The Virgin's Debt To Pay. ABBY GREEN

was still astounded at the apparent ease with which she’d calmed Tempest, who was one of the most volatile horses Luc had ever bought. But also potentially one of the best, if his hunch about the colt’s lineage was right. Certainly Gio Corretti had asked for top dollar, so he’d clearly suspected potential greatness too.

      Luc turned back to the horse, who pushed his face into Luc’s shoulder, nudging. Did Luc really believe Nessa would poison the horse? He held up the innocuous, gnarled carrot and eventually fed it to the horse with a sigh.

      The answer came from his gut: no, she wouldn’t poison his horse. She’d looked too shocked when he’d said it. But the fact was that, until her brother reappeared or the money did, the jury was out on Nessa O’Sullivan and he had to keep her under close scrutiny. He’d be a fool not to suspect that brother and sister were working in tandem.

      Luc told himself it was for this reason, and not because her raw hands had twisted something inside his gut, that he was about to move her to where she could be kept under closer scrutiny.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘I’M MOVING YOU out of the stables and into the house.’

      Nessa looked at Luc Barbier where he stood behind his desk. She’d been summoned here a few minutes ago by the head groom, Simon Corrigan, and she’d tried not to let the understated luxury of the grand old Irish country house intimidate her.

      This was where Barbier’s suite of private offices were based and now she stood on thick sumptuous carpet and was surrounded by dark oak panelling. Books filled floor-to-ceiling shelves. In contrast to the rather conservative decor, there was modern art on the walls that tickled at Nessa’s curiosity. And behind Barbier, a massive window where Nessa could see the training gallops in the distance. An amazing view and one that made her yearn to be on a horse.

      But she dragged her attention back to what he’d said. ‘Excuse me?’

      ‘I said, I’m moving you into the house.’ He enunciated the words slowly, which only made his accent more noticeable. Nessa still couldn’t get over the raw, untameable energy that emanated from the man, in spite of the luxe surroundings.

      She felt a bit dense. ‘Why?’

      ‘My housekeeper has lost one of her household assistants and so I told her you would fill in.’

      ‘Household assistant,’ Nessa said slowly as it sank in. ‘You mean a cleaner?’

      Barbier grimaced faintly. ‘I think they prefer the term household assistant.’

      A faint burn of humiliation washed up through her body. ‘This is because I went to see your racehorses.’

      Barbier’s jaw tightened. ‘I’m not so petty.’

      Nessa thought of being cooped up indoors cleaning floors and already felt claustrophobic. ‘You accused me of potential sabotage.’

      Barbier’s jaw got even tighter. ‘At this point in time I have no idea what you’re capable of. You’ve put yourself in this position in a bid to convince me your brother is innocent. Mrs Owens, my housekeeper, needs someone to help her out—’

      ‘And I’m just the handy house-arrest guest you can move about at will to wherever it suits you,’ Nessa interrupted, feeling frustrated and angry.

      ‘You’re the one who is here by choice, Nessa. By all means you’re free to walk out this door at any time, but if you do I won’t hesitate to involve the local police.’

      Nessa tipped up her chin, feeling reckless. ‘So why don’t you do it, then? Just call them!’

      Barbier didn’t look remotely fazed at her outburst. ‘Because,’ he said easily, ‘I don’t believe it serves either of our interests to involve the law at this point. Do you really want to drag your family name into the open and inform everyone of what your brother has done?’

      Nessa went cold inside when she thought of the lines of pain already etched into her father’s face. Indelible lines that would never fade even in spite of his much better mental state. She thought of Iseult’s frantic worry and her husband, Nadim, who would undoubtedly storm in to take over—just weeks before their baby was due.

      Nessa looked at the man in front of her and hated him at that moment. Hated the way he was able to hold her to ransom so easily, and then that hatred turned inwards. She only had herself to blame. And Paddy.

      She had taken responsibility and she couldn’t crumble now.

      She forced down an awful feeling of futility and said, ‘No, I don’t want anyone to know what has happened. If I stay and do as you ask, can you promise that you won’t report what Paddy has done?’

      Barbier inclined his head slightly. ‘Like I said, it serves us both to keep this to ourselves for the time being.’

      Nessa wondered why he was so reluctant to let this get out, but then she realised that he would hardly like it to be known that payment for a horse had gone astray. It would put off potential sellers everywhere.

      For a fleeting moment Nessa considered threatening to leak this news in return for Barbier’s assurance that Paddy wouldn’t be prosecuted. But she realised, without even testing him, that Barbier was not a man who could be so easily manipulated.

      Apart from which, she didn’t have the stomach for blackmail, and there would be no way that Paddy’s reputation could remain unsullied. He might never get the chance to prove his innocence, and with the stain of possible theft and corruption on his record he’d never get a job in the industry he loved again. It would ruin him. Not to mention the disappointment of their father and sister...

      As if privy to her thoughts, Barbier said, ‘You’re the only insurance Paddy has at the moment. His only guarantee of any kind of protection. You walk out of here and that’s gone, along with any sliver of doubt I may have about his guilt.’

      Nessa’s heart thumped hard at that. So there was a chance that Barbier might believe in Paddy, if she could just convince him to return and explain what had happened. She had to cling onto that.