Never Underestimate a Caffarelli

It was sheer and utter madness, of course. Deluded wishful thinking. Lunacy.

He wouldn’t have looked twice at a girl like her if he hadn’t been stuck with her at his château as a physical therapist. She had searched on her smart phone for a photograph of his ex-fiancée, Clarissa Moncrieff. Beautiful didn’t even come close to describing the slim blonde woman with endless legs and a toothpaste-commercial smile. Looking at that photograph had made Lily feel like a small brown moth coming face-to-face with an exotic butterfly.

Sure, Raoul had kissed her a couple of times, but that didn’t mean anything. Why would it? He’d kissed hundreds of women. He probably would have slept with her, too, if she’d given him the go ahead. He was used to having flings. Up until his relationship with Clarissa he hadn’t spent more than six or eight weeks with the same partner. His interest in Lily had more to do with propinquity than anything else.

And she had better not forget it.

‘Do you fancy a canter to the copse and back?’ Raoul’s voice pulled her out of her miserable mind wandering.

‘Does Mardi have that particular gear?’

‘If you give her plenty of encouragement.’

She gave the mare a gentle squeeze with her thighs and after a slow start the horse went from a trot to a lovely smooth canter. It was exhilarating to feel the breeze against her face as she rode towards the copse of trees. It brought back happy memories of a time in her life when things were hopeful and positive.

Raoul kept his stallion at a sedate pace but after a while he let him open out and stretch his legs. Lily watched as the horse’s satin-clad muscles bunched and fired as he shot past. Raoul looked in his element, like a dark knight riding his finest steed.

He brought his horse to a standstill as he waited for her to catch up. ‘All good?’

Lily couldn’t keep the smile off her face. ‘Wonderful.’

‘You look beautiful when you smile.’

She felt beautiful when he looked at her like that. His eyes were meltingly dark and sexy as they held hers. She felt her stomach pitch when his gaze dropped down to her mouth. It never failed to stir her senses. It felt like a vicarious kiss each and every time.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

‘Starving.’ Was he talking about food? Was she?

‘But first I need to dismount.’

‘How will you...?’

‘Watch.’ He made a clicking noise with his tongue and the stallion bent his forelegs to the ground. He eased himself out of the saddle and, using the horse as a prop, he came down on the picnic rug. For a fraction of a second it looked like he actually took all of his weight on his left leg. Lily was sure she hadn’t imagined it, unless it was her wishful thinking back in overdrive. Had he been aware of doing it? He issued an order to the stallion in French and the horse moved away and started grazing as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

‘Wow, that is impressive. Has he always done that or did you just teach him?’

‘I taught him ages ago. I just didn’t realise how handy it would turn out to be.’

Lily could hear the strain of the last few weeks in his voice. Progress of any sort could be demoralising if it wasn’t as fast and as perfect as one had hoped for. She had seen so many clients struggle with the emotional side of rehab. That final acceptance of limitation was the hardest thing to deal with. Some people never got there. They just couldn’t cope with not being able to do the things they used to do. ‘You’re doing so well, Raoul. Did you realise you took your weight on your left leg just then? I’m sure I didn’t imagine it.’

He gave her a grimace that fell short of being a smile. ‘No, you didn’t imagine it. I can stand for a few seconds, but I can’t see myself walking into that church for my brother’s wedding, can you?’

‘The only thing that matters is your being there. I’m sure that’s all your brother and his wife-to-be want.’ Lily slipped out of the saddle and released the mare to graze alongside the stallion. ‘You have to be there, Raoul. You don’t really have a choice. You’ll hurt Rafe and Poppy too much if you don’t show up.’

He frowned as he picked a strand of grass and started toying with it. His right arm was still showing signs of the muscle wastage and topical dryness from being inside the cast and, though it was still swollen, his fingers were moving freely and seemingly without pain. ‘I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Rafe at our parents’ funeral. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.’ His frown deepened as if he had time-travelled to that dark, tragic time in his head. ‘I put my feelings aside so I could support him. I swore on that day that I would always stand by him and Remy. That’s what brothers are supposed to do. They support each other through everything and anything.’