“If the rain lets up.” Leon was busy wiping Tarrytown down.

Charles's dark brows quirked like the grin lifting one corner of his mouth. “Can't take care of me forever.”

“Someone has to. Besides all the eager women, that is.”

“I don't know, Leon. You might lose against that kind of competition.”

And he had on numerous occasions. But not for long. “Any woman last more than a week?” his stable master bluntly asked. “Besides the bitch, I mean. And from the looks of it, you might never shake her loose.”

“Now, Leon, a little respect for my ex-wife.” But the grin accompanying the words was wickedly boyish.

“I'd like to give her a whole lot more, but she never gets close enough to put my boot where it'll do her the most good.”

“Speaking of boots. Did my boots come back for the Maryland Hunt Cup?”

“This morning.”

“Good. I'll try them tomorrow. Think Tarrytown can take those terrifying timbers two years in a row?”

“If he can't, there's not a hunter that can. The Ferstens are the best breed of jumpers in the world.”

“Thanks to you.”

“And to your pa.”

The phone line from the house trilled tinnily in the stable and they both stiffened, their expressions instantly altering. Charles's heavy brows creased into a frown.

“I'd say it's the bitch,” Leon growled.

“Wouldn't bet against you on that one,” Charles quietly replied. “If it's Sylvie, I'll take it in the house.”

When Leon picked up the receiver, he nodded darkly and said, “Sit tight, Countess, he's on his way to an inside phone.”

And Charles reluctantly started across the muddy paddock.

CHAPTER 5

S ylvie von Mansfeld was a countess in her own right, rich, beautiful, spoiled, and young. She'd met Charles one summer when she'd turned to acting in an attempt to escape boredom.