Kelly frowned. 'Maybe he doesn't understand the agreement, Grandpa,' she suggested in soft appeasement.

'Herefords or Charolais or Santa Gertrudis…'

'What if he develops a taste for chicken?' the judge put in with sympathetic concern. 'What are you going to do then?'

'Chicken?' her grandfather squawked.

'Or fish?' the judge added.

It was the final straw! 'Henry Lloyd ate lamb for seventy-five years,' Michael O'Reilly thundered, if it was good enough for Henry Lloyd, it's good enough for Justin St John!'

'Quite right,' the judge agreed. 'He's got to be taught to fit in. This is sheep country. Always has been. Always will be. He can't come in here changing things. We've got to stand up to him. Show him he's wrong!'

'I'll have a word with him when he comes for his physiotherapy tomorrow, Grandpa,' Kelly offered. 'I'm sure he doesn't understand.'

'You haven't got him to understand about Rasputin, Kelly,' the judge warned pessimistically, then switched his attention back to her grandfather. 'And talking about sheep, Michael, I've had a thought about Octavian Augustus the Fourth…'

‘It's clear that Justin St John doesn't really appreciate sheep,' Michael grumbled. 'Let's go into the living-room and set up the chess-board, Judge. I'm in a fighting mood tonight.'

Kelly wondered if her grandfather remembered his intention to let the judge win this time, but she didn't get a chance to remind him. In fact, she was so tired after her long day that she went to bed before the chess match was over and didn't hear the final outcome that evening.

However, when she had finished with Rasputin the next morning, Judge Moffat took great pride in telling her that he had swept her grandfather off the chess-board.

Kelly wished it could be as easy to checkmate Justin St John.

He arrived for his physiotherapy with the same stiff-necked reserve he had worn the previous day. Kelly decided she would not be put off or put down or put out again, no matter how he acted or what he said or how he made her feel. Nevertheless, she worked on her composure while he was on the interferential, and waited until she had started the resisted exercises before opening her account.

'You've got my grandfather upset again, Justin. You're not keeping to the agreement.'

He groaned.

'Did I hurt you?' Kelly asked anxiously.

'No. And I don't recall giving you permission to call me Justin,' he said peevishly.

'You call me Kelly,' she argued. 'Why shouldn't I call you Justin?'

He sighed. 'How have I upset your grandfather?'

'You didn't take all the lambs you're supposed to,' she explained. 'Under the agreement…'

'I'm sick to death of eating lamb!'

'You don't have to eat it yourself. You could give it away. Or sell it to the butcher,' Kelly suggested brightly. 'But you've got to take them. Henry Lloyd used to…'

'I am not Henry Lloyd!' He glared at her. 'And I'm sick to death of being told what Henry Lloyd used to do.'

Kelly closed her mouth in thin-lipped disapproval. She glared back at Justin St John. The tension in the room thickened. He bent first.

'All right! Tell me what Henry Lloyd used to do,' he said in weary disgust.

'He used to pass the lamb on to his staff when he didn't need it for himself. The gardeners and…'

'Fine! I'll pass it on.'

Kelly heaved a sigh of satisfaction. 'I told Grandpa you'd understand. He was having visions of having to run cattle to cater for your taste. Herefords and…'

'You can't mean it?' Justin levered himself up on his elbows with a look of sheer incredulity.

'Well, what else could he do? If you wouldn't take the full complement of lambs according to the agreement…'

'Never mind!' He shook his head and dropped down on to the table again. He breathed deeply for several seconds. 'Assure your grandfather that any agreement will be kept to the letter from now on.'

'Thank you,' she said, even though he didn't like to be thanked. He should be more gracious about that, Kelly thought to herself. But she didn't want to criticise him too severely, because she had another favour to ask him.

She waited until the exercises were completed and was spreading oil over his hip-joint in preparation for the ultrasound.

‘Is it all right if I take the horse-truck?' she asked, her eyes pleading her need. 'I can't transport the horses without it.'

He closed his eyes against her and his jaw tightened as if he was clenching his teeth. 'You haven't brought back that damned stallion yet,' he bit out.

Kelly took a deep breath. 'Would you let me ride him if I did?'

'No!' It was a hard, explosive negative, leaving her no room to manoeuvre.

'Well, that settles that,' she reasoned quietly. 'But if I'm to compete with the other horses, I can't get them to Dapto without the horse-truck.'

'Kelly…' His voice sounded very strained. She felt his flesh quiver under her hand. 'Will you stop spreading that oil and get on with it?'

'Oh!' Flustered by her hand's dalliance, Kelly snatched it away and grabbed for the ultrasound. She played the small machine over his muscles as she struggled to regain her composure.

It wasn't easy. She was more aware of him than ever. It was even worse when she had to switch the ultrasound off and wipe the oil from his skin with the tissues. She felt quite sure he didn't want her to touch him.

'You can get up now,' she choked out, and quickly turned away to dispose of the used tissues.

Every pore in her body was listening for him to get off the table and walk to the chair where he had hung his trousers. Every nerve was stretched tight, waiting for a less discomfiting distance between them.

His feet thudded softly on to the floor. The short ensuing silence pulsed with a tension that was not wholly hers. The urge to turn around and see what he was feeling was terribly strong. But he had called her a forward young woman, and even suggested she could be using her body to get what she wanted. If he thought she had been caressing him knowingly…

There was a whispering sigh, and at last footsteps moving away. Kelly's chest hurt from holding her breath. She let it out slowly, desperately trying to regain some control of the situation.

'You can take the truck. As long as you don't take Rasputin.'

The flat words slapped Kelly's mind into refocusing on the problem of her favourite horse. She couldn't go without him. He was her best chance of winning the main event.

Justin St John finished dressing and swung around, his eyes stabbing right into her heart and soul as he spoke with relentless decision. 'Promise me you won't slip him in along the way. Promise me that now, Kelly.'

Slowly she shook her head. 'No! You're wrong about this. Terribly wrong. As you've been about so many other things.'

His face contorted with angry frustration. 'Why do you have to be so stubborn? You're a beautiful young woman. With your whole life ahead of you. Why put it at risk?'

'All life is a risk!' she retorted. 'And show- jumping is no more dangerous than playing polo. You did that, didn't you? And I bet if you could have gone on playing it after your accident, you would have done that too.'

'But I couldn't. And I didn't.' His eyes glittered over her with intense bitterness. 'And I don't want to see the same thing happen to you.'

Kelly flushed at the unwitting cruelty of her words. 'I'm sorry. It's just that…'

'You think I'm unreasonable,' he mocked savagely. 'Well, let me tell you, Kelly Hanrahan, I was riding horses before you were born. And my sister was in show-jumping. I'm very familiar with all types of horses, and I've seen Rasputin's kind before.' His mouth twisted. 'Noni Lloyd had one just like him. A Hanoverian stallion. Bred for jumping. He'd rather crash into a fence than balk. One mistake from you, Kelly-cutting him too short to gain time, not getting him set into the right stride for a triple or a combination-and he'll go for it anyway. And he'll take you with him.'