Outsider (4 page)

the call to the feed merchant, but for a moment she could deal with none of

it. The thought of Eliot Lang taking over the home where her marriage to

Tony had started out with such high hopes sickened her. Although she might

have felt differently if she'd liked him, she admitted, biting her lip. Or would

she?

When she had moved out, to resume life in her old room in her father's house

after the funeral, she'd turned the key in the lock as if she was closing off a

part of her life. It had never occurred to her that it might have to be

re-opened. They had never needed the flat. The lads had their own block,

and Wes had a cottage in the village.

She supposed she should have seen it coming, but she hadn't...

She shivered, then drew the phone towards her and began to dial the feed

merchant's number. In deference to Beattie's wishes, she would carry on

here until Grantham's health was assured, but then she would be off and

running, she told herself grimly. And she would start looking round to see

what jobs were available without delay. Grantham would find he was not the

only one who could hold his cards close to his chest.

Her father came into the office half an hour later. She had half expected

Andrew and Eliot Lang to be with him, but he was alone. He walked past her

into the inner office, which was far smaller, and more luxuriously appointed,

and which he kept for entertaining favoured owners.

'Come through, will you,' he said over his shoulder, as he disappeared

through the door.

Oh, hell, Natalie thought, as she rose to her feet. Now I'm for it! And I swore

I wouldn't upset him.

She picked up the ledgers, and carried them through with her. She said

meekly, 'I thought you might like to see the accounts, Dad.'

'All in good time,' he returned. He reached for the big silver cigar box, drew

it towards him, then with a resigned air pushed it away again. 'I feel

undressed without them, damn it,' he muttered, then focused sharply on his

daughter. He said grimly, 'Disappointment is one thing, Natalie, although it's

fair to say you built your own hopes up. I never did. But bloody rudeness and

cussed- ness is another, and it has to stop. Do 1 make myself clear?' He

paused. 'I was at fault over the flat business, and I admit it, although I didn't

know you had any sentimental attachment to it. But it's standing empty, and

I'm paying rates on it, so it might as well be let or sold. And there's no reason

why Eliot shouldn't use it while he looks for his own place. Is there?'

He waited, while she shook her head, slowly and reluctantly.

'That's settled then.' he leaned back in his chair. 'Eliot's joining us here,

Natalie, whether you like it or not, my girl. We signed the papers after lunch,

so you're going to have to make the best of it, and if you've any sense, you'll

get on with him.' He gave her a dry look. 'A lot of lasses seem to take to him.

No reason why you can't too, even if he has put your nose out of joint.'

'Do you really think it's that simple?' she asked bitterly.

'I think you're making difficulties where there are none,' he retorted calmly.

'I'll tell you something. Eliot's more than ready to meet you half-way. He'd

probably be glad of some company—someone to show him the countryside

round here.'

Her lips parted in disbelief as she looked down at him. 'You're not serious?'

'I'm not joking either.' He shook his head. 'You've been living like a nun for

the past three years, Natalie,and don't tell me any different. But you can't

grieve for ever, lass, so why not get out a bit—live a little?' He smiled. 'You

never know, you might...'

'No!' Natalie exploded. 'Oh, I know what you're thinking, and if wasn't so

nauseating, it would be ridiculous. Your first attempt at matchmaking

worked, so be content with that. There'll never be another. Eliot Lang is the

last kind of man I'd ever want to be involved with. His—type revolts me. If

he ever touched me—I'd die!' She stopped with a little gasp, looking

anxiously at her father, but he seemed perfectly composed.

'Well, if that's how you feel, I'll say no more.' He picked up a paperweight

carved in the shape of a horse, and began to toy with it. 'But there's no

accounting for taste, I must say. He's got my Beattie eating out of his hand

already,' he added with a faint grin. 'But you're going to be civil to Eliot, and

you can start by showing him round the yard—and the flat.'

'Is that an order?' she asked huskily.

'If it needs to be,' he said genially. 'Now, off you go.'

Eliot was waiting by the tack room. Leaning against the door, his hands in

his pockets, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun, he looked relaxed and

very much at home.

'Ah,' he said lazily. 'My guide.' He looked at the bunch of keys dangling

from her hand. 'Shall we have a look at the flat first?'

She was taken aback. 'But don't you want to see the yard—the horses?'

'I've done my homework,' he said drily. 'I know what horses are in training

here, what they cost, and what the next season's hopes are. Any more I want

to know on that score, I can ask Wes Lovett, when he comes back for

evening stables. I don't want to intrude on his time with his family.'

'I can tell you anything you want to know.'

'All right,' he said. 'Tell me, Mrs Drummond, what makes you tick. And why

I'm so clearly not the flavour of the month.'

Natalie looked past him, remembering Grantham's strictures, and measuring

her words accordingly.

She said abruptly, 'You were—a shock. I had no idea Grantham was

planning to take on an outsider as a partner.'

'Then what did you think he'd do? Carry on as if nothing had happened? As

if that attack had been a figment of his imagination?'

The note in his voice stung her, and she flushed. 'No, of course not. But there

was an alternative.'

'What was that?' he asked. 'As a matter of academic interest, of course.'

She said baldly, and ungrammatically, 'There was me.'

There was a long silence. Then Eliot said, 'Everything suddenly becomes

much clearer. Well, well. So you see yourself as a trainer of champion

'chasers, do you, Mrs Drummond?'

'Yes, I do. For years I've been begging my father to give me a chance—ever

since I left school. When he was ill, 1 thought it was an opportunity to show

him that I wasn't—a useless female, but prove I could run things here.'

