The Princess Finds Her Match

Tansy gave an amused laugh. “The workers haven’t had time to install ‘em yet.”

Realizing it was pointless to argue with someone as drunk as Tansy, he walked past her, heading for the door. But she was not as addled as he thought she was. With a surprising burst of lightning-quick reflexes for someone who was beginning to lose coordination, she had pressed her naked body flush to his and had her hands around his head, pulling him in for a desperate kiss.

“Bloody hell!” Nic yanked her hands away roughly and shoved her as far away from him in disgust, storming out of the stable, his face like a thundercloud.

“Fuck you, Nicky! You’ll regret this!” He could hear her screaming like a virago as he made his way to the groom’s quarters beside the stable. Nic could imagine her furiously scrambling for her dress so she could bring her diatribe outside.

“Idiota!” he cursed under his breath. Her yelling would unnerve the horses.

Butler’s live-in groom, Facundo, was alerted by the commotion. He appeared from the direction of the adjacent stables. “Nicolas, what’s going on? The horses sound spooked.”

“Tansy,” Nic answered curtly.

“Papafrita!” Facundo swore, his expression clearly indicating what he thought of the woman.

”I’ve got to get out of here. Rapida!” Even though he wanted to check on his string of polo ponies housed at the stable, he didn’t want to risk Tansy anywhere near him.

“You can use the back gate for the staff. There is a telephone in the quarters. I can call you a taxi,” the groom offered in Spanish.

“Gracias, amigo.” Nic slapped his shoulder, grateful. He had left his rental car in the hotel and had hitched a ride to the party with one of his team mates

In fifteen minutes, Nic was on his way to the hotel where Team Arion had been booked for a month. It was a close match with Team El Dorado yesterday, but with a final goal from Nic on the last seven-minute period play or “chukker” breaking the tie, Team Arion would be playing for the championship the day after tomorrow.

Fiercely competitive, Rupert Butler had been insanely tense and short-tempered back at the party. The previous year, Arion had lost to Black Cavalier, a team owned by British Duke Julian Walkden. Butler hated the man and Nic didn’t know or care about their history. The one thing he did know was in a fit of rage, Butler fired the previous team captain, who had led Arion to numerous victories before, and had hired him instead. It was enough that he had shown his face at the party tonight. Nic wanted to steer clear of the Butlers and have a short respite. He would see them none too soon tomorrow at practice.

The taxi was nearing the hotel entrance when Nic’s perfect visual acuity, an ability which served him well in spotting a small white ball flying as fast as a hundred miles per hour in a polo field, narrowed in on a group of photographers clustered at a clump of bushes several meters away, lurking. Until a year ago, he would have marched straight into the foyer without igniting a single flash, but some ingenious reporter had dug up his name and had connected it with his ex, the now infamous reality star Melissa Osgoode-Rathborn, one of the wives on the hit show Political Housewives. Apparently she was on the brink of a divorce and speculations were rife, hinting at third party involvements for both husband and wife.

And so at the last minute, Nic had told the driver to turn around.

“Bring me to a local pub.” At the driver’s blank look, he amended, “A bar. Nothing swanky.” Still a blanker look, if that was even possible. “Low-key.”

The driver didn’t acknowledge him and returned his eyes on the road. Somewhere, a police siren went off. Nic stared out the window with unseeing eyes. His thoughts were back at the estancia where his horse breeding farm was now recovering slowly from an equine virus that had killed three of his prized studs. He hated being away for long, but the matches afforded him the chance to mingle with prospective horse buyers. And he had to admit, there was nothing more exhilarating than being on a gifted polo pony, galloping at breakneck speed in single-minded pursuit of a goal. During a match, everything in the universe ceased to matter for Nic. Every atom of his being was present at the now of the game. It gave him an unbelievable rush, but it also gave him peace.