# In the Brazilian's Debt

Susan Stephens

Paying for the past…Lady Elizabeth Fane has two choices: lose her family’s Scottish stud farm or swallow her pride and beg Chico Fernandez for help. She’s never forgiven the arrogant, Brazilian polo star for abandoning her years before, so instead she will collect on the debt he owes her.Yet, in the sultry Brazilian heat, passions flare revealing feelings Lizzie thought she had long conquered. That is until Chico finally reveals the truth behind his desertion and Lizzie realises that he not only has power over her body but it’s she who is in the Brazilian’s debt!Hot Brazilian Nights – a dazzling new miniseries from Susan Stephens!Forget privilege and prestige, this is Gaucho Polo—hard, hot and unforgiving…like the men who play the game! Get ready to meet Brazil’s sexiest polo champions!Book 1: In the Brazilian’s DebtBook 2: At the Brazilian’s CommandPraise for Susan StephensHis Forbidden Diamond 4* RT Book ReviewThe end to the Skavanga Diamond series is a perfect friends-to-lovers romance, set in an exotic, romantic Middle Eastern locale. The characters’ interactions are exceptionally realistic.The Purest of Diamonds? 4.5* RT Book ReviewStephens’ latest Skavanga romance stars a tall, dark and handsome, but cold-hearted royal hero and an exuberant, innocent and fiery heroine. Their love story shines bright, and their lovemaking turns Arctic ice to fire.The Flaw in His Diamond 4.5* RT Book ReviewStephens’ beautifully penned romance is a wonderful contrast of stark and luxurious in culture and landscape. Her stars are the perfect yin to yang, and their love scenes heat the tundra.

Lizzie shook her head. ‘I thought you understood, but you knew nothing about my life then—just as you know nothing about it now.’

‘As you know nothing about mine,’ Chico fired back.

And as the temperature soared between them she whirled around. She started to say something—something angry to hit back at him—something passionate to express all the hurt she’d felt when she was only fifteen—but as she speared a glance into Chico’s blazing eyes he reached out and caught her close.

She held her breath and stared up at him. He wouldn’t dare—surely he wouldn’t dare?

His grip tightened and slowly and deliberately he brought her inch by reluctant inch to within a whisper of his mouth. And when he brushed her lips with his she shivered and sighed—because she could do nothing else. It was a signal for him to move closer, until his hard body could control hers, and then, resting his forearm on the wall above her head, he dipped his head to tease her with almost-kisses until she was helpless with desire. Need collected inside her until finally it overwhelmed her.

Welcome to the hot, sultry and successful world of Brazilian polo! Get ready to spend many

HOT BRAZILIAN NIGHTS

with Brazil’s sexiest polo champions!

Forget privilege and prestige, this is Gaucho Polo—

hard, hot and unforgiving …

like the men who play the game!

Off the field the Thunderbolts are notorious

heartbreakers, but what happens when they meet

the one person who can tame that unbridled passion?

You may have already met

gorgeous team captain Gabe in

Christmas Nights with the Polo Player

Now get ready to meet the rest of the team in:

In the Brazilian’s Debt March 2015

At the Brazilian’s Command April 2015

And look out for Lucas and Karina’s stories coming soon!

Available from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Or visit the author’s website:

www.susanstephens.com/thunderbolt

In the

Brazilian’s Debt

Susan Stephens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday and married three months later. Susan enjoys entertaining, travel and going to the theatre. To relax she reads, cooks and plays the piano, and when she’s had enough of relaxing she throws herself off mountains on skis, or gallops through the countryside singing loudly.

For my wonderful readers who love their bad boys

safely confined within the covers of a book.

Chico is for you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

HOT BRAZILIAN NIGHTS

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

REVENGE IS A DISH best served cold.

Lizzie thought about her father’s words as the transport plane lost height, bringing them closer to their destination. Determination was an admirable quality, her father had insisted with his usual bluff confidence, founded on nothing more than one of his hunches and the dregs from a bottle of Scotch. His Lizzie wasn’t short of determination. She would rebuild the family pride where he had failed.

How many other apparently confident people put on an act in order to reassure others? Lizzie wondered as she peered out of the small, grainy window. She had been planning to embark on this advanced training programme with horses in Brazil for years, and just hoped she wasn’t shooting too high. She was determined to set the family business back on its feet, but flying for hours over miles of uninhabited nothingness in Brazil had thrown her. She felt so far away from home, and seeing Chico Fernandez again after all these years was going to dent her confidence even more.

‘How come you’re not nervous?’ Lizzie’s friend and fellow groom Danny Cameron demanded, clutching on tightly to Lizzie’s hand as the plane dropped like a stone.

She put on one hell of an act? She wasn’t a great traveller, and probably felt the same fear as Danny. As the ground came up to meet them like a slap in the face, her stomach roiled. The distinctly unglamorous transporter, known as the Carrier Pigeon to the staff of Fazenda Fernandez, appeared to dive-bomb its target, which was a rambling ranch in the middle of the pampas in Brazil.

‘We’ll be fine,’ she soothed Danny, hoping for the best.

Would they make it?

Would she make it, more to the point? Never mind that the runway was short, and the plane was loaded down with horses, grooms, and equipment, all heading to the world-class training ranch of the infamous hard man of polo, Chico Fernandez. She might make it to the ground safely, but would she make it safely out of here with both her heart and her reputation intact? It seemed incredible now that Chico had once meant so much to her, but she’d been fifteen the last time she’d seen him in person, when, for one glorious summer, Chico had been her closest friend and confidant, until her parents started referring to him in the same tone people reserved for the devil.

Chico Fernandez was supposedly the Fane family’s nemesis, yet here she was, to suck him dry of all his equine knowledge, according to her father, before returning home to restore the horse-training business that, again, according to her father, Chico Fernandez had destroyed. She knew now her father’s bluster covered for his faults, and had learned to make up her own mind where his many, dramatic pronouncements were concerned. The college that had awarded her this scholarship to train with Chico Fernandez was spending good money on the course, as were all the other students. She guessed they, like her, also hoped to ‘suck the famous polo player dry’ of everything Chico could teach them.

Any thoughts her father might have had about this being a wonderful opportunity for Lizzie to get back at a man he considered his enemy were so far off the mark as to be ludicrous. But she’d listened patiently, as she always did when her father was on one of his rambles, as he assured her that this trip was simple justice, because Chico had stolen everything from him: his good name, his business, his wealth and success, and his horses. ‘Chico took everything from me—everything, Lizzie—even your mother! Never forget that.’

How could she forget her father’s impassioned speech, when he constantly reminded her that thanks to Chico he had been reduced to a drunken husk, while her mother had left him to go and live in the South of France with the latest in a long line of much younger men?

But not before her mother had been seduced by Chico? The rumours put about by her parents were even worse. They said Chico had forced her mother to have sex with him. Lizzie couldn’t equate that with the man she’d known, though her mother, whom Lizzie had been made to call Serena, had done everything she could to destroy Lizzie’s friendship with Chico, saying he was just a poor boy from the slums of Brazil, while her daughter was Lady Elizabeth Fane.

Lizzie had thought herself in love with Chico, and had cared nothing for her so-called status. She still cared nothing for it, but she was no longer a gullible adolescent and could see her parents’ faults. Whatever her father said, Lizzie doubted Chico was to blame for her family’s descent into ruin. In fact, her grandmother, who had taken over Lizzie’s care when her parents lost interest, had confirmed this, saying Lizzie’s parents hadn’t needed any help where ruining the family was concerned.

What had hurt Lizzie the most was that Chico had promised to take her away from a home life that had frightened her, before her grandmother had moved back in, mainly because her parents had held parties where everyone got drunk and did things behind locked doors that Lizzie could only guess. She hadn’t shared these suspicions with Chico, just her unease, though she had told him how much she hated living at home. As a youth looking for a cause, Chico hadn’t demanded too much of an explanation, but had promised to rescue her, only to return to Brazil without even saying goodbye.

