Burning Desire

Chapter Thirty-Two

{ A/N – Had to drop Borough Pennyz in somewhere. She's my favourite. Please vote, comment and enjoy. }

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The sun reappeared a few weeks later, painting Ashling in a balmy breeze that soaked up all the rain and mud and lost hope. The golden orb swum amongst a spotless cerulean blue sky, and I felt like I'd emerged from an extended winter solstice. The warmth of summer restored my hope, excitement and determination.

Brenna had been out at grass for the past few weeks – her first proper break in months. There had been just as many failures as successes over the time I'd known her, but I couldn't deny that she'd been working hard and deserved some time off. That, and I couldn't face working with her after three disastrous events in a row. It had been Ed who'd advised that we both took a break from each other for a while.

Kentucky Horse Trials was approaching fast, with just under two months until the competition commenced. The days slipped by like sand in an hourglass, each second weighed more than the last. The pressure had never been heavier, but the few weeks away from my temperamental mount allowed me to swallow my fears and adopt a calm, positive mindset by the time I started to ease Brenna back into work.

Holly had entered us, as well as Annabel and Storm, into another three-star event. The show was a six hour drive away, the longest journey Brenna had ever been on with me. Fortunately, she'd completely conquered her fear of the trailer by now, and arrived at the event in the same tranquil state she'd left Belmont in.

I, however, was less calm. Fear and anticipation and doubt which I had managed to keep submerged under serenity for the duration of the past few weeks and the entire journey here remerged as soon as Holly pulled the van up beside Boyd Martin's sleek lorry. I wasn't prepared to embarrass myself in front of eventing's biggest names and my equestrian idols once again.

"Please please please be good for me this time, Brenna," I willed as I unloaded the liver chestnut mare. She'd been allocated a stable in the aging but well-equipped barn the venue offered, and the mare sniffed around her new surroundings tentatively; curious, but not unnerved like she would've been a few months ago. To her right, Annabel's horse Storm stood serenely in his temporary accommodation. In the other stall adjacent to Brenna's, a pretty little grey mare who I recognised as Borough Pennyz, ridden by the Italian rider Vittoria Panizzon, dozed contently.

I felt like an insignificant pin-prick in comparison to the constellations of stars that glittered at this event; eventing's biggest names were scattered in every direction. I hardly slept that night, writhing in the confined space of my bunk on the horse lorry and squinting into the darkness behind my eyelids – galaxies I was not part of glittering against a black canvas. But the next day, Brenna shined brighter than any star in the dressage arena.

Avery had accompanied us to the show as an extra stable-hand, and she fulfilled this role by helping me prep Brenna for the dressage phase early the next morning. Due to my sleepless night, I'd arisen early to plait the mare's mane, but she'd fidgeted so much during this task that it took twice as long as it should've done. I was grateful for an extra pair of hands, and by the time we'd finished with the mare she was practically gleaming. She was a naturally pretty horse, but she'd never looked healthier than she did now; muscles defined, coat lustrous, white markings polished. I had also artfully applied my make-up and showing gear to a higher paradigm; we certainly looked like the top-class eventers I'd always dreamed we would blossom into. Now, all I could do was hope for the best.

Brenna was having a good day. She felt connected, calm and supple as I ran her through some light exercises to warm up her. We glided past some of America's top eventers, and I swallowed the urge to fangirl over each of them. Instead, I tuned out to every emotion except undivided attention on the task at hand. There was no room in my mind-set to feel scared or star-struck or nervous. I was like a radio with only one station: focus.