‘He’s a bugger,’ he said calmly, unwrapping the foil and putting two sweets into his hand. ‘One for you,’ he added, holding out the offering to Custard on a tiny, outstretched palm. ‘And one for me.’
‘Hal!’ Sage was embarrassed, and promptly rummaged in the large pockets of her coat to produce the bottle of whisky. Shyly, she passed it over to a grinning Rafe, who took it, bowing his head in thanks.
‘Thank you, so much, for rescuing Skylark this morning. For rescuingme, really. I know that this is not anything near enough, but I wanted to come and express my sincere thanks.’Sage sounded strangely formal. She was waging a war in her head; she found herself liking him despite fearing him, though there had been no trace of the anger she’d witnessed since the day she first saw him riding. She smiled at him apologetically.
‘Don’t be silly, you didn’t need to do that, it was all Warhorse – he said we could not possibly leave two damsels in distress.’ He held her gaze, forcing her to make eye contact. Sage curled her toes in embarrassment as she felt herself blushing. ‘I am very glad that we were able to be of some use though.’ Rafe, appearing not to notice, looked out of the open door and up at the overcast sky. ‘How was Dennis when you got back?’ He gestured for Sage to take a seat in a button-backed chair upholstered in a timeless Colefax and Fowler chintz. He pulled down the lid of an old military trunk that was filled with leather headcollars and sat down opposite her, still holding onto Custard.
‘Safe to say he wasn’t very pleased with me …’
‘I can’t imagine that lasted. Would you like a cup of tea?’ he offered, half standing again to go and turn the kettle on.
Rafe was trying to repress the immoderate tenderness he felt towards this bedraggled woman and her child; such feelings were not in his plan. He was a man with clear goals and was – so far – on track, having achieved everything he had wanted to at this point in his life. He was twenty-eight years old and had twenty racehorses in his yard, all of which were relatively exciting prospects; three of them were actually extremely promising. His owners were only those whom he trusted and who, in turn, trusted him. His family were proud of him and hopeful of a bright future for him. A woman with another man’s child in tow should not even feature on his radar, but he had simply not been able to get Sage out of his head since that dinner a few weeks ago.
He set about making her a cup of tea, even though he could not remember if she had said that she wanted one. He had so much to do but was racking his brain as to how he could keepthem here longer now that the rain had stopped.Christ, I need to get a grip, he berated himself.
Sage was saying in her low, soft voice, ‘You’re right. Bumpa has been unbelievably kind and let me off the hook ridiculously easily. I was expecting him to totally freak out. It was all my fault.’
‘I very much doubt that – I’ve seen you ride, Sage. I know that filly too, she’s sharp,’ said Rafe, shaking aside his thoughts and trying to focus.
‘No, it was definitely me today.’ The whole saga then spilt from Sage’s lips involuntarily; her attempts to initiate the divorce papers, Santiago’s demands for overseas custody of Hal, it all came out.
As she finally got to the end of her story, Sage was suddenly aware that Rafe had become very still and serious. She must have been boring him silly. She turned pink with embarrassment. He had been so patient and listened so well that she had unloaded all of her worries onto him.
‘I’m so sorry. I haven’t really spoken about this to anyone and I’m now using you as free therapy on top of abusing your services as our local knight in shining armour.’ She was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. He was quiet, not forcing his opinions on her, seemingly patient and completely without judgement.
‘I reckon you could do with a day off,’ said Rafe, ignoring her bashful apology. ‘Louis and I are going across to Leicestershire tomorrow for a day’s hunting in the playground with the Cottesmore. You should come with us. It’s a Tuesday – your grandfather won’t mind if you miss one morning and Tuesdays tend to be quiet at North Place.’
‘Oh, that’s so kind of you. I can’t though, I haven’t got a horse.’ Sage was relieved to have an extremely valid excuse to hand.
Her mother had loved to hunt but had died after a fall on the road when Sage and Casper were nine. Sage had often accompanied her as a child, her mother leading her from her handsome bay hunter while, as fieldmaster in his scarlet coat, her father led them all on his huge black gelding, Wrecker. Sage remembered the excitement, the adrenaline and the thrill of it all, but she also vividly remembered the sad sight of the bedraggled and defeated little fox fleeing for his life and not making it. After the accident, the gut-wrenching fear she’d felt seeing her mother, immobile and absent in her starkly white hospital bed, had haunted her ever since. Her mother had never regained consciousness, and Sage had never been hunting since.
‘That’s all right, you can ride Ajax. I have two hunters. I was going to take them both anyway but Warhorse will be over the moon to do a full day. He loves the game,’ said Rafe, his voice noticeably softening as he spoke of his horse. Even though it was more of a trail chase than a hunt, now that tracking foxes had been banned, it was just as exhilarating.
Sage was tempted. ‘Am I not allowed to ride Warhorse?’ She knew she was pushing her luck. She did not know why she said it but she felt an urge to test him in some way.
‘You’re certainly allowed, Sage – if you can get on him!’ It was a challenge.
‘Now?’ Sage was asking his permission to try; she felt she needed to redeem herself and prove her horsemanship in front of him.
‘Have at it.’ Rafe gestured towards the door with a flourish. ‘I’ve got these two little rascals,’ he added, with a nod of his head towards Hal and Custard. ‘Warhorse’s tack is still by his door. He’s the huge grey on the far side – his will be the giant head leaning all the way out!’ He lifted Hal easily into the saddle and led them back out into the stable yard.
Sage walked across the immaculate gravel quadrangle,recognizing the noble Warhorse at once. Bypassing the saddle and bridle that had been abandoned outside his stable, she lifted a hand to stroke his head. At once, the animal flew backwards, raising his head in alarm.
‘Ah. This isnotgoing to be straightforward, is it?’ she asked a grinning Rafe.
‘It took me about six months to be able to touch his ears – the poor old fellow has had it tough in the past. I would be extremely surprised if you could even get a headcollar on him, let alone tack.’
‘Well, I’m not going to waste your day, or mine, trying – not today, anyway.’ The idea of getting out of Newmarket and away from her worries for a day was irresistible. ‘I would love to go with you tomorrow, though, if your kind invitation to ride Ajax still stands?’
‘Of course.’ Rafe led Custard over to where another grey horse leant out of his stable. This one had a dappled, iron-grey coat and a dark, blue-black mane and tail. It was the horse Rafe had been riding the first morning she had noticed him, jumping the gate. He was beautiful and had kind, inquisitive eyes. ‘This is Ajax.’ Rafe pulled his ears gently and the horse butted his pockets good-naturedly, looking for treats. ‘Go on, Hal – you can give him one of your Polos, you won’t even need to get off your pony. Ajax is a big softie.’
‘Are you sure? He’s spectacular.’ Sage stroked the gelding’s head in admiration.
‘I’m sure.’ Rafe was elated but hid it, saying, ‘Right, you two are huge time wasters and I have a million things to do now. Meet me here at about half past eight tomorrow morning, Sage. Ajax will go in the lorry with the others and we will meet them down there – I’ll drive.’
Sage left the yard, dazed. She knew that she would not entirely forget her catalogue of troubles tomorrow but theprospect of a day off from tunnel vision worrying about them made her spirits soar. Alarm bells were clanging quietly about the motives of this handsome, generous man but she was not sure that she could have resisted his invitation, even if she had really wanted to. Wondering if they had time to go to the phone shop and get a new SIM card, Sage headed back out towards the high street.
‘Sweeties?’ Hal asked serenely, as ever the master of timing.
