Christina: A Sister to Chrystabell

By Lee J Morrison

Beautiful Christina Campbell appears to be the perfect wife and Mother, and professional Show Jumping Champion, to her stunning Fashionista sister-in-law Chrystabell. They bond immediately becoming closer than sisters, and Chrystabell discovers that there is more to Christina than meets the eye. Who is mysterious fatally attractive Bramwell Stoker, and how does handsome Lord Malcolm Clydesdale instigate the life changing events for Christina?
Solid, stable, sagacious Andrew Campbell also hides surprising secrets - what calls him away so often to Scotland from Chelsea, and their Berkshire Stables?
How is Christinas life inseparably intertwined with the powerful Triumvirate?
This is another compelling and realistic passionate romance, by Lee J Morrison, following the success of Chrystabells Secrets, and Theo, A Nephew of Chrystabell, as advertised in the TLS, and Kirkus Indie Reviews.
If you want to be enthralled, to laugh, to cry, and be entertained, do not miss this poetic novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jul 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481798556

Lee J Morrison

Dr. Lee J Morrison was born in the UK, in Lancashire, with an Afro Caribbean father and ancestors from Kenya. His White English mother was from Derbyshire, with French ancestors and Viking ancestors from South Yorkshire. Lee qualified for a BA honours degree in London and graduated from the University of Reading, Berkshire (affiliated to Oxford), with a master of fine arts degree. Studying also in Paris, Lee taught at the University College London. He is now a PhD graduate. Lee was also a tutor with the University of Sussex, at Brighton, and at Hastings. Whilst married for twenty-five years and living in Brighton with a son and daughter, Lee extended his life experiences in other professions. These included construction and a very enjoyable time as a head chef at a popular restaurant next door to the Opera House. For several years he operated a successful landscape gardening business and sold and exhibited his own graphic art and paintings on a regular basis. Working also in London theatres and behind the scenes at the Royal Ballet, Lee counts actors and dancers amongst his friends. His musical tastes are diverse and he enjoys jazz, opera, Latin, and Caribbean genres. He was a semiprofessional singer and dancer himself with several musical theatre groups, a stand-up comedian, and a street performer in St Tropez and appeared on stage in Tunisia and Brazil. Writing has always been close to his heart, and he has penned poems, songs, and short comedy scripts throughout his life. Brandon developed along the lines of a detective story. Again it is based upon elements of reality, but it is definitely a fictional story. Although written in the first person, the book is not autobiographical to the author. Brandon is a young graphic artist and painter teaching at a university in New York. He finds himself endangered after he discovers one of his close friends, Hanwell Nnagobi, murdered in mysterious and gruesome circumstances in the South River. He becomes entangled with a subversive mob carrying out heinous crimes against humanity in his attempt to track down his friend’s killers, who are a threat to his own and his family’s safety. He is befriended by chief detective inspector McArthur, whose son Nigel is one of his students and who is also trying to crack the ring. Brandon’s relationship with his wife, Naomi, deteriorates, and there is much heartache to face with his children before he meets the mastermind of the ring face-to-face. As usual, Lee J Morrison presents his characters poetically with humour as well as with traumatic sadness, but here he moves away again from the passionate romance genre of his previous novels in the Chrystabell Trilogy and the happy ending of the romantic detective story The Many Faces of April Jade. He is acutely aware of social issues in the world and has travelled fairly extensively, but he nevertheless aims is to be entertaining and to present a gamut of emotions which encompass Brandon. The original hand-drawn black-and-white illustrations by Derek Vernon-Morris highlight the author’s vision of the drama, Brandon. Previous publications include the following: —Chrystabell’s Secrets (December 20, 2011) —Theo: A Nephew of Chrystabell (June 5, 2012) —Christina: A Sister to Chrystabell (June 28, 2013) —The Many Faces of April Jade (January 24, 2014) —Xerses Franklin: The Saga of Gabriel & Melona (January 30, 2015)

Book preview

© 2013 by LEE J MORRISON. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/28/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-9854-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-9853-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-9855-6 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Preface

