Burning Desire

Chapter Thirty-Three

{ A/N - Please vote, comment and enjoy.}

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For almost a year, Annabel had mocked my chances of becoming a top level eventer with a horse as unpredictable as Brenna. Her disbelief in our talent and her hostile rivalry had always caused tension between us, but following our victory at the three-star event in which Annabel and Storm finished thirteenth, she now recognised that Brenna and I were a potential threat to the victory she was aiming for. Our rivalry was fiercer than ever.

"Don't even think about her," Callum advised when I confessed my apprehensions about her on our commute to the yard one morning. "She's not worth your time. You have more important things to be focusing on."

"You're right," I agreed.

"Like...how unbelievably hot your boyfriend is," he teased.

I slapped his toned arm playfully. "And how unbelievably narcissistic he is."

He laughed. "You love it really."

Callum was right; with Kentucky Horse Trials fast approaching, there wasn't any time to focus on anything other than Brenna. Holly had decided not to enter us in any other events prior to Kentucky so that we could preserve the mare slightly and dedicate more time to fine-tuning our skills.

Holly's eyes were narrowed as she examined me, tracing our every movement. Her face was a mask; it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. I kept my heels wedged down firmly and my hands light and steady on the reins. Brenna powered herself forward with the air of an advanced dressage horse; travelling in a lovely self-carriage.

"Good, good," Holly praised. I let my shoulders relax slightly, realizing how much I'd been anticipating her verdict. "She's going well. She has a lovely top line."

I smiled softly, squeezing gently with my legs to keep Brenna alert and focused on me. She snorted, arching her neck over the bit. The mare felt smooth in her paces as we progressed in a flawless circle around Holly, but as I stole a look at her, crop in hand and brow furrowed, I knew that something was less than perfect.

"No," she called out firmly. "Forfeit your hands; drive from behind to the front. No backwards riding."

I nodded in acknowledgement and responded to her requests considerably, my focus ahead and positive as Brenna continued to power forward. I deepened my seat, encouraging the mare forward with light squeezes of my leg. Brenna's auburn ears flickered towards me, an indicator that she was focused on my aids, so I rewarded her with a pat on her neck.

"No!" Holly yelled again, her tone harsh. "Your hands are still too wobbly. They're giving too much. Keep your hands completely quiet. Like you have porcelain in your palms that's not supposed to fall down."

Frowning in concentration, I stilled my hands completely. I felt Brenna relax in the mouth slightly and spotted Holly nodding satisfactorily out of the corner of my eye. Praise was not something she gave out willingly, so this subtle gesture was an act of approval.

"Good. Sitting trot and canter," she ordered. "Don't fiddle around. Keep your hands steady, and if you feel her getting a little too short in the neck, inch both of your hands forward just a couple of centimetres."

A spark of pride exploded within me as I realized that Brenna trusted me enough not to fall out through the outside shoulder. The circle we encompassed Holly with was sharp and seamless, yet fluid and loose.

Holly's commanding voice brought me back to reality. "Back into trot and ride a leg-yield from K through to M," she barked, the harshness of her words sending shudders down my spine. Holly had always been strict, but with Kentucky Horse Trials nearing, she was on a quest for perfection now more than ever.