He had such a hangover at Fontainebleau, he forgot to check if Tracey had screwed in Kitchener’s studs. It took all Fen’s tact to calm him down. “Do you like short hair?” she said, pausing at the Daily Mail fashion page. Tory was desperately trying to comfort her.
”“What did it say?” “Oh, some sycophantic rubbish about you being the best rider in England. We’re keeping him in the humidifying tent for tonight. ”The reporters surged forward, clamouring for a quote. She was so glowing and she had a special way of swivelling her eyes and gazing up at him from under her eyelashes that made him quite dizzy with longing.
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