himself. You said that you’re the only one who can handle him. I think it’s more that you’re the only one who’s willing to tolerate him.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then slowly closed it. Her uncharacteristic silence was proof that he was right.
“I won’t risk my reputation by pretending to train him only for something to go wrong during the race. I want his training done properly or not at all.” He grudgingly admitted, “It’s also your best chance at winning.” He turned back to the hearth and stared down into the coals. “I’ll work with you, but you’ll do as I say when it comes to training Midnight. We have less than a fortnight until the race, and my orders have to be followed. Completely. Understand?”
She turned halfway around on the chair to look at him, yet she hesitated to agree. He could almost hear her thoughts whirling inside that sharp little mind of hers as she weighed her options.
“Yes.” She gave a relieved but grudging sigh. “I agree to your terms.”
Unable to look at her, he took a long sip of coffee before speaking quietly into the fire, as much to convince himself as her, “Your father only wants the best for you, you know that.”
“I know.”
“Lord Charles is a good match for you in every way.” He prayed she couldn’t hear the jealousy that roughened his voice. “The respectable son of a peer from a powerful family, wealthy enough to maintain a good and stable lifestyle…by all accounts a man who will give you a wonderful life.”
“A life I don’t want. That’s why I need to win.”
“So do I,” he murmured, softly enough that she couldn’t hear.
He sucked in a deep, hard breath. Fate had forced him to make an impossible choice—her future or his?
He straightened, his arm dropping to his side. “I’ll train Midnight to the best of my ability, I promise you that.” He turned and fixed her beneath his gaze, wanting no misunderstanding on this point. “But I’m also going to do everything I can to have my own colt cross the line first. I won’t let my jockey hold him back to give yours an advantage, no matter what agreement you’ve made with your father.”
“I would respect you less if you did.” No doubt lingered in her voice about that. “We’re agreed, then? May the best horse win.”
With a decisive nod, Shaw tossed her father’s letter into the fire and sealed their agreement.
Chapter Four
Frankie shamelessly watched Shaw over the rim of her mug in the late afternoon sunlight that fell through his kitchen window, just as she’d done every afternoon for the past week since he’d agreed to help her. She held the mug against her mouth to hide any traces of her happy smile as the coffee’s warmth seeped through the ceramic and tingled at her lips and fingertips.
Or maybe it was Shaw who made her tingle.
She wouldn’t have doubted it. Even just sitting with him at the kitchen table in his old stone farmhouse prickled an odd excitement across her skin like the wafting of a warm summer breeze.
So far, they’d worked well together in training Midnight. They were of one mind when it came to putting the colt through his paces and increasing both his stamina and his willingness to follow his new exercise boy’s commands. Midnight had tested the lad at first, behaving more like a petulant child than a blue-blooded racehorse, but now the two moved fluidly together. Frankie nearly burst with pride whenever she watched them speed around the track. Shaw saw it, too, and she reveled in the respect he paid to her as a horse breeder.
More—she couldn’t believe how much being around him again and working the horses together felt like old times. Or how much she still ached for him.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t tried to kiss her again.
That lack of attempt twisted knots of confusion inside her. Had the kiss at her uncle’s door been nothing more than a premature kiss goodbye, with Shaw thinking that she’d scratch Midnight from the race and so he’d never have to see her again? Had it been only a bitter reminder of their past mistakes, ones he had no intention of repeating in the present? Or worse…had that kiss confirmed in his mind that he’d been right to leave her all those years ago and not give his departure a second thought?
A frown furrowed her brow. Had he not given her a second thought?
“You should go home,”