Chapter 1 Old Flame

Chapter 2 Christina’s Surprising Secret

Chapter 3 Another Secret for Chrystabell to Keep

Chapter 4 Highland Bessie

Chapter 5 Louise Johnstone

Chapter 6 Morgan Campbell Arrives

Chapter 7 Conrad Johnstone

Chapter 8 Aaron Stoker and Rocket

Chapter 9 Games in the Scottish Highlands

Chapter 10 Gretchen—A Modern Fairy Tale Crone—

Chapter 11 A Caribbean Sunburst

Chapter 12 Lord Malcolm Clydesdale Entertains

Chapter 13 The Complete Vindication of Rodney E

Chapter 14 Déjà-Vus la situation répète

Chapter 15 Suddenly—Intimate Pages

Chapter 16 Enter—Gigliola Cinquenetti

PART TWO

Chapter 17 The Triumvirate Assembles

Chapter 18 Now! Love and Peace

Chapter 19 Introducing Nathaniel Stoker

Chapter 20 Kenny and Mattetemo and Christina

Chapter 21 A Triumvirate Wedding

Chapter 22 This is A Feast Fit for Kings

Chapter 23 Wedding Night—Mile High

Chapter 24 The River of Life—Le fleuve de la vie

Chapter 25 The Day That Rocked Billy’s World

Chapter 26 Whispers In The Wild Wood

Chapter 27 A Triumvirate Tribute

Chapter 28 A First and Last Footing

Conrad’s Christmas And New Year

About the Author

Dedication

This book, Christina, the third in the Chrystabell Series, is dedicated to the memory of many of the teaching staff at my first and second schools.

In particular Mr Robert Brown who encouraged my Artistic work, and Miss Eason, an inspirational English teacher who encouraged my love of Poetry and Composition.

They made it possible for me to progress to High School, and subsequently to University.

They gave me the desire to succeed not just for myself, but to justify their endeavours.

Whether one can fulfil the promise is another matter.

They may not condone some of the content of this story, but I try to write in a popular and entertaining genre.

As this fictional story is based partly upon some of my earlier memories, I would like to take this opportunity to say the thank you that somehow one is never really able to fully express, as life moves on.

They are no longer with us, but will be remembered still by many, and they are alive in our minds.

Preface

Beautiful Christina Campbell is the elegant Show Jumping Sister-in-Law of Chrystabell. This is the third book of the Chrystabell series, but stands as a complete novel in its own right.

Chrystabell of course is the Model who secretly aided by Billionaire Peter Lanyon, rises to international celebrity status, as a partner in the Fashion Empire of Le Planet Nouveau, and to Hollywood Film Stardom. Their passionate romance from Rio to Rome, from Sandbanks to Port Louis, from Koblenz to Marseilles, is told in the book Chrystabell’s Secrets.

Christina is the younger sister of Peter Lanyon, the youngest son of Edward the Duke of Salisbury, and Lady Elizabeth, or Liz, as she prefers to be called. Christina is married to Andrew Campbell who is a little older than herself, and is related to the Dukes of Argyll, and the Commanders of Stirling Castle in Scotland. They already have two lovely small children, Fraser and Moira, when Chrystabell meets them for the first time at the memorable family dinner, when Peter announces their engagement. Christina and Andrew appear to be the perfect couple, but as the story unfolds, and Christina bonds with Chrystabell closer than a sister, it becomes apparent that they also have secrets of their own.

Andrew manages a large proportion of the Campbell family business, and is also a respected and humane breeder of Race Horses at his stables in Royal Berkshire, close to Windsor. Scottish Long Horn cattle and sheep roam his estates near Stirling and Inverness in the Scottish Highlands. They also live in a large Victorian house in Chelsea, and Christina often spends time with Peter and Chrystabell at their apartment at the Lagoon de Gavea in Rio.

Christina’s passionate romance, and liberated sexuality is interwoven with a love of horses, and much of the action is set in the beautiful UK Counties of Berkshire, the Lanyon Estates in Wiltshire, and Dorset, as well as in the breath takingly dramatic Scottish Highlands around Loch Lomond and Loch Ness.

