Riding on Air (16 page)

For the first time in my life, I was aware of sex as a reality. As something that I might actually participate in at some time. Catching William's deep blue gaze across the back of my horse, my skin tingling all over at the way his eyes darkened, I thought that time might be sooner rather than later. Another thought that simultaneously thrilled and terrified me.

But I still had a competition to train for and a horse who badly needed work if I was going to achieve any of my goals. William was a delicious distraction right when I needed to focus on Jinx's training, but I shrugged that thought away. The day was too perfect to go inviting trouble.

I knew I should have touched wood when I had that thought earlier about trouble. I don't know whether it was the long wait while I got him ready or maybe unease at the change to our routine in simply having William there, or just a sign of the general way our progress had taken a negative turn, but Jinx was having none of it today. He was having none of me.

I walked Jinx on a long rein to give him a breather and me a chance to collect my thoughts. I wasn't sure what to do, whether to pack it in for the day or keep pushing in the hope of some kind of breakthrough.

William, sitting on the rails beside the paddock gate, had so far been a shining example of tact; a silent spectator who hadn't made any suggestions or offered any useless but well-meaning advice. If I hadn't been already most of the way in love with him, that alone would have sent me sliding in that direction.

I made up my mind and gathered Jinx's reins in my hands. Messing about with my boyfriend wasn't going to get Jinx in tune for that competition and I had a sneaking suspicion my wanting to stop then had more to do with the distraction of William's presence than with Jinx's lack of cooperation.

I pulsed my legs lightly and rhythmically against Jinx's sides, took a gentle squeeze on the outside rein and asked him to trot. Jinx moved off grudgingly and my stomach clenched in anticipation of more trouble. Trying to ignore the acrobatics in my gut, I went into sitting trot and gave Jinx a strong half-halt, then turned him fairly smartly using my leg and seat aid and eased the rein to send him forward.

He went, alright, leaping forward into canter. Annoyed, I clamped my thighs against the saddle and blocked harshly with my hand.

“No, Jinx, trot,” I murmured encouragingly and he made an ugly jarring downward transition that almost snapped my jaws together and pushed me a little out of position. I shifted quickly in the saddle, sliding my butt forward to get my seat back in place, not helped by Jinx sidling sideways like a big gangly crab, tossing his head and snatching at the bit. You bugger Jinx, just settle down and listen. But I could feel him edging further and further away from me, coming off the aids I was giving him. Another half-halt, another turn, then another, and I found myself riding to my weak side with Jinx getting stronger and stronger in my failing hands.

“Come on,” I hissed between clenched teeth. I wanted to give up, just haul my uncooperative horse back to walk and then get off and let William help me put Jinx away. Then we could go and do something a hell of a lot more fun and rewarding than this.

Damn, there was that temptation again. I glanced briefly at William, who was standing by the gate now and watching me carefully, but I couldn't spare a smile for him, let alone a wave. Too tempting and too risky with Jinx gathering energy beneath me like an unexploded bomb.

I could feel frustration coming off Jinx, too, or whatever the equivalent for horses was. He didn't understand what I wanted him to do. All he knew was he wanted to run and I wasn't letting him. Again it seemed hopeless and the thought went through my mind once more that maybe I should cut my losses for today. But no, I argued with myself, I couldn't quit. I had to keep trying, because how was I ever going to do well at Goulburn and get Jinx onto the squad if I couldn't ride him through a little training hurdle like this?

Maybe the problem was me holding him back too much. As Jinx trotted a 20-metre circle a little more quickly than I really wanted him to, I wondered if perhaps I was trying too hard and asking for too much. Asking him to collect more than he was able to. I knew that true collection was converting some of the horse's forward energy ‘upwards', so that he moved with more spring in his limb and more suspension between steps, but maybe I was making the mistake I'd seen lots of riders do and blocking the flow of the energy, trying to slow Jinx down rather than gather him ‘up'.

It made beautiful sense and I immediately felt lighter and more confident, now that I had thought of something to actually do. I'd give Jinx a bit of a canter, to get us both a bit freer and thinking more forward.

