Jump. Part 61

'Gaily the troubadour touched his guitar, When he was hast'ning home from the war.'

Rafiq often sang the Crusader's song with which she had first taunted him. As he emerged, she noticed the black smudges beneath his bloodshot eyes and how drawn he looked, having done all the hard work last night while she partied. Them and us. But his face lit up when he saw her.

'Singing from Stratford hither I come, Rafiq Khan, Rafiq Khan, welcome me home,'

sang Amber.

This is reality, she thought, the way Rafiq trembled as he kissed her, so tentatively and then so pa.s.sionately.

An equally exhausted Tommy, looking rough and pug-like as she came out of History Painting's box, shot back in again, burying her face in his big, dark brown shoulder while he nudged her sympathetically and repeatedly. He was such a kind horse. They both jumped as Amber's voice said, 'Wake up, you two. Can you walk him up to see if he's sound? You'll never guess what: Marius says I can ride him at Wincanton next week.'

Amber schooled History Painting several times in the following days, impressed by how beautifully and carefully he jumped for a big horse. Concentrating on the race ahead, she tried to forget Rogue. But when she rang up Marius to confirm the ride, he denied all knowledge of giving it to her.

'D'you honestly think I'd put you up on my best horse? Rogue's riding him.'

'But you promised at Stratford, you promised.'

'You must have heard wrong.'

'I did not. You must have been too b.l.o.o.d.y drunk to remember.'

'If you don't learn some b.l.o.o.d.y manners, you won't even ride Mrs Wilkinson again, so shut up,' howled Marius and hung up on her.

Such was her rage, though aware she was treating with the enemy, Amber texted Shade Murchieson. She hoped Olivia wasn't peering over his shoulder, remembering that the last time they'd met he'd offered her a ride for a ride.

Within ten minutes he'd texted back.

'As promised, a ride for a ride.'

She was to come to his Larkshire house at midnight that evening and ring when she got to the gates. Not a please or thank you: what had she unleashed? To ward off evil, she'd put on her lucky pants, white lycra but with snazzy lace panels, which she'd worn every time she won on Wilkie.

It was a viciously cold night. The stars glittered as though Olivia had scattered Shade's diamonds over the sky. Shade's house, lowering, dark, four-square, like him, loomed up at the end of a long drive.

Shade himself let her into a vast hall with a glossy oak floor and serious pictures. Amber recognized a Lowry and a mournful Landseer hound rather like Alban, alternating with gla.s.sy-eyed stags and bisons' heads. Shade, resplendent in black evening trousers and a frilled cream shirt, wore even more scent than she did. His dinner jacket and black tie hung over the chair. The central heating was stifling, even a bra was too hot.

Shade had just flown down from London. Immediately he boasted of the ministers and bankers with whom he's been dining, indicating, as he poured her a gla.s.s of Krug, that a peer-age was imminent.

He'd taken her into the drawing room to show off more serious pictures on wallpaper covered in glittering humming-birds.

'Cool paper,' murmured Amber.

'Should be at ten thousand a roll.'

'And that's Degas,' said Amber, admiring an oil of jockeys and horses circling at the start.

'I've got another Degas in the Lear.'

'Shame if it crashed.'

'It's insured. Bring your drink upstairs.'

'Am I worth ten thousand a roll?' asked Amber.

'That's what we're going to find out.'

Shade's bedroom Amber wondered if it were Olivia's too was even more stifling, an approaching storm indicated by the matching thunder-blue curtains, window seats and wallpaper. A ma.s.sive stretch of sheepskin rug covered the floor. A vast bed, with a leather headboard, hung with straps was the only furniture.

Shade stood in the doorway staring at her. He was definitely attractive in a repulsive sort of way well over six foot with dark olive skin and wide but not heavy shoulders. His eyes, large, black-coffee-coloured to keep you awake at night, with heavy lids and the thickest black lashes, had already stripped off her clothes. His smile was all-knowing, predatory, a panther selecting a plump gazelle. His unb.u.t.toned shirt showed the slight reddening of a recent chest wax.

