Burning Desire

Chapter Twenty

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My blood was up as I entered the arena. The talented liver chestnut mare beneath me arched her neck over the bit, striding forward in a sinuous and exuberant canter. She was the bulb and I was the battery, but instead of electricity there was a constant flow of excitement travelling through our circuit.

"Entrant number ninety-seven, Madison Evans riding Burning Desire, owned by Callum Dalton," the commentator's voice announced through the speakers, followed by a metallic buzz indicating the beginning of our round.

I pushed Brenna towards the first fence, a small upright that, like the other fences on this course, stood just under a metre. Brenna eased over it effortlessly and blew out loudly through her nostrils, as if to express that she was unimpressed by the undersized hurdle.

We powered on towards the next jump which the mare flew over with ease. As we spiralled towards the third fence, I could feel the mare's speed increasing and her head thrusting through the contact. Too much excitement. I exhaled heavily, trying to expel any excess enthusiastic that would provoke the mare into getting too carried away. But my efforts were only half-hearted as my attention was focused on the course.

Brenna put a little too much height between her and the third fence, and zoomed forward towards the fence immediately in front of us. But the flag propped at the side of the fence read the number 9 in bold white lettering, so I had to kick firmly and tug at the reins to turn her in the other direction towards the fourth fence. She protested to the pressure on her mouth by fighting for her head, battling my hands and thrusting her head in the air. She was too busy combating the contact to lock onto the jump, and it loomed in front of us before she expected it. She shuddered over it, leaving behind her fore-legs and causing the poles to come crashing down.

My hope fell with the poles, and I was filled once again with nerves. This round was going far from smoothly, and each pole down would cost us penalties. Though the event was unaffiliated, I was determined for my first competition with Brenna not to end in total disaster.

I pointed her at the next fence, a more substantial oxer. The added width of the fence made Brenna respect it more, and she jumped over it effortlessly and confidently, forming a perfect bascule in the air and revealing a snippet of the talented, capable horse she had the potential to be.

Brenna flew over the next fence too, leaving only the combination and a final vertical separating us from the finishing flags. The mare was still strong in my hands and a little too forward, but I knew better than to fight her. I tried to steady her with soothing words and a deep seat in the saddle, but either these attempts were ineffective or the mare ignored them. If it weren't for the precious seconds on the clock, each weighing more than the last, I would half-halt her instead. Brenna careered forward, so thrilled by the excitement and speed of it all that the first fence in the combination loomed before us sooner than expected, giving me little time to prepare. We got in too deep towards the fence, taking off too close. The poles were knocked out of their cups and our rhythm was off for the rest of the triple combination, causing poles to fall from every fence. As the poles descended, the penalties rose and each four faults settled heavy in the pit of my stomach like lead.

Scowling, I sat helplessly in the saddle and allowed Brenna to race towards the final fence without even bothering to interfere and slow her. She launched herself into the air so high there was no way she could've touched the poles, although she threatened to knock me out the saddle with the unexpectedly big jump.

We darted through the finishing flags and I glanced at the clock to see that we were nine seconds within the time, which would be impressive if it wasn't for the sixteen faults that accompanied it. I scowled at the clock and wrestled Brenna back down to a walk. It took nearly a full circuit of the arena to slow her.

A grave faced Holly and a grimacing Callum greeted us when we exited the arena. Holly grabbed the reins and I swung myself off the mare's back, not bothering to run the stirrup leathers up or loosen her girth as I fell in stride with Callum. I felt an almost dislike for his horse in that moment. If it wasn't for her talent and qualification at Kentucky Horse Trials, I may have reconsidered having her as a mount again.

"You tried," Callum offered by means of support, but it only made me feel more dejected.

"What time does cross country start?" I asked, not wanting to know the answer. I didn't want to ride Brenna across country today. I didn't want to ride her at all right now.

"After lunch. You hungry?" he replied. I nodded. "Let's go grab something from the food stalls, then."

"I have to untack Brenna first," I sighed.

"Holly can do it," he said.

"That's not fair."

"She won't mind," he insisted. His hand reached for mine, his fingers entwining with mine and causing my stomach to churn. He broke into a light jog, leading me away from Holly and Brenna. I felt like a rebellious schoolchild, escaping class for a taste of freedom and the thrill of insurgence. The winter breeze was icy on my cheeks and Callum's hand warm against mine, and my heart felt like it had been set free; liberated from its confines behind my rib-cage and taking flight alongside his.

There was an endless variety of delicacies to choose from at the food market, from Mediterranean cuisine to sushi stalls, from hot dog stations to stone-baked pizza. Callum and I spent an indefinite amount of time admiring the cake stall - frosted sponges, cookies with melted chocolate chips oozing from between the biscuit, artfully iced cupcakes. The man behind the stall offered us a sample of a fresh brownie and it was still warm, the gooey chocolate exploding on my tongue and coating the inside of my mouth with its warm sugariness.

Callum titled his head back and his eyes fluttered shut as he savoured the sample. A small moan escaped his lips. "Mmm. Orgasmic."

My stomach couldn't help but churn at the sound of those noises on his lips, and I moved to the next stall before he could see the fiery blush on my cheeks.