Tempestuous/Restless Heart (8 page)

five

THIS HAD TO BE WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO RIDE
Pegasus, Alex thought dreamily as she and Diamond Life soared over an array of red-and-white bars. The young Hanoverian stallion launched himself effortlessly over the fence and practically floated back to earth. Alex’s spirit stayed somewhere in the stratosphere. This was what riding jumpers was all about. To glide and sail on the back of a powerful, willing animal.

It was only her first ride on the blood bay that was Quaid Farm’s heir to the throne of their great jumper Rough Cut, the horse that had set a bookful of records and then been retired to stand at stud, and already she was thoroughly in love with him. He was talented, obedient, enthusiastic—in short, Diamond Life was everything most of her mounts were not. He shared a sire with Rough Cut and showed every intention of taking his sibling’s place in the arena.

Sadly, Rough Cut would never be in a position to challenge the young bay. Upon his retirement he had been stricken with a devastating illness that had left him chronically lame and sterile. Time and extensive, often experimental, treatment had solved the second problem. He seemed perfectly happy in his role as daddy, seemingly not missing the exquisite grace and speed that had won him fame the world over. He was kept comfortable with painkillers and spent his time out of the breeding shed dozing contentedly in a large paddock that faced the Blue Ridge mountains.

Diamond Life was the up-and-coming star of Quaid Farm and the grand prix circuit, and Alex was more than enjoying the experience of schooling him. She took him around the spacious indoor arena, over a series of jumps known as a gymnastic, designed to improve a horse’s rhythm and form, then cantered him diagonally across the ring, popping him over a small vertical and then a spread fence. Each one was perfection and joy.

Christian watched from the gate that led into the barn, his admiration plain on his face. He may have been a flatterer by nature, but he never gave false praise to a rider. Flirting was one thing, riding was serious business. One had to earn respect in the show ring, and Alex had his. It was ridiculous how proud that made him feel. Shaking his head a little, he decided he was behaving like an infatuated schoolboy.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Maggie Quaid asked.

Christian glanced down at her and smiled warmly. Maggie had stolen his heart four years ago when she’d asked him to help her overcome her fear of horses so she could spend more time with Ry. Sassy and flirtatious, Maggie had a heart of pure gold. She doted on her friends and adored her irascible husband. Rylan worshiped the ground she walked on.

“How are you feeling today, Maggie?”

She patted her well-rounded belly and made a face. “Like a minivan.”

“Oh, you’re beautiful and glowing, and well you know it.”

She tilted her head so her red bob fell at a flattering angle along her jawline and batted her lashes at him. “Why, Mr. Atherton,” she said, her voice pure magnolias and honey, “how you do go on.”

Christian chuckled and turned back toward the arena. “To answer your question: Yes, she’s very good.”

“She must be something special to keep your feet on the ground.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly, leaning back to display his crutches, “I
am
injured.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Maggie murmured, unimpressed by his props. “Like you were injured that time a whole herd of yearlings trampled you and you won the Cavalier Classic the next day?”

He scowled at her sweet, brown-eyed smile. “That was entirely different.”

“Oh, you’re quite right. That time you had three cracked ribs, bruised kidneys, and a mild concussion.”

His scowl darkened, the aristocratic lines of his face sharpening.

“And you didn’t have a pretty, black-haired little gal to take your place so you could spend time trying to charm her.” Maggie put an arm around his lean waist and gave him an affectionate hug. “Don’t try to outfox me, sugar. I know every trick in the book.”

He considered asking her to share a few with him, but the day hadn’t come when Christian Atherton needed to ask advice about wooing a lady. He shored up his pride and held his tongue.

They watched Alex for another moment, chatting companionably as she and Diamond Life worked in the empty end of the ring, moving laterally, cantering in concentric circles that grew smaller and slower, then larger and faster. Finally she slowed the horse to a walk and pulled off her helmet, shaking her hair free in the gesture that seemed hauntingly familiar to Christian.

“Look at all that hair,” Maggie murmured. “Think if it were long, how wild it would be.”

Christian grew still as he tried to capture the ghost of a memory floating through his mind. A petite young woman with a long mane of untamed black ringlets and a bright red blouse that stood out like fire against her olive complexion. He could just see her tossing her head back in that certain way. But he couldn’t quite place the memory, and he couldn’t place Alex.

“How was that?” Alex asked as Diamond Life sauntered lazily toward the gate.

“Smashing.” Christian grinned. “How do you like him?”

Alex rolled her eyes and offered her highest praise in heartfelt Italian. As a groom came into the ring and took the horse by the bridle, she hopped to the ground and began unfastening the girth.

“I’ll see to that, Ms. Gianni.”

“Right.” Alex nodded sheepishly. The days of riding and walking away, leaving the dirty work to someone else, had all but faded from her memory. It was a nice treat. But she couldn’t get used to it, she reminded herself sternly.

“You look wonderful on him,” Maggie said as Alex let herself out the gate. “I’m Maggie Quaid.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Maggie, and thanks. But I think Diamond Life could make anybody look good. He’s a fabulous animal.”

“You’ve obviously never seen me ride,” Maggie said dryly.

There was a sudden commotion in the alleyway, and from around the corner of a stall appeared a sturdy dark-haired little boy of about three leading a big white goat with a length of twine. The goat was protesting loudly. The boy leaned ahead and trudged along as if he were towing a barge, the determined look on his face a miniature version of his father’s scowl.

Alex covered her laughter with her hand. Christian tightened his lips against his.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Buddy, let that goat be. Buddy…”

The toddler and the goat faced-off in a tug of war.

“Thomas Randall Quaid,” Maggie snapped. “Leave that animal alone.”

