“Yes,” Jake said softly. “I’ll cooperate.”
“I was certain you would. The tobacconist shop on Tuesday.” The line went dead.
Jake hung up the phone, his mind racing, his pulse thundering. If he hadn’t gone to meet Maggie, her life wouldn’t be in danger.
If he hadn’t slept with her.
If he hadn’t loved her.
He took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom to finish getting ready.
There was nothing for it now. Nothing left to do but lie to Daniel—and do exactly what the Soviets asked.
Ellie moved through her Sunday morning routine by rote, as she had done all week.
She left the hotel at dawn, arriving at the stables early enough to help Gerry complete his morning routine with the horses. Like everyone else, Gerry had heard about the fight between Clay and Flex McGrath. He had guessed what had caused it but refrained from mentioning it.
Instead, he’d been supportive, insisting he needed a little extra help to get the horses ready for the Nations’ Cup and the Dublin competition the following week.
Ellie knew it was a ruse but appreciated Gerry’s concern. And the extra work helped keep her mind off Clay, a subject she kept carefully buried in the deepest part of her heart.
As far as Ellie was concerned, her time with Clay was a momentary lapse now relegated to the past. Maybe someday she’d allow herself to remember the night they had shared, the love she had felt for him, but not now.
Too much was at stake.
Immersing herself in her riding and care of the horses, she planned her strategy, using every means available to assure a win. She told herself the extra effort wasn’t a desire to thwart Clay and regain some of her injured pride. If it was, so what?
She had come to Europe to win. She intended to do just that.
“What number did the team draw?” Gerry asked, referring to the competition about to begin and breaking into her thoughts. They stood in front of Jubilee’s stall, Gerry giving the stallion a second going over. Earlier, the horse had been carefully groomed, his tack cleaned and polished to a brilliant sheen.
“Number six. I ride last.” One team member from each country took the course, then the sequence was repeated until all the riders had finished.
“Great, that should give you a chance to look over the course and correct for any problems. Did Whitfield bother to show up?”
Just saying Clay’s name seemed to chill the air around them. “He’s here,” Ellie said, trying to keep her voice even. “Max looked strong going over the practice fences.”
Gerry nodded but his expression said he was surprised Clay had the nerve to show up. “I’ll bring Jube over to the arena as soon as I’m finished. You go ahead.”
With a last stroke of the sorrel’s soft muzzle, Ellie headed for the ring.
The All-England Jumping Course, Hickstead, Sussex, in the Southern English countryside, was a permanent show-jumping arena, turf-covered, and surrounded to overflowing by cheering fans. British television had made the event second in popularity to soccer and generated thousands of enthusiastic followers.
As Ellie neared the arena, the excitement became contagious. She felt a growing smile of anticipation, the first she’d experienced in far too long. Jube was working his best, and Ellie was as mentally prepared as possible, given her current circumstance. Only the sight of Clay in his immaculate, blue-trimmed red team jacket and tight cream breeches as he stood talking to Jake, gave her a moment’s pause.
To hell with him!She thought.I’m a winner—with or without Clay Whitfield. She flicked her crop against the side of her boot and realized just how much she wanted to win. This was the first time she’d officially represented the United States as a member of the Equestrian Team. It was a moment she’d dreamed of for years. Not even Clayton Whitfield could spoil it for her.
Skirting the two men, she headed to where Flex stood beside Sparky and one of the grooms.
“Time to walk the course,” Ellie said, flashing Flex a smile. “Come on.” She tugged his arm, and he grinned down at her.
“That eager, are you?”
“I’ve got a good feeling about this.” She flicked him a second quick smile, and they started through the gates. Once she got on the course, some of her enthusiasm fled. The fences looked huge, the biggest by far since they’d come to Europe. Some were close together while others seemed too many strides apart. How in the world would Jube be able to handle such a difficult course?
“Who designed this?” Flex grumbled. “One of the1herpas from Mount Everest?”
They stepped off the paces between a Liverpool water jump and a big triple oxer. Ellie groaned. “I think my good feeling just turned to worms.”