'You're well fit for a geriatric,' taunted Amber.

'You're too young to need the lights dimmed,' quipped Shade, pressing a b.u.t.ton and flooding the room with Romeo and Juliet.

'Oh lovely.' Amber sang along for a minute, remembering with a stab of anguish singing with Rafiq to an accompaniment of stamping horses on long journeys. What the h.e.l.l was she doing here?

'A ride for a ride,' Shade reminded her.

'Then you ought to play the Post Horn Gallop instead of Tchaikovsky.'

'And you ought to be in the parade ring. You've always disturbed me, you spoilt, upmarket b.i.t.c.h. Get your kit off.'

As Amber pulled off her pale grey jersey dress and unhooked her bra, Shade breathed a little faster and ran big, warm, pudgy hands over her very high, springy b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

'I must be worth a monkey each way,' mocked Amber to hide her sudden excitement, as Shade tugged her roughly into his arms, then kissed her surprisingly expertly, big tongue tickling her lips, sucking then gently exploring, then stabbing her mouth.

Then as he ripped off her lucky pants, sliding equally expert fingers into the sticky cavern between her legs, she cried out with pleasure, adding, 'Oh, lucky Olivia.'

As Shade drew away, she thought he was going to hit her. 'Shut up about Olivia,' he said sharply. 'I said get your kit off.'

As she sat back on the bed, Shade took off his clothes. He was magnificent stripped. He must live in the gym.

'A picture of muscle and good health that caught every eye in the paddock,' mocked Amber. Leaping up, she took a couple of turns round the room, cantering, tossing her long gold mane and calling out, 'Mount please, jockeys, let's go down to post.'

Goodness, that gla.s.s of Krug on an empty stomach had unhinged her.

'And that's some post,' she added, seizing his p.e.n.i.s, which soared higher than his navel, then running her tongue round the k.n.o.b. 'Are you going up the inner?'

'Stop making stupid jokes,' snarled Shade.

Grabbing her, he chucked her on the bed and without preamble thrust his p.e.n.i.s deep inside her, back and forth until she cried out in amazement and a little pain. But she still kept up the patter.

'Don't go to the front too early.'

'Going too firm for you?' countered Shade, giving a few more thrusts. Then he pulled out and rolled on his back, pulling her on top of him, giving her two very, very hard slaps on her bottom.

'Ouch!'

'Stop playing silly b.u.g.g.e.rs then and prove you're good enough to ride my horse.'

'It was a done deal,' hissed Amber, burying her teeth in his shoulder, 'a ride for a ride, or I'm going home.'

'OK, OK,' conceded Shade, as she began to move, crouching low over him, thrusting and driving, muscles gripping his c.o.c.k with all her strength, riding the finish of her life.

She was gratified to see his heavy eyelids closed, to hear the groans of pleasure, as she kissed the bite mark on his scented shoulder and tried to read if the tattoo said 'Olivia'.

Suddenly, he wriggled out from under her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he made her kneel between his legs, ramming his c.o.c.k into her mouth, shoving with real violence until she gagged. Thank G.o.d she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She couldn't scream.

Just before she choked to death, Shade had changed positions, making her lie back on the bed, tipping her legs right over in a U-turn. Her knees rested on her shoulders, her toes against the leather headboard, so he could ride his own finish, forcing deep inside her, then, ramming a long finger up her exposed a.n.u.s to tighten the fit, he exploded inside her. For a moment he let his full weight collapse on her, then he rolled away.

'I thought you'd rammed the winning post up me as well,' gasped Amber.

Shade laughed or, rather, flashed his teeth.

'Well done, definitely winners enclosure.' Then he added brusquely, 'Now get dressed. I've got a conference call from Beijing,' he glanced at his vast watch, 'in a few minutes. Use the bathroom in there, then hop it.'

Amber didn't move. 'A ride for a ride. I need proof.' There was steel in her voice.

'I gave you my word.'

'Doesn't mean a thing.'

For a second they glared at each other. She was so beautiful, so golden against his dark blue silk pillows, and so fearless. Shade was more jolted than he cared to admit.

