He breaks into a smile, scratching her cheeks as she leans into him.
‘What’s the big deal? If she messes up, all that will happen is I’ll never use her again and you’ll be fired.’
‘Mateo!’
‘I’m joking, I’mjoking.’ He laughs as I prepare to throw the brush at him. ‘I thought you English love a bit of sarcasm.’
‘We also know that timing iseverything. Now is not the right time.’
I put one hand on my hip and I use the back of the other that’s holding the brush to push any hair that’s escaped from its ponytail back from my face. Mateo walks round to me, grabbing my hips and pulling me into him, his arms wrapping round my back.
‘It is going to be fine,’ he assures me.
I peer anxiously up at him. ‘What if she doesn’t do as you say? What if I’ve got it wrong and Maycourt loses because of me pressuring you to add her to your string?’
‘Ash, these are always the risks of polo. Ponies are living, breathing creatures – it’s not like relying on a car or bike;you can’t know how they’re going to be on the pitch or how they’ll react to things that happen. We train them as best we can and hope they trust us as much as we trust them. I’ve made the decision to use Serafina for the last chukka becauseIhave judged her on recent training and matches. She manoeuvres brilliantly, she’s listening to me, she’s fierce in ride-offs, and she’s quick. I haven’t picked her because she’s my girlfriend’s favourite horse.’
My heart skitters in my chest.
‘What?’ he asks, confused as he watches my lips part with surprise.
‘You… you called me your girlfriend.’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘Am I?’
‘I hope so.’
‘I hope so, too.’
His smile stretches, crinkles forming around the edge, eyes sparkling. ‘That settles it.’
Leaning towards me, he lets his lips graze softly against mine, hesitating as his eyes notice something over my shoulder.
‘What is it?’ I ask breathlessly, desperate to nip at his bottom lip, which is full and mesmerising and so damn close.
‘One of the official Gold Cup photographers is lurking nearby,’ he murmurs quietly. ‘He’s been taking photos of Fitz and Lady M, but he’s looking this way and… yep, he’s lifting his camera now. The lens is definitely pointed at us.’
‘I don’t fucking care, Mateo,’ I whisper, prompting his eyes to lower back to mine, a heat blazing into them. ‘I want my boyfriend to kiss me.’
A low, frustrated, guttural sound emitting from his throat, he dips his head to kiss me. I smile against his lips, wrapping my hands around his neck and letting the brush drop to the grass with a thud. No secrecy, no shame, no scandal. This is real.
Twenty-Four
I’m no use to anyone in the final chukka of the first round match against Ember Crest. The best groom in the business, Eduardo already knew I’d be too nervous to cool down the ponies and so had assigned me the duty of holding a spare mallet so I could be with the other members of the team at our end of the field, watching the action right in front of us. It’s nerve-racking enough watching Mateo charge into the thick of it or face an aggressive opponent in a ride-off, but now Serafina is out there, too, and I have to stand here helpless, wishing with all my might that she’s going to be okay and make us proud.
She does, more than I could have hoped.
When Eric manoeuvres spectacularly to block a shot from Ember’s number one, Malcolm is able to intercept the ball and pass it to Mateo, currently being emphatically pressured by the Ember number four who is taking his role of having to mark the most dangerous member of the opposing team very seriously. But on Serafina, Mateo appears unbeatable. When he swings her around, shedoes so swiftly before accelerating down the pitch with remarkable speed and stamina as Mateo knocks the ball ahead of them, looking like she’s hardly breaking a sweat. Unopposed, Mateo scores the goal with ease.
During the last couple of minutes, Mateo scoops up the ball and Serafina bolts down the side of the field, a blur of chestnut, a thundering of hooves and heavy snorts, breaking away from the two opponents hunting her down. Mateo positions her perfectly, curving towards the centre, and with a stunning offside forehand, he smacks the ball in between the posts. The noise from the Maycourt team is deafening, the cheer from the stand heartwarming. Mateo lifts his mallet in the area triumphantly as the end of the match rings in and Maycourt is safely through to the next round.
The relief engulfs me.
Hearing my name being called out behind me, I spin around to find Lady M striding towards me across the grass in her pastel-lemon dress and wide-brimmed straw hat, tears in her eyes, her arms outstretched. Before I have the chance to speak, she pulls me into her and holds me tight. I’m too stunned to hug her back, my whole body tensing.
‘Thank you,’ she whispers in my ear, before drawing back and holding my forearms, her nails digging into my skin. ‘You have no idea what this means to me, to see Serafina out there. God,’ she clasps a hand over her mouth as she attempts to rein in her emotion, ‘William would have loved this. He would have reallylovedthis.’
