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From what he’d heard in the last eighteen months she’d been doing everything she’d said she would—living and breathing the horses from the Winners’ Circle stable. John had been giving him, Dimitri and Danyl weekly reports, and had voiced his positive opinion and utter confidence in her on more than one occasion.
‘She’ll do.’
It was about as high a seal of approval as John would ever give. And, from the way he was looking at Emma, it seemed to be covering both of the women who had unexpectedly entered Antonio’s life in very different ways.
Antonio had felt the calm of being inside a stable settle over him from the moment he’d come out of the wintry sun and moved into the shadows. But it was an odd calm. It always had been. The kind of calm that happened before a storm was about to hit and change everything.
He wondered if it was like Pavlov’s dog—if in some way he’d always feel like this in a stable. It was the one place where he’d repeatedly sought refuge when things at home had got too much. When he’d wanted to take the first horse he saw and ride like hell away from his home, his father and all that entailed. It was the kind of calm that anticipated adrenalin...anticipated action and adventure.
It was the kind of calm he hadn’t felt since being forced away from his home, his horses, and his once possible career as an international polo player.
As if John sensed the dark memories taking hold of Antonio, he led them from the quiet peace of the stable back out into the sunlight.
‘Were the overnighters okay?’ Antonio asked. It would have taken them a long time to get from America to Argentina, with several stops along the way.
‘Yep—paperwork was all in place, and everything went well. You might want to check in with the folks from the Hanley Cup. They’ve got some things for you to sign.’ John indicated over his shoulder to where there was a small office hidden amongst the larger buildings.
Antonio nodded his head, willingly taking the proffered escape from the stables and the threatening memories of his past.
* * *
Emma didn’t know what she’d expected from the stables, but it hadn’t been John. In the eighteen months she’d worked for Antonio she’d never had anything to do with the Winners’ Circle. He’d handled all that himself. Oh, she’d been curious—but never enough to intrude on Antonio’s personal endeavours.
John had watched Antonio walk off towards the office and now turned his attention back to her.
‘I’ve known that one for a long time, Emma.’
‘Is this the bit where you warn me off?’ she said, half joking and half afraid of what he might say.
‘No, lass. Reckon you know what you’re getting yourself into. But that boy...he’s just like a natural-born mustang. Wild and ready to bolt at any moment.’
Emma wanted John to stop. She was struggling enough to maintain the image of Antonio as her boss and now her fiancée. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see him as the boy he’d once been.
‘His da,’ John continued, ‘he were a hard man—no doubt. And he all but broke that boy. You’ve got him this far, Emma. Hold on to him. Even if he tries to bolt. He’s worth it, lass.’
She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell him the truth. That this engagement of—what?—less than twenty-four hours?—was just for show. Just for a business deal. The sincerity ringing from John’s voice was irrefutable.
She smiled, knowing that she couldn’t do anything but keep up the façade and not break an old man’s heart. ‘I’ll do that, John. Or I’ll try,’ she said on a laugh, to lighten the tone.
To change the subject, she nodded back towards the stable.
‘Is Veranchetti the horse Mason’s going to ride in the Hanley Cup? I’m afraid I don’t know much about it,’ she said ruefully.
‘Yup. They’ve got good a chance, I reckon.’
‘It’s an odd name—though I suppose they all have odd names.’
‘Cici—his sister—named him after the hero of one of her favourite romance novels. Antonio didn’t have the heart to say no,’ he said, squinting in the sunlight, looking out at the course.
‘Does Cici ride?’
‘No, she was never that interested in the horses. But you don’t want me raking up old ghosts, Ms Guilham.’
Whether John had purposely shied away from the past, or whether he’d noticed Antonio’s return, she couldn’t tell. Either way, his presence clearly sounded the end of their conversation.
‘John’s been telling me that Veranchetti?
?s chances are good. I might even have to place my first ever bet!’ she said brightly.
