The Riding Master (34 page)

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Authors: Alexandrea Weis

BOOK: The Riding Master
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“What if…?”

“Raynie, sometimes it takes the wrong kind of man to help you find the right one.” Estelle patted her shoulder, encouraging her onward. “You’d better go and tell him the good news.”

Rayne browsed the crowd outside of the show ring. When her eyes settled on her mother, she handed her Bob’s reins. “Here.”

Estelle was horrified. “Me?” She took the reins, eyeing the horse with utter panic. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

“Just hold him, Mother. He won’t hurt you.” Rayne took off running for the green and white stables.

“Raynie! What if he moves?” Estelle shouted.

But Rayne did not stop to reply. She ran in her black boots, feeling the rigid shoes fighting against her fluid motion. When she came to the main stables, she veered left, heading to the back show ring and the dressage events.

At the edge of the schooling field located outside of the main show ring, she scanned the plethora of horses in all shapes and colors practicing their difficult dressage routines. Trainers were scattered amid the horses, shouting instructions, while a few family and friends looked on. When Rayne caught sight of Trent’s black, wavy hair and wide shoulders on the far side of the ring, her heart lifted.

“I’m an idiot,” she softly berated, and then took off across the ring.

After ducking between horses and trainers, Rayne was within feet of Trent when a figure dressed in black stepped in front of her.

Wearing her everyday black riding breeches, black boots, and black T-shirt, Rayne was surprised Selene was not sporting the customary fitted black coat, white shirt with stock tie, and black dressage boots required in the show ring.  

“My, my, what are you doing at this end of the world, Rayne?”

“You’re not dressed out? Aren’t you showing, Selene?”

Selene frowned, but quickly recovered. “I have to help—”

Trent came up to them, his gray eyes awash with worry. “What is it? Is it Bob?”

“No, it’s good news…great news,” Rayne told him. “I won. I won my event.”

His features hardened, and then he directed his attention to Selene. “Get back to Mary Anne and make sure her boots are polished before she goes in the ring,” he barked at her.

Selene’s black eyes ripped into him. “Yes, sir,” she snarled under her breath. 

As she sashayed away, Rayne spotted the towel and brush tucked into the back of her jodhpurs. “Why isn’t she showing?”

“Because I made her the team groom. After all the grief she gave me, I felt a little humiliation was in order.” He offered her a businesslike smile. “You did well. I’m sure Rebecca will be pleased with your blue ribbon.”

He was about to rush back to the riders waiting for him when she touched his arm.

“I was wrong,” she blurted out.

He noted her hand on his forearm. “Wrong about what?”

She let go of his arm. “Us. You were right; I was scared. I shouldn’t have run away. I’m sorry.”

The impassive expression remained on his face. “Apology accepted. Now I have students to attend to.” He twisted away from her.

“Wait! That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me.”

He stopped and his shoulders flexed beneath his fitted white polo shirt. When he came around, the anger in his eyes terrified her.

“What else do you want, Rayne?”

She gazed about the ring, uncomfortable with the fact that a few of the riders around them were listening in on their discussion. “You know what I want, Trent.”

He eased closer to her. “No, I don’t.”

“You honestly don’t know?”

He took another step toward her, his features still cold and distant. “Perhaps you should just tell me so I can get back to work.”

She waved her hand about the ring. “Here?”

“Tell me, Rayne,” he bellowed.

“All right…I want you.”

He leaned over to her and touched his ear. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I want you,” she exclaimed.

He brought his face right in front of hers. “I still didn’t hear you.”

“You son of a bitch,” she muttered, and then she tossed her head back and yelled, “I want you!”

Trent’s grin was slow in coming, but when it appeared, his face warmed and his eyes twinkled. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” His eyes rose to his students at the railing. “I’ll be right back,” he loudly asserted, and then took Rayne’s hand. “Come with me.”

He carted her back to the guest stables, and once beneath the shadows of the metal roof, Trent dragged her along the shaving-covered aisle to a row of tack room doors. He pushed open a door with a sign reading Southland Stables and shoved Rayne inside.

After he followed her into the tack room, he banged the door closed. “Now say that again.”

“I want you,” Rayne repeated.

“What’s changed?”

“Changed?” Rayne shrugged. “I don’t know. Before I was afraid if I got involved with you, I would end up being hurt like I was with Foster; but you’re not Foster. I know that now.”

“And what made you realize that?” His voice was tense and held none of its usual charm. “Ten minutes ago you seemed pretty dead set against getting involved with me.”

She rubbed her hands together. “Ah, Mother told me about your visit. I guess if she believes in you, then I can, too.”

“You guess?” His eyes probed her face, still not looking entirely convinced. “Now you believe in me. How do I know you won’t change your mind again, Rayne?”

“I won’t. I promise, Trent.”

His gray eyes narrowed, considering her pledge. “Prove it,” he finally said in a low rumble.

Rayne’s eyes grew wide with uncertainty. “How do I do that?”

“You’ll think of something,” he assured her as a devilish grin rose on his thin lips.

Understanding what he was alluding to, she motioned to the tack room door. “What about your students?”

“They’ll keep.”

Rayne took in his cool eyes, and then shrugged. Slowly, she eased her black riding jacket from her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” he questioned.

“Proving that I won’t change my mind.”

He cupped his hands about her face. “That’s not what I meant.”

She wrinkled her brow. “It’s not?”

“Rayne,” he softly whispered, his lips inches from hers. “Just tell me how you feel.”  