'I see.' He gave her a meditative look. 'I'm glad to hear natural concern for his

well-being wasn't allowed to stand in the way of your ambition.'

Her voice shook. 'You're deliberately misunderstanding me. Of course I was

worried—worried sick. But it wouldn't have improved Grantham's chances

of recovery if I'd simply—sat back and let the yard go to pot.'

He nodded. 'And on the strength of that, you expected to be made a partner

in equal standing with your father in these stables.' He gave her a long look.

'Lady, you're living in a dream world. You should know, none better, just

how many million pounds you have on the hoof in this place. Do you

imagine, in the long run, the owners are going to entrust their treasures to the

care of an inexperienced girl, however eager to learn? How old are you, by

the way?'

'I'm twenty-three,' Natalie said stormily. 'And you couldn't be more wrong.

When Dad was first taken ill, a number of the owners got edgy and started

talking about removing their horses, and I talked them out of it. I persuaded

them I knew what I was doing. So some people were prepared to have faith

in me, even if you and Grantham want to—shut me out.'

He said quietly, 'Calm down, Mrs Drummond, and take a firm grip on

yourself, because I'm afraid I'm going to have to shatter another illusion. No

amount of sweet-talking from you kept those horses here. Grantham gave

me a list of those most likely to waver, and I made it my business to ring

them, and tell them what was in the wind. That was what convinced them,

darling. Not your well-meaning intervention.'

She tried to speak, to say something, but no words would come. At last she

said hoarsely, 'I don't believe you.'

He shrugged. 'As you wish, but Grantham will confirm what I say.'

There was a pause, then he added more gently, 'But there's no question of

wanting to shut you out, on my part at least. Now, shall we take a look at the

flat?'

Natalie felt humiliated to her very soul as she walked in front of him. If her

attitude to Eliot had wounded his delicate male pride, then he'd had his

revenge in full, she thought wretchedly. At the time, she had thought it was

next to a miracle when one owner after another had phoned her back to say

that perhaps they'd been hasty...

The flat entrance lay round to the side of the big garage block. Natalie

unlocked the front door and stood back. 'I'll wait here,' she said.

Eliot gave her a wry look, seemed as if he was about to speak, then thought

better of it, and went up the internal staircase.

Natalie knew an ignominious urge to run away and hide somewhere, while

his back was turned. He'd robbed her of everything now, not just the

partnership which she recognised would probably never have been hers

anyway, but also of her pride in what she had considered her achievements

while Grantham was ill.

Oh, it had been cruel of him! Cruel, she thought, her teeth savaging the soft

inner flesh of her lower lip. 'Cruel to be kind' was one of Grantham's

favourite maxims. Clearly Eliot Lang belonged to the same school of

thought.

He was gone a long time. She was thankful that everything had been

removed, every stick of furniture, every ornament and keepsake. She would

have loathed the idea of him touching her things, using her chairs and

table— her bed.

The thought struck her like a blow, her mind flinching from the images it

presented, reviving memories she'd thought were dormant. Tony, she

thought wretchedly. Oh God—Tony!

Footsteps coming down the stairs gave sufficient warning for her to

compose herself before Eliot rejoined her.

He said flatly, 'You don't leave many clues. That place is totally—empty.'

He sent her a narrow-eyed stare. 'Are you Tony Drummond's widow?'

'Yes, what of it?'

He shrugged, still staring at her. 'I should have made the connection before,'

he said, half to himself.

'Are you—going to live there?' She had to know.

'Oh, yes, I think so,' he said almost casually. 'As I'm clearly not desecrating

some private shrine. And it's big enough to take some of the furniture I want

to bring up from Lambourn.'

'Good,' she said. 'Then everyone's happy.'

'A slight exaggeration, wouldn't you say?' he drawled. 'Now I'd like to see

the kind of accommodation the lads use. Is that possible?'

'Of course,' Natalie said ironically. 'You're the boss, after all.'

Eliot Lang shot her a sideways glance, but made no reply.

He was silent too as she showed him the block Grantham had built a few

years before, with its big kitchen and recreation area on the ground floor,

leading up to small, economically fitted single bedrooms upstairs.

'Each room has a handbasin, but there's a communal shower block at the

end,' Natalie told him, niggled that he wasn't more openly impressed.

'Just showers?' he asked. 'No bathrooms?'

'Yes, there are two, leading off the shower room.'

'Do they lock?'

Natalie shrugged. 'I suppose so. Is it important?'

'I think privacy can be very important. The bedrooms all have locks, I see.'

'Yes, and they can be opened from the outside by a master key in case

someone's taken ill.' Natalie stared at him. 'Why this obsession with locks

and bolts?'

'I'm thinking of offering someone a job,' he said shortly. 'So I want to make

sure certain standards are observed.'

'My God!' she exclaimed derisively, 'What are they used to—the Hilton? Let

me tell you my father spent a fortune on this block, and it's regarded as a

model.'

'Oh, I've no real criticism to make. All too often lads are allowed to shift as

best they can while the horses get the five-star treatment.'

'You don't approve of that either?' she demanded tartly.

'I think there's reason in all things,' he returned.

She glanced at her watch. 'Perhaps we should move on. The lads usually go

down to the snooker club in the village this afternoon, and they'll be back

shortly. With your passion for privacy, you'll understand they may not care

to find us snooping round their sleeping quarters.'

His mouth twisted slightly. 'Then let's go on with the tour.'

'You mean you're actually going to let me tell you about the horses?' she

marvelled. 'I'm honoured!' She paused, a small frown puckering her brow.

'But I don't usually go into the yard empty-handed.'