It was hard to reconcile the friendship they’d shared with the way she felt about him now. She had trusted Chico completely and had never got over what she’d seen as his betrayal. They had shared so many adventures on horseback, and had got to the point of exchanging silly gifts, though Chico’s mentor, the Brazilian polo player, Eduardo Delgardo, had made sure their friendship never went any further than that.

The only way to deal with her mixed feelings for Chico, Lizzie decided, was to concentrate on the one thing that mattered, which was his magical way with horses. This gift had made him her hero when she was fifteen years old, and if she could pick up everything Chico could teach her here on his world-famous training course it could be the key to rebuilding the family business. She was looking forward to showing him how much she’d changed, from an impressionable teenager into an individual who was every bit as driven and as determined as he was, and, though it would be tough seeing him every day, failure wasn’t an option when the people of Rottingdean were depending on her to get this right.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Danny yelped as the plane landed.

There was no going back now.

As she looked outside her confidence took another knock. Everything was so much bigger and wilder than she had imagined, and potentially more dangerous.

Like Chico?

The ground was parched. The sun was blazing down. According to the weather forecast, the humidity outside the aircraft would be high. The horses would be restless after such a long confinement. They would need firm and sensitive handling by their grooms, which was where Lizzie excelled. Horses were her life, and seemed to sense how deeply she cared for them. Her presence alone was usually enough to reassure them. Unbuckling her seat belt, she was out of her seat before the pilot had turned off the engines.

Lizzie remained with the most fractious horse until the back of the plane had been opened and sunlight streamed in as the ramp was lowered into place—and the sound of a husky male voice, so familiar, so long in the past, issuing terse commands in Portuguese, froze her to the spot.

‘Quem é que na parte de trás congeladas em pedra? Tremos trabalho a fazer!’

It stunned her to hear that voice again, though it had gained an edge of command. Chico was used to instant compliance, she gathered. He must expect it. He was so successful. For Lizzie it was a nostalgic reminder of the past, and for a moment she thought herself back at Rottingdean in the shade and the quietness of the stables, a fifteen-year-old girl, hanging on every word he said—

‘Lizzie!’

Danny was shaking her arm, Lizzie realised, because, thanks to thinking about Chico, she had become the one fixed point in what was now a hive of activity. ‘What did he say?’

Danny had a better command of Portuguese than she did, and lost no time translating for her. ‘“Who’s that at the back of the plane, frozen into stone? We have work to do!”’ ‘Lizzie!’ Danny muttered urgently. ‘That’s you!’

‘Oh—’ Red-cheeked, Lizzie stared around, but there was no sign of Chico.

He never had been the type to hang around, she remembered as she caught a glimpse of a big male figure, dressed in dark, form-fitting clothes, ducking into a high-powered Jeep. He was so much bigger than she remembered, and his body language had changed. Instead of the easy stride she remembered, everything about him was commanding and certain...

Well, he would be changed. Twelve long years had passed since the last time she’d seen Chico, though even as he drove away at speed now that brief glimpse of him was enough to make her heart race. Which was not the best of starts, if she was going to complete this course successfully. And she was not going home without a result. She would not be taken in a second time by Chico’s seductive charm. She would focus on the horses, and make a strong business plan before returning to Scotland to make a name for herself.

Staring up into the solemn brown eyes of the horse she was caring for, she was relieved to see his ears pricked with interest, rather than laid back with fright. If only she could soothe herself the same way.

‘Come on, handsome,’ she coaxed. ‘It’s time for you and me to test the air of Brazil.’

* * *

He was content. He was back on his vast fazenda in Brazil, which was the most cherished part of his worldwide equine empire. Control and order ruled throughout. His control. His rule. Horses loved order and certainty, and he loved horses, so the smooth running of this ranch was non-negotiable.

‘New recruits, Maria,’ he snapped out crisply.

Crossing the wooden floor of his pristine office, his elderly secretary handed him a sheet of paper listing the new students.

He exchanged warm glances with Maria, who was the only woman in the world he trusted. Maria had been with him from the start. They adored each other. It was more a mother and son relationship than that of employer, employee. Maria had occupied a neighbouring shed in the barrio, the violent slum where they had both started out, where someone was murdered on average every twenty minutes. Maria’s son, Felipe, and Chico’s brother, Augusto, had been in the same gang, and had been shot dead in front of Chico in the same brutal incident. Chico had been ten years old at the time with a father in prison and a mother on the game. He had vowed to look after Maria, as he had vowed to bring justice and education to the barrio. He’d done both.

‘So,’ he mused, scouring the list. ‘These brave few have come to study at Fazenda Fernandez so they can leave with a diploma stating they have survived and thrived beneath the riding boot of the acknowledged master of the equine world?’ He exchanged an amused glance with Maria. ‘And still they come, Maria.’

‘Thanks to you, Chico,’ Maria insisted. ‘Because you are the best.’ Maria’s characterful mouth pressed down as she shrugged expansively. ‘The best want to study with the best.’

He laughed. ‘So, who have we got here?’ His gaze stalled on one name. Thank God Maria hadn’t noticed his reaction. Explanations would have spoiled her day. Seeing the name Fane and that distinctive address had spoiled his day. He had thought he was done with that family.

‘There were more applicants than ever this year, Chico.’

He didn’t want to upset Maria when she was in full flow. Maria was proud of him. She treated him like the son she had lost, and in return he loved Maria and protected her in every way he could. He would not upset her now, so a short hum was his only response to her rapid-fire résumé of each of the new students.

‘And this one’s from the barrio, Chico—’

‘Good,’ he murmured, still debating what to do with one particular student on the list. As for the barrio, that was an ongoing project and very close to his heart. It was a battle he’d never win, some said, but he refused to accept that. To be the best he could be was his personal goal; to help young people from all backgrounds was his mission in life.

‘And we have a member of the British aristocracy with us this year—’

This he already knew. And he was a whole lot less impressed about that fact than Maria.

‘No wonder,’ Maria enthused. She was brandishing an official-looking document at him. ‘Fazenda Fernandez is up for yet another award this year. We are even famous in Scotland where this aristocratic young lady comes from.’

‘Really? That’s good, Maria.’

He made a point of standing next to Maria as he read the letter over her shoulder to assure her of his interest. The letter confirmed that Lizzie Fane was a member of that year’s new student intake. He smiled at first, remembering how Lizzie had teased him about his broken English, and how she’d patiently taught him, and how he’d loved those lessons. He had loved watching her mouth form the words more than the words themselves. It was a surprise he’d learned anything new, but Lizzie had assured him that he was her best student.

Her only student, he thought now, his hackles rising when he thought back to her parents, who hadn’t liked Lizzie to have any friends—in case they talked about what they saw at Rottingdean House, he had presumed at the time. They couldn’t get rid of him, because he was with Eduardo, but they had targeted Chico, levelling the most terrible accusations against him in the hope of getting Eduardo to buy them off.

At the time he was angry with Eduardo and Lizzie’s grandmother for spiriting him away before he’d had chance to clear his name, but now he realised they had saved him from going head to head with the establishment, which, back then, was a battle he could never have won. The only thing he didn’t understand about that time was why Lizzie hadn’t stepped forward to defend him. He had thought they were friends, but blood was thicker than water, it turned out, and she had chosen her lying, cheating family over him.

And now Lizzie was here on his ranch, hoping to benefit from his teaching? It was so incredible it was almost funny, but he wasn’t in the mood for laughing.

‘My success is thanks to you, Maria, and to the wonderful staff you have gathered around you,’ he said, determined to look forward, not back.

Maria turned to give him a glowing smile. ‘And to you, Chico,’ she insisted proudly. ‘Without you none of us would be working in this world-class facility.’

He watched fondly as Maria busied herself filing the letter away with all her other treasured possessions, as she referred to the many letters of praise they received.

‘As soon as we receive the official certificate I’m going to have it framed and hung on the wall with the rest,’ she told him proudly.

‘And I’m going to treat you and the staff to a party to celebrate, and thank you all for everything you’ve done for me, Maria.’ He gave her a hug.

‘We’ve come a long way together, Chico.’

