Page 24 of Irish Thoroughbred
Her eyes never left Majesty’s form as he was loaded into the gate. Her senses swam with the blare of the trumpets and the roar of the crowd. With a swiftness that took her breath away, the doors were released and the horses sprang forward in a turbulent herd.
Her eyes followed the colt as he galloped with steady assurance around the track. She was not even aware that as the bell had rung she had grabbed Travis’s hand in a viselike grip, squeezing tighter as each heart-pounding second passed. The air shivered with the voice of the crowd, individual calls and shouts melding into one trembling roar. She rode every inch of the track on Majesty’s back, feeling the rush of wind on her face and the strong rhythm of the colt’s gait under her.
As they rounded the second turn, Steve brought Majesty to the inside rail, and the colt took his head and left the field with long, smooth strides. The gap between the chestnut and his nearest competitor widened with what appeared to be effortless ease as he streaked down the back stretch into the home stretch and under the wire more than four lengths in the lead.
Without hesitation, Adelia threw herself into Travis’s arms, clinging with a joy she could only expressphysically by babbling incoherent and self-interrupted sentences to both him and her uncle, who was improvising an enthusiastic jig beside her.
“Come on.” Travis tossed an arm around Paddy’s shoulders. “We’ve got to get down to the Winner’s Circle before the crowd’s too thick.”
“I’ll wait for you.” Adelia pulled back, stooping to retrieve her dislodged cap. “I don’t like all those reporters staring and snapping and jumping all over me with their questions. I’ll wait on the outside and take Majesty along when it’s over.”
“All right,” Travis agreed. “But tonight, we celebrate. What do you say, Paddy?”
“I say I’ve just acquired a strong yearning for champagne.” The two men grinned at each other.
That evening, Adelia stared at the reflection in the full-length mirror of her room. Her hair lay full and lush on her shoulders, shining like newly minted copper against the muted greens of her dress.
“Well, Adelia Cunnane, look at you.” She smiled with satisfaction into the mirror. “There’s not a one back in Skibbereen who’d be knowing you in such a dress, and that’s the truth of it.” A knock sounded at her door, and she plucked her key from the dresser. “I’m coming, Uncle Paddy.”
Opening the door with a dazzling smile, she was notgreeted by her merry-faced uncle but by an incredibly attractive Travis in a dark dinner suit, the white silk of his shirt startling against his deep tan. They stood silently for a moment as his gaze roamed over her, from shining hair and deep green eyes to the soft, rounded curves outlined by the clinging jersey. His gaze rose to her face again, but still he did not smile.
“Well, Adelia, you’re astonishingly beautiful.”
Her eyes widened at the compliment, and she searched for something suitable to say. “Thank you,” she finally managed. “I thought you’d be Uncle Paddy.”
His eyes continued to hold her in the doorway, and she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue in an innocently inviting gesture. “Paddy’s meeting us downstairs with Steve.”
The single-minded intensity with which she was being studied was rapidly stripping her of all composure, and her words tumbled out quickly. “We’d best be joining them—they’ll be waiting.”
Travis merely nodded, a slight inclination of his head, and she took a step toward him, only to stop nervously when he made no move to let her pass. Raising her eyes from his shirtfront to his face, she opened her mouth to speak, only to find her mind a vacuum. He gazed down at her for another unnerving moment, then held up a single red rose, placing it in her hand.
“Majesty sent it. He says you’re fond of red roses.”
“Oh.” He was not smiling with the whimsy of his words, and her mind fidgeted for something to ease the sudden awareness, the physical strength of his gaze. “I didn’t know you talked to horses.”
“I’m learning,” he answered simply, and ran a finger over her bare shoulder. “My teacher’s an expert.”
She dropped her eyes to the bloom in her hand, thinking that twice in her life she had been given flowers, and both times they had come from Travis, both times they had been red roses. She smiled, knowing she would never again see a red rose without thinking of him. That was a gift more precious than jewels. Open and innocent, her smile lifted for him.
“Thank you, Travis, for bringing it to me.” On impulse, she rose to her toes and kissed his cheek.
He stared down at her, and for a moment Adelia thought she saw some hesitation, some indecision, flicker in his eyes before his features relaxed into a smile.
“You’re welcome, Dee. Bring it along—it suits you.” Taking the key from her hand, he placed it in his pocket and led her to the elevator.
The celebration dinner was a new experience for Adelia. The elegant restaurant, the unaccustomed dishes, and her first encounter with champagne combined to give her a glowing sense of unreality. The tension brought on by the few moments alone with Travis was dispelled by his casually friendly attitude during the meal. It was almostas though the awareness that had passed between them had never taken place. The evening drifted by in a haze of happiness.
The following week, however, found her back in Maryland in jeans and cap, busily fulfilling her duties and thrusting elegant meals and fancy dresses from her mind. Long hours of grooming, exercising, and training filled the days, giving her little time to dwell on the strange new emotions Travis had aroused. She avoided the reporters who were often hovering around the track and stables, not wishing to be cornered again and bombarded with questions. At night, however, she was less successful in avoiding the dreams that assaulted her awakened senses.
Days passed into weeks, and although Adelia gave all the Thoroughbreds love and attention, she continued to dote on Majesty.
“Don’t forget yourself just because you’ve had your picture in some fancy magazines,” she admonished him, failing to keep her voice stern as she completed his grooming.
Paddy strolled into the stables and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Keeping him in line, are you, little Dee? Don’t want him too big for his breeches, do we?”
“That we don’t.” Turning, she smiled at her uncle, then studied him carefully. “You look tired, Uncle Paddy. Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m fine, Dee, just fine.” He patted her rosy cheek andwinked at her. “I think I’ll sleep for a week when the Belmont’s come and gone.”
