Page 23

As Shep was getting released from the hospital early the following morning, Ellie was heading for the stables.

She was determined to ride the best she knew how.

She wanted Jake and the others to be proud of her.

The sky was an azure blue, the day short-sleeve warm.

Distant clouds puffed on the horizon, hinting at a possible change in the weather.

Ellie worked Rose, worked Jube, and readied herself for the day’s competition.

When she won her first class, her spirits lifted.

Then she spotted Clay.

He was working Max in the practice ring, his form just as perfect as she remembered.

Ellie watched unnoticed as horse and rider took the fences, remembering the night they had spent together.

She remembered the way he had touched her, the things he had made her feel.

She thought of the way his powerful body had pressed her into the mattress, the way her body had responded, the connection they had shared.

Without him, she had felt lost these past days.

Clay took another fence, and she got a good look at his face.

He was all concentrated effort, he and Max working in perfect unison.

He wasn’t looking for her, that much was clear.

Ellie’s heart squeezed.

Flex walked up beside her.

“I see he made it.”

“Yes,”

she said softly.

“I guess he just got in.”

“He got in last night.

He called about ten o’clock to ask about Max.”

“Last night?”

Ellie could barely choke out the words.

“He called you last night?”

“Yes.”

Flex glanced down at her.

She could feel the blood draining out of her face.

Her hand trembled where it rested on the arena fence.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head.

“I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well.”

Flex put an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward her tack room, shielding her from the horses and riders they passed along the way.

“You lied to me, didn’t you?”

he said.

“You went to bed with him.”

“I couldn’t help it.

I wanted him so much.

I just didn’t know how rotten I’d feel afterwards.”

They reached the tack room, and Flex led her inside.

Wearily, she sank down on a bale of straw.

“I knew he didn’t love me, but I thought he cared a little.”

“That bastard.

He just couldn’t leave you alone.

He had to score, no matter how much he hurt you.

He hasn’t got a decent bone in his body.”

Ellie willed herself not to cry, but her eyes burned, and the room seemed suddenly too warm.

“I have a mind of my own,”

she whispered.

“I could have said no.”

Flex took a last look at her tortured expression and stormed out of the room.

He headed straight to where Clay now stood beside Max.

The big blood bay stallion stomped a hoof and swished his glossy black tail while Clay adjusted the length of a stirrup.

Clay glanced up as Flex approached, but his expression remained inscrutable.

“You rotten, no-good bastard.

I didn’t think even you could sink so low.”

Clay ignored him, just kept working on his stirrup.

Max pawed nervously, anxious for him to finish.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Since when did I start answering to you?”

“Since right now.”

Flex grabbed Clay’s shoulder and spun him around.

“You couldn’t leave her alone, could you? You even had me fooled into thinking you cared for her, but all you wanted was another piece of ass.”

Flex doubled up his fist and punched Clay in the jaw so hard he sprawled in the dirt a few feet away between Julius Caesar’s legs.

The horse twisted his head to look down at him, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Get up.”

“I won’t fight you, Flex.”

“Why not? Afraid I might give you the beating you deserve?”

“This is none of your business.”

Clay climbed to his feet, brushing himself off.

Flex stepped forward and hit him again.

Clay went down hard, his hat rolling off into the dirt.

By now Prissy had returned and a circle of riders begun to gather to watch the fray.

“Get up and fight.”

Flex stood over him, breathing hard, his mouth a thin, grim line.

“No.”

Flex reached down and grabbed the front of Clay’s shirt, jerked him up and punched him again.

Blood trickled from the corner of Clay’s mouth.

“Stop it!”

Ellie rushed toward them, her voice high and strained.

“Leave him alone!”

She stood at the edge of the circle, ashen faced.

“Stay out of this, Ellie, this is between Clay and me.”

“Don’t you understand? It wasn’t his fault! I wanted him to make love to me.

I practically forced myself on him.

He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.

It wasn’t his fault—it was mine!”

The wind whipped strands of her hair while tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m not sorry about what happened.

I cherish that night, even if he doesn’t.”

Flex glanced from Ellie to Clay.

Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

“You’re a fool, Whitfield.”

Flex stepped across the circle to Ellie.

“All right, the show’s over,”

he said to the crowd of riders, who began to disperse.

Slicing Clay a last hard glance, he put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders and led her away.

Clay watched them go.

Climbing to his feet, he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and combed his fingers through his hair.

He picked up his riding cap and settled it back on his head.

His stomach was knotted into a hard tight ball, his ulcer eating at his insides.

Through the whole ordeal he’d kept his expression carefully blank.

He hadn’t once looked at Ellie.

He didn’t dare.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

For the first time Clay noticed Prissy, who leaned against the rail, knee bent, a booted foot propped on the fence behind her.

He hated the condemnation in her voice.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I scored, didn’t I? Let her say what she wants if it’ll soothe her ego.

The truth is, I set out to seduce her.

