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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE thunder held off, though Bella had been right about the ponies. The ground was wet and more than one pony had gone lame after skidding to a halt. The pony Nero was riding in this chukka had cast a shoe. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded when he rode in. ‘Where’s Bella?’

‘She’s with the grooms, warming up the ponies,’ Agnes explained as he swung down from the saddle.

‘She should be here.’ He gazed up and down the pony lines, searching for her. ‘It’s her job to be here.’ He pulled off his helmet as the horn sounded, announcing the end of the first half.

Meanwhile, Agnes was wringing her hands, which was most unlike her. ‘What’s the matter, Agnes?’

‘We’re short of horses, or I’d have another one brought up for you right away.’

‘Don’t worry; it’s not your fault. These are unusual weather conditions. The match should have been cancelled.’

‘Such an important match?’ Agnes appeared horror-struck.

‘Why not?’ he said. ‘It’s only a game.’ Words he thought he’d never hear himself say twice in one lifetime. He turned to see Bella leading Misty towards them. ‘What are you doing?’ he said suspiciously. ‘I heard you’d run out of horses.’

‘Not quite,’ Bella said as she patted the pony’s neck.

‘You have to be joking. I’m not risking Misty. I brought her back to England where she belongs—with you. Have you seen the weather conditions? It’s carnage out there.’ And his emotions were all over the place. Bella was offering him her pony, a symbol of everything she cared about. ‘I won’t ride her,’ he said decisively.

‘She’s equal to anything out there.’

‘The brutality?’

‘She’ll keep you safe, Nero.’

There was so much in Bella’s steady gaze, he seized her in front of everyone and brought her close. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, for a lifetime, for eternity. ‘Don’t you ever stay away from me again,’ he ground out.

‘It’s been a week,’ she teased him.

‘A week too long,’ he argued, kissing her with hungry passion. He cursed impatiently as the horn sounded, calling him back onto the field.

‘I’ll be waiting for you,’ she called after him, levelling that same steady stare on his face.

‘I’ll take care of her,’ he promised, vaulting onto Misty’s back. As he settled his helmet on his head he was suddenly aware that Bella and he were the focus of everyone’s attention, from the grooms to Ignacio, and from the stick chicks to the prince, who had come to inspect his horses. ‘I love you, Bella Wheeler,’ he called out as everyone cheered. ‘I’ve always loved you and I always will.’ And he didn’t care who heard.

‘I love you too,’ she said, her face as bright as the sun peeping through the clouds. ‘Stay safe!’

Removing his helmet, he saluted her with a bow. He’d won the only match he cared about. He hadn’t a clue how Bella and he were going to make it work; he only knew they would.

They drank a toast to the victory of Nero’s team. It was a massive victory, as the prince was the first to admit. He could hardly blame Bella for allowing the captain of the Argentinian team to ride her best pony, when it was the prince who had suggested that the best polo player in the world ought to be matched with Misty. He just hadn’t factored the timing into his thinking, the prince admitted wryly. Just as he hadn’t realised what a wonderful job Bella had done in Argentina, he added, thanking her for the portfolio of her stay she’d compiled for him. ‘You must go back there,’ the prince insisted. ‘Agnes and my team can hold the fort for you here.’

‘You’re too kind, Sir,’ Bella said, glancing at Nero.

The moment the prince’s back was turned, Nero grabbed hold of her hand. ‘You, me. Quiet time, now,’ he insisted, leading Bella away. ‘You can’t refuse a royal command,’ he reminded her, tongue in cheek, ‘though I don’t need the prince to prompt me.’

Bella curbed a smile. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ she said softly.

‘And I’ve got something I want to tell you,’ he said, drawing her to a halt in the grand, ornately plastered hallway of the Polo Club.

‘Present first,’ Bella insisted. Ignacio had told her that although Nero was the most generous of men, he frowned on his staff spending their hard-earned money on him. And, as he had no living relatives, Nero didn’t exactly get a full Christmas sack. Bella intended to change that.

Nero looked suspicious. ‘Is Ignacio in on this?’

‘If he is I wouldn’t tell you.’

‘Will I like it?’

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