Burning Desire

Chapter Forty

{ A/N - May be the last update for a while as I'm going to be busy / on holiday for the next few weeks. Buuut I hope this short but dramatic chapter holds you guys over for a while! Thanks for your continued support on this story. Please vote, comment and enjoy. }

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By the end of cross-country day, a small total of just twelve riders had managed to finish within the optimum time. Though this year's course hadn't been spectacularly demanding, the time had proven tight and so over half of the field had incurred time penalties that pushed them down the rankings, consequently edging Brenna and I up into fourth place. Only three riders separated us from victory; each with only one pole in hand. One of those riders was Annabel, who'd been amongst the few to go double clear in order to remain on her dressage score. My characteristic determination had been shattered so many times over the past year that I was much more prone to accepting defeat nowadays; but I'd never been more resolute about anything in my life than I was to beat Annabel.

The dappled morning sunlight spilled into our cabin through cracks in the blinds, announcing the start of the final day of Rolex Kentucky Three-Day Event. I'd endured a restless night; nerves and anticipation and pressure prevented sleep from welcoming me into its comforting embrace. Instead, I'd sought solace in Callum's arms, the pair of us squeezing into a tiny single bed. He had less trouble finding sleep than I did and drifted off almost instantly, leaving me to admire the moonlit shadows cast across his beautiful features.

The digital clock on my beside table blinked 6:30am at me in angry red lettering, and I untangled myself from Callum's arms to trudge to the shower. Every muscle in my body screamed with soreness after the draining cross country round yesterday, though fortunately the hot water soothed the pain slightly. Wearily, I scraped my wet locks into a ponytail and slipped into some faded jodhpurs. As show jumping was held in reverse order of merit, I would be one of the last competitors in the ring and wouldn't have to put my showing gear on until much later this afternoon.

Avery was already at the stables, giving Brenna her feed and beginning to prepare her for the trot-up. I helped, running aching arms over her coat as I groomed her. Avery removed the protective bandages from the mare's legs, and a gasp escaped her lips.

"What's wrong?"

"She's got a small cut on her pastern that I didn't notice yesterday. She must have scraped herself over one of the fences across country. It's not swollen or emitting any heat so I doubt she's in much pain but I hope it doesn't affect her soundness, or she'll be spun at the trot-up."

A deep sigh weaved its way out of my mouth. "I guess we'll find out soon."

By the time both Brenna and I were plaited and polished, a crowd had gathered at the trotting-up grounds. I stood in front of the judges, gazing out at the trip of tarmac that stretched out ahead of us, running a hand down Brenna's toned neck. I could feel slight tension quivering beneath her muscles as her ears flickered to catch the chorus from the crowds. I hoped the tension wouldn't limit the fluidity of her strides, else we risked the chance of being disqualified.

"Madison Evans and Burning Desire. Whenever you are ready, you may trot," a white-coated steward informed me. Clicking Brenna on with my tongue, I broke into a run and the mare followed suit. I kept my gaze focused straight ahead and regulated my striding to help the mare move as rhythmically as possible. Even I could tell that her gait wasn't as floaty as usual, and I just hope she didn't appear lame. When we reached the end of the tarmac strip, we rotated around a potted plant and trotted in the opposite direction. The three judges observed the display with expressionless faces, making notes in their pads before conferring with each other. Then the head judge gestured to a steward who passed the verdict on to me.