As he released Maria and stepped back he could see in her eyes that Maria was thinking how easily Chico could have taken a very different path. His road out of the gutter had begun the day he wandered into Eduardo’s recruitment rally by mistake. Another do-gooder, he’d thought scornfully, contemptuous of the rapt faces all around him. He had believed Eduardo to be one of the rich pigs that came to hand out largesse in the slums to make themselves feel better. Soft bastardo! he’d thought viciously. Ten years old and all fired up, he had been on his way to confront the drug pushers who had killed his brother and Maria’s son, with a loaded gun stuck into his belt and murder on his mind. Eduardo must have seen something of this in his eyes and had called him forward. Chico had remained stubbornly planted, but Eduardo wasn’t so easy to refuse, and Eduardo was big, and hard, and firm, though Chico could still remember shooting venom from his eyes when Eduardo took a firm hold of him. He hated authority. What had authority done for him? Where were the police when his brother was shot? He hated the privilege that brought individuals like Eduardo sightseeing to the barrio and bought rich boys out of trouble. And he hated Eduardo for no better reason than the esteemed polo player was trespassing on Chico’s territory, confronting issues Chico was so sure Eduardo couldn’t understand. But Eduardo had his arm in an iron grip, and his gun was soon in Eduardo’s pocket. There would be no murders committed that day.

‘I owe it all to you and to Eduardo, Maria,’ he said now. ‘Everything I have is because you two believed in me.’

‘And we weren’t wrong, were we?’ Maria planted her capable hands on her ample hips as she confronted him. ‘Against all the odds, the poor boy from the barrio finds himself here.’ She said this expansively, as if they lived in a palace, rather than on a ranch as she gestured around ecstatically with another of her beaming smiles.

His face softened too. How could it not? Every day he relished this life, for Maria’s sake as much as his own. It couldn’t have happened if Eduardo hadn’t treated him like a son, believing in him, however hard Chico had made things for Eduardo. And Chico had made things hard, though he had idolised his mentor. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to have been chosen to work for such a famous polo player. Having taken him out of the barrio, Eduardo had shown him that there was so much more to life than drugs and guns and war, and when he’d died Eduardo had left Chico everything, knowing his devoted charge would pick up Eduardo’s causes and infuse them with new life.

He had used the money Eduardo left him to buy and develop a hand-to-mouth scrub ranch, which after years of hard labour he had transformed from an unpromising stretch of land into the most prestigious polo centre in the world. He had accomplished this because he was meticulous and driven, and because, as Eduardo had noted, Chico had a special way with horses. This gift came from the early days of working for Eduardo, Chico believed. When he could confide in no one else the ponies listened to him, and in return they gave him their trust. This interaction between man and beast had led owners and players alike to think he had some special magic. There was no magic. Polo ponies were competitive and he gave them every reason to trust him, so they obeyed his smallest command. They trusted him to keep them safe and bring out the best in them. Women thought the same thing, but unlike the animals, he had no interest in wasting his time or his emotions on women.

‘Chico...?’ Maria prompted hesitantly, seeing he was lost in thought.

‘Maria?’ He gave her an encouraging smile.

‘Would you like me to walk you through this year’s intake of scholarship students?’

‘No. Thank you, Maria, but I’ll take the list with me, and study your report later.’

He didn’t want anyone around when he did that, let alone the impressionable Maria. Reading that one name had been enough to make him feel as if his guts had been wrenched out and thrust down his throat, and he had to take a moment to control the emotion clawing at his senses that said someone would pay for this oversight.

Yes. He should pay. He should have checked this year’s intake before he went on the polo tour, and then this would never have happened.

‘Is something troubling you, Chico?’ Maria asked him with concern.

‘There’s never enough time, Maria.’ He half smiled as he said this, needing to put Maria off the scent. She could read him so easily after all these years of working closely together, and this was one occasion when he could do without her friendly advice. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he insisted as he took charge of the list. ‘I trust my selection team, which is why I appointed them.’

‘Of course, Chico,’ the older woman agreed, her gaze sliding away from his, as if she was only halfway convinced.

He couldn’t blame his team for this error. How were they supposed to know what had happened in his youth? People had only heard rumours. Even Maria didn’t know everything. There were some things Chico would never share, not even with Maria.

His stomach clenched as he thought back to the day Serena Fane had accused him of rape. It was a preposterous lie, but who would believe him, the poor boy from the slums of Brazil? He had stood no chance against the might of the British aristocracy. He had written to Lizzie on countless occasions after that first letter, begging for an explanation, so sure she’d write back. They’d been so close. She was the only young friend he’d ever had, and he’d trusted her completely. And, yes, she’d been beautiful, but Lizzie had been so far out of his reach, he had only dared to talk to her when she’d shown an interest in befriending him.

Rape was a word he’d associated with the murderers who had killed his brother, and his shock when Lizzie had ignored his letters begging her to clear his name was indescribable. He could only think that she had sided with them—her slutty mother and drunken father, whom he had guessed all along were only looking for ‘hush money’ from Eduardo. He had never discovered if any money had changed hands, as Eduardo would never speak of it, but he had his suspicions, especially as when Chico became headline news in the polo world Serena had reappeared, threatening to reopen the scandal if he didn’t ‘make her comfortable’.

He’d thrown her out, and had only baulked at bringing charges for blackmail against her because Lizzie’s grandmother had been so good to him, and he didn’t want to bring the old lady any more pain. Lizzie’s grandmother was the only other person, apart from Eduardo, who had believed in him, and she had helped Eduardo get him away when Lord Fane had brought his scandalous charges at the behest of his wife. Chico always paid his debts, and he never forgot a slight, but if only Lizzie had had the courage to speak out at the time none of this would have happened. And, yes, she was only fifteen at the time, but it was clear to him now that their friendship had meant nothing to her.

Too heated to remain in the office, he headed out to check the ranch. He did this every season when he returned from the polo circuit. It wasn’t a quick job as his land extended to tens of thousands of acres these days and took a few weeks to inspect. There were preparations to make before he left. While his students were settling in, this was the best time for him to be away. There were other tutors who would take care of them and start their training while he was gone. When he came back he’d check Lady Elizabeth Fane out, to see what the hell Lizzie thought she was doing here. His best guess was that from interrogation to deportation would take a lot less time than inspecting his ranch.

CHAPTER TWO

‘A COLD POULTICE was what you needed, wasn’t it?’ Stepping back, Lizzie took a long thoughtful look at the patient. She was relieved to see the pony was happy enough to start nosing a net of hay. ‘That, and a bit of a chat,’ she prescribed, stroking the polo pony’s velvety ears. ‘The swelling’s gone down and you’ll soon be back to your usual cantankerous self—answering back with a nip on the arm whenever I speak to you.’

‘Do horses answer back?’ Danny observed, throwing her arms wide on the hay. ‘Can I have a cold poultice please? All over my body, if you’ve got one big enough? I’m boiling.’

It had been a long, hard working day for both girls, who had been bringing in horses from the outlying pastures, but Lizzie refused to acknowledge that it was time to stop work until she’d finished the job in hand. There was never an official clocking-off time for Lizzie where horses were concerned.

‘It is hot,’ she agreed. ‘Would you like a mint?’

‘I’d love one.’

Lizzie smiled at Danny. ‘I’m talking to the horse.’

‘Then, will you please stop talking to the horse,’ Danny complained, ‘and concentrate on me? I’m slowly melting here while you run your equine counselling service.’

‘Here—’ Lizzie tossed a tube of mints across for Danny to catch.

‘Do you think we’ll ever meet our leader?’ Danny asked, cramming a handful of mints into her mouth. ‘Personally, I’m beginning to doubt he exists.’

‘We know he exists,’ Lizzie said sensibly, wishing Danny hadn’t brought up the subject of Chico Fernandez. ‘He piloted the plane that brought us here.’

‘So, where is he?’ Danny demanded.

‘I don’t know. I’m in no hurry to see him. Are you?’

‘Liar,’ Danny accused. ‘Your face has pinked up, and your eyes are huge. I’m not going into any further anatomical detail on the basis that it wouldn’t be appropriate between friends. But, honestly, Lizzie, please don’t ask me to believe that you’re not eaten up with excitement at the thought of seeing Chico again.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. I blame Chico for my obsession with all things equine, and nothing else.’ Which was also a lie, but Danny didn’t need to know that.

