Hot Revenge Box Set 2

James nods acknowledgement. “Yes, it needs care. But I'll go with her every time. And Eleanor sent a side-saddle for Charlotte to use for a while, until she's back in shape again.”

Charlotte turns a puzzled frown on him. “You’ll come with me? But…”

“Go inside.” Michael nods her indoors. “You’ve not seen it all yet.”

Charlotte unbolts the lower half of the door, clicking her tongue. “Back-up, Charlie.” The bay-roan mare reverses, letting everyone through, but shoves her nose firmly against Charlotte’s chest.

And there, at the back of the stable, up to his knees in clean straw, is another horse, a white gelding; much bigger than Charlie, heavily-built, but with a mild eye and manner. He snickers as we enter, his ears pricking forward.

Charlotte blinks.

James produces a carrot, then another, passing one to Charlotte. His own he offers to the gelding. “Meet Oliver. He’s Charlie’s son. He’s here to keep Charlie company and for me to ride with you.” Charlotte’s jaw drops.

There is something about seeing joy in another person. It’s infectious. It rubs off. Next to me, Ryan is smiling broadly.

Richard is positively beaming. “By the way, Charlotte, your Christmas gift from me and Elizabeth is the saddle and tack…”

She throws herself at him, streaming tears. Richard wraps arms around her, patting her back. He kisses her cheek. “Happy Christmas, Charlotte. You deserve it.”

Ryan, standing close behind me, winds an arm around my waist, pulling me in close, then slips his gloved hand into mine. His cheek resting by mine, he murmurs, “So Charlotte has her white horse then?”

For a moment I don’t understand him, then I remember…

That conversation we had, the very first night we met.

“So, no dreams of white horses then?”

“White horses?”

princes in shining armour, come to carry

I laugh. “Not me.”

on his white charger, come to carry me away. Yes, he was there all the time,

and smiling and tearful and joyful… surrounded by those who love her, it comes

complete clarity, I see

Ryan. His forehead wrinkles as I hook arms up around his neck, reaching for his lips with mine. I kiss him. “My Prince,” I

release stiff fingers, I grope into my pocket, seeking what I know

it in my palm: a small plastic

to me, with everything else that

not to be breathing. His fingertips

my left hand, fourth finger. “Yes, I

his smile spreading wide and white. “You

“I will.”

see him punching the air. “Congratulations! Both of

protest. She runs to me, flinging her arms around my neck.

outstretched, competing to

“Congratulations, Kirstie,” he says in

“What about you?”

I’m

back to her horse, hugging her head

*****

same enthusiasm as everyone else, giving me a squeeze and a kiss

he tries to stop her. “I can stand,” she mutters. “James, Michael.

“Coming right up.”

surrounded by, almost