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‘You should seriously consider returning to Ter’harn. Your parents want you back, and your classes are finished. You could submit your dissertation over email. You no longer need to be here.’
‘What I need to do and where I need to be is here, Taruq. That’s the end of the conversation.’ Danyl’s tone was increasing both in anger and volume.
‘You have become infatuated with a silly little girl who wanted to play jockey and couldn’t, so she drugged a horse, and that horse is now dead.’
The man’s last word hung in silence, a silence that held her breath and heartbeat hostage. Horror crept across her skin, mixing with outrage and grief.
‘Get out,’ Danyl said. It was quiet, but no less terrifying for it. She imagined the battle of wills going on in the room next door—she could almost feel the intensity from here.
‘I said...’
Apparently Danyl didn’t need to finish the sentence. A commotion on the other side of the door happened and the horrible nasally man left without much further fuss.
But as he exited the building he left the door open to Mason’s sudden realisation that he was right. That the bad press the man had alluded to would somehow taint Danyl. Taint them both. Irrevocably.
The door in front of her, not just the one in her mind, flew open and there he stood, instantly seizing on his own realisation that she had overheard if not the whole, at least some part of the conversation.
‘How are you feeling?’
She looked up into his eyes, eyes that betrayed none of the conversation he’d just had. His whole focus was on her and it both soothed and ached at the same time. Could she really tie him to her now? She’d seen what the press could do to a jockey after the death of a horse. She understood it. It was an outrage. It was the dark side of the career that she loved so much. To take such a pure thing as racing a horse, and for it to be tainted by drugs and death... The ground swayed beneath her feet.
Danyl saw the moment the blood left her face and caught her just before she collapsed. He took her back to bed, and called out for someone to call a doctor, anyone, anything that could help right now. Mason waved off the offer of a doctor, and instead turned and buried her head back into the pillows. He stayed with her for an hour, comforting and soothing as she drifted in and out of sleep.
When he was sure that she was asleep for longer than a few minutes he went back out into the sitting room, where he found three of his men, all with faces grimmer than his own.
‘Report.’
‘There are investigators searching the stables. A few have been over to the room she shares with Francesca. She’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that Mason would never do anything to hurt either Rebel or herself. But the housing is surrounded by reporters. Whoever made that accusation made sure that this wasn’t going to go away.’
‘And the trainer? Couldn’t he have drugged the horse?’
‘All reports show that he’s straight up, no priors, no need. He’s good at what he does.’
Danyl rubbed his head in frustration.
He looked to Michaels, and he could see the concern etched into the older man’s eyes. He’d been with the family since his father was at university, having been placed with him at Eton. ‘She’s okay, Michaels. She’s strong,’ he said, not quite believing it but hoping it.
‘And the test results?’
‘We’ll have them by five p.m.’
Danyl gave a curt nod. ‘I don’t want to be disturbed for anything else.’
If he’d taken even one second before turning back to the bedroom, he would have seen determined nods acknowledging his request. But he didn’t. He entered the bedroom, took off his clothes and climbed into bed beside Mason, pulling her sleeping form into an embrace. In her sleep she clung to him, while torturous dreams sent shivers and jerks through her delicate body.
* * *
Just after five in the afternoon, Mason woke at the sound of a knock on the door and became aware of Danyl dressing quickly and leaving. It took her a moment to focus; she desperately wanted to stay in bed, but her body had other ideas. Along with the aches and bruises that were gently humming beneath the surface of her skin, she was hungry. Her stomach let out a determined growl as if to make its complaint fully known. She peeled back the covers and gently swung her legs over the side of the bed. Deciding that she could make it the rest of the way, she pulled on a pair of leggings and grabbed a shirt from Danyl’s wardrobe.
She entered the sitting room just as Danyl was closing the door on whoever had just been to see him. He looked about and, without his having to say anything, the two guards quickly slipped out of the room.
She frowned; it wasn’t unusual for them to be either alone or with the men in the same room, but there was something heavy in the air. Something she couldn’t quite understand.
‘You should sit down,’ Danyl said.
She looked at him, at the hundreds of emotions he was trying to hide. Causing a chain reaction beneath the surface of her own skin.
‘I think I’ll stand,’ she replied. She didn’t know what was coming, but she was sure that it was better to meet it on two feet.
