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‘Not just the olive oil empire,’ he said. ‘At least get your facts right.’
‘Of course there’s more, isn’t there? More you didn’t trouble to tell me. Did you think it wasn’t worth me bothering my head about?’
She flicked her eyes at him, there and away again fast, wanting him to see that she really couldn’t give a damn about anything else he hadn’t revealed to her. At one time, discovering the fact that, like her family, he was a dedicated breeder of fine horses might have brought them together. But the time to care about the lies he had told, the secrets he had kept from her, was long gone. The memory of the one secret she had kept from him burned in her soul, threatening to destroy her if she let it free.
‘Your father thinks it is. That’s why he agreed to a deal I proposed. And he wanted to mix business with pleasure.’
Could he make that last word sound any more toxic? She knew something was very wrong—it had to be. How could her father have agreed to a business deal when there was nothing left of the family business? If there had been any other possibility then she wouldn’t be here, living through her last days of freedom before she walked down this aisle with Adnan Al Makthabi. The marriage was supposed to save the Blacklands Stud from complete ruin. It was supposed to ensure they didn’t have to sell off the few remaining horses, including the magnificent stallion Blackjack.
The cost of the stallion had crippled their already overly strained finances, the loan her father had insisted on taking out to pay for him depleting further an already empty bank account and adding thousands to the interest repayments. But at least Adnan and his family wanted Blackjack—perhaps more than they wanted Imogen herself.
‘He suggested I come now and share in the celebrations. And he offered me a room in Blackland House for the week so we could discuss the deal at the same time.’
He made it sound perfectly reasonable, natural even, but the nasty twisting sensation in Imogen’s stomach told her it couldn’t possibly be that way. Her father couldn’t discuss any sort of ‘deal’—he had nothing to offer! From the date of her wedding, he wouldn’t even own the stud—or Blackjack.
‘So tell me—what did you use to buy my father’s interest?’
She’d gone too far with that. Dangerously so. She could see it in the way a muscle ticked in his cheek, the glare that had turned the warm colour of his eyes to ice in the space of a heartbeat.
‘I don’t buy my business partners. Ask your father. You might not want me here but, believe me, your father does. He invited me to stay and be a guest at your wedding—so, naturally I said yes. I wanted be here to watch you plight your troth to your perfect bridegroom.’
Raoul spat the words at her before he spun on his heel and marched away, down the aisle and out of the church. The staccato sound of his angry footsteps echoed through the silent interior of the church until the heavy wooden door slammed loudly behind him.
CHAPTER TWO
THE SUN WAS burning away the fine dawn mist that had clouded the distant hillsides as Imogen turned the bay mare and reluctantly headed back to the stud. The long, solitary gallop on her favourite horse had been a welcome time of peace and quiet in the bustle of the weekend. Time to reflect and draw breath before considering what her next move might be where Raoul Cardini was concerned.
Because of course Raoul was the real problem she had. The preparations for the wedding were well in hand, everything would have been fine if it hadn’t been for Raoul’s unexpected arrival and the crazy scheme that her father had embarked on to bring him here.
‘Oh, why now!’ she exclaimed aloud, making the mare’s ears prick in response to the sound as they trotted down the path that led to the stables.
But she knew why. Adnan had revealed last night at the pre-wedding dinner that her father had mentioned Raoul’s approach, his interest in the stud services and the stallion Blackjack in particular. But they had agreed to wait until the wedding was over, he said. Or that had been the original plan.
It was obviously not what Raoul believed, Imogen reflected now, slowing the mare to a walk as her hooves rang on the cobbled stones of the stable yard. Last night she’d finally managed to get the truth out of her father, discovering to her horror that things were as bad as she’d thought. Her father had planned to get the deal for stud services for Blackjack signed and sealed before the magnificent horse became the property of the Al Makthabi stud—which he would on the day of her marriage. Adnan had agreed to clear her father’s debts, save Blacklands from destruction and restore it to something of its former glory, but only on condition that Blackjack became his as part of the deal.