I am familiar with these settings, and although the story is fictional, it is based upon real people, and first hand observations. Of course the names of all the characters are fictional, and any parallel with living persons is purely coincidental and unintentional. I am interested in the relationship between animals and humans, even though only a handful of British Wildlife is represented in this book, as well as Farm animals and Horses. I know many people are intrigued by the methodical and intelligent behaviour within the animal world, and it is with great pleasure that I produced the original hand drawn illustrations.

How fascinating the Fox is, on its hunting expedition in the early hours of the morning, cautiously emerging from the trees, or peering over an embankment. The regularity of the owl perched high on the corner of a rural building each midnight is notable, as is the advent of a Stoat crossing the road from one wooded area to another with clockwork regularity at maybe 02.00 each morning. What I have found amazing although I have not illustrated them, is the speed and distance a hedgehog will travel each night from a riverside field, across roads and a railway line to hunt amongst the shrubs surrounding buildings, and back again before daylight. It may be due to climatic changes but I have observed the Robin usually associated with winter months in the UK, all year round in my own garden, and quite often pecking for insects during the night in other places. This is just a fraction I know, of the fascinating nocturnal world.

How gentle, steadfast and patient are the Dairy cows, in the meadows, and the Long Horn cattle in the Highlands. And how naturally inquisitive is the Bull. At the time of writing I am also able to observe Grey Squirrels daily, and marvel at their beauty, intelligence, personality, and adaptability for survival. A Blackbird has commandeered part of my front garden, and guards some of the shrubs bearing berries, and brightly coloured Finches flit amongst the branches of the Eucalyptus tree, like a Japanese painting. I remember quite a long time ago, that I worked on a small farm where Pigs were raised, and this gave me a whole new insight into their loving and intelligent nature, and the loving way in which they were treated.

Horse riding is very popular worldwide, and children love it. I know that mine did, and for a while I lived in close proximity to a racecourse. I am always impressed by the sleek lithe beauty of Racehorses, and sometimes surprised that multiple winning horses seem smaller on close inspection, than they do when observed from a distance pounding the turf. Everyone knows I am sure, what intelligent and varied personality’s horses and ponies are. How impressive the large Shire and Clydesdale horses are, whether pulling a large trailer of logs, with ribbons on May Day, or plumed as part of a carnival show with a traditional Landau carriage.

Three of the main characters in this story, share a telepathy with horses, and their lives follow different, but parallel courses before their meeting, which leads to a dramatic climax in the story. Christina’s son Morgan Campbell, Aaron Stoker, and Conrad Johnstone all develop into successful wealthy young men, unlike Morgan’s cousin Theo.

Theo, a Nephew of Chrystabell, is the second book in the series, and is written from a contrasting streetwise angle. Theo is the son of Cordelia, Chrystabell’s younger sister, and T’sang, a Mauritian with a Kenyan Father, and Chinese Mother. Handsome Theo tries to find love and success, but is often a victim of misfortune. In fact he feels torn apart by conflicting forces within himself, as though he is an unwilling battleground. Often as he almost grasps complete happiness, a blow of fate destroys it. Even when he works his way to stardom and realises his ambition of becoming the leading man with his Aunt Chrystabell in a Historic film, The Queen of Carthage, his uncontrollable desires and ambivalent sexuality, threaten to wreck his success. Estranged from his first wife Chu hua and his children Jian and Chyou: Theo finds stability with Chunhua his second wife, and lives in Tunisia where he is reunited with Jian before settling in France. Even then another blow leaves Gymnastic singer Jian and Fiancé, dancer Nadia, to continue with Theo’s Cirque de Tunis.

The tale of Christina is set just before Theo’s star ascends, and follows a poetic development from beginning to end. Her life becomes inadvertently intertwined with the mysterious Bramwell, and a chain of events which she did not anticipate.

Chrystabell’s Secrets, which I hope that you will find compulsive reading, is written in flashback style, as Chrystabell answers questions posed by her youngest granddaughter. Theo, equally poetic and romantic, but traumatic; is written also in flashback, as Theo muses on his life whilst working on his autobiography.