Buddy Quaid didn’t have a chance to disobey his mother’s dictate. The goat lunged forward suddenly, knocked him on the seat of his miniature blue jeans, and scampered out into the arena, its tether floating behind it like a ribbon.

“See what happens when you don’t listen to your mama?” Maggie said gently, leaning down to help her son up and dust off his britches.

Buddy’s face was a study in disappointment. His lower lip jutted forward threateningly. “Darn goat.”

“Don’t you worry about the goat, young man. You worry about what your daddy’s going to say if he catches you trying to ride that creature again. He’s told you a hundred times you can’t ride goats.”

Buddy scuffed the toe of his little cowboy boot against the concrete and looked dejected. Maggie’s stern expression melted, and she pressed a kiss to her son’s dark head.

“Christian tells me you have a daughter,” she said, smiling up at Alex.

Alex nodded and glowed with maternal pride. “Isabella. She’s ten months old.”

“We’ll have to get together some evening. I can warn you all about the terrible twos.”

“Splendid idea!” Christian beamed, seizing the opportunity with gusto. “Why don’t we do it over dinner? The four of us at Nick’s.”

Maggie gave him a look. “Maybe when Alex isn’t so busy,” she said pointedly. “She’s going to be exhausted, what with having to do your riding on top of her own.”

Christian frowned at her. Loyalty to gender. He should have expected as much. He shifted on his crutches, guilt nipping at him.

Guilt! Gads, he never felt guilt! It wasn’t as if Alex was doing his riding for free. And it wasn’t as if he weren’t really hurt. Besides, Alex needed to become acquainted with the caliber of horse she deserved. She belonged on mounts like Diamond Life and Legendary, not Terminator. He was doing this for her own good. He all but told her as much a few minutes later, after Maggie had said her good-byes and led Buddy away toward the house.

He invited Alex into the dispensary, where the communal coffee pot was kept. Setting his crutches aside so he could use his hands, he poured two cups and offered one to Alex. They leaned back against the counter and discussed the way the stallion had gone and what the training strategy was to have him ready for the upcoming show. Eventually Christian managed to turn the conversation Alex’s way.

“You’re really very talented, Alex,” he said. “And that isn’t simple flattery. Any number of top stables would be lucky to have you, and I think you know it.”

Oh, I know it
, Alex thought, glancing away. She also knew that no top stable would hire her without proper references, and her last employer would hardly write a glowing recommendation. By the time the Reidells got through running her down, she’d be lucky to get a job mucking out stalls at a sale barn.

“Why are you doing this, Alex?” Christian asked, bemused. “Why put up with bastards like Haskell and Terminator when you don’t have to?”

“I want to be my own boss,” she answered truthfully enough, though she still avoided his eyes. “I put up with Tully and Terminator because that’s what I have to do if I want to ride A Touch of Dutch. They’re a package deal.”

“You don’t need rides that badly.”

She lifted a black brow but kept her temper in check, projecting ice instead of fire. “Who are you to say so?”

Christian slammed his coffee mug down as an irrational burst of responsibility surged through him. “Dammit, Alex, I’ll send you some of my own if that’s what it takes. I can’t stand to see you risking your neck on that rogue.”

“It’s my neck,” she said stubbornly.

Christian heaved a sigh as he watched her chin go up. “There goes the drawbridge,” he muttered.

Alex gave him a suspicious look. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head wearily, his shoulders slumping. He ran a hand back through his pale hair and sighed again. “You’re right, of course, it’s none of my business. Forgive me for being indiscriminately concerned. I really don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

Join the club
, Alex thought as she stared pensively into her coffee. She had come to Virginia with a simple outline for her life. Suddenly things were getting complicated beyond belief. She found herself recklessly drawn to a man who had a reputation for collecting hearts like charms for a bracelet. She found herself liking him, wanting to be with him, yearning for another of his kisses.

It was the height of folly. Even if she let herself think there could be something special between her and Christian Atherton, even if she agreed to go out with him, what would ultimately come of it? He would expect things to progress on their natural course. What would Christian think of her when she finally told him about her past, which she would have to do. It wouldn’t be fair not to tell him. Would he believe her side of the story when no one else had—including her own family? Why would he, she wondered cynically.

“Where do you go?” Christian asked on a whisper, his eyes as deep and blue as the sea as he leaned nearer. “Where do you go when you drift away?”

“Nowhere,” Alex murmured, knowing the lie was plain on her face.

The corner of Christian’s mouth tilted up. “You’re such a mystery.”

“No, I’m not!” she insisted too vehemently, instinctively wary of having him want to solve the puzzle. She suddenly remembered seeing a shelf full of mystery novels in his cottage, and her blood ran cold. She actually felt herself go pale. “There’s nothing mysterious about me! I’m just trying to make a life as best I can.”

“All right, all right,” Christian murmured, calming her with his soothing, mesmerizing voice. He lifted a hand to gently brush her hair out of her eyes. “It’s all right.”

Alex relaxed by degrees, her breath gradually coming in slower gasps.

“It’s all right,” Christian whispered again, inching closer.

He stroked her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw and tilting her head back with subtle pressure. Their gazes locked, and for an instant there was a communication flowing between them that defied words, a current of feeling that was strong and undeniable. Then his lashes fluttered down as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

Alex drank in his kiss with a sense of desperation as emotions tore loose from their moorings inside her and crashed into one another. She wanted him, she wanted no one. She wanted to feel, she wanted to remain numb. She wanted a life without memories, she could never forget.

Passion won out momentarily as she blocked out the maelstrom of other emotions. For just an instant she let herself respond the way a woman would want to respond with a handsome, charming man kissing her—hungrily.