Country Affairs. Zara Stoneley

about that.’

      She’d glanced down, embarrassed to be caught watching, but the deep chuckle made her look back up, straight into those deep eyes. There was something about Mick that had always frightened her, and something that was almost magnetic. She didn’t exactly feel like a rabbit caught in the headlights. More like one of those swinging silver balls that kept clanking against the others until it was torn loose. Only to be dragged back, almost against its will.

      ‘Freud what?’ It was a good job Mick was Pip’s man and not hers. Pip could handle him. Lottie always felt she’d drown in a man like that.

      He grinned and nodded in the direction of her finger, the tip of which was rapidly losing colour as she cut the blood supply off. She let go abruptly.

      ‘So you met this Todd in Barcelona, then?’

      ‘Australia.’ She sighed, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was a dreamy look in her eye, or dust from the hay. ‘And then we went to Barcelona together. He said he wanted a change of scene, but maybe he was hiding from his wife.’

      ‘Which one?’ Mick lifted an eyebrow, which made him look deliciously naughty, before tossing the horseshoe in a bucket and moving round to the other side of the horse. He clicked and it obligingly lifted its hoof as he bent down. ‘But he didn’t break your heart, did he, darling?’

      ‘No.’ Lottie stood up and leaned on the horse so she could study the top of his head. The horse turned and nipped her bum, which was so unfair when all she was doing was standing there. It obviously didn’t appreciate anyone barging into its ‘me’ time with the farrier. ‘No,’ she grinned, ‘but he did seriously piss me off.’

      ‘You came back to Rory.’

      ‘Well, yes.’

      He tapped up and snipped off the clenches, then started to lever the second shoe away.

      ‘So him arriving out of the blue isn’t a problem?’

      ‘Well, no.’

      It wasn’t exactly a problem, but she didn’t get why Todd was here. Okay, maybe he did want to explain, although it was a bit late, like somebody delivering a Christmas present in August. When you know you should be grateful but the moment has gone, and it’s just a present. For no reason. Which can be spooky. When it’s an ex. And all of a sudden what was a nice private adventure had been announced to all your friends. And your boyfriend. She’d moved on from Christmas and into the realms of ‘this could be so embarrassing’.

      ‘But?’

      ‘It’s just a bit weird. And why is he here?’

      ‘Boredom? Curiosity?’

      ‘He’s not the curious type.’ Although she didn’t really know that, did she? Just as he’d remarked that he didn’t know her at all, she didn’t know him. Their fling had involved first names, sexual kinks and that was about it. Not that she was kinky – maybe preferences was a better word, except she’d told him about the chocolate sauce. Oh God. What if he told everybody? You see, that was the problem. It was all well and good having a no-holds-barred fling with a stranger when you were in a foreign country, but it wasn’t supposed to follow you home. There was a reason holiday flings were so much fun, and it had nothing to do with being held accountable.

      ‘Maybe he’s after your massive inheritance.’

      ‘Well, he’ll be bloody disappointed. I’m not inheriting a country pile, more like a pile of debt. Have you any idea how much it costs to repair a roof that size? I hadn’t until the other day.’ That had been a real shock to the system. You could buy more than one good horse with that type of dosh. ‘And do you know how much it costs to keep even just the East Wing heated?’ She hadn’t known that herself either until Dom had very gently started to introduce her to the less glam side of being a Lady, and the spreadsheet. But Todd didn’t strike her as a gold digger either (if you called men that, or were they prospectors?). But there again, he hadn’t struck her as a bigamist, or even a husband (ex or otherwise) at all, which was a bit worrying.

      ‘Not a clue. Did you know he’s staying with me and Pip?’

      ‘What do you mean? Why didn’t you tell me?’ She banged one palm down without thinking, the horse swung its rump around in retaliation and Lottie found her own bum in the bucket of cold water that Mick had set aside to cool the horse shoes down in.

      ‘I am doing. You didn’t know, then? Rory didn’t mention it?’

      Lottie grimaced and went to stand up, only to find the bucket went with her. Which was her own fault for having a big arse. Although if she took over her inheritance she wouldn’t be able to afford chips and chocolate, so that would solve that problem. Maybe that was why a lot of rich people were thin, because they weren’t actually rich.

      ‘I’m stuck.’ She giggled as the horse nudged the bucket with its nose and sent a new cascade of water into her boots. The seal broken, it fell off with a clatter, the horse faking alarm reversed onto Mick’s foot and the terriers arrived at full belt, eager not to miss any of the fun.

      Mick, armed with steel-toe-capped boots pushed the horse forward good naturedly and watched as the dogs circled them, barking with excitement.

      What had ever brought him to this mad yard? Lottie was loveable but as scatty as they came, Rory was good natured but too easy-going and forgetful for anybody’s good, and the dogs just about summed it up. Chaotic.

      Home with Pip was different. Tidy, ordered, animal-free. But he had to admit, the last bit bothered him. He didn’t have any particular need for a canine companion, but horses were his livelihood. His life. In his blood. A day without a horse was a day wasted. And the fact that not only did she not want to share that affection, but she was obviously beginning to get irritated by it, loomed like a large black cloud on the horizon. Her bossy nature and challenging outlook on life, plus her immaculate turn-out, had been what had drawn him to her in the first place. The challenge more than anything, if he was honest. But an insurmountable challenge was an altogether different prospect. He went back to looking at Lottie, which was always a nice experience. Even if she did have a habit of wearing mismatched socks with her breeches, and polo shirts adorned with horse slobber and hay.