Witching Hour (18 page)

on Babe for five minutes?'

'Try and stop me!' she smiled back at him. 'That's if Lyall won't

find it too boring.' Her eyes, innocent, questioning, moved to

Lyall's face. 'Unless, of course, you'd like to ride Babe yourself.'

'I won't deprive you of that pleasure,' he said, lifting an indolent

shoulder.

As if the thought had just come to her, she said, 'Why don't you

come and ride with me?'

'No, thanks. It isn't my favourite form of exercise,' he returned

casually.

She saw Rob look slightly relieved and said hurriedly, 'Oh, you

can't come to a stables and not ride. Rob will find you a quiet, safe

mount if you're worried of making a. fool of yourself in front of

Elaine. Although you shouldn't be, because she's quite used to

novice riders, you know.'

His eyes raked her, glinting. 'I wouldn't describe myself as a

novice, precisely.' He looked at Rob. 'Which one do you suggest?'

Rob hesitated, clearly unhappy. 'Well—I suppose -'

His eyes met Morgana's and he said reluctantly, 'Why not try

Checkmate? You were admiring him earlier.' He gestured towards

the box.

'Fine,' Lyall said with a shrug. 'If you'd like to show me where his

tack is kept.'

'Oh, I'll do that,' Rob broke in quickly. 'We—we teach pupils to

saddle up, but we don't expect our guests to do so.'

Lyall looked faintly surprised, but he only said, 'As you wish.'

Morgana's hands were shaking so much she could hardly slide the

bit into Bartram's Babe's mouth. He seemed to sense her turmoil

and moved restively, shaking his head, and she murmured, 'Easy,

boy, easy,' and leaned her forehead against his neck for a moment.

She watched Rob lead Checkmate out into the yard. He came

picking his way gracefully, the picture of amiable docility. When

Rob had first acquired him, and his true nature had started to

reveal itself, Morgana had joked they should re-name him 'Snake

in the Grass'.

Now she ran her tongue over lips suddenly dry with apprehension,

wishing that she'd never started this. In a way, it would have been

a relief if Elaine had returned and given the game away.

'You go into the paddock with Babe,' Rob called to her. 'Give him

a few circuits, then try him over a couple of jumps.'

She nodded and mounted, but her pleasure in the morning had

gone. She had begun something, but she could no longer control

how it might end. She wanted to see Lyall brought low, wanted to

see him dishevelled with grass and mud on his immaculately

expensive denim pants and black cashmere sweater, but that wasn't

all she wanted. The fact was that he was attracted to Elaine, an

expert rider, and would want to shine in her eyes, so his overthrow

would be doubly humiliating was a bonus point.

She was hurting so much inside that she wanted him to be hurt in

turn, and she knew that being held up to ridicule, being made to

look a fool, would make him vulnerable. He was a successful man,

a powerful man in all sorts of different ways. She wanted, just for

a moment, to shake that implacable shield of power and

competence that surrounded him, but at the same time she was

frightened.

She recalled her disturbed thoughts. Riding an unfamiliar horse

demanded one's whole attention, not just part of it, and Babe was

already beginning to sidle and take liberties. She brought him

firmly under control before they turned into the broad grass

paddock, and he responded well to the mastery of hands and knees,

walking, trotting, then breaking into a canter at her unspoken

command.

She was almost starting to enjoy herself when she saw the others

coming. She drew rein, and waited, her heart thumping.

Checkmate seemed to be behaving impeccably, but any moment

that could change, and Rob, who was riding a placid grey called

Bunter, gave her a grim look as they entered the paddock.

'You realise Elaine will kill me for this,' he muttered out of the side

of his mouth as he drew level with her. Morgana wanted to say

something flippant or reassuring or both, but at that moment

Checkmate erupted into life. Whinnying violently, he reared up,

then bucked, kicking out with his back legs in an effort to dislodge

his startled rider.

Morgana put a hand up to her mouth, watching in a kind of

fascinated horror as Checkmate went through his malevolent

repertoire. Lyall was hanging on grimly somehow, but any

moment now he would be thrown. He had to be.

She closed her eyes, suddenly aware that she didn't want to see the

coup de grace
when it came. Somewhere in the background she

heard Elaine's voice, shrill with apprehension and anger,

demanding, 'What the hell's going on here?'

Rob said hoarsely, 'Whatever he may have said to you, he wasn't

bragging. My God, he can ride—he's fantastic!';

Dazed, Morgana opened her eyes, in time to see Lyall heading

Checkmate, still breathing out outrage and venom, towards the low

paddock fence, and the moor beyond. The chestnut cleared it

effortlessly, then galloped on.

Morgana exclaimed, 'He's bolting!' .

'Of course he isn't,' Rob said roundly. 'He's met his match at last,

that's all.' He threw back his head and laughed. 'Who'd have

thought it?' He gave Morgana a faintly malicious look. 'I'm afraid

your little scheme has come unstuck, my sweet.'

Elaine arrived looking as if she could eat broken glass.

'Whose bloody stupid idea was that?' she demanded. Her eyes

blazed at Morgana. 'Or need I ask?'

'It was a joke,' Rob interposed hastily, gentling Bunter, whose

stolidity was taking exception to the raised voices and uproar he

sensed around him. 'And no harm done.'

'But no thanks to either of you!' Elaine's face was pale with rage.

She wasn't dissembling. There was real bitter dislike in her eyes as

she looked at Morgana. She turned on Rob. 'Well, aren't you going

after him?'

'There's no need,' Rob said decisively. 'You could see that for

yourself.' He laughed again. 'Check to old Checkmate! Well, well.

