Leaping Hearts(41)

“At this point, you’ve already lost and not because of the horse. If you don’t pull yourself out of this funk, you’re going to have more to be sorry for than the fact you took a chance and right now are feeling rocky about it.”

“I’m so embar—”

“Stop it. Going into the ring as you are now, this horse is going to plant you in the ground like a marigold. He’s going to hit those jumps and go hell-bent for trouble and you’re going to wish you were back here, in this moment, making the choice to pull it together instead of pity yourself.”

A.J. shook her head, visions of failure swirling in her mind.

“What have I done?”

“It’s too late to rehash a decision you made weeks ago. Quit with him after this event if you have to but don’t throw in the towel ten minutes before you’re supposed to be in the ring. It smacks of cowardice and you know it.”

It took her a moment to absorb the advice. He was right. Turning away wasn’t the answer because she’d only end up with more regrets later. In her mind, she pictured returning to the stables without having gone into the ring, knowing she’d backed down.

Whatever happened, A.J. decided it couldn’t be worse than how she’d feel if she walked away.

With a nod, she began to wheel Sabbath around.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her.

As she looked at him, Devlin was facing her with such conviction, she felt herself buoyed by his confidence in her. She wondered how she could possibly go into the ring without his support. In the midst of her chaos and self-doubt, he was as steady as bedrock. She didn’t think for a moment he wouldn’t be there to encourage her, coach her, pick her up if she was to fall.

“With you here,” she said, “I believe that to be true.”

Her mind wandered as they went over to the show ring. There was a feeling in the middle of her chest that defied easy description. It made her wonder whether true love wasn’t a combination of the calming warmth of security backed up by the intense heat of passion. It was a hell of a mix, she thought.

Together, they paused in front of the show ring’s main gate and got updated on the competition. There hadn’t been a clean round yet and there were two riders left ahead of her with one of them about to start the course. When she heard Philippe Marceau’s name, A.J. didn’t bother hiding her disgust.

The Frenchman was astride a tall roan mare, one of his frequent mounts. A good jumper, the horse was at the top of her form and, from the moment the buzzer sounded, she took the jumps with ease and power. Up on her back, Marceau was in total control, angling the mare well and driving her over each fence with confidence. As he led them into the final sharp turn, and barreled around to confront the oxer combination, A.J. held her breath with the rest of the crowd. If the two made it through, they’d end with a clear round; she was sure of it.

The mare took the combination and the last jumps perfectly and, as the two galloped over the finish line to a smattering of applause from the crowd, A.J. looked over to Devlin. “For a miserable human being, he sure can ride.”

“No, that’s a good horse. You could have put a bag of doughnuts on her back and she’d have done just as well.”

She grinned.

There was one more rider before her and A.J. waited impatiently for her turn. Sabbath began to feed off her tension, so she tried to hold herself as still as possible, regulating her breathing. The last thing they needed was any more juice in his blood.

When her number was called, she swallowed her fears and jogged the stallion into the ring, bringing him to a skittish pause in front of the judges. As she looked around, she noticed that all activity on the fairgrounds had come to a halt. It seemed as if every pair of eyes in the whole place were trained on her and the towering black stallion.

So this was what fifteen minutes of infamy was like, she thought, removing her hat and bowing her head to the judges.

What A.J. didn’t know was that people might have glanced up once to see what all the gossip was about but they stared because of how spectacular she and the stallion looked together. Sabbath’s imposing power and height as well as his midnight coat and flashing eyes would have been noticed anyway. But teamed with A.J.’s long-limbed grace and classic beauty, the two were a knockout.

Putting her hat back on, A.J. guided the stallion out to the rail. When she heard the buzzer, she coached him into a canter and approached the first fence. He fought hard for his head but she didn’t let him get away with much and they cleared the jump well enough. Going into the second, he tried to skid out of bounds but she held him firmly and they went on to take the next several fences with no faults.

Underneath her saddle, A.J. could feel Sabbath surging over the ground, his great barrel chest drawing in gallons of air to feed the enormous muscles of his haunches. Pounding over the ground and then leaping off for moments that lasted an eternity, she could feel a rhythm growing between them. His power became her own as they leapt free of gravity and then crashed back down. It was a thrilling, pumping, harrowing journey.

And for a moment, she was grateful.

Unfortunately, her joy was short-lived. Heading into the straightaway before the final tight turn, A.J. defensively tried to slow their velocity but the stallion had no intention of giving in. No matter how far back she threw her weight, he charged ahead as if he were getting ready to jump out of the ring itself. They came into the turn out of control despite her efforts, and he fought her as she tried to bring him around, throwing his head and skipping out from under his hindquarters.