‘Really? Won’t he mind?’
‘Tough if he does. I don’t blame them for jumping ship, the way he treats them.’
Flora looked worried. ‘Are they older than me?’
‘It doesn’t matter how old they are. You’re the assistant trainer, Flora, remember that,’ he told her firmly. He so wanted to inject some confidence in her, if only she knew how good she was.
After lunch Flora fell asleep on Dylan’s enormous leather settee. He didn’t want to wake her; obviously she was exhausted. Instead of going to the stable yard, he put a lamb joint in the oven and caught up with his paperwork. He’d been paid for the commercial, which would set him up nicely for at least a year. His agent mentioned a publisher making enquiries about proposing someone to write his biography, which Dylan was dubious about, but may consider in time. Tobias’ solicitor had drawn up a contract for the lease of the stables, which needed signing, various sponsors had approached him to wear their clothes and watches, and two more prospective owners had made enquiries about the training yard. Things were looking good. A British Horseracing Authority inspector was to visit the yard in a week, so that had to take priority. Flora began to rouse, and she watched him sitting at his bureau in the corner of the lounge, deep in concentration. A framed photograph of three young boys stood on the top of the bureau. She got up and walked towards it, making him jump.
‘Sorry,’ she said, taking the picture, ‘didn’t mean to startle you.’ Flora examined the photo. ‘Who are they?’ she asked.
‘Me and my brothers, taken on holiday years ago.’
‘How old were you?’
He pointed to the boy in the middle. ‘That’s me aged seven. Michael, the eldest, was nine and Liam four.’
‘Was it Liam who texted the other night drunk?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You said it was your brother who had texted?’
‘Ah, yes.’
Flora smiled at the little boy with dark curls and a cheeky grin. Nothing had changed. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked, anxious that he had overworked her.
‘Yes, thanks. Something smells good.’ How would she cope on her own, chiselling ready-made meals from the freezer in future?
‘Lamb.’
‘Lovely. Thanks, Dylan.’ She meant it. Despite what had happened in the past, she sincerely appreciated the way he was looking after her.
After dinner Flora asked if he had any more photos of him as a child. The framed picture of him and his brothers had intrigued her. He took out a couple of albums from a bookcase and together they browsed through them on the settee, laughing together at the antics caught on camera. Flora felt like she was beginning to know yet another side to Dylan. It was evident that family mattered to him and that he had a close relationship with his brothers. There was always a horse about, Dylan riding, or competing and winning a trophy, very much like her. They had finished a bottle of wine and were totally relaxed, leaning into each other. Flora loved the warmth of his body against hers. He was such a comfort. Never had she been so torn.
‘It’s late, we better get some sleep.’ Dylan closed the photo albums and helped Flora to her feet. ‘You go up. I’ll make us a hot chocolate.’
‘Thanks.’ Flora suddenly craved a comfortable bed and a hot chocolate under the covers. She climbed the stairs and made her way into the bedroom, undressed, slipped on her silky nightshirt and tumbled into bed. There was a knock at the door.
‘Come in.’ Dylan held two cups, he passed her one and sat on the bed. He turned the bedside light on, giving the room a cosy, warm glow. ‘Thanks for looking after me, Dylan.’
He gazed at her for a moment, then hesitated. She looked searchingly at him: what was he going to say? After a few moments he spoke quietly.
‘Flora, I don’t want you to go.’
What did he mean? Stunned, she remained silent.
He coughed awkwardly. ‘I… I want you to stay.’ She stared at him speechless. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing that dark, muscular chest she had so admired. Then he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off. He wasn’t wearing anything under them. Flora stared at his naked body and gulped. She put her cup down on the bedside cabinet. He gently slid in next to her. His skin was soft and warm against hers. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms and let him devour her but she stilled. ‘What is it, Flora?’ he asked softly.
‘I can’t. Sorry.’
He waited. What did he expect after the way he had treated her?
‘Would it help if I told you how deeply ashamed I am of the way I behaved towards you, and promise never to hurt you again?’
‘It might,’ she replied in a small voice.
‘Let me hold you, Flora, please.’ She slid onto his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly round her. He kissed her forehead. ‘Just sleep, here with me,’ he whispered. And she did, in a peaceful, heavenly slumber.