The three books were conceived as a whole, but contrasting unit, and not just stories added together. Poetry has always been a love of mine, so I include it within the fiction, and you may note a deliberate use of alliteration in some passages to carry the narrative in a rhythmic way. If the spelling seems strange in some of the dialogue of the characters, it is because I am trying to indicate a certain dialect which I find attractive. Most of all, I hope that you will enjoy the development of characters, in a fictional, but very realistic way.

LEE J MORRISON

June 2013

Old%20Flame%20protested.jpg

Old Flame protested loudly.

1.jpg

Chapter 1

Old Flame

Flame had shied away from Chrystabell as she ran towards him, an optical vision of black and white, topped with a large brimmed white hat.

He protested loudly in alarm standing on his hind legs and whinnying.

Hush, quiet boy, don’t you recognise your old Mistress. Alma, the young groom left the bundle of hay she was forking, and ran over to the light brown horse with red mane.

Flame calmed a little, and a flicker of recognition registered in his eye. Maybe he caught her scent, and he stood watching over the fence, and snorted softly.

He licked her hand and nuzzled her gently, as Chrystabell stroked his nose, and clung around his neck, her eyes moist with emotion.

Forgive me for neglecting you so long she whispered I shall come and ride you again soon.

Old flame nodded his head; he was still sleek and strong, and used to be being ridden now, by young trainees.

Thank you for looking after him so well—I am afraid that I don’t know your name. Chrystabell smiled.

I’m Alma, your Father hired me several years ago, and he hated to see Flame go to waste, and opened up his stables to a few pupils. Little Norton here in Dorset, is the ideal spot for riders. I do not suppose you have met the other horses, they are out at the moment, Old Flame was having a rest day.

Oh, I had no idea, that is just like Father, waste not, want not, as he always says. I think that is wonderful. Chrystabell replied, turning to look back at Peter standing with Ivan, the Pilot, and her parents by the Helicopter.

Well I must dash, Peter proposed to me this afternoon, and we have to break the news at Lanyon Hall this evening.

Congratulations Miss and I loved what I saw of your Fashion show on TV this week. Alma replied with genuine interest.

Oh thank you, it has been such a whirlwind, but call me Chrystabell, please.

She ran expertly back along the pathway in her 7 inch heels, holding her hat with one hand. Her exclusive dress accentuated her perfect figure, as a slight breeze caught it. She was still exhilarated from riding King, the black Arabian Stallion at Lanyon Hall in Wiltshire, before Peter proposed.

Oh I am so pleased that Flame is so healthy Daddy, Chrystabell gave him a spontaneous kiss, in spite of his reserve, and then ran to the Helicopter, and Ivan assisted her entrance.

She sat snugly with Peter’s left arm around her, as they waved a temporary goodbye this time, to her parents, and Ivan competently whisked them away, back to Wiltshire.

As they passed over Salisbury Plain and Stonehenge, the Cathedral came into view. What a wonderful wedding it was going to be, Chrystabell already heard the bells, and had an image in her mind, of her wedding dress, which she would design with LeeRoy.

I am sure the rest of the family will love you, and there will be even more of them tomorrow at the Hog Roast, my love. Peter’s words brought her back to the immediate present. She was planning the wedding, and they had not hosted the Engagement Party yet.

Chrystabell looked into those calm hazel eyes that she loved so much.

Oh I hope they do my darling, she replied, but your love is the most important thing to me in the whole World.

That goes for me too, Peter replied, as he gently held her chin with his right hand, and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

A shaft of evening sunlight caught the enormous Engagement ring, sending prismatic rainbows all around the cabin. Chrystabell could not believe how her life had turned into such perfect successful bliss in just seven days.

I am sure that you will get along especially well with Christina, my younger sister. Peter continued presently, As Mother said, she rides regularly at the Hall, and her husband Andrew breeds horses in Royal Berkshire, not far from Windsor Castle. He also owns an Estate around Sterling Castle in Scotland.

Sounds wonderful, I can hardly wait to meet them all, but I must say that I feel a little nervous.

