‘With his bloodline and progeny, we both know you can persuade Paul to pay big money for him, especially once we get him looking as good as he did in that video.’ He nodded at Beck who was steaming with sweat, eyes wild, unclipped coat filthy, churning a groove in the sand as deep as a mill furrow.

‘What are you thinking? Half a million?’

It took him a moment to realise she wasn’t joking.

‘You’re the boss.’

‘Don’t forget it.’ The infectious laugh came deep from her throat, eyes Lapis. ‘Half a mill would leave me plenty of loose change to bring back a smart young stallion or two to stand here next year, keep us ticking over while we wait it out for Beck’s babies to be old enough to breed from. You’re quite brilliant, Luca. I love a plan. We sell the golden goose, but only after we keep lots of golden goose eggs to hatch.’

In the round pen, Beck was still running for his life. He’d run until he dropped if he had to. He would never surrender. He was that sort of horse. Does he know he’s in danger too? Luca wondered.

‘Of course, all this depends on whether we can turn him round or not.’ Ronnie grimaced, crossing her arms and adopting her power pose, which Luca was finding increasingly beguiling. ‘We’ll set a deadline. I can’t afford to be a sanctuary, and I need you breaking and schooling on youngsters and overseeing Cruisoe servicing his mares. If Beck doesn’t buck up his ideas in time, I’ll cut my losses and offer him straight to Paul.’

Luca ran his tongue across his teeth. If ever he had an incentive to fail, that was it. But this was Beck he reminded himself. This was Ronnie.

‘Now catch my horse,’ she ordered brusquely, tilting her head, wise blue eyes gleaming.

Beck, who had slithered to a halt to watch them, shot off across the pen when Luca let himself in. He walked a few steps towards him and the stallion reared up, a white tower looming overhead, threatening to strike out.

With a soft burr of the tongue, Luca raised his arms and the horse dropped back down. He swung the head collar, calling for him to get going and Beck tossed his head furiously and charged off in a breakneck circle.

‘He can do that all day,’ Ronnie said, watching from the other side of the metal gate. ‘Lester gets terribly dizzy. He thinks we’re feeding him too much.’

Luca moved further into the circle and the stallion flew between them faster than a roulette ball spinning on its wheel. ‘He’s completely lost trust.’

Quietly clicking and whistling to attract Beck’s attention, he turned to look at Ronnie through the metalwork, ignoring the horse when he spun round and started to career in the opposite direction.

‘He needs a good role model,’ he told her, clicking quietly again. ‘Here, lad, tsh tsh. Let’s give your old Irish stallion a new next-door neighbour to talk to.’ He whistled once more. ‘We’ll move him into the stable beside Cruisoe.’