'My mother's a very dangerous journalist,' said Amber. 'My father works for the BBC. You don't mess with us, Mr Deadly Night Shade.'

She wasn't moving. Shade was in a hurry. Even though it was the middle of the night, he reached for his mobile and punched out a number. The other end took some time to answer.

'H-H, good morning. Change of plan. That new Irish horse running at Wincanton next week, what's it called? Oh yes, Bullydozer. I want you to put up Amber Lloyd-Foxe.'

Amber could hear the howl of protest rising to a crescendo at the other end.

'It's my f.u.c.king horse, I say who rides it.' Shade hung up.

'Bullydozer is a very good name for its owner,' said Amber.

'Did you enjoy that?' Once more Shade's hand slid between her legs.

'Not a lot. There is something called the c.l.i.toris, in case you'd forgotten.'

'I know. Tonight was for me. Next time, I'll make you yell your head off. Now b.u.g.g.e.r off.'

Rafiq was all delicacy, Shade all brutality, she reflected.

As she drove out through the gates, she heard his helicopter revving up, and swore as she realized she'd left her lucky pants behind.

96.

Amber was terrified Shade would rat. Declarations have to be in by ten o'clock on the previous day, reaching the Racing Post website around lunchtime. Checking with shaking hands and pounding heart, Amber yelled with joy. Ten horses were entered in the 3.15 Edward Thring Cup at Wincanton tomorrow, including Bafford Playboy ridden by Killer, Rogue on History Painting, Awesome Wells on Count Romeo and Amber Lloyd Foxe (who had the 7-lb advantage of being a conditional jockey) on Bullydozer.

If only Dora was in England to tell all the world. Amber rang her father, who was thrilled.

'I'll try really hard to get down there. Sat.u.r.day afternoon's a bit of a b.u.g.g.e.r. So much going on.'

Amber was gratified to be emailed by an agent nicknamed 'Special' Donaldson, who she'd been pestering for months.

'Good luck in the Edward Thring. Let's do lunch.'

The big time at last. If only she hadn't left her lucky pants at Shade's.

Marius, who'd been to Sandown the previous day and stayed overnight to look at a couple of horses, was going straight to Wincanton. Amber, knowing Harvey-Holden wouldn't welcome her at Ravenscroft, took advantage of Marius's absence to ride out at Throstledown on the Sat.u.r.day morning.

Everyone was transfixed with interest.

'How in h.e.l.l did you swing that ride?' asked Josh, as he legged her up on to a new, worried-looking bay mare called School Fees.

'Natural talent,' crowed Amber.

'You're mad,' said Tresa, as they rode out through the drizzle. 'H-H will murder you, he's psychotic about anyone involved with Mrs Wilkinson. Marius will murder you for riding one of Shade's horses, particularly if you beat Rogue and History Painting.'

'I've beaten Rogue often enough,' scoffed Amber.

Rafiq said nothing. He and Amber had already rowed furiously about her taking the ride.

'H-H has a different agenda.'

'Marius should have kept his promise.'

'Why he promise in first place?' hissed Rafiq, who had heard rumours of goings-on at Stratford.

As they pounded up the gallops, past bleached fields and beech trees flashing their silver trunks and crows' nests in the rising sun, Amber really got to work on young School Fees.

'Go easy,' shouted Josh in his new role as head lad, as he caught up with her. 'You're not riding a race yet.'

'I'm not getting a chance to ride Bullydozer beforehand,' shouted back Amber, who had been studying videos of the horse with declining confidence. He looked a brute and a huge one at that.

As they rode home, a deer shot out of a copse, School Fees spooked and Amber, who'd been fretting about seeing Rogue again, flew through the air. There was a sickening crunch as she landed in the long blond gra.s.ses, then pain blotted out all thoughts of Rogue. Suppressing a groan and cursing, she struggled to her feet as Rafiq, who'd caught School Fees, cantered back, his face full of concern.

'You OK?'

'Absolutely fine.'

'Let me look.' He jumped off.