Page 18 of Irish Thoroughbred
“I—Is it that you’re implying I have an accent?” Herbrows lifted in mock censure as a defense against the suddenly dangerous atmosphere.
“No. I’m the one with the accent.”
His smile drew one of her own, but the innocent intimacy only heightened her confusion, and she felt her color rise in an unaccustomed blush, her lashes sweeping down like fragile shutters. He grinned at the uncharacteristic shyness before he rose and moved to a small bar across the room.
“I think you could use a drink before I take you home.” He lifted a crystal decanter. “Some brandy?”
“Brandy’s a stranger to me, but perhaps if you’ve some Irish…” She sat up straighter, grateful for the distance between them.
“I’d be hard pressed not to with Paddy as my trainer,” he commented, pouring a small measure of whiskey into a glass. “Here.” He walked back to her and offered the glass. “This should steady you and keep you from falling into my arms again.”
She took the glass and downed its contents without a shudder as Travis watched with uplifted brows. He looked down at the empty glass she handed him before bursting into gales of laughter.
“And what would you be finding so funny?” Tilting her head, she regarded him with curious eyes.
“That a half-pint like you could down two fingers of whiskey as though it were a cup of tea.”
“Aye, well, it comes with the blood, I suppose. I’m notone that drinks often but, when I do, I can handle my liquor—which is more than can be said of that slimy pig of a groom.” He turned back to set the empty glass on the bar so that she was unaware of the hardening of his features. “Travis…” she said, hesitating over his name, and he turned, relaxing his face into calm lines. “I’m grateful to you for what you did.” Standing, she moved until she stood in front of him. “I’m owing you, Travis, though God Himself knows how I’ll ever repay you.”
His eyes were intense for a moment, brooding over the face she turned up to his; then his features relaxed into a smile, and he ran his finger down her cheek. “Perhaps one day I’ll call in the debt.”
The sun streamed onto the kitchen table as Adelia removed the postbreakfast clutter. She was grateful Paddy had noticed nothing amiss, having been fast asleep when, late and disheveled, she had arrived back home. He had greeted her that morning with his usual cheery smile, and she had mirrored it, firmly blocking the memory of her night’s encounter from her mind. Hearing footsteps approach the kitchen, she closed the door on the dishwasher.
“I’m just coming, Uncle Paddy. I’ve got the buttons all figured out now. It’s amazing how— Oh!” She stopped as she turned and saw Travis leaning against the doorway.“Good morning.” She pushed at her hair as her thought processes skidded to a halt.
“How are you?” He walked toward her, eyes traveling in an intense survey.
“I’m f-fine, just f-fine,” she stammered, and despised herself. Will I always behave like this when he comes on me unexpectedly? she demanded of herself, and determinedly offered a slight smile. His hand cupped her chin, and Adelia held very still as he searched her face.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded; then, realizing she had been holding her breath, she let it out slowly. “I’m fine, really.” Her eyes traveled past him, and he read her concern easily.
“Paddy’s already gone. I told him I needed to speak with you for a minute.” Releasing her chin, Travis reached into his pocket and pulled out her cross and chain.
“Oh, you found it!” Her face lifted to his, illuminating the room more brilliantly than the sun. “Thank you, Travis, for troubling. It means a great deal to me.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Dee, and it wasn’t a question of troubling.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a gentle gesture that threatened to dissolve her knees. “The clasp is broken. I’ll have it repaired for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can—”
“I said I’ll have it repaired.” His voice was firm, and her brows drew together at the underlying anger in his tone. Letting out a long breath, he slipped the cross back into his pocket, then carefully framed her face with hishands. “Adelia, I’m responsible for what happened last night. No, don’t argue,” he commanded as her mouth opened to contradict. “What happens to you—to the people who work for me—” he amended, “is my responsibility. I wanted you to know I’d found your cross, so you wouldn’t worry. I’ll have the chain repaired and get it back to you as soon as possible.”
“All right,” she murmured, finding currents of pleasure brushing along her skin as his hands continued to cup her face as if it were something fragile and precious.
He smiled, and his thumb traced her lips with a teasing lightness. “At times, Dee, you can be surprisingly docile. Then, just when I think you’ve been halter broken, you start bucking again.”
Drawing away, Adelia straightened her shoulders. “I’m not a mare to be pulled about on a lead line.”
Smile became grin. Travis tousled her hair before taking her hand and pulling her from the room. “Maybe you’ll find it depends who’s holding the line.”
The days passed slowly for Adelia as the two main men in her life were absent for a time. Paddy had accompanied Majesty to Florida in preparation for the Flamingo Stakes. She found, for one who had always taken her own self-sufficiency for granted, that the nights grew longer without Paddy’s company. The house seemed large and quiet and empty. Alone in the evening, she reflectedhow easily a heart could be lost to another. In less time than it takes for the moon to go from full glory to a sliver of light, love had swept over her, leaving her vulnerable. Love for Paddy, a sweet, full warmth of belonging, and love for Travis, an aching, spreading need.
She built a fire, though the spring air was kind through open windows, and curled up in front of its company, her head resting on the arm of her chair. Paddy would be home the next day, and she found the knowledge comforting, for with his presence there would not be so many hours alone, so many hours to think. Travis would not leave her thoughts or her heart, and seeing him daily brought as much torment as it did delight.
As the fire grew soft and low in the grate, her mind drifted to him, her lashes fluttering down to conceal her dreams, her hair falling in a curtain against her cheek.
“Dee.” She stirred in the twilight world of dreams, sighing as a hand brushed through her hair. “Dee, wake up.”