‘I remember,’ Danny mused. ‘Since the moment you met Chico, you talked of nothing but having a life with horses, just like him. And now here we are, on his training ranch,’ she exclaimed.

Lizzie faked a laugh, wishing she could join in Danny’s upbeat mood. True, everything on Fazenda Fernandez had surpassed her wildest expectation, and she was more determined than ever to excel and pass her diploma with top honours, but when it came to Chico...

‘Suck him dry, Lizzie, and then take his ideas back to Scotland, so you can use them to set up in competition and destroy him.’

She didn’t hate Chico as much as her father wished she did. In fact, she didn’t hate him at all, but she did feel disillusioned by him. She couldn’t even blame him if he had flirted with her mother, though she guessed Serena would be the instigator. Would Chico force himself on her mother? No. Would he rape her? Absolutely not. But Lizzie’s mother was still a very attractive woman, and Chico had always been a free spirit. But he could have been straight with her instead of promising to rescue her from Rottingdean House, and then disappearing without a word.

‘Share your thoughts,’ Danny insisted, crunching mints noisily as she sprawled out on the hay.

Not a chance, Lizzie thought ruefully. In this instance, she wouldn’t be confiding in her friend. ‘Hang up the tack for me, and then we’ll talk. It’s steaming in here. I’m melting after moving all that hay.’ Fanning herself, Lizzie started to peel off her breeches and claggy top. She relished the freedom of thong and sports bra for a few moments, before reaching for her jeans. ‘The heat, when you’ve been working as hard as we have, certainly takes it out of you.’

‘It’s not the only thing that’s hot,’ Danny observed with mischief in her voice.

‘The men?’ Lizzie pretended disinterest. Wiping her arm across her glowing face, she bundled her bright copper hair up into a band.

Danny opened an eye. ‘Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed them. The gauchos are off-the-scale hot, while the polo players are like gilt-edged invitations to sin.’

‘Really?’ Lizzie’s lips pressed down. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’

‘Like hell you haven’t,’ Danny scoffed.

There was only one man Lizzie was interested in, and their paths hadn’t even crossed yet. She guessed Chico must have been busy catching up with everything that had happened while he’d been away, and doubted he’d even recognise her when they met again. She was hardly fifteen years old now. Nor was she impressionable, or prone to having a crush on a man who looked like a barbarian, and who had the morals of a goat, according to the scandal sheets. It was hard to miss the bad boy of polo, as the sports pages called him, when Chico scored as many front covers on polo magazines as he’d scored goals this season.

Leaning her head back against the wall of the stall with her arms outstretched, she relished the breeze coming in from an open window on her naked skin. ‘Do you think anyone’s going to notice if I just forget to put on my top?’

‘Who’s going to see you?’ Danny pointed out. ‘There’s only one horse in the stable block, and we’re his grooms.’

Lizzie relaxed as her friend hefted the horse’s saddle over her arm, and picked up his bridle. Danny was right. Who was going to see her?

* * *

Coltish limbs and an intriguing flash of naked skin held him motionless for a moment as the girl struggled to pull on a fresh top over what appeared to be—at least to her, judging by her muttered curses—inconveniently large breasts. He wanted to check on a pony that had suffered a bad knock during a match while he’d been away. The pony’s spirit would benefit from human contact and he was keen to make sure it was as comfortable as possible. Anyone who believed animals couldn’t understand what was said to them was missing an empathy gene, in his opinion. He had heard the two female grooms talking, but one of them had left the stall and slipped out of the back entrance that led to the tack room where they stowed their gear. Grooms hanging round so late in the day were either up to no good, or were working late, which meant one of two things: they were dross he’d get rid of, or they were the best of the best. He was keen to find out which category he was dealing with. Shouldering a pitchfork to make the hay bed in the stall more comfortable for the horse, he grabbed a fistful of pony nuts and strolled down the line of stalls.

Emotion caught him square in the gut as a halo of red-gold curls gave the groom’s identity away. He would have known her anywhere, even after all these years. The half-naked body belonged to Lizzie Fane. Perfect.

‘Out of there, now,’ he rapped.

‘What?’ a girl who sounded in no way dismayed demanded. ‘Who is this?’

It was a shock to hear adult Lizzie sounding just like her mother. Not good.

‘I said,’ he repeated in a menacing tone, ‘get out of there now.’

‘Do you mind?’ she replied in the same honeyed voice. ‘Your tone is upsetting the horse.’

She had a nerve. No one cared about horses more than he did.

Had he really imagined he would know how it felt to be confronted by a member of the Fane family on his fazenda? He’d been nowhere close. Anger consumed him as the past rushed back. The humiliation he’d suffered—the expense to Eduardo, thanks to the false accusations made against Chico, and the fact that Lizzie had turned her back on him.

‘I won’t be a minute,’ she murmured.

Was he supposed to wait?

‘There are some things I need to pick up and put away,’ she explained, still in the same mild voice, and still mostly hidden from him in the stall.

‘The clock’s ticking,’ he warned, gritting out each word.

He rested against the wall, thinking back to when he’d been a youth and an easy target for two cheats with their eyes on the money of his sponsor, Eduardo Delgardo. Lies about him forcing himself on Serena Fane, Lizzie’s mother, had tripped so easily off their tongues. Even Eduardo had been hard-pressed to defend him, though the older man had remained his staunchest defender throughout, and had explained, once they were safely back in Brazil, that Lizzie’s grandmother had discovered the truth about the life her son and his wife were leading, and that when they used Chico to try and get money out of Eduardo, it was the last straw for the old lady, who had disinherited her son, and banished both him and his wife from Rottingdean House. Unfortunately, by this time, Lord and Lady Fane had stolen all her money.

For a man to steal money from his mother was incomprehensible to Chico, but he had soon realised that men like Lizzie’s father had no conscience. And now that man’s daughter was here on a scholarship, working towards a diploma, which he would award? You couldn’t make it up.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he snarled as the past blinded him with an angry red mist. He’d waited long enough. Switching on the overhead light, he bathed them both in stark white light, and, lifting the latch, he walked in.

* * *

The man she’d called her friend was right behind her. Smouldering, powerful, different. The Deceiver. The Liar. The youth who had told her that he understood how it must be for her living at Rottingdean House with parents who ignored her, and had promised to take her away. He had failed to deliver on that promise, and her forgiving nature was out of the door. Her body responded eagerly to the hard man of polo before she’d even turned around, but her thoughts were filled with anger and disappointment in the man she had once believed was her friend.

She would have to master those feelings, if she was going to complete the course, Lizzie told herself firmly. And with a muttered apology, she straightened up and turned around.

Light shimmered around Chico, pointing up his darkness. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. His glittering menace had never seemed more pronounced. As she had first suspected when she caught a glimpse of him on the plane, Chico was vastly changed. This wasn’t the ridiculously good-looking youth with the easy smile and relaxed manner, but a hard, driven man, whom life had made suspicious, a man with single-minded determination that had taken Chico Fernandez to the top. That didn’t stop her body burning with lust. Her reaction to him was primal. She had no defence against it. Her mind was scrambled, and yet she was acutely aware of him. Forbidden fruit had never looked this good.

All the more reason to keep her head down and get back to the job, Lizzie reasoned. There were always things to do in the stable, and she was here to accomplish something crucial for the future of Rottingdean, not to rehash the mistakes of the past. She might never be exactly sure what had happened all those years ago, but she knew what she had to do to secure the future of Rottingdean now, and make things right for everyone who worked on the estate, and that didn’t include falling like some heartsick teenager for a man who had proved conclusively that he cared nothing for her.

* * *

Lizzie was bending over with her back to him, loading pots of salve and rolls of bandage into a carrying case. His glance swept over her. Lizzie Fane was all grown up. Long limbs, slender frame, generous hips, and still the same bright red wavy hair, longer than he remembered, and carelessly swept back and bundled into a glowing topknot with strands and curls escaping everywhere. He closed his mind to her attractions, and ground his jaw as the seconds ticked by. The least she could do was acknowledge her boss.

