Page 9 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
She bites her lip. “About that. I know this must be hard—being at a wedding when you had to cancel your own. And I know you’ll never let Haley think you’re not coping. But you’re not.”
“Fuck off, Sam.” Bull’s-eye. She’s nailed it, but I’m not about to hand her the win. “What the fuck makes you think that?”
“That. For a start. All the f-bombs. Since you got here, every second sentence’s had one. And sure, none of us are too prudish to care about swearing, but I know you. When you’re nervous or struggling, it spikes. Tonight you’ve been on high beam—blazing bright. Too bright.”
And she’s right. I know it. This sharp, mouthy version of me is armour—the shield I throw up when I’m off balance. Sam should’ve been a psychologist, not a nurse.
I close my eyes, as if that could block out the truth. When I open them, Sam’s watching me, her gaze soft.
“Yeah. Maybe I was a bit full-on,” I admit. “Think it impressed Teddy Hargrove, though.”
“I know it did.” She grins. “The guy practically hangs on your every word.” Then her smile falters, concern flickering in her eyes. “But I’m more worried that he impressedyou. After all, he’s got quite the reputation.”
“Now you sound like Haley, warning me off him.” I try for a breezy shrug. “Don’t worry. I can handle Teddy. I’ve seen his sort before.”
But I haven’t. Not really. I’ve met charming men, sure, but never one like him—famous for churning through women, yet somehow still making me want him. It’s like standing at the edge of a rip current, knowing it’ll drag me out into deep water, and craving the pull all the same.
“You’ll be careful?” Sam’s brows lift, her tone half-warning, half-plea.
“I’ll have fun. And be careful.”
“That’s exactly how it starts, Rache.” She leans forward, eyes concerned. “Telling yourself it’s just a bit of fun, that you’re in control. But guys like him? They’re experts at making you forget the rules.”
“Rules are kind of my specialty, Sam.” I meet her gaze with a faint smile. “Trust me—I’ll make them, I’ll enforce them, and I’ll stick to them.”
Chapter 4
Istepoutintocrisp morning air that bites at my cheeks. The first rays of sunlight gild the trees, their bare branches dusted with frost. Loreena’s soft black leather riding boots hug my legs as I crunch across the stiff grass. I’m snug in her loaned pair of jods and jacket. Even if I’d known she had horses, I no longer own riding gear, so I’m grateful we’re a similar size.
I stride towards the dove-grey stone stable block, eager to be back in the saddle. Of all the pastimes my father insisted on to polish me for a higher place in the world beyond my humble Scottish small town—tennis coaching, piano lessons, an elocution teacher, chess—riding was the only one I truly loved. Not that I dared let him know. He had a habit of taking away things that might be for pleasure alone. MacDonald children didn’t waste time on leisure. Every spare moment had to be bent, in his words, to shaping a future grander than anything Cluanie could offer.
Ahead of me, a stone archway, dressed with a garland of pine and holly, leads into a large cobbled courtyard. Haley has found herChristmas-obsessed twin in Loreena Bunt. Even the stable block is decorated, with giant wreaths flanking a huge set of double doors. When I reach for the smaller person door set into them, it sticks a little from the cold. I lean my shoulder into it, giving a shove, and as it swings inwards, the warm sweet smell of horses and hay engulfs me.
“You must be Rachel.” A soft Irish voice comes from beneath the flank of an imposing but kind-eyed bay, tied to a stall door, already saddled. The horse whickers a greeting echoed by the equally lanky grey horse saddled alongside. A chorus of horsey hellos ripples around the stable from the other occupants of the stalls. A small, wiry woman with salt and pepper hair pulled back in a severe ponytail emerges from between the two horses. This must be Poppy, Loreena’s stable manager.
Before I have time to reply, a second voice sounds from beneath the grey horse.
“Morning, Rachel.” Teddy’s copper-topped head appears, his face with its constellation of freckles split wide in a boyish grin. My dropped-open mouth and wide eyes betray me.
“Yeah, I know. Thought I’d be a no-show, didn’t you? But here I am.”
I really didn’t expect he’d even remember my invitation, let alone turn up. He tosses me a wink, and I melt. He’s so damn cute and, fuck, it’s doing me in. Teddy Hargrove is nothing like my usual type, yet I’m drawn to him.
They say girls are attracted to men like their fathers. Up till this moment, I’ve been living proof. My father hates most people, barely tolerates his kids, but adores my mother with a devotion no onewould ever suspect him capable of. I hitched myself to a man just like him for three whole years.
Pierre is an arrogant, ruthless, condescending person who surveys the world with a brutally critical eye and finds most of it wanting. I was the exception to that, basking in his adoration, until somehow, a few months ago, things changed. I’m still bewildered, unsure of how I became just another person he despises.
In front of me is a very different sort of man—sweet and playful. I’ve forgotten what those are like. Maybe it’s time to remind myself.
“And here you are,” I say, feeling suddenly lighter than I’ve felt in weeks, as if by simply giving myself permission to think beyond Pierre, it’s chased off the heavy dark clouds of his influence on my life. “I’m impressed. Didn’t think rock stars would drag themselves out of bed before noon.”
“Still remembered how to saddle up a horse, too, eh Poppy?” Teddy’s magic even works on stern-looking Poppy as the thin line of her mouth edges into a smile.
“You did well,” she agrees, checking the girth on the bay gelding. “Rachel, I’ve given you this boy, Solstice—Solly to his friends. Teddy’s taking Boadicea. Bodie likes men.”
Teddy bends to scoop up a helmet from the ground beside him while the grey mare playfully nudges at his red curls with her muzzle. Damn it, even the horse is already a little bit in love with him.
I take the helmet Poppy offers me, pull it on firmly, adjusting the chin strap till it’s sitting tight, while opposite me Teddy fits his own. The whole time his eyes are on me, dancing with interest. He finally breaks my gaze, unclips the lead, scoops up the dangling reins, and he and the mare follow Poppy. She swings open one of the tall barn doors, and a breath of cool air rushes in.
