Never Underestimate a Caffarelli

‘The goal was to get you out of the château for an hour or two. There was nothing whatsoever romantic about it.’

‘Why do I get the feeling my staff are conspiring against me?’

‘They’re not against you at all. They care about you, especially Etienne.’

Raoul looked out past the lake to the fields where his thoroughbreds were grazing. He could see his stableboy in the distance lugging a bale of hay to the feeder. That thin scrap of a kid who had come to him late at night on a Paris back street begging for food had turned into one of his biggest assets. Etienne had been brought up in filth and neglect; he had been distrustful of everyone and had hit out at every attempt to get close to him. It had taken Raoul months to get through the boy’s thick, impenetrable armour. But now the boy ran the stables like a well-oiled machine. He had an affinity with the horses that was second to none. He preferred horses to people, and to some degree Raoul felt exactly the same.

Horses could be flighty or fearless, strong willed or biddable, yet once he had their trust they would do anything for him. It was so satisfying to see a willful, unruly yearling mature into a true champion. He had sold yearlings to racing syndicates from all over the world. He had bred winner after winner, champion after champion. He had been there from the moment his foals had taken their first spindly steps to watching them thunder past the finish line in some of the world’s most prestigious races.

How could he possibly run his business from the sidelines?

But it wasn’t just the stud business. He could not think of a worse form of torture than to watch a race while seated. No one sat down when a race was coming to the finish line. Everyone jumped to their feet—the trainers, the owners and the crowd. The cacophony of cheers and shouts as the horses came down to the line always gave him goose bumps.

How could he do it any other way?

Raoul met Lily’s gaze. ‘I suppose you cooked up this little scheme with Etienne—to lure me out here in the hope that it will make me yearn to get back down to the stables. But dinner on the terrace is not going to change my mind. I will not go down to the stables until I can get there on my own two feet.’

‘I think you’re being unnecessarily stubborn about this. Plenty of people run very successful businesses in spite of their physical limitations.’

‘I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Miss Archer. I don’t want to run my business from a chair. I would rather sell it than do that.’

‘But Etienne said the horses are your passion.’

‘I have other passions.’

Her cheeks bloomed again with colour, but her voice was tart and full of spinsterish disapproval. ‘I’m very sure you do.’

Raoul gave an indolent crook of his mouth. ‘You don’t approve of indulging one’s passions?’

Her expression was tightly composed, almost too composed. ‘Only if you don’t hurt anyone else in doing so.’

‘Have you been hurt in love, Miss Archer?’

‘I’ve never been in love.’

‘But you’ve been hurt.’

Her gaze skittered away from his as she reached for her water glass. ‘Hasn’t everyone at one time or another?’

Raoul watched as she took a token sip. So measured, so controlled, but behind that cool façade was a passionate, sensual young woman. He had felt that surge of passion against his mouth. He had felt the primal heat of erotic human contact, the mingling of her breath with his, the duelling of their tongues, the carnal desire he felt in her lightest touch.

He wanted to feel it again.

He dragged his gaze away from her mouth, his body still humming with the thought of bedding her. It was crazy even to allow the thought to enter his head. He was probably only tempted because it had been weeks since he’d had sex. Or maybe it was because she was such a fresh challenge to him. She had made it pretty clear she didn’t like him or approve of his lifestyle. It could prove rather entertaining to change her mind.

Forget about it. You don’t need any more complications in your life right now.

Raoul was getting dizzy from all the mental shakes he’d been giving himself. He wasn’t in the mood for an affair even if his body thought it was a good idea. He liked to conduct his affairs with clear focus, with control and purpose. Diving into a fling just for the hell of it wasn’t his way. Emotions were something he controlled, even though there was a part of him that kind of liked the thought of falling in love.

He and his brothers had spent their early years surrounded by their parents’ love for them and for each other. It had set a standard, perhaps a rather unrealistic one, because not one of his relationships had even come close to what their parents had. Love and commitment had been central to their relationship. They still had their arguments, sometimes quite passionate ones, but they had never let the sun go down on their anger. Conflicts were resolved, slights forgiven, love restored.