Page 32 of Irish Rose
Instead of answering, he glanced around and spotted it folded on a chair. “Put this on,” he told her. Then, even as he thrust it at her, he began to walk.
“A fine thing,” Erin began breathlessly as he pulled her down the hall. “Interrupting my work in the middle of the day, dragging me off without any explanation. Just because you pay me, Burke Logan, doesn’t mean I have to jump at your bidding. An employee has rights in this country. Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you about my paid holidays.”
“You learn fast,” he muttered as he pushed the door open.
“If you don’t let go of my arm, I won’t be able to put it in my coat.” When he did, Erin rammed her arm in the sleeve but left the coat unbuttoned. “Sure and it’s a fine day. The ground’s a bit of a mess with the snow melting, but that’s all the better for spring growing. If that was all you wanted to show me, I’ll go back to work.”
She managed to hiss out a protest when he grabbed her arm and began walking again.
“Burke, what the devil’s got into you? If there’s something you want me to do or see, fine, but there’s no need to strong arm me.”
“How long have you been working for me?”
“Three weeks.” Giving up, Erin matched her stride to his.
“And in three weeks you’ve barely poked your head out of the office.”
“I work in the office,” she reminded him.
“Did it ever occur to you that you can’t understand the work if you’ve never looked at where the money comes from or where it goes?”
“I thought that’s why we went to the races.”
“There’s more to this place than one race.”
“Why do I have to understand as long as the figures tally?”
He wasn’t sure of the answer himself, but he knew he wanted her to see what was his, to understand it, to move closer to it.
Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she glanced up at him. His profile was set, and she thought she detected a shadow in his eyes. “Is there something troubling you?”
“No.” He said it sharply, almost defensively, then made himself relax. “No, nothing.” Except the need tethered tight inside him that strained hard at the scent of her. What the hell was happening to a man who could only think of one woman, of one voice, of one taste?
She continued to walk beside him in silence, but she noticed the crocuses—big fat purple ones that pushed their way up through the soggy ground, unmindful of the patches of snow. She saw the way the land sloped, the way the sun slanted over it. And she saw the stables, with their white wood gleaming in the sunlight. She saw the checkerboard of paddocks and the long oval track where even now a horse was being ridden.
“Why, it’s lovely,” she murmured. “Like something out of a book. You must be proud that it’s yours.”
He wasn’t sure he had been, but he stopped and looked out as she did. He’d won it fairly, but then he’d won and lost a great deal in his life. It had never been his intention to stay, but rather reorganize so that the gamble paid off. He’d come into this knowing little about horses and nothing about racing or breeding, and had told himself he’d better learn in order to turn a true profit.
That had been four years ago, and he was still here. Looking out with Erin beside him, he began to understand why. It was lovely, it was his, and it was and would always be a gamble.
Keeping Erin’s hand in his, he began to walk again. “We’ve got thirty horses, two of which are studs that do nothing but please the ladies.”
“And themselves,” Erin added.
“Two of the mares just foaled, and we’ve two more that are due any day. Nearly half of what’s left are being trained for next year. At the moment I’ve got five prime two-year-olds and a few veterans that have another season or two in them before they go out to stud or retirement. There, you see the horse being exercised now? That’s one of the pair I picked up in Ireland.”
Erin looked back at the track. The rider was up in the stirrups and bent low, but he earned no more than a glance. The horse was magnificent, a chestnut with a slash down his face like white lightning. Already his legs were spreading out in a rhythm that picked up speed and pounded on the soggy track.
“He’s fast.”
“And mean as hell.”
“That would be the one that kicked you.” Erin looked back again. Beautiful he might be, but she’d keep her distance. “If he’s bad-tempered, why did you buy him?”
“I liked his style.” As he started to walk again, Erin held back.
“I’d just as soon not be on closer acquaintance.”