How do I feel?
She breathed in the scent of dust, horses, and the slightest trace of his citrusy cologne, and suddenly she knew the answer. It had been there all along, hiding behind the shadows of doubt in her heart. But now the shadows were gone, and all that was left was her love, shining through.

“I love you, Trent.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He leaned toward her, closing in for a kiss, when she stopped him. “Wait a minute. How do you feel about me?”

He paused and his eyes took a turn of the tack room. “I thought that was obvious. I love you.”

She smiled as her heart soared with happiness. “Nothing is obvious with you, Mr. Newbury.” 

“It will be from now on, Ms. Greer. I promise.”

When his lips touched hers, Rayne knew she had made the right choice. His kiss made her heart race, her palms itch, and her toes curl inside her boots. This had to be love.

Suddenly he backed away, and a speck of worry crossed his handsome features. “Where’s Bob?”

Rayne fastened her arms about his neck. “With my mother.”

Trent’s boisterous laugh bounced about the small tack room. “I want a picture of that. You’ll never hear the end of it from Estelle.”

“She’d better start getting used to it, because I plan on going to a lot more horse shows in the future.”

His arms embraced her. “More shows? Don’t you think you should check with your master rider first?”

“Nah. I’m sure I’ll be able to talk him into it.”

He kissed her neck. “How are you going to do that?”

She tilted back from him. “Would you like me to show you?”

His hands wandered down her back until they settled over her round butt. “Yeah, show me.”

Epilogue

 

Rayne finished carrying the last of the boxes from her Highlander into Trent’s wide living room. Placing the cardboard box on the dining room table, she took in the disarray of boxes scattered about the open room and felt something was missing.

“That’s it for the bedroom, right?” Trent inquired as he came into the room.

“Where’s Frank?” She looked past him to the bedroom hallway.

“Pool. He’s been sitting in the shallow end since you arrived.”

Rayne waved to the patio doors. “You do realize all that hair will clog up your filters?”

Trent shrugged. “So what? If Frank’s happy, then I’m happy.”

“I give that about a week.”

Trent inspected the living room. “You’ve got a lot of stuff. Where are we going to put it all?”

“Be thankful I left the furniture with my mother.”

“How is Estelle adjusting to living in your house?”

“I think she likes it. She’s been a little down since the act of sale, but I know she prefers the money in the bank to the burden of that big old mansion.”

He slipped his arms about her. “You sure you don’t want to sell her your place?”

“Just because I’m moving in with you doesn’t mean I’m giving up my house. Maybe I’ll need it one day, if you ever get tired of me.”

He kissed her lips. “Never, baby. Besides, I don’t see you and Estelle living together. She may be sober now, but she is still Estelle.”

“Hard to believe my mother’s been sober for four months. I think that’s some sort of record for her. Even Dr. Emerit is shocked at how well she is doing.”

A loud “woof” followed by the thumping of four feet barreling in through the open patio doors distracted them. Frank, soaked from head to paw, began shaking his body and sending a spray of water all over the living room.

“Frank,” Rayne yelled, and went running to catch his collar.

Trent laughed at her attempt to curtail the dogs zealous shaking.

“He’s ruining the furniture,” she roared to Trent. “Don’t just stand there, grab a towel.”

“It’s fine, Rayne, let him enjoy himself.”

“But the furniture?”

Trent came up to her and removed her hand from Frank’s collar. “It’s just furniture.”

Frank went flying out the back door, heading down the steep deck steps and back to the pool.

She tossed her hands in the air. “How can you be so calm about this?”

He placed his arm about her shoulders. “Never mind that. I have a surprise for you.”

She warily examined his features. “What kind of surprise?”

He ushered her toward the kitchen. “A moving in surprise.” He led her to his built-in refrigerator. “Open it.” 

“My surprise is in the refrigerator?”

“Yep,” he answered.

When she opened the heavy door, she was greeted by row after row of orange juice cartons.

“So when you come home from the stables, you will always have your orange juice waiting for you,” Trent declared.

She threw her arms about his neck. “Thank you. That is the best moving in present I could hope for.”

“Well, wait, baby. I have one more thing for you.”

She stepped back from his embrace. “Another surprise?”

“But first….” He took a carton from the fridge. “We have to have a toast.”

Retrieving two iced tea glasses from the cabinet overhead, he handed one to Rayne and placed the other on the stone countertop. Trent then unscrewed the top of the juice carton and nodded to her glass. “I want to ask you something?”

Rayne held up her glass, waiting for him to pour the juice. “What is it?”

He positioned the carton over her glass, and Rayne watched, a little bewildered, when not a drop of juice came out. Then, a light clang echoed in the kitchen. When she peered down into her glass, she saw a diamond ring.

“Will you marry me, Rayne?”

After the first instant of shock wore off, tears collected in her eyes. “Yes,” she proclaimed. “Yes, I will marry you, Trent.”

With the glass in her hand, she leapt into his arms. She kissed his cheeks, his neck, and hugged him tight.

When he set her down on the floor again, he held her back, frowning. “I know women love planning weddings, but when I mentioned I was going to propose to Tyler, he insisted he and Monique have the wedding at their house. I told them I would talk to you first. I’m not trying to—”

She touched her fingers to his lips. “I don’t care where we have it as long as I get to officially make you mine.”

“Yours? I think I’ve been yours since the day we met.” Trent took the glass from her and tipped it over until the ring fell into his hand. “You were so stubborn and so damned distrusting. I never thought I could win you over.” He slipped the engagement ring on the third finger of her left hand.

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