No need. As you know Duke Edward, Father, likes family occasions to be fairly informal, and you are accepted as family already. Just be your beautiful charming self. Peter continued, as they reached the Lanyon Hall and Estates.

Thank you so much Ivan, that will be all for today. I will need you to pick up Christian and Yvette at the Airfield tomorrow morning, and then the Markham’s. Control will give you the exact times.

Right sir, thank you, I will see you in the morning. Ivan replied, as Chrystabell and Peter entered the North Wing, just in time to change for Cocktails and Dinner, when they would make the announcement.

That was the first time Chrystabell met Christina and her Scottish husband Andrew. It was of course the first time that she had met any of Peter’s family apart from cousin Annabel, who had accompanied Peter to the legendary LPN Fashion show the previous Wednesday.

Le Planet Nouveau Fashion House, Magazine, Retail outlet, run by a Syndicate of International business people and Designers, of which Chrystabell was now a full member. She felt like she was not on Earth, but had ascended into the Goldilocks orbit, with her new designers, LeeRoy from New York, and Anton-Mario del Veccio, from Reno, Italy.

Her overnight success of course had been secretly due to Peter’s contacts and encouragement, as well as her own beauty and charisma. Now here she was, engaged to be married to a Billionaire with an Aristocratic Family.

But this is an old story, what is new, is the private life of Chrystabell’s Sister in-law, Christina.

Christina and Chrystabell hit it off immediately at that first Cocktail Party and Dinner at Lanyon Hall in Wiltshire.

Christina with her dark streaked Platinum blonde hair, full bodied and stepped, with dark eyebrows and sparkling blue eyes, was a striking beauty.

In her fitted knee length black cocktail dress revealing just enough of a fascinating cleavage, and purple suede 7 inch heels, she was alluring and classic; slightly on the conventional side in comparison to Chrystabell’s dress, incorporating an Art Nouveau bindweed design, culminating with a white flower on her right shoulder.

Christina was a formidable Rider, having won several trophies for show jumping, dressage and buggy racing.

She was the current champion, having recently triumphed at the South of England Show Jumping trials. Her favourite horse Acteon was a pure bred Arabian, and very similar to Chrystabell’s old Flame.

Chrystabell had ridden King, an older horse of Christina’s that afternoon, and the following weekend Christina insisted that she visit The Markham Stables in Dorset, and rode Rudy, a young horse sired by Flame, whilst Chrystabell was joyfully mounted on her old Flame once again.

With his red mane waving, old Flame trotted like an agile three year old, so pleased to feel Chrystabell’s light touch again.

She hardly needed to control the reins; he was so responsive to her movement. Her own deep red hair echoed Flame’s bright mane, beneath her black riding cap, and those now famous Azure-to-Violet eyes held a reciprocal joy to his intelligent black eyes.

Has your Father thought of racing? Christina asked after a gallop across a flat stretch of field. I am sure young Rudy here would make an excellent racehorse with a little training.

I don’t really know, he has only recently started developing the stables, but I know that he always does everything thoroughly. Chrystabell replied smiling.

Well, I may ask him about it, if you do not mind. Christina continued, with an exhilarated glow, on her cheeks.

No that will be fine, I am quite sure that he will be flattered. Chrystabell answered, as she patted Flame’s shiny brown neck.

There was nothing ‘horsey’ as people often say, about Christina. She and Chrystabell both looked like beautiful models trekking through the Dorset countryside.

Although Peter liked riding, and Andrew bred racehorses at his stables near Windsor, in Royal Berkshire, they opted for Golf on the Lanyon Estates, and left the women in the good care of Ivan the ace helicopter pilot.

Joel Markham was still amazed. His daughter had returned as an International celebrity, with a Fiancé, and a large Aristocratic family.

As he and Katalina entertained Christina with afternoon tea, later, they were absolutely charmed by her presence.

Today Chrystabell was not the swirling optical vision in black and white with a large hat, but a shapely horsewoman in a simple white shirt under her dark brown riding jacket, tight white jodhpurs, and high dark brown riding boots, which Lady Elizabeth had bought for her the previous Saturday.

