The Pleasures of Spring by Evie Hunter

the spitting image of Shergar.’
    ‘Who?’
    He glared at her. ‘Only the most famous Irish horsethat ever lived. He won the Epsom Derby by the longest margin in history, and was kidnapped from a stud in Kildare two years later. No one ever found out what happened to him. But if we could produce the Son of Shergar, we could sell it to Tim O’Sullivan for whatever price we named.’
    For a moment, she was tempted. But a horse? She couldn’t cope with horses. And she didn’t want to get close to the O’Sullivans. She shook her head. ‘Sorry Frankie. Good luck if you do, but this one is not for me. I’ll sort something else out for Dad.’
    ‘I can’t do this on my own,’ he said.
    ‘Dad’s in jail. I’m lucky I’m not. We can’t do this, it’s too risky.’ She put the rope into Frankie’s hand and let herself out of Nagsy’s stall.
    Was it her imagination that the horse sneered at her? She didn’t care.

    Andy wanted to throw his phone at the wall in frustration. It wasn’t her pert ass that upset him. That had been a sight for sore eyes. But she had been devious enough to un-tag the photograph before she sent it. Now, he had no idea where she was. He had thought he was being clever when he had sent her a photo of his abs. A flirtatious gesture like that sometimes caught women off guard and they forgot to take proper security measures. But not her. Not Roz. She was still three steps ahead of him, but he wasn’t giving up yet.
    After a dribble of a shower – he didn’t bother waitingfor the water to heat up – Andy went downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. It was too early for his parents to be awake, but it would give him a chance to catch up with the rest of the household.
    Maggie was surrounded by the men from the estate. The guys joked and laughed as they tucked into several thousand calories of bacon and eggs and Jesus – was that fried soda bread?
    His mouth watered. No. He was not doing this.
    ‘Sit yourself down there,’ Maggie said. ‘Will you have tea or coffee?’
    ‘Coffee, please and could I have a couple of poached eggs and toast?’
    ‘It’s far from poached eggs you were reared. Have you gone soft, Andy?’ one of the men asked.
    Andy sat down next to Tom and elbowed him in the ribs. ‘I’d demonstrate, but then I’d have to drive you to hospital.’
    ‘Any time you want to try, laddie. Any time. So, how’s yon blond giant treating you?’
    ‘Niall? As good as could be expected.’
    ‘But you don’t get much time off?’
    And there was the rub. Why wasn’t he home where he was needed, instead of wandering around the world? But there was something else going on. He caught a few furtive glances and there was an undercurrent of something not being said. Andy was determined to get to the bottom of it.
    ‘So, what are your plans for the day? A trip to the shops?’
    ‘Ach, he’s turned soft, spending all that time in London.He’s probably booked a manicure,’ one of the grooms said and the others snorted with laughter.
    If he hadn’t been in his mother’s kitchen, Andy would have shown him exactly how soft he was. But a Ranger didn’t get into stupid fights.
    ‘Pay them no heed,’ Maggie said as she set a plate in front of him. ‘Have ye no work to go to? Away with ye.’
    Draining the last of his tea, Tom pushed back his chair. ‘I’ll be off then.’
    The others followed him and within a minute the kitchen was silent. Andy wolfed down his breakfast and downed a mug of coffee.
    ‘And where do you think you’re going?’ Maggie demanded.
    ‘To work.’ He couldn’t sit around here all day watching his dad sleep. He needed something to do or he would go crazy.
    Whistling, he made his way to the stables. No wonder the house was falling to rack and ruin; his father spent more money on the horses than he did on his own accommodation.
    ‘How many does he have now?’ he asked Tom.
    ‘It varies. Twenty-two at the minute, with the yearlings he bought at the