could only remember his lust. Had she confused that iron-to-magnet pull with love?
It appeared that way now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
It was a good practice.
Injun was a powerful jumper and very handy, so they could take shorter routes to the fences. Th
at saves time on the course, and time determines a champion during a jump-off, if several horses make a clean round.
Weird how much better she rode a course when she descended into that eerie world of old, towering forest, mossy walls and real log fences. Never a knock-down, and she flew around the course with blazing speed, French, spilling joyously through her head, understanding the words as if it were English.
She hadn’t spoken that tongue since Junior year in high school, and then pretty poorly. Languages in general were not her favorite subjects. It was a scary, yet exhilarating experience to which she had not yet become fully adjusted.
She gathered the curry-comb and brushes, depositing them in the storage box. Taking up a pick, she lifted one of the gelding’s hooves, checking for stones or debris wedged against the iron shoe. Clean. Three others examined, with only one requiring a little work.
She smiled, stroking the big horse’s still damp neck. He nickered softly, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder. Sighing, giving him a strong hug, she picked up a lead chain.
Grooming him, doing his hooves, walking him off after a workout… these were things usually done by a groom. It’s what she paid for, but she enjoyed personal contact with the animal, so did it herself. It cemented the bond between them, the only man in her life who actually loved her without question.
As she started for the corral she saw him, sauntering away from the viewing stands. He was apparently watching, but she got so entangled in that strange illusion of tearing through that magnificent, pine-scented forest, she hadn’t noticed. She hurried into the barn, searching for a groom.
"Jimmy! Jimmy, will you cool down Injun and put him away. See he has some extra fresh oats."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll see to everything." Good. The gelding was in capable hands.
She ran back to the show area, her gaze sweeping the small crowd of horsy people, always around. Damn, he was just there, on the other side of the ring. She strode toward parking lot, her scuffed English riding boots throwing small clots of dirt.
There he was, heading away. She broke loose from a small gaggle of student riders and hurried after him. When he saw her approach, he slowed, hands in his pockets like a six-year-old, a small smile (or was it a smirk?) on his lips. She walked slowly up to him. Now that she’d finally found him, she had no idea what to say.
"Uh… hi," she said at last.
Terrific! What a witty opening. Injun could’ve done better.
"How are you, Mrs. Easton?" Of course he knew her name. He’d saved her seats at the Gala last week, hadn’t he?
"I'm fine, thanks. Going champion at the last show was really special. I… I wanted to thank you… you know, for your tip. It was very helpful."
"My pleasure. You have a fine horse, there." His dark, wide-set eyes, under the arcs of chocolate-brown eyebrows, were friendly and warm, and the smile was clearly friendly… not smug.
Why did she feel so connected to this man? Horses? Somehow, it seemed deeper than that. She nodded, giving a small smile.
"Yeah. He's my best friend. And my therapist. The problems of the world seem to disappear when I'm on his back." She wouldn’t tell him how literally true that was.
"I know the feeling. You're a great team. Those three rides were a bit reckless though, weren't they? Looked like you almost lost your seat that first day."
"Yeah, well something… different… got into me last week. It's kind of hard to explain. But, I wanted to thank you. I’d hoped to meet you at the Gala last week, but got waylaid by that fierce storm. I think I arrived just as after you left. You’re Craig Thornton, aren’t you?”
"Oh, sorry. I should’ve introduced myself. I was looking forward to possibly seeing you there, too, but got called away by a… a family emergency."
Ho! A tactful way to describe carting off a drunken wife. Leslie said he was a gentleman.
They shook hands. His was smooth and strong, with just a hint of rider’s calluses. His six-foot tall body was thin-waisted and leanly muscled, typical of many horsemen.
"Well, we finally met.” Her grin widened. “Do you teach jumping, Mr. Thornton?"
"It's Craig. And no, not professionally, but I've been involved with open horses most of my adult life. I have my business to earn a living, but horses are my avocation.
“Aha. A real live entrepreneur.” Ashley shifted from foot to foot. That didn’t come out as she meant it to sound.
“I’m not a trust baby, if that’s what you mean. That’s my wife’s family, but I built this business from scratch.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. Actually, it’s good to meet someone who has succeeded on his own.” Her gentle grin somehow brightened the air around them.
“Thanks. I like my independence, and the horse helps me get away from that world. I also run a pseudo-fox hunt twice a month out of Barrington, during the season."
"A fox hunt? How strange."
