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He had come! He was going to watch!
Kelly was barely conscious of what was happening in the arena. Horse followed horse. She had no idea who was doing well or how many had gone clear rounds. Her turn came.
'Rasputin…ridden by Kelly Hanrahan,' boomed over the loudspeaker.
She rode the black stallion to the starting position, her heart hammering with the need to show Justin how good Rasputin was, how good she was, how good they were together.
And up in the grandstand, Justin St John shifted forward on the wooden bench seat, too tense to remain still. He felt sick to his stomach. He kept telling himself that Kelly was as fine a rider as he had ever seen, that it couldn't happen again… that she had the right to live her life how she wanted. But she looked so small on that great black horse, small and fragile, her body all too easily smashed.
The announcer was reeling out Rasputin's recent achievements, sparking interest: 'An exciting horse… a great crowd-pleaser… very strong competitor…'
Justin's hands clenched as Kelly was given the starting signal. He could hardly bear to watch as she urged the black stallion towards the first hurdle, yet he couldn't bear not to watch. His body half lifted with them, and he only breathed again when they took the jump cleanly.
They flew over each set of rails, and took the spread fence in their stride. Rasputin pranced impatiently as Kelly set him for the combination, then soared over the double with consummate ease. He disposed of the next three fences with seemingly contemptuous arrogance, but Justin tensed again as they turned for the 'Liverpool Ditch'.
Several horses and riders had come to grief at the Liverpool-a short white picket fence preceding the water and the fence behind it. There had been two quite nasty falls when horses had balked at the obstacle. If Rasputin acknowledged an obstacle at all, it was not discernible. He sailed over without the slightest hint of a falter.
Only the single rail to go before the triple which had brought half the field down-two sets of rails and the brick wall, each jump escalating in height and no room for mistakes. Justin could feel his heart thundering as they leapt the single rail and lined up for the triple. Kelly held Rasputin back for a moment, harnessing the surge of power in the huge stallion before letting him go. He fired, taking all three jumps with such graceful brilliance that it brought a spontaneous burst of applause from the crowd.
A clear round.
Justin sagged in relief. When he had time to recollect himself, he wiped the perspiration from his brow and tried to review the performance he had just seen without any emotional prejudice.
The timing on each jump had been perfect. There was no doubting Rasputin's ability, nor the understanding between horse and rider. Certainly Kelly appeared to be in control of her mount. But Justin could not rid himself of the fear that the black stallion's temperament might overpower her at a critical moment.
The second round began.
By the time it came to Kelly's turn, four other riders had completed two clear rounds, so she knew there would be a jump-off to decide the place- getters. And she knew she needed a clear round to be in it. But she wasn't nervous any more. She had shown Justin. Nothing could have been more perfect than Rasputin's first round, and he was rearing to go again.
Their second round was equally faultless.
The course was changed for the jump-off. Several fences were eliminated, and the triple reduced to one set of rails and the brick wall. It wasn't simply a matter of going clear now, it was a race against the clock as well. Kelly had an advantage in being the last competitor. She would know what time she had to beat in order to win.
The first horse knocked the single rail down.
The second horse dragged the top bricks off the wall.
The third blundered on the first hurdle, too anxious to get off to a flying start.
While he wished no harm to any horse or rider, Justin prayed that the next competitor would collect jumping faults also. Then Kelly would only need a clear round on Rasputin, with no necessity to race the clock.
The fourth rider was on a magnificent grey Andalusian horse, and from the start he attacked the course with speed and purposeful control. The horse rattled a rail of the spread fence. Justin held his breath, willing it to fall, but it stayed up. A hoof rapped the top of the wall, but not a brick fell. The time was formidable. Thirty-six point nine seconds!
Justin buried his face in his hands.
He knew Kelly would go for it. He knew that damned black stallion would go for it. And he couldn't watch.
He couldn't. Yet he had to!
Kelly instantly replotted her course, minimising the distance between jumps. Distance was time! She needed controlled pacing more than speed. It was risky, but if she was to win… and Rasputin had the ability to do it.
She stroked his neck. His ears pricked back. This is the test, my beauty,' she crooned softly. 'Let's show him we're the best!'
Rasputin snorted.
They were given the starting signal. Kelly dug her heels in and Rasputin surged into his long, powerful stride. The first two fences blurred by. She wheeled the big stallion quickly and drove him over the spread, turned sharply, then took the single rail at an angle so she could cut across to the 'Liverpool Ditch'. It was a daring move, but Rasputin responded without turning a hair. He motored through the combination and charged down to round the corner for the last set of rails and the wall.
Conscious of the seconds ticking away, Kelly urged him on to the rails too fast. She knew it- could feel him overstretching. The wall was going to be too close for his normal stride. As he landed, she gave a sharp tug on the reins. He couldn't instantly check his momentum, but he knew what she wanted… saw what had to be done. He managed a shorter stride and climbed, surging off his back legs, lifting in a great, hooping leap that carried them both up and over the wall.
