Pride After Her Fall

* * *

Nash was about to throw the keys for valet parking outside the hotel when suddenly he knew he wouldn’t be going inside. It had only taken a couple of phone calls on the way down to have information regarding the lien on Lorelei’s loan sent through, and in an hour the locks would be taken off her house. But somehow it wasn’t enough.

He reached into his pocket and palmed his cell, dialled the limo. ‘Where did you drop her, mate?’

He had a press conference. He had a training schedule ahead. He needed to let her go. Instead he leapt back in the car and gunned the engine.

He’d driven past, but never been inside the equestrian centre. There had never been a reason. He gave her name at the desk and the wide-eyed girl told him Lorelei should be in the arena and asked did he need an escort? She was free.

‘I’m sure I can find it,’ he replied with a slight smile, and followed the arrows.

What in the hell did he think he was doing? Better question: why had she come here? Straight here? Who was she meeting? He couldn’t fathom the growing jealousy in him.

The first thing that hit him was the odour of manure and horse. So far, so expected. He jogged lightly down the steps of the stadium seating, scanning as he went. There were horses being worked in the domed arena. He recognised Lorelei. She was unmistakable, leaping a bay gelding over barriers. It was a breathtaking sight. Her grace and ability was fully on show.

He sank down slowly onto one of the bench seats.

Presently she drew alongside another rider, and that was when he noticed something else. The young girl on the smaller horse had a prosthesis on both her right arm and leg. Lorelei was showing her how to guide her horse.

An arrow-backed middle-aged woman sitting nearby looked at him with interest. She was the only other person within earshot.

She leaned back. ‘Lorelei runs our programme here for disabled young people. She’s a superb trainer. If you’re interested I can set up an appointment, but I have to warn you she’s in demand. There’s a waiting list.’

Nash gave the woman a polite nod and settled back.

He didn’t know what he was feeling.

But, my God, she was magnificent.

She looked like a queen in the saddle.

He remembered what she had told him about her two years of rehabilitation. He’d just assumed she’d given up. When he knew better than most what made someone a gifted athlete was that drive. Why hadn’t he realised she would take that same drive and rechannel it?

It was what he had done.

The trappings of fame and success for him had become the bells and whistles people paid attention to. But he’d earned it with hard work and focus. Yet he’d completely discounted that when he’d looked at Lorelei. He’d just seen bells and whistles, a beautiful blonde bauble. Why?

Feelings shifted like tectonic plates in his chest. Why hadn’t he asked more questions? Why hadn’t he seen this in her? She wasn’t weak. She was strong. It made sense that she would pick herself up and start all over again. And she’d do the same with that bloody house of hers.

However she’d accumulated those debts, there would be a good reason.

And he intended to find out.

Nash wasn’t sure how long he sat and watched. He only knew when he emerged into the late afternoon he wanted to smash something. When he returned to his car his cell was throwing up a volley of messages.

The press conference.

He hit redial. ‘John, I’m on my way.’

He walked into a conclave of cameras and the relief of his Eagle teammates. He sat down, put his hands either side of the mike and said calmly, ‘Ladies, gentlemen—sorry to keep you waiting. I’m driving for Eagle next year.’

A volley of questions came at him. He took a few, then fielded the rest, scrolling through his phone.

He knew tomorrow there’d be copy on how Nash Blue had been so bored at his own press conference he’d seemed more interested in playing with his phone. At another time it would have amused him. But right now he didn’t care about the press, the public or even the Eagle reps, who seemed more than adequately able to handle this without him.

He got up and walked out into the empty carpeted corridor.

‘Mike,’ he said with deceptive casualness to his genius PA, ‘I’ve got a few leads I need chased up.’ He asked for all the pertinent information about Raymond St James’s trial and his creditors.