"Why strange? It's just a dragged scent for the dogs and some fun jumping over more natural obstacles."
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way. It's just last week, every time I went into the ring, after the first jump, it would feel like I was riding through a beautiful old forests, jumping trees and walls, exactly like I’ve always pictured a real hunt. It was weird."
Why had she blurted that out? She had vowed to keep it to herself.
"That is strange. What was it like?" He seemed acutely interested.
"Kinda scary, actually. I’d rather not talk about it." He would think her a nutcase if she told him everything. She wasn't even fully convinced of her sanity, since those haunting visions swam through her head. They seemed so real.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. Say, we're having our annual show in Barrington in two weeks. Are you coming?"
“You keep your horse there? I hear it’s really nice.”
He nodded. “It’s a convenient base for the hunts. So, will you come?”
"I was thinking about it, especially after how well I did here. Just gotten back into jumping, and I need some work on my technique." She blushed at her utter lack of subtlety.
"Really?” He chuckled. “From what I saw, that’s like saying Ted Williams needed someone to teach him how to hit a baseball.
“I guess we could refine a few things… maybe teach you a little patience on the course. So, you can enter our show and send your horse up in the middle of the week. I'll arrange a stall. You’ve got an unusual animal… so big, yet so fluid. I’m sure I can find time to work with you, if you’d like."
"I thought you don't teach." Was that an offer to help? He seemed to know horses and jumping, and God knows, she needed the help… somehow to control the ride when she was in the vision.
"Not for hire” he said. “Just for the satisfaction of aiding a horse and his rider reach their potential. Maybe I'm being too forward."
"Oh, no. It's not that. In fact, it's kind of exciting. I haven't found anyone here that inspires much confidence."
"Swell. Look, here's my card, Ashley. Okay if I call you Ashley?"
"Sure, since we’ll to be working together… ."
"Right. So, call me early in the week and we'll set things up. Arrange for a hauler to bring Injun up mid-week. I’ll fix my schedule so we'll have some time together. I'm looking forward to it. That horse of yours has so much promise. You both do."
How nice. No double intent, no sexual innuendo… just honest friendliness. He was not “Hollywood handsome,” but his rugged, tanned face, with strong cheekbones, a square jaw and squint-lines at the corners of obsidian eyes, were more than just attractive. A wide, bow-shaped mouth may be his most attractive feature. But his looks were not what made him special.
Craig was a man she instinctively knew she could trust… and one whose very nearness orchestrated thunder in her breast.
Ease up, there girl. We’re just two people who share a love for a sport.
He’s only a friend in the making… someone she could relax with. She shifted from fo
ot to foot, struggling for a calm facade.
"Sounds good,” she said. “I'll have to see what's going on with my kids, but I think it shouldn't be a problem. My housekeeper takes care of them when I'm out." I’m rambling.
"Fine. I gotta run, now. My wife’ll be wondering what's keeping me. But she knows how crazy I am about jumpers. See you next week."
They shook hands again, and he hurried off.
She followed his departure, her tumbling heart settling into a more normal rhythm, before turning back toward the stables to check on Injun. What would Mr. Craig Thornton think of her jumping big open fences, nearly four months pregnant? She hadn’t begun to show yet.
That was news she’d keep to herself for now. She shivered slightly at the idea of working with a real expert, someone who actually seemed to care.
He was natural and easy to be with. Then there was the flutter of butterfly wings in her breast and a slight trembling of knees when she looked into those eyes, leaving her slightly breathless.
Once again, an ancient legacy was stirring its pot.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
"Don't check him so hard," he shouted, as Injun started collecting himself for the jump. "Let him stand off and take it in stride. It's not a big fence."
She eased the pressure on the reins and the big red horse surged ahead, flowing easily over the three-foot high pseudo- red brick wall. That cleared, they cantered to where he was leaning against the white railing of the show ring. Interesting that training sessions with Craig were rarely intruded upon by The Metamorphoses.
"Well done," he said, patting the gelding on the neck, looking up at her. "He's a great athlete, and at 17 hands, there's nothing in any competition he can't clear. Just let him do the work, and try to stay with him when he takes off."
"That's the hard part." She was laughing, patting her distended belly. "This little gal’s throwing off my balance, and I'm getting left occasionally. Just can't get forward enough with this kid in the way."
She was nearly in her eighth month, and it was about time to stop jumping. Just riding would be okay, but the baby was a problem when going over fences. No need to take an unnecessary fall.
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