The Gilded Chain

“You ready?” He held out a hand and she took it, grateful to have a reason to touch him.

“Ready.” She smiled and followed him to the door. She didn’t dare cast a glance at the bed and what she’d hidden underneath. One lie. That was it, but God it felt so huge. She never wanted to hide anything from Wes, but she had to go with her gut.

*  *  *

Wes mounted his polo pony named Vengeance and trotted behind Royce, Emery, and Fe

“Ready for some fun?” Royce nudged Fe

“I haven’t played since I was eight. What do you think?” Fe

“I think,” Emery said as he joined his brother, “it’s like riding a bike. You played well on those tiny polo ponies we had as kids. You’ll be fine.”

Wes gri

“Easy, Ven,” he soothed with a pat. Vengeance was a retired racehorse, a thoroughbred with an excellent bloodline. Built for bursts of speed, stamina, and agility, he was every polo player’s dream. Wes had trained Vengeance after he turned three years old, and the horse could read Wes’s cues by the slightest pressure of his legs or by weight cues whenever Wes adjusted his body. Wes always had a few other mounts as backup because they often needed to change rides during each seven-and-a-half-minute chukker period.

Wes followed his friends out onto the field where the a

“What’s with the goofy grin?” Emery asked Wes. He reined back his pony and was checking his chin strap on his helmet.

Wes just shook his head. “None of your business.”

His best friend laughed, the sound carrying. “If I had to guess, it has to do with the reason my brother has a black eye and split lip.”

“Maybe, but he deserved it,” Wes growled. Fe

“Okay. You win. I won’t ask any more questions.” Emery raised his hand to imitate a whipping noise. “Happens to the best of us.” Then he laughed hard and the pony jumped forward.

Wes was too distracted to play much of an aggressive game. Every thought seemed to be focused on Callie. If he could catch the art thief, he’d be able to take her back to Paris. In the short time there, he’d only been able to scratch the surface of what the city had to offer. The idea of how much he still wanted to experience with her left him feeling oddly excited. The little tremors in his stomach were foreign, but not unwelcome.

Royce shouted as he chased the white plastic ball down the line, which was an invisible path the ball took that defined the play of the game. Players were restricted by the path of the ball. Wes’s black pony huffed and darted after the ball but Stonecypher drew up alongside Royce, mallet lowered. Royce, as the hitter, had the natural right of way, but Stonecypher could approach alongside and hook the ball away. Wes kicked Ven’s side and sprinted toward his friend. But Stonecypher smacked the white ball away, changing the play.

Stephen Vain galloped past him, a grin twisting his lips as he waved his mallet in a mock salute.

“Bastard,” Wes said, laughing. Game on.

The next two chukker periods went by quickly, the play rough. More than one risky play and almost illegal moves happened on both sides. Wes changed horses twice and now sat astride one of the chestnut ponies, a gelding named Lord Nelson. Nelson wasn’t nearly as quick as Vengeance but was more agile. With a tied score, a horse with agility was better.

Fe

“Fe

Air whooshed out of his lungs and he went limp. Nelson screamed and reared back. When he thrashed his head, Wes’s weak grip on the reins slackened and the strips of leather slipped free of his hold.

There had only been three other times in his life when a horse had thrown him, but that spark of panic in his chest, the clawing agony of his lungs struggling to breathe and the weightless free fall, were unforgettable. He struck the ground hard, the impact knocking the last bit of air from his lungs before his head snapped back and a sharp pain followed him into darkness.

Chapter 23

A panicked shout and the screaming of hooves jerked Callie’s focus back to the field. Fe

“Wes!” Callie screamed and kicked off her heels so she could run across the field faster. All she could think about was getting to him. She had to. Tears blurred her eyes and she choked down sobs. He was only fifty feet away and not moving. Stonecypher, Fe

“I swear, Lockwood, I didn’t mean to—” Stonecypher’s face was ashen as he stared at Wes’s body.

Callie lunged forward, but when she got close, strong arms caught her and held her back.

“Hey, kid, hold on.” Fe

“Let go of me!” She struggled, arms flailing and legs thrashing against Fe

“Doesn’t look like any bones were broken,” Vain observed. His eyes met hers before he focused on Wes again.

Callie gripped one of Wes’s hands and squeezed.