In the Brazilian's Debt(8)

                Leaning her head back against the wall of the stall with her arms outstretched, she relished the breeze coming in from an open window on her naked skin. ‘Do you think anyone’s going to notice if I just forget to put on my top?’

                ‘Who’s going to see you?’ Danny pointed out. ‘There’s only one horse in the stable block, and we’re his grooms.’

                Lizzie relaxed as her friend hefted the horse’s saddle over her arm, and picked up his bridle. Danny was right. Who was going to see her?

                * * *

                Coltish limbs and an intriguing flash of naked skin held him motionless for a moment as the girl struggled to pull on a fresh top over what appeared to be—at least to her, judging by her muttered curses—inconveniently large breasts. He wanted to check on a pony that had suffered a bad knock during a match while he’d been away. The pony’s spirit would benefit from human contact and he was keen to make sure it was as comfortable as possible. Anyone who believed animals couldn’t understand what was said to them was missing an empathy gene, in his opinion. He had heard the two female grooms talking, but one of them had left the stall and slipped out of the back entrance that led to the tack room where they stowed their gear. Grooms hanging round so late in the day were either up to no good, or were working late, which meant one of two things: they were dross he’d get rid of, or they were the best of the best. He was keen to find out which category he was dealing with. Shouldering a pitchfork to make the hay bed in the stall more comfortable for the horse, he grabbed a fistful of pony nuts and strolled down the line of stalls.

                Emotion caught him square in the gut as a halo of red-gold curls gave the groom’s identity away. He would have known her anywhere, even after all these years. The half-naked body belonged to Lizzie Fane. Perfect.

                ‘Out of there, now,’ he rapped.

                ‘What?’ a girl who sounded in no way dismayed demanded. ‘Who is this?’

                It was a shock to hear adult Lizzie sounding just like her mother. Not good.

                ‘I said,’ he repeated in a menacing tone, ‘get out of there now.’

                ‘Do you mind?’ she replied in the same honeyed voice. ‘Your tone is upsetting the horse.’

                She had a nerve. No one cared about horses more than he did.

                Had he really imagined he would know how it felt to be confronted by a member of the Fane family on his fazenda? He’d been nowhere close. Anger consumed him as the past rushed back. The humiliation he’d suffered—the expense to Eduardo, thanks to the false accusations made against Chico, and the fact that Lizzie had turned her back on him.

                ‘I won’t be a minute,’ she murmured.

                Was he supposed to wait?

                ‘There are some things I need to pick up and put away,’ she explained, still in the same mild voice, and still mostly hidden from him in the stall.

                ‘The clock’s ticking,’ he warned, gritting out each word.

                He rested against the wall, thinking back to when he’d been a youth and an easy target for two cheats with their eyes on the money of his sponsor, Eduardo Delgardo. Lies about him forcing himself on Serena Fane, Lizzie’s mother, had tripped so easily off their tongues. Even Eduardo had been hard-pressed to defend him, though the older man had remained his staunchest defender throughout, and had explained, once they were safely back in Brazil, that Lizzie’s grandmother had discovered the truth about the life her son and his wife were leading, and that when they used Chico to try and get money out of Eduardo, it was the last straw for the old lady, who had disinherited her son, and banished both him and his wife from Rottingdean House. Unfortunately, by this time, Lord and Lady Fane had stolen all her money.