I barely formed the thought and Jinx picked up on my intent and leapt forward into canter. I eased the reins and allowed him to go on, increasing the arc of the circle to accommodate the faster pace. Jinx snatched at the bit and tried to charge off. I sat deep and resisted, telling him that was fast enough, thank you very much. He sat back on his hindquarters and his forehand lightened, rising in front of me. I eased my seat, allowing just a fraction with my aching fingers. For several strides it was all there and I was afraid to blink or breathe or even think in case I disrupted that glorious moment of harmony where Jinx's neck flowed up out of his shoulders in front of me, curving onto the bit, the reins a springy energetic bridge between the bit he carried in his mouth and my hands.

This was why I did it. Why I gave up other less physically challenging (and way less interesting) hobbies and said no to my friends and hurried home after school. This was why I swam all those monotonous laps until my fingers shrivelled and my nose burned with chlorine. And why I put up with the falls and the frustrations and the never-ending pain in my hands. For this moment. Whenever it happened.

And then, just as quickly, just as always happened, I lost it and the perfect glorious moment was behind us. Jinx jerked at the bit, testing, a little uncomfortable in this new way of going, and with a stab of pain my fingers cramped and the rein slipped through my loosened, non-responsive grasp. Jinx, released from the framework I'd so carefully shaped around him with my legs, seat and hands, reverted to what he knew best: speed.

Unaffected by my attempts to get him back, Jinx dug at the ground with long, powerful strides, faster and faster. I wrapped my legs around him and thought furiously, knowing if he got really worked up there was no way this was ending any other way than with me on the ground, either because he dumped me there or I'd bailed out voluntarily. I was not keen to do that in front of William.

I sat deep in the saddle, resisting the urge to curl my body forward over Jinx's bobbing neck for better comfort and balance, and kept my back firm and straight, all my weight sinking down my spine and onto his. I didn't bother trying anything so fine as a half-halt, knowing Jinx was beyond listening to the weak aid that was the best I'd be able to muster. I concentrated instead on steering him with my body, turning him into a smaller circle that made no accommodation for his speed, basically offering him the choice of slowing down or falling over.

For a while I thought he was beyond self-preservation, as he tore around in smaller and smaller circles. I was distantly aware of William shouting my name, but I had no time for that right now, because if Jinx started to slip I wanted to know in time to jump off before he hit the deck with one of my legs the meat in a sandwich between his 500kg body and the unyielding ground.

Finally, he slowed, although I think it was more the reduced fitness from the patchy work he'd been getting lately that made him canter slower than any awareness that if he kept going fast he'd crash. Thoroughbreds are a bit one-track-mind that way. It definitely made it a gamble to circle and hang on and hope, but my only other option was to ride him into the gate and that choice ended in a certain crash. I'd rather take my chance and the circle trick had always worked back in the early bad days.

Jinx dropped with a jolt back into trot, but I was having none of that. He wasn't supposed to be the one who made the decisions, so I steeled myself against the laboured sound of his breathing and the damp heat rising off his body and kicked him back into canter. Back in control, I re-established rein contact and got Jinx back on the aids and took him through a series of transitions and then I did a bit more slow trot, offering him a longer rein so he could stretch. Finally I asked him to walk.

He came down to walk obediently, although by then he was flat with tiredness and the transition was a bit ugly. I gave him a pat and let out the reins so he could stretch his long neck out completely.

I drew a shaky breath and blinked sweat out of my eyes, thinking that, all things considered, that had gone fairly well. I turned Jinx towards the gate and palmed his sweat-darkened neck with a grimace. He was going to need hosing down to clean him up, although his breathing was slowing, a good sign that his basic fitness was still pretty good. I looked up and saw William opening the gate for us. For a moment I'd forgotten he was there.

“Nearly lost him,” I said as I rode Jinx through the gate. William glanced at me briefly, his expression hard to read, and without a word to me, turned around to close the gate.