‘Sorry,’ she said, sounding not the least bit repentant, and looking even less so. ‘I had to finish what I was doing.’

He hummed as heat ripped through him, and it was a surprise to find the connection between them was as strong as ever, even after all this time. Once they had been drawn together by mutual curiosity—two people from very different backgrounds, both outsiders in their own way, with only horses in common, but now it was a hot-blooded man, and a beautiful, if icy woman, weighing each other up like prize-fighters from opposite sides of the ring.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ Lizzie announced in a businesslike way.

He replied to this with a steady look. The connection might be there, but they were strangers, he thought, and the steel in Lizzie’s eyes intrigued him. She had always been a tomboy, but there was something in her expression now that suggested she was still hurting because he’d let her down by leaving Rottingdean House all those years ago without saying goodbye. Had he meant so much to her?

When he was least expecting it, she relaxed and smiled. ‘I’m really pleased to be here.’

Now he was confused. What was he to believe? Lizzie with a grudge? Or Lizzie, the student determined to impress? She had always been good at hiding her feelings. She’d had to be. There was only one certainty here. The power of her stunning emerald gaze had hit him like a punch in the gut.

What was wrong with him? He shook her hand, and now he didn’t want to let her go? To feel her hand in his grip, so small, so slender, so cool, had made him want to ask her straight out: what happened to you? To us? Worse, he had to fight the crazy impulse to drag her close and kiss her hard.

‘It’s been a long time, Lizzie,’ he said finally with commendable restraint.

‘It has,’ she agreed coolly. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, but I had to be sure I’d picked everything up, and that Flame was properly settled for the night.’

He inspected the work she’d done on the horse. She’d done a good job, but not good enough to meet his exacting standards. He’d pulled Lizzie’s report from her college. She’d passed out top of her class, which was why she had been awarded the scholarship to train under him at Fazenda Fernandez. He remembered her grandmother telling him that Lizzie needed something to lose herself in. He had understood immediately that Lizzie found the affection denied her by her parents from the horses she cared for, because he’d found that same solace, but what was driving her now?

‘Well, if that’s all?’ she said pleasantly.

She waited patiently for him to move out of the way. She had inherited none of the supercilious qualities of her parents, he noted, but her eyes were wounded. The past had damaged them both, but why had she chosen to believe her parents’ lies over him? The answer came to him as they stared at each other. However a child was misled or mistreated, they never gave up hope of winning the love of their parent, even if that parent was incapable of giving love.

‘You have a wonderful facility here, Senhor Fernandez. I’m thrilled to have been given the opportunity to train here.’

She was close enough to touch, to kiss, to reassure...

‘And we’re very glad to have you here,’ he replied in the same measured tone. ‘You come with an excellent recommendation from your college.’

She smiled in response to this, and tension crackled all around them, making him wonder if they would ever be easy with each other again.

‘Anyway, thank you,’ she said, breaking the spell as she hefted her belongings into a more comfortable position. ‘I really do appreciate the chance you’ve given me.’

‘My selection team did that. Everything I do here is in honour of my sponsor, Eduardo. You do remember Eduardo?’

‘Yes, of course I do.’ For a moment her confident mask slipped. ‘I was very sorry to hear of his passing. I read quite a lot about him before I came here.’

‘Oh?’

‘When you both came to Rottingdean I just knew him as a leading polo player in Brazil. What I didn’t realise was that Eduardo had devoted himself to providing education for children from deprived backgrounds.’

‘Children like me?’

‘Yes.’ She held his gaze, unflinching. ‘I don’t say that to offend you, Senhor Fernandez.’

‘I appreciate your honesty, Senhorita Fane.’

She slanted him a thoughtful look and almost smiled again. ‘I guess Eduardo got lucky with you.’

‘There are many deserving children,’ he argued sharply as their hopeful faces flashed into his mind.

Lizzie blushed bright red. ‘I realise that—I didn’t mean...I just meant—’

‘I know what you meant. You’re wondering how I can afford all this?’ Not by cheating like Lizzie’s parents, that was for sure.

‘No,’ she protested, and for the first time he thought he saw the real Lizzie, rather than the girl who was trying to please her boss. ‘It makes perfect sense to me. With your natural talent you were always bound to succeed.’

‘And you also realised that success such as mine pays well?’ he pressed, thinking of her mother and wondering if Lizzie had inherited any of Serena’s acquisitive traits.

‘Your financial success is well documented,’ she defended, her cheeks pinking up again beneath his suspicious stare.

Was she after a slice of the pie? ‘Hard work and straight dealing is my only secret.’

‘And a sponsor like Eduardo,’ she suggested, that steel he’d seen before returning to her gaze.

Even now, hearing Eduardo’s name coming from a member of the Fane family’s lips grated on him, though he had to admit that the fact Lizzie had no problem speaking up for herself was to her credit. Her parents had always delivered their barbs from a safe distance.

‘I’m in awe of the legacy Eduardo Delgardo left behind, and I don’t just mean his money,’ she explained. ‘He inspired so many people with his good works, including me.’

Her steady gaze convinced him that in this, at least, Lizzie Fane was being totally honest.

‘I should go to supper now. My friend’s expecting me—’ She started to move past him.

He wasn’t ready to let her go yet and stood in her way. ‘You bandaged him?’

‘Yes?’ Her concern was obvious.

‘Put your things down outside the stable, and come back in here.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Back in here,’ he repeated.

He was already hunkering down to check the poultice when she returned to the stall. Apart from wanting to show Lizzie how her bandaging technique could be improved, and disregarding the obvious questions jostling in his mind, he was intrigued by this new Lizzie. Forget intrigue. He wanted her. In the past he had put her on a pedestal and wouldn’t have touched her. But now...

CHAPTER THREE

COULDN’T THIS WAIT? There were classes tomorrow. What did Chico really want? He was such a compelling presence he made her feel tongue-tied. Her lips felt wooden and when she tried to speak her voice sounded hoarse. Seeing him again after all these years had completely thrown her. Had she really thought she was ready for this? Just because Chico Fernandez had been the stuff of her fantasies throughout all her teenage years, didn’t mean she knew him. She was keenly aware that she didn’t know him, not now, which was why she felt so awkward around him—and nothing could dilute the impact of a man dressed in nothing more than a pair of banged-up jeans and a black top that showed off his impressive muscles, who had turned from an attractive youth into the hottest thing on two powerful male legs.

‘It’s hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said, finding it hard to breathe suddenly.

‘Not overly so,’ Chico replied. ‘The temperature in here is controlled.’

Unlike her heart, she thought, feeling the effects of being trapped in a small stall with so much undiluted sex. Chico’s physical presence was overwhelming. Shoulders broad enough to hoist an ox, stomach flat, waist slim, from all his exercise on horseback—and, when he was hunkered down like this, a grandstand view of the tightest butt on earth. Added to which, a heavy-duty leather belt was drawing her gaze where it definitely shouldn’t wander. And his face—if Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, Chico Fernandez could launch a thousand erotic fantasies. He looked so stern, but his mouth was the mouth of a sensualist, and she loved his sharp black stubble. She had always loved his thick, wild black hair—

What was she thinking? She wasn’t a naïve girl now, daydreaming in the stables at Rottingdean. She was a woman with a goal, who had won a scholarship to Brazil, and who couldn’t afford to be distracted. What must she look like to Chico? Hot, sweaty, and grubby— Quite suddenly, she didn’t have confidence in anything—not in herself, or her work, or in her future. This wasn’t the youth she had made a friend of all those years ago. This was Chico Fernandez, acknowledged equine expert—and expert between the sheets too, she had no doubt; a man with testosterone flying off him like white-hot shards that pierced her body with sensation until she couldn’t think. Chico was said to be a man’s man; a lone wolf who ruled his territory like a feudal lord. Was she here to take him on? Was she going to suck him dry?

‘Not a bad job,’ he remarked, glancing up at her.

‘Really?’ The last thing she had been expecting from him was words of praise.