In the excitement of that day Elizabeth had called the woman from the Hostelry in Wilton, Pearson, but the woman had introduced herself as Archer, and now Chrystabell could not remember which, since her married name was different also. But yes, she had asked to be known just by her Christian name of Brenda, thank goodness, Chrystabell hated not to address people properly, and forget names.

Lady Elizabeth took my measurements, and Brenda judged my size exactly, She heard herself answering her Mother’s question, but her dreamy gaze betrayed that she was thinking of Peter’s romantic proposal by the Fountain of Mars.

Yes, Brenda is very good; she is an old family friend. Christina added, and we are a very similar size."

We are designing an exclusive range at LPN for Christina. Chrystabell added in return.

Although she was well used to moving in a variety social circles, and some of her family were in the government of Mauritius, Katalina was still almost speechless at her daughter’s meteoric ascension to fame, and the complete ease with which she handled it, as though her life had never been any different, and the intervening years of anguish had never occurred.

Oh, that is wonderful. was all she managed to say.

Christina was more like her sister than her sister-in-law, the way they behaved together, and were dressed almost identically. Christina’s boots were slightly lighter, and the pearly buttons on her white shirt, were of a slightly different design.

Joel was seriously considering Christina’s proposition of allowing Rudy to be trained in Berkshire, and maybe raced at Ascot the following season.

Christina was entertaining them with the story of Hambletonian 10, born in 1849. He was a fine reddish brown Standardbred like Flame. His Father Messenger was a grey Thoroughbred Norfolk Roadster, reared for flat racing, and exported to the USA about 1788; He was mated with Thoroughbred Mares. They found that the offspring made excellent trotting horses in harness, as well as for field events under the saddle.

Why are they known as Standard bred? asked Katalina, pouring more Laps hang Sushang from the elegant modern silver tea pot.

Oh, it is really an American definition. A horse had to trot a mile within two minutes and thirty seconds, a standard requirement, and these magnificent creatures had the powerful shoulders and hind quarters to do that. Christina continued, crossing her right leg over her left elegantly.

And what made Hambletonian 10 so remarkable? Chrystabell asked, impatient at her Mother’s interruption.

Well, said Christina, smiling and gesturing with her right hand, whilst holding her teacup delicately and correctly in her left, His owners sold him, but his new owners found that he was an excellent sire of Standardbreds, and during twenty four years, between 1851 and 1875, he sired 1,335 offspring!

Well my goodness, he certainly had good time. Joel remarked laughing.

Yes, and a large percentage of pacers and trotters could trace their lineage back to him today. Christina concluded.

"Are you suggesting that I put old Flame to the same use? Joel asked seriously.

Well, from what I have experienced with Rudy today, it would certainly be worthwhile. We have not seen what Rudy can produce yet, but Flame it appears, certainly has the pedigree. Christina popped a mini cupcake into her fascinating mouth.

Daddy, maybe you could talk it over with Andrew Chrystabell suggested. She was partially laughing at the thought of old Flame romping with his choice of Thoroughbred Mares in his later years, when she had expected him to be put out to grass already.

Chrystabell’s engagement to Peter Lanyon had not only brought her closer to her family again, but brought new life to her old Flame.

He knew, and loved her more, for although he had been well cared for, he missed her warm charisma. He smiled as much as horses smile, and nuzzled her cheek.

Alma could not believe the change in him. He had been compliant and amiable, but now he exuded a spark of fire and glowed with energy, as she towelled him and brushed his mane, his powerful muscles rippled beneath his glossy hide.

Christina was loathe to leave Rudy, when it was time to return to Lanyon Hall in the adjacent County of Wiltshire, and could not wait for her return visit during the following week with Andrew. She had contacted him already by mobile telephone, insisting that he make a space in his busy diary to inspect Flame and Rudy personally.

Joel Markham was not a gambling man. He speculated wisely with business deals when he could calculate the prospective returns and offset taxation, but never indulged in heavily betting on a horse, or a greyhound, where the random element of chance was involved. He could see the lucrative aspect of Stud Farming and was quietly excited at the prospect.