I lied to her and lured her into my bed.

I’m the same bastard I’ve always been.”

Prissy came away from the fence to stand beside him.

“You could have let her down easy.

You’ve got a knack for keeping ex-lovers as friends.

Why not Ellie?”

Clay shrugged his shoulders.

“Too much trouble,”

he said, but a nerve twitched in his cheek.

Prissy eyed him strangely.

“Why am I not convinced?”

“That’s your problem.

I seduced her.

When I had my fill, I dumped her.

If you want to blame someone, blame me.”

Clay turned away.

“I don’t get it.

She’s trying to protect you after all the shit you’ve given her.

You’re staying away from her, making her hate you on purpose. Why?”

“Leave it alone, Prissy.”

He pulled Max’s reins loose from the top rail of the fence and slipped them over the animal’s head.

Max nickered softly, and Clay stroked the horse’s thick neck.

“Why, Clay?”

Prissy asked softly.

“Why would you treat Ellie so badly? It isn’t like you to be cruel to someone on purpose.”

She reached out to him then, saw him stiffen even before her fingers touched his cheek.

Gently, she turned his face with her hand, forcing him to look at her.

Prissy sucked in a breath at the pain, the crushing despair that went beyond sadness to the outer limits of grief.

Her expression changed to pity.

“Oh, dear God, Clay, you’re in love with her.”

Clay closed his eyes.

The lump in his throat closed so tight he couldn’t speak.

His chest felt leaden.

His stomach gnawed without pity. He could hear Ellie’s voice echoing in his mind. It was my fault—not his!

What had he done to her? He’d seen the pity on their faces, known how much she hated that, but he could do nothing.

Nothing could ease the hurt he had caused.

“Don’t you understand? I’m no good for her.

Ellie isn’t like the rest of us.

She’s special.

She deserves someone who can make her happy. She certainly doesn’t need a man like me.”

“She doesn’t want someone else, Clay,”

Prissy said softly.

“She wants you.”

Clay looked out across the practice ring, watching the riders and seeing only Ellie’s stricken face as he’d left her that day in London.

His gaze dropped to the leather reins he gripped too tightly in his hands.

“I betrayed her trust.

I did something she could never forgive, something even I can’t forgive.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I left her that morning.

I went off with my father with no regard for her feelings.

All I cared about was my male ego and my father’s approval.

I behaved like an animal. There were drugs involved, other women. I feel sick inside, Prissy. Sick and disgusted. What I did, I can’t undo. Not ever.”

The words felt wrenched from his soul.

Each rang with sadness, each was a condemnation, a death knell.

Prissy touched his cheek.

Her hand felt warm and comforting and he thought of Ellie, the way she’d touched him that morning at breakfast.

How long will you be gone?

Too long , he’d said.

Too long had become an eternity.

He could never go back.

Never repair the damage he’d done. He would never again feel the happiness he’d known when he was with her.

“We all make mistakes, Clay.

Even Ellie.”

“It’s better this way.

I could never be a one-woman man.

I’m too much like my father.”

“You’re nothing like Avery.

Haven’t you figured that out?”

Clay released a bitter sigh.

“I suppose that’s the one thing I have learned from all of this.”

Prissy pulled a tissue from the pocket of her breeches and dabbed it against the fresh trickle of blood in the corner of Clay’s mouth.

“Then it isn’t too late.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Prissy.”

“Don’t throw away this chance, Clay.”

His chest tightened with a fresh rush of self-loathing.

His face felt so bloodless he knew he looked more pallid than tan.

“You don’t understand—I threw everything away when I left her in that hotel room.”

His stomach gnawed in pain.

He almost relished it.

The pain was the only thing that felt real.

Until these past few moments, he’d left his emotions in Monaco. He’d destroyed himself for a woman he cared nothing about. A woman he would remember as the one who encouraged his destruction.

Clay took a breath, masking the misery he felt inside.

He’d spent the week turning his feelings into a carefully guarded void.

Prissy had opened the wound, but soon he’d be able to close it, block thoughts of Ellie as if she’d never existed.

He’d taught himself well.

As a child it had been a necessity.

As a man, he was even more adept.

Soon there’d be no outward signs of the emptiness that ate at him like the ulcer he fed.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Ellie.

What’s past is past.”

“Clay, don’t do this.”

“I want your promise.”

Prissy sighed.

“All right.

I won’t tell her.

But promise me you’ll think this through again.”

“I’ve done nothing but think since it happened.

I have no choice.”

He turned his back on her, swung up into the saddle and nudged Max forward.

His mind was made up.

Whatever he and Ellie had found was over.

As dead as he felt inside.

He would put all his energy into winning. Nothing else mattered now.

His insides tightened.

Just days ago, his life had seemed full and rich, filled with endless possibilities.

But days ago, he’d been dreaming of Ellie Fletcher, holding her, kissing her, making love to her.

She had filled him with the joy of life and living.

Now he had to let her go.