‘But not good enough for the standards we set here. That’s why you’ve come to train at Fazenda Fernandez, isn’t it, Lizzie?’

There was a flash of suspicion in his eyes, and for a moment she had no idea why she was here, only that she was mad to have come. Echoes from the past came back to haunt her—snatches of conversation, that she had barely understood as a young teen.

‘Are you listening, Lizzie? If you don’t pay attention, you’ll learn nothing.’

She shook herself round. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘If you intend to stay on here and complete the training—’

‘I will complete the training.’

Chico’s eyes sparked as he sprang up to confront her. A clash of wills was the last thing she had intended, but she had never learned how to admit defeat, and she was determined to achieve all her goals here, including keeping Chico Fernandez at arm’s length.

She regretted her outburst when she saw Chico’s expression turn cold. She would have to keep her feelings closely guarded in future.

‘You will attend my tutorial here, tomorrow morning, at six a.m. sharp,’ he said without a hint of warmth.

‘Yes. Of course.’

Her best guess was, Chico didn’t think she’d last the course, and he was notorious for failing students who didn’t make the grade. There were no second chances—except for Danny, who had somehow managed to get her heart broken by a polo player, and had been allowed to go home and restart this year.

From confronting him, she was thrown back into pleading her cause. ‘I just want to do my best for every horse.’

‘I would expect nothing less of one of my students.’

He moved at the same time she did. They almost collided in the middle of the stall. He was close enough for her to smell the soap on his skin and the sunshine in his clothes, and the warmth of his impossibly powerful body, which was far, far, far too close for safety. Some of the buttons on his shirt were open, revealing tanned, hard-muscled skin—

‘When you’re ready?’

Chico’s voice was low and strummed her senses as she moved aside. He held her fate in the palm of his hand, yet her body was melting with want, which was insane, and absolutely the last thing she needed. She had to keep a clear head if she was going to achieve anything here, and being reduced to a mass of hormones was hardly going to help her do that.

‘Don’t let me keep you from your supper.’

There was a faint mocking note in his voice as if he knew the effect his brutal masculinity could have on even the most reluctant target.

‘Until tomorrow at six a.m.,’ she confirmed, taking care to keep her voice on the pleasant side of neutral.

She left the stall in a rush, and didn’t stop until she reached the tack room, where she stowed the medical supplies and then leaned back with her eyes closed and her body pressed up hard against the cool wall until finally she could breathe.

On her way from the courtyard to the cookhouse, she wished she could bind her breasts, or become a boy—lose these feelings, anyway. How was she supposed to stay here with so many dangerous fantasies in her head? She’d thought she’d got it all worked out and would be prepared for seeing Chico again. Not even close. Seeing him again had only confused her more. His eyes had assessed her, warmed her and heated her blood to the point where all she could think about was sex. And there was no way on earth she would ever sleep with him. Boss and groom was bad enough, tutor and student was forbidden territory, but everything that had happened in the past—all those rumours—made her thoughts taboo. And even if the past hadn’t stood between them—Chico Fernandez and Lizzie Fane? It could never happen. He was successful, famous, and rich, and she was no one. The only reason she was here was because she’d won a scholarship, and because her grandmother had insisted Lizzie must take up that scholarship, because an endorsement from Chico Fernandez was second to none.

And how did Chico feel about that?

Lizzie’s heart thundered with apprehension. If she didn’t make the grade, or he threw her out, who would save Rottingdean then?

‘Hey—wait up. You forgot something...’

She turned, and her heart went into overdrive when she saw the grubby top she’d discarded in the stall, hanging from the tip of Chico’s finger.

‘Rule one,’ he said, strolling up to her. ‘Never leave anything in a stable that could harm your horse.’

She was mortified. She never did. She never had before. She’d slung the top over the top of the partition between the stalls, meaning to take it with her.

Seeing Chico again had knocked everything out of her head. The sheer force of his personality swamped her as she took the top. Chico Fernandez was one of life’s primal forces, while she must look like the primmest thing on earth to him in her crisp white blouse, with its ironed and starched Peter Pan collar, her fresh-out-of-the-box sneakers, and her neatly pressed jeans. She had loved the outfit when she first put it on, because it was a parting gift from her grandmother. To bring her luck, Lizzie’s grandmother had said. And she still loved the clothes, but she had to admit they were more garden party than gaucho. Almost in defiance of that, her nipples were tightening and her heart was thundering out of control. She grabbed the chance to take a deep, calming breath as he paused to turn and talk to one of his fellow polo players.

‘Black eyes, black colours for his team, and a black heart has never stood in the way for Chico Fernandez when it comes to unparalleled Gaucho Polo success for this world-beater...’ This quote from one of the articles she had read about him seemed so relevant now. If Chico’s opponents on the polo field were subject to this same force field, no wonder they found him formidable. Most sports commentators said there had never been a player like him.

And what did most women say?

She didn’t even want to think about his other women. She guessed Chico accepted what was freely offered and then moved on, and could only thank her lucky stars that fate had decreed she would never be one of his discards.

What a great thought—such a sensible thought—that unfortunately had no influence on her body, and her body still wanted him. She blamed it on the primal imperative to mate with the leader of the pack.

‘Forgive me,’ Chico said brusquely, spinning round. ‘Before you go to supper, I have one or two more questions for you, Lizzie.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Oh?’

‘As a representative of the grooms, could you tell me, are your quarters comfortable?’

Why did he care? Was he trying to trip her up? Was he looking for an excuse to get rid of her? ‘Quite comfortable, thank you.’

He stabbed a glance at the utilitarian block where the students were housed. What could she possibly have to complain about? There was running water—possibly glacier melt judging by the temperature—and she shared her room with five other girls. No problem there. Only three of them snored. And thanks to the freezing water they were all quick in the shower.

‘Your bed’s comfortable?’

She frowned. ‘Yes.’

She would have gladly slept on a bed of nails for the chance to work at Fazenda Fernandez with the best trainer in the world on the best polo ponies in the world, and she really didn’t want to discuss her sleeping arrangements with Chico Fernandez. Was he determined to unsettle her?

‘Thank you, Lizzie. I had thought of making some improvements to the grooms’ accommodation, but I can now see that that isn’t necessary.’

Not necessary? Inwardly, she groaned. Imagine how popular this was going to make her.

And then Chico stopped dead and she almost crashed into him. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. ‘Enjoy your supper, Lizzie.’

‘I will.’

‘Perhaps I’ll see you later—’

Not if she could help it. She was going to stick to the original plan—keep her head down, work hard, do well, and then go home with her diploma and her pride intact, so she could set up a viable business. What was so attractive about a snarl and a swagger, anyway?

* * *

He couldn’t rest. The past wasn’t just back, it had punched him in the face, and he wasn’t in the mood for the raucous good humour of the cookhouse. He didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone, especially Lizzie Fane, and so he paced the vast, polished oak floor on the ground floor of his home as he tried to make sense of his feelings. He paused by the window where he could see across the yard to the cookhouse. What was she doing? Who was she with? He wasn’t fooled by her circumspect manner. Lizzie had turned her back on him once. When he was of no further use to her, would she do so again?

Probably, if he gave her the chance, which he wouldn’t.

So was Lizzie Fane a force to be reckoned with? He smiled at the thought of testing her out, but past events at Rottingdean stood between them. He couldn’t remember that time without being forced to accept that Lizzie had a damaged bloodline. Her father, Lord Reginald Fane, had been a dissolute pervert who beat his wife, while Lizzie’s mother had been a liar and a cheat. Only Lizzie’s grandmother, the Grand Duchess, had stood out like a beacon of light, but how much influence had the old lady brought to bear on Lizzie? Judging by Lizzie’s contempt for his many letters to her, very little, he guessed.

Horses were easier to breed than people, he concluded. You could be sure of a horse’s bloodline and its flaws. He’d been lucky that Eduardo had saved him, lifting him from the barrio like a drowning puppy in a sack in the river. Eduardo hadn’t just taught him everything Chico knew about horses, but how to live and work responsibly, and how to care for his fellow human beings. He’d taught him how to eat in a civilised manner, and how to behave in society. Losing Eduardo had been like losing a father—a good father.

