Lucy Gordon - The Tuscan Tycoon’s Wife

She was angry with him, without being quite sure why. She knew he hadn’t been driving, and Barton Hanworth, who had been driving, was making handsome amends. But her nerves were jangled, she’d had the fright of her life, and all her agitation seemed to be homing in on this man who had the nerve to order her about, and was now talking to her in much the same soothing voice he’d used to calm Elliot. Crime of crimes!

‘We’ll be there soon,’ he said. ‘You can get some proper treatment.’

‘I don’t need mollycoddling,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Well, I would if I’d had a crash like you did.’

‘I guess some of us are just tougher than others,’ she said grumpily.

He left it there. She looked ill and he reckoned she was entitled to her bad temper. When she turned away to Elliot he watched, observing with wonder how she’d switched from bawling him out to being gentle and tender with the animal.

He was a quarter horse, not beautiful but solid and showing signs of a hard life. From the way she rested her cheek against his nose it was clear that he was perfect in her eyes.

At first glance she too wasn’t beautiful, except for her eyes which were large and green. Her skin had the peachy glow of health and outdoor living, and her face looked as though it might be engagingly mischievous at a better time. Also Leo’s observant eyes had noticed her movements with pleasure. She was as slim as a lathe, not elegant but tough and wiry, yet she moved with the instinctive grace of a dancer.

He tried to see her marvellous eyes again, without being obvious about it. With eyes like that a woman didn’t need anything else. They did it all for her.

‘My name’s Leo Calvani,’ he said, offering his hand.

She took it, and he immediately sensed the strength he’d guessed was there. He tightened his fingers a little, seeking to know more, but she withdrew her hand at once, having left it in his for no more than the minimum that courtesy demanded.

They started to move, slowly as Selena had insisted. After a few minutes he realised that she was studying him with curiosity. Not erotic curiosity, as he was used to. Or romantic fascination, which also came his way satisfyingly often.

Just curiosity. As though maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought, and she was prepared to make allowances.

But no more than that.

T HEFour-Ten Ranch was ten thousand acres of prime land, populated by five thousand head of cattle, two hundred horses, fifty employees and a family of six.

Selena knew she was in the presence of very serious money when she climbed stiffly out of the horse trailer and saw the stables where Barton kept his prize horse-flesh. She knew humans who lived worse.

Everything moved like clockwork. As she walked in, leading Elliot, a man was pulling open the door of a large, comfortable stall. A vet was already there. So was a doctor, who would have drawn her aside, but Leo Calvani forestalled him with the quiet words, ‘Let her attend the horse first. She won’t settle down until she’s seen him OK.’

She gave him a brief look of gratitude for his understanding, and watched jealously as the vet passed expert hands over Elliot and gave a diagnosis that was roughly the same as Leo’s, with a little elaboration to justify his fee. An anti-inflammatory injection, some bandaging, and it was over.

‘Will he be fit for the rodeo next week?’ Selena asked anxiously.

‘We’ll see. He’s not a young horse any more.’

‘How about letting the doctor look at you now?’ Leo asked her.

She nodded and sat while the doctor examined her head. Beneath her apparent calm she was fighting despair. Her head was aching, her heart was aching and she was aching all over.

‘How are those animals I sold you two years back?’ Leo asked Barton. ‘Shaping up?’

‘Come and see for yourself.’

Together the two men walked along the stalls, and long, intelligent faces turned to watch them go by.

The five horses Barton had bought from Leo were in beautiful condition. They were large beasts with powerful hocks, and they’d been worked hard but treated like royalty.

‘I’ll swear they remember you,’ Barton said as they nuzzled Leo.

‘They don’t forget a sucker.’ Leo grinned.

While admiring the horses he contrived to glance at Selena, who was having a dressing fixed to her forehead.

‘Take it easy for a day or two,’ the doctor was saying. ‘Plenty of rest.’

‘It was just a little bump,’ she insisted.

‘Just a little bump on your head.’

‘I’ll make sure she rests,’ Barton said. ‘My wife’s getting a room ready right now.’

‘That’s nice of her,’ Selena said awkwardly, ‘but I’d rather stay here with Elliot.’

She indicated the piles of hay as though wondering why anyone could want more.

‘Well, you’ve gotta come in to eat,’ Barton exclaimed. ‘We’re just having a snack because we’ll be starting the barbecue in a couple of hours.’

‘You’re very kind but I can’t come in the house,’ Selena said, horribly conscious of her shabby, dishevelled appearance.

Barton scratched his head. ‘Mrs Hanworth will be offended if you don’t.’

‘Then I’ll come in and say thank you.’

She wouldn’t need to stay long, she reckoned: just enough to be polite.

Reluctantly she followed them across to the house, which was a huge white mansion, the very sight of which made her feel awkward. She wondered how Leo would cope. In his shabby jeans and scuffed trainers he looked as out of place as she felt, although it didn’t seem to bother him.

The sound of eager shrieks made Leo look up, and the next moment he was engulfed by the Hanworth family.

Delia, Barton’s wife, was colourful, exuberant, and looked ten years younger than her true age. She and Barton had three children, two daughters, Carrie and Billie, younger versions of their mother, plus Jack, a studious son who seemed to live in a dream world, semi-detached from the rest of the family.

The household was completed by Paul, or Paulie as Delia insisted on calling him. He was her son by an earlier marriage, and the apple of her eye. She spoiled him absurdly, to the groaning exasperation of everyone else.

Paulie greeted Leo as a kindred spirit, slapping him on the back and predicting ‘great times’ together, which made Leo feel like groaning too. Paulie was in his late twenties, good-looking in a fleshy, superficial way, but self-indulgence was already blurring his features. He was a businessman in his own estimation, but his ‘business’ consisted of an internet company, his fifth, which was rapidly failing, as the other four had failed.

Barton had bailed him out, time and again, always swearing that this time was the last, and always yielding to Delia’s entreaties for ‘just one more’.

But just now the atmosphere was genial. Paulie, on his best behaviour, had recognised Selena.

‘I’ve seen you riding in the rodeo at-’ he rattled off a list of names. ‘Seen you win, too.’

Selena relaxed, managing a smile.

‘I don’t win much,’ she admitted. ‘But enough to keep going.’

‘You’re a star,’ Paulie said, taking her hand and pumping it up and down between his two. ‘It surely is an honour to meet you.’

If Selena felt the same she disguised it successfully. There was something about Paulie that laid a disagreeable sheen even over his attempts to flatter. She thanked him and withdrew her hand, fighting the temptation to rub it on her jeans. Paulie had a clammy palm.

‘Your room is ready now,’ Delia said kindly. ‘The girls will show you upstairs.’