Read Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2) for Free Online Page B

train. His words of instruction drifted back to her.
    ‘Twain could do with a confidence booster, so start three back. Apart from Rhys’s horse at the front, the rest are just having a canter. So give Twain a push, let him feel like a winner by passing the others. He can be lazy so keep him up to his work. Try be alongside Romano after three furlongs. Then have his head in front by the five. Rhys knows you’re to go past so don’t worry about it turning into a race.’
    That didn’t sound too difficult.
    Frankie gathered her reins as they swung onto the all-weather surface. Ahead, Rhys was waiting for the entire string to step out before setting off. His horse tossed its head, snatching at the reins and crab-stepping. Sinister in his dark riding outfit and unflinching authority, Rhys at last pulled down his goggles and released his mount. Romano gave a small rear and plunged forward, flicking synthetic sand into the faces of his stablemates.
    Twain needed little urging to break into canter. But as she lowered her posture over his withers and asked for more, his response was lethargic. Needles of cold rain stung her cheeks and she took a deep lungful of cold air, knowing this would test her fitness if she was to pass Rhys already flying ten lengths ahead. Scrubbing with her hands and pushing with her body weight, she felt the big-boned chestnut at last begin to lengthen his stride. The horse beside her began to drop back and the quarters of the one in front bunched and released as they climbed the hill.
    By the time the three furlong marker whooshed past, Twain wasn’t the only one breathing hard. Frank’s throat burned dry and just the moist wind offered any relief to Frankie’s hot face. Rhys’s horse galloped just ahead of them. Frankie again lowered in the saddle, her focus unwavering on the rider before her. Twain’s rats’ tail-mane whipped her face but she didn’t feel it. They were gaining. She glanced across as they drew level with Romano. Hunched over his horse’s neck, Rhys tilted his head sideways. A smile twitched his lips.
    ‘Making you work for your money, is he?’ he shouted above the rush of wind.
    ‘I wasn’t expecting an armchair ride,’ Frankie yelled back.
    ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
    Setting her jaw, Frankie pushed for more speed. Out of the mist, the four furlong marker whipped by. She frowned. It felt like Twain was giving more. It felt like they were galloping faster. Yet still Rhys’s leg juddered beside her own. And all the while he sat motionless aboard his horse. Frankie pulled her goggles down around her neck so she could see better. Only then did she notice Rhys letting his reins slip through his gloved fingers.
    The bastard! With a renewed intensity, she scrubbed her hands up and down Twain’s outstretched neck. She was running out of track to get ahead. Jack’s instructions resounded in her mind, muffled by the roaring wind.
    ‘ Get his head in front…It won’t turn into a race.’
    So much for that, she thought furiously.
    A growing despair rose inside her as the 5 on the next furlong marker became more distinct. Romano still galloped easily beside Twain. Frankie’s chest tightened as she gasped for air. They flashed past the marker. She sagged in her saddle, her muscles thankful for the reprieve. The white boards marking the end of the gallop loomed and pricking his ears, Twain slowed to a ragged trot.
    ‘Not strong enough to get past?’ Rhys taunted her.
    Anger swelled inside Frankie.
    ‘What?’ she cried. ‘That was bullshit! You stopped us from going past!’
    Rhys pushed his goggles up over the peak of his helmet, revealing his shadowed eyes, goading her, mocking her.
    ‘Such language from a girl .’ He smiled as they rode through the top gate onto the path that would lead them back down the hill. ‘Because—let’s face it—that’s what you are: a girl. And sadly, girls just aren’t strong enough to be jockeys.’
    Frankie opened her mouth