‘Not even for one night?’ She reached up to stroke one of her own blonde hairs from his cheek, the curved bow of his lips ever tempting. Nobody kissed like Blair. But even with adultery, he was an all-or-nothing man.

‘You’ve enough going on here,’ he reminded her. The dark eyes glittered.

She dismissed another spike of unease. ‘I could use a friend.’

‘What about your Horsemaker?’ A muscle ticked in his cheek. Much as he loved the idea of Luca tangoing her daughter straight from the arrivals gate to a Travelodge, his jealousy had played with the name too much to believe it either.

‘Nobody has an ounce of your…’ She lifted her other hand to his hair, letting its peppered weight slide between her fingers, beneath her nails. ‘You-ness.’

‘Don’t,’ he scolded gently, jerking back his head and beckoning her outside. ‘You’d better put Lester out of his misery. He’s waiting out there to speak to you.’

She looked up at the clock; hounds would be moving off from the meet soon. It had to be life or death.

The old stallion man was waiting beneath the clock-tower archway, rigid with impatience, creased face set in deepest disapproval, cob standing four square.

Ronnie smiled up to him. ‘You look very smart. Sorry to keep you waiting.’

‘I’m concerned about Pax, Mrs L— Ronnie,’ he corrected himself with effort, still uncomfortable with first names.

‘She’s fine,’ she insisted brightly. ‘She and Luca are on their way, I gather.’

‘There was another telephone call for Mr O’Brien earlier.’ He cleared his throat. ‘An American gentleman, I think. He didn’t leave his name, but he was rather angry. He threatened to kill Mr O’Brien, in fact.’

‘Goodness, how alarming. Did he say why?’

‘Something about his daughter. I thought it best to mention it.’

‘Thank you, Lester. We must let you go or you’ll miss your sport.’ She dismissed him with a nod.

‘Jesus,’ Blair muttered under his breath as Lester clattered away, ‘perhaps I should bloody stay.’

‘Says the man who escaped one aristocratic father’s shotgun by running naked across a parterre full of Japanese tourists,’ she reminded him, not betraying the hard thudding of her heart, worrying about Pax again. ‘You won the advanced section the next day, as I recall.’

‘He’d better ride as well as you say.’ He looked at her incredulously.

But Ronnie was watching Lester trot away stiffly, ordering Stubbs back to the yard which the little dog did with his ears back, joining them as his master disappeared behind the walled garden, velvet beagle hat bobbing as he kicked into a canter towards the path up through the orchards to the old drover’s track. ‘Poor Lester’s nose is terribly out of joint over all this.’

‘There’s more out of joint than just his nose. That man’s in a lot of pain.’

‘Oh God, you think so too? It’s his hips. I keep telling him to see a specialist. He’s terrified they’ll stop him riding. Lester will die in his boots.’