Page 33 of Irish Thoroughbred
He led her out through wide French doors and onto the smooth stone surface of the terrace. The sweet scent of plants and flowers filled the June evening. The sun still cast a warm golden light, scattering shadows on the stone.
“So, Dee,” he began, seating her in a striped cushioned chair and dropping down in an identical one across from her, “did you get everything you needed?”
“Everything?” she repeated. She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Never in my life have I ever seen so many clothes, much less put them on. Trying on this, taking off that.” Opening her eyes again, she met his wide smile with a look of disdain. “You won’t be smiling when you have to build another room to hold them all. Your sister is a stubborn woman, Travis Grant. She just kept tossing things at me and shoving me into dressing rooms. I couldn’t make her listen to reason.”
“I thought Trish might be helpful.”
“Helpful?” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “I felt like I was being blown about by a whirlwind. Packages growing like a great mountain, and Trish smiling and finding something else. She had a fine time,” she added, mystified.
“Yes, I imagine she did. I don’t see her having much trouble filling out your wardrobe.” He smiled at the picture and leaned back in his chair.
“Travis,” she began after a small pause, “whatever will I do with all those things?”
“You might try wearing them,” he suggested. “It’s the usual procedure.”
“That’s fine for a time. I understand I can’t go about in my old clothes with things as they are now. But after, when…” She stumbled and searched for the right words. “When things are back as they were before, I—”
“The clothes are yours, Adelia,” he interrupted with a quick gesture of his hand. “You’ll keep them whatever happens. I certainly have no use for them.” Rising, he paced the length of the terrace and stared out over the smooth expanse of lawn.
Adelia sat silently, concerned by his anger and bewildered over how she had caused it. She stood and approached him, laying a tentative hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Travis. That sounded ungrateful; I didn’t mean it to.Everything’s happening so fast. I don’t want to take advantage of what you’re doing for me.”
“One can hardly call it taking advantage when it’s like pulling teeth to get you to accept anything.” His shoulders moved and he turned to face her. “Adelia,” he said with a sigh somewhere between impatience and amusement, “you are so artless.”
She did not question the ambiguity of his words, so relieved was she that his anger had faded and he was smiling at her again.
“I have something for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small box. “My signet ring was fine in an emergency, but it looks big enough to fit on your wrist.”
“Oh.” She found nothing else to say as she opened the box and found a small band studded with winking diamonds and glowing emeralds.
He removed the large, masculine ring from her finger and replaced it with the jeweled wedding band. “I’d say that suits a bit better.”
“It fits,” she murmured inadequately, overcome with the longing to throw her arms around him and cry out her love.
“I’ve studied those hands enough to make an educated guess as to your ring size.” He spoke lightly and, dropping her hand, moved back to his chair.
Swallowing the obstruction in her throat, she followed him. “Travis.” She stood in front of his chair, feeling the strangeness of looking down at him. “Travis, you’re doingall the giving, and I have nothing for you. I want to… Is there nothing I can do for you? Is there nothing you want from me?”
He met her eyes with a long, unfathomable stare until she thought he would not speak at all. “For now, Dee,” he said at length, “the best thing you can do for me is to accept what’s given and not question it.”
She sighed at his answer. “All right, Travis, if it pleasures you.”
He stood and took her hand, a finger running over her wedding band. “Yes, it pleasures me. Come inside and we’ll eat, and I’ll tell you how Majesty sulked for you today.”
The next two weeks passed quickly, Adelia’s days full between the hospital and the stables. Paddy was moved into a regular hospital room. No longer attached to machines, he improved daily, complaining vigorously about being stuck in bed and poked with needles. The easy friendliness of the men at the stables and the soothing routine of riding and grooming brought a sense of normalcy back to Adelia’s life, and at times she almost forgot she was Mrs. Travis Grant.
Travis was kind and casually affectionate, speaking of Paddy’s recovery and on the general topic of horses when they took meals together. He left Adelia free to pursue whatever project she chose, making no demands, his attitude tolerant, generous, and distant. She was aware of a subtle change in their relationship, and she found it did not please her. He never raised his voice or criticized, and he never touched her in any way unless strictly necessary. She wished fervently that he would yell at her or shake her, or do something to lose his cool, composed manner. Their relationship was now far less personal than it had been when they had been employer and employee.
She was returning to the house one afternoon, wondering if Travis had returned from a business appointment, when she stopped and gaped at a large, dirty gray mound of fur exploring a bed of marigolds. After a careful study, she concluded that under the grubby fur was a dog of rather alarming size.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said in a quiet voice that had the dog’s head jerking up. “Now, don’t be running off. I won’t hurt you.” The dog hesitated, eyeing her warily, and she kept the distance between them and continued to speak. “It’s just that I’ve seen Travis’s gardener—a terrifying man he is. And one that wouldn’t take kindly to anyone digging at his flowers.” She crouched down, and they studied each other eye to eye. “Are you lost, then, or just roaming? I can see by your eyes you’re hungry, I’ve been hungry myself a time or two. Wait here,” she ordered and stood. “I’ll fetch you something.”
Entering the kitchen, she commandeered a large hunk of roast beef. The whine of the vacuum cleaner was audible from the living room, and, deciding it would befoolish to disturb Hannah and vowing to apologize to her after the deed was done, Adelia slipped back outside.
“It’s prime beef, my lad, and from the looks of you, you’ve not seen its kind before.” She placed the offering on the grass and stepped back a few paces.
He came forward slowly at first, eyes shifting from the beef to his benefactor until either his confidence or his hunger grew and he threw himself on the unexpected meal. She watched him polish off what would have fed three hungry men, finding enormous pleasure in his appetite.
“Well, now, you’ve made a pig of yourself, and that’s the truth, and you don’t look a bit ashamed.” She grinned and watched the long tail thump in agreement. “Pleased with yourself, are you?” Before she could move, she found herself flat on her back, trapped under a hundred pounds of appreciation, her face being drenched by a large wet tongue. “Get off me, you great hairy brute!” Laughing, she pushed to no avail and tried to turn her face from the moisture. “Surely there’s not a rib that’s not cracked, and it’s God’s truth you’ve not had a bath since the day you were born.”