As a ‘nouveau riche’ millionaire, he was no stranger to Ascot, Aintree, and Gloucester racing, but usually as a guest, observing, rather than participating. He had found buggy racing and trotting quite fascinating, especially during business trips to the USA. His own relatively recent development of a small stables and riding school, had been motivated initially by his concern for the welfare of the horses abandoned by his children, as they moved on.

Claude had established offices in South America of course, and settled in Ecuador, with partner Mandy, he was still an excellent rider. Christian, his second son four years younger, was expanding the business in Europe, having settled in Lyon, with wife Yvette, and taken up Aviation. Cordelia had given up riding completely, and was never really interested, spending a lot of time in Mauritius, and London, teaching languages, and was now building up a reputation as a brilliant Poet and Novelist, and was to become part of a world famous musical duo with T’sang, also a teacher at this time.

Chrystabell until now had been the rebel, and disappointed him, and given him cause for grave concern. Cordelia was two years or so younger, but she was the only family member Chrystabell had remained in contact with for many years.

Now she had taken them by storm, and her wedding was destined to be one of the society events to remember, in Salisbury Cathedral.

For the second time in the space of a week, Chrystabell waved as the figures of her Mother and Father grew tiny, by the garden gate, with the dogs barking and jumping at their side, as Ivan expertly piloted the Helicopter. This time it was not Peter who sat next to her, but a new sister, Christina.

Hambletonian10.jpg

Hambletonian 10.

1.jpg

Chapter 2

Christina’s

Surprising Secret

It was an accidental meeting.

Lady Elizabeth had informed Chrystabell that Christina rode regularly, in fact almost every Saturday, by chance Chrystabell later discovered why.

It was an accidental meeting for Christina, with a young groom on the extreme South Western edge of the Lanyon Estates.

One afternoon during one of Andrew’s business trips to his Estates in Scotland, when she had herself been tied up with engagements as a Buyer of Fabrics for an exclusive London store in Knightsbridge, Christina visited her parents at the hall, and took Acteon, her stallion for a quick ride.

After galloping across parkland she negotiated a rough lane on the borders of the Estate, which gave access to a country road and small Stables.

Suddenly, Acteon began to limp, so Christina alighted, and led him slowly into the stable yard.

Afternoon ma’am, can I help you? A tall thin, handsome young man appeared from a shadowy entrance in the far corner. His tight sweatshirt was darkened by patches of sweat obscuring the small horizontal stripes, and his well-formed biceps clenched and unclenched as he walked casually towards her. His worn blue denims were loose, but clung around his form, held by a wide leather belt.

His dark wavy hair was slightly greasy, it was a warm day, and he was obviously in the process of working. A grey check cap was perched on his head, and he pushed it even further back, in a slight salute of respect.

Christina felt her stomach inadvertently tighten, and her nipples harden, she swallowed, trying to fight the sensation, but it persisted, and her knees felt as though they quivered visibly. There seemed to be no one else around. It was very peacefully quiet, but she felt like there was a roaring volcano inside her.

Yes, rather,—er, I think, er I think—. Christina stopped and pulled off her riding cap. Usually so eloquent, she could hardly think of any words at all.

Let me have a look there, I can see that he ‘as a limp, probably picked up a little stone—it happens all the time. The younger man said as he stroked Acteon’s left front leg, and then inspected his hoof.

Christina stood speechless fighting with herself, as she watched his strong leg muscles as he bent, and his long arms.

Yes, there it be, just hold him ma’am, I’ll have it in a jiffy. He pulled the pointed tool from his belt, and Christina inadvertently watched the movement in the loose crotch of his denims.

The names Bramwell, at your service ma’am. he said looking at her casually and directly for a moment, with deep blue eyes.

Christina took her breath in sharply, Pleased to meet you Bramwell, and thank you so much, she managed.

She watched his buttocks fill out the loose denims as he turned sideways, cupping Acteon’s hoof with his left arm, and resting it on his left leg. Moving closer, she licked her lips as he gently eased out the stone.

She placed her right hand on his broad shoulder, and found herself stroking the back of his neck, where his hair curled from under his cap.

Bramwell turned slightly looking out of the corner of his eye, and then back to the hoof.

Christina took