Angel and the Flying Stallions Read Online Free

Her stomach was tied in nervous knots. It had been so long.
    The stallions’ quarters were located on the far side of the compound. From the outside they looked like all the rest of the buildings at El Caballo Danza Magnifico; classical Spanish stone with curved archways and tiled rooftops. But inside was a different story. The stallions’ quarters were ultra-modern and the loose boxes were state-of-the-art.
    Issie looked down the row of stalls and at the far end of the corridor she saw Francoise D’arth. The French dressage trainer was wearing cream jodhpurs and a white shirt, her long dark hair tied back in a high ponytail. She was leading a horse and with one glimpse of the pretty, dished Arabian face with the wide, white blaze Issie knew it was him.
    “Storm!” she called out, unable to control her excitement.
    The horse suddenly froze at the sound of her voice and stood alert with his head held high. Without thinking, Issie raised a hand to her lips and gave a wolf whistle – the call she had always used back home when she played tag with the colt.
    At the sound of the whistle, Storm let out a loud nicker and began to dance and skip, going up on tohis hind legs so that Francoise was forced to pull him back down.
    “Storm! Easy boy, no!” Issie cried out, aware that her call had rattled the big bay stallion.
    It was too late. Storm reared up a second time with such force that he ripped the lead rope out of Francoise’s hands.
    Francoise was an experienced horsewoman, but she hadn’t been expecting this and the stallion was too powerful. He broke free from her hands and surged forward, heading straight for the girl. His metal horseshoes chimed out against the hard concrete floor beneath his hooves as he cantered through the stable block.
    Issie stood perfectly still. The bay stallion’s enormous, muscled body was thundering through the stables. She knew that he could easily trample her down or knock her over, and yet, as the horse continued to bear down on her, Issie wasn’t in the least bit afraid. This wasn’t any stallion, this was her horse. It was Storm.
    The girl and the stallion were just a few metres apart when Storm pulled up dramatically to a halt and stood, snorting and quivering, in front of her. The stallion was sixteen-three hands high and every inch of him was puremuscle. Issie looked into his deep brown eyes and didn’t hesitate. She threw herself forward and flung her arms around the horse’s neck, burying her face in his long, black mane.
    “Storm!” Issie was finding it hard to breathe, a sob was stuck in her throat and she was choking on her words. “Hey boy, it’s me.”
    The stallion was trembling all over, nickering and stamping, flicking his head as if to say, “You’re back! Where have you been all this time? I missed you!”
    At the far end of the corridor, Francoise D’arth watched this touching reunion and a faint smile crossed her lips. She had never seen a horse behave like that before, but then she had never known any horse and rider to have a bond as close as the one Issie shared with Storm. The girl loved the bay stallion and he had missed her dreadfully. But as Francoise knew only too well, it was not enough to love a horse. You must also have the skills to handle it. In the month to come, Issie would need to prove herself at El Caballo Danza Magnifico. But for now, Francoise stood back and let Isadora enjoy the reunion with her beloved horse. The girl would find out soon enough about the nature of the challenge that lay ahead.

Chapter 3
    When Storm was nothing more than a skinny-legged colt running around the paddocks at Winterflood Farm, Issie had trained him to come when she whistled. It was a cute trick to teach a foal, but it was a totally different story now he had become a fully-grown stallion.
    “I’m sorry,” Issie called out to Francoise as she led Storm back up the corridor, “I can’t believe he still remembers my whistle.”
    “It is my fault,”