The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance. Annie West

bit deep at the thought of putting herself in Bastien’s presence again so soon. But the fighter in her rebelled at hiding away in her room.

      She would borrow the clothes and go for a ride with him. What better way to show him she was as unaffected as he was than by spending a few hours with him without making a fool of herself? Proving that she could control her wayward emotions?

      She unzipped the case and found familiar labels neatly stacked. Ana lifted a pair of cream jodhpurs and slid them on, topping it with a camisole and sweater set in chocolate-brown. Black riding boots completed the ensemble, and for the first time in days she felt comfortable. Scraping back her hair into a neat ponytail, she picked up the riding jacket and left her room.

      Bastien stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Tatiana also brought your new contract. Come into my study. You can sign it there.’

      Ana frowned ‘What new contract?’

      ‘The one that replaces your old one, whose terms you violated. A copy was faxed to your agency yesterday.’

      ‘What...what does it say?’ Old and familiar shame crawled up her spine as she followed him down the hall.

      ‘More or less what the old one said. You can read it for yourself. If you’re happy with it Chantal will witness it.’ He opened the study door and waved her in.

      In the large, unashamedly male space, dominated by a huge antique desk, the scent of burning cedarwood drifted from a low fire. But Ana didn’t dwell on the charm or the warmth of the room. Her eyes were drawn hypnotically to the document on Bastien’s desk.

      Her mother’s scathing words rushed into her mind.

       ‘You’ve got your looks. You don’t need an education!’

      Sliding over the document, Bastien handed her a pen. ‘Sign on the last page after you’ve read it.’

      Ana clenched her hand around the pen. ‘I won’t be rushed, Bastien. I’ll sign it once I’m satisfied with it.’

      He frowned. ‘Organising a shoot on the scale of what the DBH ad needs doesn’t happen overnight. Relocating it to another country takes even more time.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you having second thoughts?’

      ‘No,’ she replied hurriedly, her insides churning.

      She’d made progress with her disability, but not enough that she could confidently deal with her own paperwork. But the thought of revealing her deficiencies to Bastien made her stomach twist with humiliation.

      She glanced down at the paper. Words were jumbled together, morphing into a taunting miasma of black and white that made the document tremble in her hands.

      Large, warm hands closed over hers a second before Bastien sank onto his haunches beside her. Startled, she glanced at him. His frown had deepened.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      She licked her lips. ‘Nothing. I just don’t want to rush it in case I miss anything. I...I just need a few minutes. Do you mind getting Chantal?’

      His gaze probed hers for several more seconds. Finally he nodded. His departure brought much needed respite. Desperately she tore through the document, but nothing made sense. Hands shaking, she thrust the contract back onto the desk.

      Bastien had faxed a copy to Visual. All she had to do was call and double-check things with Lauren. About to reach for the phone, she stopped when Bastien walked in, followed by Chantal.

      ‘Did you say my agency had approved this?’ she asked.

      He nodded. ‘Yes, I spoke to Lauren this morning.’

      Relief coursed through her. Opening the contract to where Bastien had indicated, she carefully signed her name. She felt Bastien’s intense gaze on her but refused to glance his way for fear he would see right through her to the heart of her disgrace.

      Once the document had been witnessed, Bastien locked it in his drawer and held out his hand to her. ‘Now, let’s go and visit my horses.’

      Pasting a smile on her face, she fell into step beside him.

      The morning air was unexpectedly mild, but fresh. Inhaling deeply, she followed Bastien round the side of the château. Landscaped gardens lay to the east, absorbing most of the morning light. She barely had time to admire the profusion of flowers before they came to a large paddock.

      Ana spotted the stables just before she caught the whiff of horseflesh. ‘How many horses do you own?’ she asked.

      ‘I keep six horses here. I have a bigger stable on my estate in Lucerne.’

      A tall woman—Chantal’s daughter-in-law, she guessed—met them inside the stable. Peering into the semi-darkness, she saw a flash of white. ‘Oh, he’s magnificent!’

      Bastien reached out and patted the horse’s nose. ‘He is a she. Her name is Storm.’

      ‘What breed?’

      ‘Lipizzaner. From Austria. Slightly smaller than Arabians, but just as swift and powerful.’

      Ana leaned forward and stroked Storm’s soft nose. ‘You’re gorgeous. Yes, you are,’ she crooned. Her reward was a nudge of approval. She smiled and glanced at Bastien to find his gaze fixed on her.

      ‘She’s also very high-spirited, stubborn and reckless. She’s thrown more than one rider.’

      Something in his voice made her pause. ‘Not you, though, right?’

      One corner of his mouth tilted up. ‘Not me,’ he confirmed.

      ‘And what’s your secret, pray tell?’

      ‘I’ve learned to be patient with her—to know when to accommodate her tantrums and when to rein her in.’ Stepping forward, he slid a finger between Storm’s eyes. ‘We’ve learned to trust each other, but she knows who her master is.’

      She couldn’t be jealous of a horse! And she certainly had no use for all that ‘master’ nonsense. So why, when Bastien continued to caress Storm, did she experience a pang of envy?

      ‘Come, I’ll introduce you to your horse.’

      Ana followed, her sense of disquiet increasing as Bastien paused to greet each horse, his voice calm and soothing. Even the fiercest thoroughbred whickered with pleasure.

      At the last stall the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen waited. Unlike the other horses, which had shades of grey, this horse was pure white.

      ‘His name is Rebelle,’ Bastien said softly. He stroked the animal’s neck, then inspected his hooves before instructing the stable hand to saddle him up. His own horse he saddled himself.

      They took a path into the woods behind the château, where the smell of earth and dewed vegetation permeated the air. Grasping the reins, Ana tried not to stare at the powerful figure Bastien cut astride his horse, but the wide breadth of his shoulders beneath his tan riding jacket and the powerful thighs that gripped his horse’s flanks continually drew her eyes.

      Realising she was in danger of losing the task she’d set herself, she cast around in her mind for something to say to ease the tight knot burning in her belly.

      Leaning forward, she patted her horse’s long neck. ‘Does his name mean what I think it does?’

      ‘Rebel? Yes, he arrived prematurely. He was sick and never had a chance to bond with his mother. When she rejected him we thought he wasn’t going to make it, but he defied all the odds.’

      Inexplicably, a lump lodged in her throat. Ana gave him another pat. ‘You’d be amazed how many children make it despite a parent’s rejection.’

      Too late, she felt Bastien’s keen gaze. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on her slip. Her hope was dashed.

      ‘You speak from experience.’ It was more