Nightstorm and the Grand Slam by Stacy Gregg

Pearce.

Chapter 8
    The last person in the world Issie had expected to see was Marcus.
    â€œYou can’t be here!” Issie blurted out. “You’re supposed to be in America!”
    Marcus laughed, “You’re not pleased to see me?”
    â€œNo,” Issie stammered, “I mean, yes, of course I am! But I thought you were working for the Valmont Stables out in California?”
    â€œI quit,” Marcus shrugged. “Things kind of fell apart after all the drama at Kentucky. I turned up for work one morning and the head of the stables told me that they were planning to sell Liberty. I figured there was no point in sticking around if they were going to sellmy best horse out from under me, so I resigned.”
    He looked at Issie. “I hear you’ve been having similar problems of your own?”
    â€œYou could say that,” Issie replied gazing at this handsome boy with the honey-blond hair and green eyes who had turned up out of nowhere.
    â€œWhy are you looking at me like that?” Marcus asked.
    â€œI still can’t believe you’re actually here.”
    â€œIs that why you haven’t asked me to come in?” Marcus grinned.
    â€œOh!” Issie realised that they were still standing on the doorstep. “Come in. Everyone’s in the kitchen and I think there’s still some bacon and eggs left if you’re hungry…”
    Avery, Stella and Francoise were just as shocked as Issie to see Marcus. Cups of tea were brewed, breakfast was dished up and Marcus filled them all in on what had happened to him since the Kentucky Four-Star. It turned out that he had only told Issie half the story.
    â€œThe day that I resigned I had no idea what I was going to do, and totally no plan,” Marcus told them as he bit into his toast. “Then I get this phone call out of the blue saying that Gerhardt Muller had been injuredon the cross-country at Badminton and did I want to take over the ride on Velluto Rosso?” Marcus lifted up his left arm and Issie saw that it was no longer in a plaster cast. “My arm had healed up by then and I was ready to ride, and Gerhardt is a friend of mine so of course I said yes. Then they told me that the horse was based at the Goldin Farm in Wiltshire. So here I am – back in England for the first time since I left home for Blainford Academy!”
    It was a fantastic story. And yet, Issie found herself slightly disappointed by it. She’d been half expecting Marcus to say that he had come all the way to the UK to turn up and surprise her. Hearing that he was in the neighbourhood anyway was strangely a bit of a let-down.
    â€œSo, it looks like Issie and I are both going to be riding at Burghley,” Marcus said cheerfully. Then he saw the long faces around the kitchen table.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”
    â€œIt’s Storm,” Issie told him. “He’s had an accident. I don’t know if I’m going to be riding at all.”

    After breakfast, Issie took Marcus down to the stables to meet Nightstorm.
    â€œHe injured himself three weeks ago,” she explained as they walked down the driveway. “The wound has healed up nicely and he’s only got another week on box rest. Then I’m allowed to bring him slowly back into work.”
    Marcus frowned, “You’ll have a lot of ground to make up,” he said. “A month in the box will mean his muscles are wasted. I see what you mean about cutting it fine for Burghley.”
    Issie nodded. “Tom has worked out a training schedule. It’s going to be tight but I think we’ll have him ready. As long as the leg holds out…”
    Issie led the way along the row of loose boxes. In the second-to-last box she had stabled a black gelding called Bonaparte to keep Storm company. Bonaparte stuck his head out and nickered to her when she arrived.
    â€œIs this him?” Marcus asked.
    Issie