The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous

when I was talking to Carlo the other day, and I daren’t tell him Luigi wants to take me to Thailand.’

Every time Cecilia went out she invited Kitty to her room pretending to ask her advice on what to wear, but really to show off how wonderful she looked in clothes. Often, to Kitty’s embarrassment, she would greet her in the nude, taunting her with a body that was full-breasted but wonderfully slender elsewhere, and magnificent for someone well over forty. How could Rannaldini ever notice Kitty with that around?

It was the eve of Valhalla tennis tournament. Cecilia had mercifully disappeared to Paris in a ravishing pink shorts suit and Rannaldini’s helicopter. Rannaldini, who was at home for once, had retreated to look at rushes of Fidelio in his tower. Kitty had hoped for peace to make cakes and sandwich fillings for tomorrow and to give herself a perm, but alas Rachel turned up trailing two fretful children who found making fortresses out of egg boxes insufficiently amusing during a hot summer afternoon.

Kitty had been very kind to Rachel, listening endlessly to her problems and looking after her children when Rachel needed to practise or see lawyers. Rachel felt it was only fair, in turn, to prevent Kitty poisoning herself and the environment.

‘Why make a strawberry flan,’ she was now complaining, ‘when strawberries are out of season and there’s a glut of apples? And tuna fish — tuna fish,’ shrieked Rachel. ‘Didn’t you know tuna congregate beneath schools of dolphin, and the tuna fleets haul up dolphin at the same time? Nearly a quarter of a million dolphin die in the Pacific.’

‘Poor fings,’ muttered Kitty, appalled. ‘I’ll remember next time.’

‘Good, though, to use brown flour,’ said Rachel, feeling she’d been a bit sharp. Then, catching sight of a packet of Tampax in Kitty’s shopping bag, ‘but I wish you’d use STs. Tampons floating round in the sea take a hundred and twenty days to biodegrade.’

Shut up, Kitty wanted to scream. Normally as regular as clockwork, she was a week late and praying that at last she might be pregnant. Like taking an umbrella out on a sunny day, she had bought the Tampax.

Rachel was now glaring at a screen Kitty was secretly covering with photographs of Rannaldini and the famous for his birthday in December.

‘Christ, look at him leering at Princess Di. Your husband is such a lech, Kitty. Why d’you put up with it?’

‘I love ’im.’

‘God knows why. I wish he’d stop dropping in on Jasmine Cottage. I wish all the husbands would. One’s so defenceless being so close to the road. Everyone can see lights, or hear the radio.’

Not Rachel as well, thought Kitty hopelessly. On the dresser was a letter from her mother enclosing a postal order for three pounds and a card with a printed message wishing a wonderful daughter many happy returns tomorrow. Rannaldini was sure to forget it was her birthday.

As it was Mr Brimscombe’s day off, she’d better water the new plants. The roots of older plants were supposed to go down far enough to find water. Emptying an entire watering-can over a bluey-mauve clematis against the wall, she reflected that new plants, like new or potential mistresses, required attention. Was this why Rannaldini was giving Rachel all this work, and insisting she came to the tournament tomorrow, and making sure Gretel looked after her children?

Dear God, help me to stop grumbling, pleaded Kitty. If I’m pregnant, I’ll never, never grumble again, and at least Rannaldini hasn’t taken Hermione back.

As Rannaldini’s tournaments were so unbelievably competitive, Marigold and Georgie had arranged to play a warm-up foursome with Ferdie and Lysander the evening before. Guy had gone to Salisbury to look at a private collection. Larry wasn’t due back from London until later, so the coast was clear.

On the way over to Angel’s Reach, Lysander had to pop in to Rannaldini’s yard to pick up some worming tablets for Tiny and Arthur.

There had been no let-up in the weather. The authorities were even muttering about standpipes. Traveller’s joy fell in creamy festoons over the hedgerows, which were weighed down with haws and shining scarlet hips. Ferdie could have leant out of the Ferrari and helped himself to huge ripe blackberries if Lysander hadn’t driven so fast. A glut of crab-apples crunched beneath the wheels.

Lysander was unsettled by the tang of bonfires. In October his mother would have been dead a year. He clenched the steering-wheel to ease the pain. He must put some flowers on her grave. Perhaps he should make it up with his father.

Autumn had been daubing Rannaldini’s woods yellow and orange. The Virginia creeper smothering the grooms’ cottage had already turned crimson. Walking into the immaculate but deserted yard, Lysander heard a blood-curdling scream, like a rabbit caught in a snare. Whipping round, he was relieved to see Maggie and Jack still sitting beside Ferdie in the car.

‘No, please, please no,’ screamed a female voice.

For a horrified second Lysander thought it might be Kitty being savaged by The Prince of Darkness, but no, he was safely muzzled in his box.

There it was again. Another dreadful wail coming from the indoor school in which Rannaldini enjoyed being left alone to dominate difficult horses. His methods were very cruel, according to Janice the head groom, but, being well paid, she let well alone.

Beckoning frantically for Ferdie, Lysander loped round the corner and found the door of the indoor school locked.

‘No more, please.’ The moaning voice was too deep and throaty for Kitty’s.

‘You agreed to do everything I asked.’ It was Rannaldini, spine-chillingly cold.

Clambering on to Ferdie’s broad shoulders, Lysander straightened up and nearly fell off. He must be seeing things. For there in the centre, wearing shiny black riding-boots and the tightest buff breeches, stood Rannaldini. With one hand he held a hunting whip which he was cracking like a rattlesnake, with the other a leading rein, which was attached to a studded dog-collar round Hermione’s neck.

Hermione was totally naked except for tight-fitting high-heeled boots. Her body ran with sweat. Her large, wonderfully firm breasts bounced as she trotted round in a circle, her big curved bottom was already slightly pink, her eyes glistened in terror and excitement.

‘You’re not going fast enough,’ snapped Rannaldini, cracking the whip again, so the wicked thong caught her left buttock. With a neighing scream, Hermione broke into a canter.

Wrong leg, thought Lysander.

She was panting hard now; Rannaldini smiled, but his eyes were dead.

‘Are you sorry for the way you behaved?’

‘Oh yes, Rannaldini.’

‘Sorry you made scenes?’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘What are you going to do about it? Head up, straighten your back.’ With another vicious flick he caught the underside of her breast.

‘I’m sorry,’ shrieked Hermione.

‘I said, “What are you going to do about it?”’ Yanking her towards him, nearly toppling her, he put a hand between her legs. ‘You’re getting bloody excited. Loving it, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, Rannaldini.’

‘Then we’ll try a few jumps. Come on, bitch.’

At this moment Lysander tumbled off Ferdie’s shoulders and sent a yard broom flying.

‘Who’s there?’ called out Rannaldini.

Just in time, Ferdie and Lysander leapt behind the mounting block. At least the Ferrari was parked round the corner. As Rannaldini came out they flattened in terror. Fortunately lust drew him back again.

‘Must have been a horse,’ they heard him say, as the key turned in the lock.

‘What was going on?’ hissed Ferdie. Lysander, bright red with shock, trying not to laugh, mouth wide open in amazement, couldn’t utter, until they had hurtled to the boundaries of Rannaldini’s land, and turned into the road up to Angel’s Reach.

‘Oh, Ferd, you never saw such a thing in your life! Talk about undressage. He was schooling her and she was bollock-naked except for her boots. She’s got the most fantastic body! You can see exactly why he stays with her. She was giving excited little squeaks like Maggie when she gets on a rabbit trail. Give me a cigarette — and they were obviously about to have the most enormous bonk. God, it was gross, but seriously sexy. Wow! I’ve never seen