Learning Eduardo had left him everything had been the biggest shock of his life. Eduardo’s last words had been to beg Chico to shrug off his past and learn from it, but how was he supposed to do that now that Lizzie Fane was back in his life? Leaving Lizzie twelve years ago had torn him up inside. How could they leave a fifteen-year-old child in the care of her nymphomaniac mother, and a violent, debauched father? he had asked Eduardo. He hadn’t known then what they had accused him of, or why Eduardo and Lizzie’s grandmother had been in such a hurry to get him away. He could still remember clutching his head as he raged about Lizzie’s situation for the whole of their journey back to Brazil.

‘It’s not your job to save Lizzie,’ Eduardo had told him firmly. ‘You have your career to think about, and Lord Fane is too powerful, too respected, for you to take him on.’

‘But I will one day,’ Chico had vowed.

‘No,’ Eduardo had told him flatly. ‘You will forget this and keep your mind on your work and your future career. And as far as Lizzie Fane is concerned, you will forget her too, and place your trust, as I have done, in Lizzie’s grandmother.’

Trust, he remembered agonising in mutinous teenage silence. What was that?

He knew now that trust was one of the most important parts of loving someone, and that Eduardo had trusted him like a son.

* * *

‘So?’ Danny demanded as she waited with Lizzie in the supper queue. ‘What happened with Chico?’

Lizzie flashed a glance around.

‘I don’t know why you’re being so secretive. I saw you walking across the yard with him—everyone must have...’

‘Doesn’t this smell delicious?’ Lizzie remarked, refusing to rise to the bait. She and Danny were standing in front of the open grill where three chefs were preparing everything from vegetarian specials to man-sized steaks.

‘Your attempt to change the subject has fallen on deaf ears, Lizzie Fane,’ Danny assured her.

There were too many grooms around, as well as Chico’s fellow polo players, for Lizzie to be indiscreet, but Danny wasn’t going to let the subject drop. ‘So, what do you want to know?’ Lizzie asked.

‘You were a long time alone with Chico, and so I was wondering...’

‘He was telling me about the bandaging tutorial we have to attend at six tomorrow morning.’

As Danny groaned the polo player behind them, muddy and with his hair tousled from a game, exclaimed, ‘Wake up and move along, will you? Hungry people are waiting to be fed here.’

‘Calm down, man mountain,’ Danny flashed, rounding on him. ‘We’re hungry too.’

‘Then hurry up and choose your food, fresh meat—’

‘Watch it, nuts for brains, or it’ll be your meat on the grill,’ Danny fired back.

‘I love your ladylike way with words,’ Lizzie murmured as the good-looking guy stared down at Danny with amusement.

‘Are you all like this back home?’ he demanded, directing the question at Danny.

‘Believe it,’ Danny snapped, exchanging an appreciative look with Lizzie.

‘Tiago,’ Lizzie confirmed in a discreet murmur. ‘One of the top players. You must have seen him on the cover of Polo Times? Bad. Very bad.’

‘Excellent,’ Danny mouthed.

‘That’s your Christmas present sorted.’

‘Promise?’

‘It’s a deal,’ Lizzie confirmed.

Danny was about to say something smart back, but her words choked off abruptly when she saw the expression on Lizzie’s face. Nothing more needed to be said. Chico Fernandez had just walked into the cookhouse.

CHAPTER FOUR

LIZZIE DIDN’T NEED to look at Chico to know he was there when she could feel him in every fibre of her being. Determined not be distracted by the sudden overload of testosterone, she calmly gave her order to the chef. ‘Tomatoes, eggplant, fries, and—’

‘And the biggest steak you’ve got,’ a husky male voice interrupted.

Having casually jumped the queue, Chico was handed a plate already loaded with every delicacy his uniformed chefs could provide. ‘I don’t want my new recruits fainting on the job,’ he explained. ‘Here—take this.’ He pressed his own plate of food into Lizzie’s hands. ‘Well?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘Don’t stand there staring at it. Eat before it gets cold.’

‘I’m a vegetarian.’

‘Vegan?’

‘No.’

‘Slap a hunk of cheese onto her plate,’ he ordered the chefs, swapping plates.

Lizzie passed the plate forward to the waiting chef. ‘Cheese omelette, please.’

Damn, if she didn’t sound like the prissiest food freak on the planet, but no way was she being told what she could eat. Chico Fernandez might rule what she did as a student, but her downtime was her own. Tilting her chin at a determined angle, she joined Danny at a table by the window where they could chat undisturbed—only to discover that Danny, like everyone else in the cookhouse, had been watching Lizzie’s exchange with Chico with interest. Didn’t anyone ever take him on? Lizzie wondered.

‘Do you have to provoke him?’ Danny demanded.

‘Why not? It’s fun. I had to stand up to him. Dinosaur—trying to make me eat his plate of flesh.’ She flashed a glance at Chico’s table, knowing it was more than Chico’s dietary concerns for her. These brief encounters with him were bringing it all back to her—the times they’d shared, the jokes they’d told, the gossip they’d exchanged, and the wild rides they’d enjoyed through the magical glens of Scotland. And weighted against that—very heavily weighted against that—was the pain he’d caused her, and that was like a reopened wound as if Chico deserting her had only happened yesterday. She’d gone downstairs on the morning he left to find all the other grooms in the stable yard at Rottingdean, but no sign of Chico. She could still feel the sickening blow of incredulity when they told her he’d gone back to Brazil with Eduardo. She couldn’t believe them—and now? Looking back, she had to admit her feelings all those years ago had been the overreaction of a hormonal teenage girl.

‘Fun?’ Danny queried, breaking into her thoughts. ‘If that’s what you look like when you’re having fun, I’d hate to see you when you’re angry.’

‘Sorry.’ Shaking her head as if that could disperse the memories, she set about distracting Danny. ‘You weren’t exactly all sweetness and light with Tiago, I seem to recall.’

‘And where’s the similarity in that?’ Danny asked, pausing with her fork halfway to her mouth. ‘One polo player owns this facility and can throw us both out on a whim, while the other is a guest player. Chico is a whole different deal. You know that as well as I do, Lizzie, and you shouldn’t take him on. Just behave,’ Danny coaxed as Lizzie pretended nothing was wrong as she tucked into her omelette.

‘I promise,’ Lizzie agreed.

‘For how long?’ Danny groaned as she followed Lizzie’s gaze.

‘Hateful man,’ Lizzie muttered as Chico raised his glass to her.

‘I can see how much you hate him,’ Danny remarked as Lizzie’s cheeks flamed red.

* * *

Bandaging. Something Lizzie had believed she could do really well, but maybe not at six o’ clock in the morning. The class had gathered round Chico to pay attention as he worked, while all she could register was that his touch was so deft, that watching those long, lean fingers was a thought-stealing distraction—

‘Lizzie?’ Chico glanced up. ‘Would you care to demonstrate my technique to the class, please?’

This would be all right if she could concentrate, and if her cheeks didn’t burn red from Chico being so close to her. She actually gasped when their stares met and held. ‘Sorry—I’m being fumble-fingered this morning.’

‘No problem,’ Chico growled. ‘We can wait.’

And she did make a good job of it. ‘Same time tomorrow, everyone,’ Chico said when she’d finished.

Straightening up, she turned to leave with the other grooms, but Chico stopped her with his hand on her arm. Relax, she told herself firmly as heat zigzagged through her.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he began.

She sincerely hoped not. Her thoughts were the wrong side of X-rated.

‘You think I’m being hard on you, for no good reason, but either you want to succeed or you don’t.’

‘I want to be the best,’ she said frankly.

‘Good.’ Chico’s level stare held her gaze, and she got the uncomfortable feeling that somehow he could read her thoughts. ‘I know you from way back, Lizzie, and if you build on the talent you showed then, you could be the best.’

‘Thank you.’