Perhaps he'll make us an offer for the bloody animal.'

It wasn't a line of argument to pacify Elaine, who was drawing

breath for a new onslaught. Morgana said hastily, 'I'll take Babe

back to his box.'

'That's an excellent idea,' Elaine snapped. 'And I have an even

better one. just keep away from my horses from now on, and from

these stables, you vindictive, irresponsible little bitch!'

Morgana felt all the colour drain from her face. And the worst of it

was she couldn't in fairness deny the epithets which Elaine had

flung at her. They were fully justified.

Rob, very red in the face, said, 'Oh, calm down, for God's sake. It

was as much my fault as Morgana's. I could have refused to let

Lyall ride the horse—or warned him. Not that my warning would

probably have made a great deal of difference,' he added. 'I

imagine he would have seen it as an additional challenge.'

Morgana laid a hand on his arm as she prepared to ride Babe back

to the yard. 'It's all right,' she said in a low voice. 'Elaine has every

right to be angry. I've behaved like an idiot and made nothing but

trouble all round.'

She didn't wait to hear any more, but urged Babe forward. Her one

thought was to get back to the yard, complete the ritual of

unsaddling and caring for the horse and be gone back to Polzion

before Lyall got back.

Even if he hadn't already guessed her part in his unexpectedly

rough ride, she knew that Elaine could hardly wait to tell him, and

she couldn't blame her. But on the other hand, she didn't really

want to stick around to bear the brunt of Lyall's immediate

reaction, she thought.

Moving rapidly, she unsaddled Bartram's Babe, rubbed him down,

and covered him with a light blanket. She checked that there was

water in his bucket, gave him a valedictory slap on the rump as she

left his stall, and walked towards the yard door.

Tall and narrow, the shadow lay across her path, and although

even before she looked up she knew whom she would see, she

could not stifle the involuntary cry that rose to her lips as Lyall left

the doorway where he had been lounging and walked purposefully

towards her.

MORGANA took a step backwards. It was an instinctive reaction, no

matter how much she might tell herself that she was being foolish,

or that Rob or even Elaine were probably within call, or that the

most she had to face was another telling off.

She' said, forcing her voice to flippancy, 'Enjoy the ride?'

'It was enlivening,' he drawled, and there was a note in his voice

which made her pulses beat heavily and unpleasantly. 'I suppose I

should have realised. Checkmate. Death to the King. Or didn't you

intend things to go quite that far?'

She shrugged. 'Of course not—and they didn't.'

'But no thanks to you,' he said, too gently. 'You thought I was a

comparative beginner, that I barely knew one end of a horse from

the other.'

'You let me think so.'

'No,' he said. 'This time it was your turn to make assumptions, and

wrong ones at that.'

'So it seems,' she shrugged. 'Can I consider my wrist has been

slapped, and go now, please?'

'Like hell you can,' he said. 'And for the record, it isn't your wrist

that I'll be slapping.'

'Don't you dare lay a finger on me!' Morgana said huskily.

'Not a finger, lady.' Lyall took a step nearer, and she was forced to

retreat again. 'My whole hand, and hard. Call it retribution for the

bruises you'd planned for me.'

He wasn't just threatening, she realised with a kind of sick dread.

He really meant it. She tried to scream 'Rob!' but the only sound

that emerged from her closing throat was a kind of strangled croak.

'He won't hear you.' There was scorn in Lyall's voice. 'He's still

down at the paddock. I left the horse down there with Elaine and

walked up. I felt you'd prefer your medicine in private.'

There was the faintest chance that if she moved fast enough she

might be able to dash past him and to the door. What she would do

after that, she didn't even stop to think. But even as she tensed, her

eyes going to the open doorway, and the beckoning sunlight, Lyall

shook his head.

'Don't even try it,' he said succinctly.

Morgana couldn't retreat any more. The upright which supported

the partition between two of the stalls was digging into her back,

and the horses were getting restive. They might kick out.

As she hesitated, he reached for her, dragging her off balance. She

gave a cry of alarm, snatching at his sweater in an attempt to

steady herself, but he was moving too, going down on one knee

and pinioning her across his bent leg, both wrists captured behind

her in a grip of iron.

It was the worst humiliation of her life. His hand rose and fell half

a dozen times, stinging her flesh even through the tough denim, as

she writhed and jerked unavailingly, trying to evade him.

When he released her there were tears on her face, but more from

shame and anger than actual pain.

'You swine!' she raged as he set her on her feet.

'I can think of some harsh words for you too.' He didn't show the

slightest sign of repentance as she rubbed her wet eyes childishly

with her fists.

'I wish he'd thrown you,' she cried. 'I wish he'd broken your

damned neck!'

'Yes, I'm sure you do,' he shrugged, his eyes narrowing. 'I'm sorry

to disappoint you, Morgan
le Fay, but I've no intention of dying

just so that you can get your hands on that mouldering pile of

stones you call Polzion. Because you wouldn't have it for long, and

you know that as well as I do. Your creditors would start pressing,

and you'd be sold up, lock, stock and barrel. You'd lose it

completely. Or is that what you want?'

'I've lost it now. I've lost everything.' All her passion, all her

bewilderment at the turn of events was in her voice. 'You've taken

it all. Oh God, I hate you!'

'As you've already made clear.' Lyall's voice was grim. 'Well, that's

something you're going to have to live with, Morgana, because I'm

here. I'm a fact of your existence, and I haven't finished taking

yet—not by a mile.'

He stepped forward, and her hands flew up to ward him off. But it