Uh oh. I didn't want to stop Jinx, who was hot and sweating and needed walking a bit until he cooled down, so I kept going, turning in the saddle to look back at William.

William turned back from the gate and waved me off. “I'll meet you at the tack room,” he said. I nodded to show I'd heard him and turned around, steering Jinx out into the lane. Whatever was bugging William, maybe it hadn't anything to do with me. Just my usual paranoia at work.

It seems my paranoia in this instance wasn't misplaced.

William waited until we'd got Jinx unsaddled and cleaned up and all the gear put away; something he did the lion's share of without even asking. He just did what needed to be done. I came out of the paddock where I'd let Jinx go and went to stand beside William as he closed the gate. I watched Jinx fold his knees and lower himself to the ground for a roll, absent-mindedly sliding the halter and lead up my forearm so I didn't have to hold it in my hand.

Wordlessly, William took hold of the halter and slid it carefully off, holding it in one hand.

“Thanks,” I said warmly. “And thanks so much for all your help with Jinx, getting him ready and then hosing him off and everything.”

William coiled the lead into his palm, looking down at the red and white striped cotton and my tatty old faded-blue halter. I noticed again that he had eyelashes most girls would kill for, thick and long and dark. I was standing close enough to see that they were a goldy-brown on the ends, bleached lighter by all the time he spent out in the sun. Just like the thick waves of bronze-tinted dark hair that curled away from his sun-browned neck. I longed to run my fingers through that hair again, but the fiery ache in my knuckles warned me off trying it just now. A bubble of fear rose up inside me and I squashed it quickly. This was just a bad flare, that was all. I'd been banging my hands around too much. It would get better if I just gritted it out like I always had.

“I think you need to get Gary or Brendan to ride that horse.”

“What horse?” I asked, brain sluggishly trying to process what seemed like a random comment. “Jinx?”

“He's way too full of himself at the moment.”

“He's just a bit fresh,” I said dismissively.

“He got away on you, just like he did last weekend at pony club.” William looked up and his dark blue eyes pinned me. “And, I suppose, just like he did at camp when he dumped you on the cross country course.”

Prickly heat crept up my neck and flushed my cheeks. I couldn't hold that blue gaze. I lowered my eyes and scuffed at the dirt with my riding boot, feeling his eyes still on me, judging me. My stomach folded into an origami shape and then rolled over to play dead, leaving me nauseated, strained and horrified that William had all of a sudden fallen off his Ideal Boyfriend pedestal. Taken a headlong dive, more like it.

How dare he criticise my horse or the way I rode him? And how dare he do it in a way that brushed so closely to my deeply-hidden fears that I couldn't think how to defend myself? Hot with betrayal, stomach churning, I stood and simmered and wished I was anywhere but there as I tried to think of something to say.

“Melissa,” William said gently, “I'm not picking on you or Jinx. I'm just worried, that's all.”

“About what?” I asked, cautiously relieved to have some kind of response to make.

“About you getting hurt. You were lucky not to have broken anything on that fall at camp. It was pretty nasty.”

I frowned. “How do you know?”

To my intense surprise, William's denim gaze slithered away from mine and it was his turn to go red with fluster.

“Did you check up on me?” I demanded.

“No, no. I saw Sally at the dance and she mentioned it had been a real bruiser.”

“Sally.”

“Yeah, you know, your squad leader. Sally.”

“Sally,” I repeated. “At the dance.” I knew very well who Sally was. Sally of the perfect hair and hands and perky C-cup or bigger boobs. Jealousy jumped into the mix to start a little party with the anger and anxiety already twisting my stomach and I had to swallow against a rush of bitter bile. Since last night I had a new appreciation for how important boobs really were to a guy. That at least had been no urban myth. And no way could I compete with Sally in the boobs department.

William looked up, perhaps alerted by the tone of my voice. No doubt I sounded as green with jealousy as my insides felt. The thought of Sally dancing with him at the camp dance I'd been absent from, oh so casually bumping her hips into his—ugh.

“Don't tell me you're jealous of Sally,” William said and grinned.