She left the stall thoughtfully, half hoping he would call her back. It would have been good to talk as they had used to, but that was another one of her daydreams, and Chico had no trouble separating their personal and professional lives. If only she could do the same. The air had been electric between them with so much left unsaid. Perhaps it was better that way, though she had a suspicion that at some point they would have to clear the air between them, and that it might be explosive when it happened, with years of bottled-up emotions on both sides pouring out.

* * *

He leaned back against the dividing wall of the stall, thinking about Lizzie, and wondering why fate had seen fit to reunite them. Lizzie’s wildflower scent was in his head, but what did she feel about him? Guilt? Regret? She wasn’t easy to read. What did she remember about all those years ago? Why hadn’t she responded to his letters? He could accept that her parents would tell her lies about him, but Lizzie knew him—or she had used to.

No child would willingly believe a stranger above her own parents, he reasoned, but Lizzie was a woman now, and surely she had worked out what type of people they were?

Yes, life should be simple, and fate should stay out of it, but, whatever happened while Lizzie was on his course, the next few months should prove instructive—for both of them.

* * *

Chico Fernandez, Lizzie fumed as she crossed the yard on her way to the cookhouse for breakfast. How was she ever going to get that man out of her head? She couldn’t think of anything else. She hadn’t slept a wink last night, because her head was full of him—full of sex. She had come here with one goal in mind, and now she had another, more pressing preoccupation—sex. Danny hadn’t helped, saying there was nothing wrong with being a healthy female with healthy female urges.

If only it were that simple! If only she could get through the day without being in what could only be described as a heightened state of sexual arousal, which precluded having a sensible thought in her head. So, what did this mean? Was she going to be incapable of functioning until she’d had sex with Chico Fernandez? Couldn’t she be stronger than that?

And, if she did have sex with him, what then?

Her heart would be broken. Her nights would be even more troubled, and she would probably be thrown off the course.

Great. Were Chico’s nights troubled? Somehow, she doubted it.

‘There’s a letter for you, Lizzie,’ Danny said as soon as Lizzie had settled into her chair at what had become their regular table by the window.

It was a letter from home. All thoughts of Chico temporarily suspended, her heart raced as she opened the envelope. She hated having to leave her grandmother to face their many creditors alone, and dreaded what the letter contained.

‘So?’ Danny prompted.

‘So...?’ Lizzie repeated distractedly as she scanned the letter quickly.

‘So yet again, you were hanging out with the man of the moment for a long time, so I just wondered—’

‘Well, stop wondering, because nothing happened.’ Lizzie looked up and then read through the letter again, slowly this time.

‘Not bad news, I hope?’ Danny prompted.

Lizzie shook her head. ‘I’ll get us both some coffee, shall I?’

Danny stared after her with concern as she got up from her chair and walked out of the cookhouse. She needed a moment to think—time alone to gather her thoughts. Her grandmother had become gradually weaker; the doctor thought it advisable for her to spend a little time in hospital. The house would be locked up, and everything would be safe, so there was nothing for Lizzie to worry about—which made Lizzie wonder if there was anything she could have read to worry her more. Whatever happened, nothing must be allowed to get in the way of the course, her grandmother had written in her shaking script. Lizzie had to save the family firm. ‘There’s no one else, Lizzie. There’s only you left now.’

‘Can you move away from the door, please? You’re holding up some hungry men.’

She looked up with a start, straight into Chico’s cool, assessing stare.

‘I’m sorry—’ She lurched out of his way, only to have him steady her and steer her back inside the cookhouse.

She made her way distractedly back to the table.

‘Where’s the coffee? Never mind,’ Danny said, seeing Lizzie’s face. ‘I’ll get us some.’

Lizzie sank into the chair, feeling extremely vulnerable and a long way from home. Her grandmother had always been the lynchpin of her life, and she loved her without qualification. The letter was preparing her for a truth that Lizzie would never be ready to face. How could she stay on here now, as her grandmother had asked her to? How could she concentrate knowing her grandmother was so ill? Why had she ever imagined she could stick it out here while all this was going on at home?

‘What’s the matter?’ Danny said as soon as she came back to the table. ‘Did Chico say something to upset you?’

Lizzie shook her head.

‘So it’s the letter from home that’s upsetting you,’ Danny guessed.

‘Yes—I’m sorry, Danny—’

‘But your breakfast—’

‘I just need a minute—’

Chico stood back as she barged out of the cookhouse. Running blindly across the yard, she didn’t stop until she reached Flame’s stall where she hunkered down in a corner to bury her head in her knees to think. She should go home. That was where she was needed most. But she had to stay to earn that diploma to hang in the office of the business she was going to rebuild. Without that accreditation, she was no use to anyone. What to do? What to do—?

‘Lizzie?’

‘Chico!’ She sprang up, pressing herself against the wall between the stalls as he slipped the latch and walked in.

‘If this course is too much for you—’

‘It isn’t,’ she said, recovering fast.

‘Then, what is the matter with you?’ He glanced at the letter in her hand. ‘Not bad news from home, I hope? Your grandmother?’ he prompted with concern.

Not for the first time, he had disarmed her with his human side. It was easier to deal with the hard, unforgiving man than this. The fact that Chico still cared about her grandmother brought tears to her eyes, and she hated herself for the weakness, but, like it or not, Chico was a link between here and home. He knew her grandmother. He remembered what a special lady she was.

She mustn’t show weakness. She had to be strong. She owed it to her grandmother to leave Chico Fernandez in no doubt that, whatever happened, she wasn’t going anywhere until she finished his course.

‘If you need to go home—’

‘I don’t,’ she said firmly. Decision made, she stuffed the letter into her pocket. ‘You may not think I’ve made the best of starts, but I can and will improve—’

‘Lizzie.’ The faintest of smiles tugged at one corner of his mouth. ‘You’re doing really well, but we have a waiting list if you do want to drop out?’

‘I don’t want to drop out. And I’m only too well aware of how many candidates would love to take my place.’

Chico held up his hands to calm her. ‘Then, may I suggest you relax and make the most of your time here?’

How close they’d been, she thought as a wave of wistfulness swept over her, and how far apart they were now. How fierce was her urge to hug him tightly and share her fears about her grandmother with someone who would understand, but there was a barrier between them that prevented her doing so. Perhaps the past would always stand between them.

* * *

Lizzie looked so vulnerable that he was tempted to soften, but then he remembered that the line of strong characters in the Fane family had skipped a generation. Had they skipped another with Lizzie?

‘If there’s a problem I expect you to tell me,’ he said in his firm tutor’s voice. ‘If money’s a problem, or you’re worried about your grandmother, I’ll buy you a plane ticket home.’

‘Thank you for the offer, but it’s not necessary.’ She tipped her chin up to stare him in the eyes.

He stepped in her way, one hand resting on the wall of the stall to stop her. He felt vaguely nettled. Why did she always have to do things alone? ‘Just let me know if things change.’

‘I will,’ she assured him stiffly, not giving one inch.

Losing patience, he put his hand on her arm to move her aside. She was warm, firm, tempting, but that stubbornness was irreversible.

He followed her out, closing the stable door behind them, and then followed Lizzie down the line of stalls. He could see her concern for her grandmother in the tension in her back. He sensed she was holding back tears. Well, if she wouldn’t let him, he couldn’t help her. He supposed too much dirty water had flowed beneath the bridge for either of them to ever trust each other again. That thought riled him. He didn’t like being shut out.

He was merciless with his students during that morning’s training. Pushing them to the limits of their endurance, he made them ride the trickiest horses bareback, informing them they would leave the class one of two ways: on a stretcher, or on a flight home. Frustration of all kinds was pushing him to the limit. He knew this, but didn’t let up. Lizzie didn’t falter, but she flashed him several furious glances. She knew he was punishing them; she just didn’t know why.

‘That’s it,’ he said at the end of the class, making a closing gesture with his hands. ‘I’ll pin up the results of my test outside the tack room. You know the drill.’

They all knew that some of them would be leaving today, and his students were subdued as they left the indoor training ring to go and rub down their horses. Lizzie had dismounted, and having put a head collar on her pony, she was leading him with her other arm around her friend Danny, who was repeating the course, and who today seemed to have gone backwards in training, having fallen off several times. Not his problem. He had a report to write.