Page 49 of Irish Rose
“Stop it.” He caught her as she stormed down the hall, but she only shook him off and kept going. “Damn it, Erin, you can touch whatever you like, just don’t clean it.”
“I can see it’s time we had the rules straight.” She pushed through the doors into the solarium. The heat was like a wall and suited her mood perfectly. “Touching and looking are allowed.”
“Stop acting like an idiot.”
“Me?” She turned on him and nearly upset a pot of geraniums. “It’s me who’s an idiot, is it? Out there it’s a fool I am and in here an idiot. Well, it wasn’t me who went into a rage because the floor was getting washed.”
“I thought you came here to get away from that, because you wanted more out of life than washing dishes.”
Slowly she nodded. “Aye, I came to America for that, but it’s not why I married you. Maybe I can handle others thinking I married you because of your money and your fine house, but not you. I told you yesterday that I loved you. Don’t you believe me?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his face and struggled for calm, for clear thinking, for the kind of controlled logic that had always brought him out on top of any game he chose. “Why does it matter?”
She had to turn away because it hurt too much to face him. “I didn’t lie when I said it, but you can think whatever you like. It doesn’t matter at all.” Very deliberately she picked up a pottery bowl and sent it crashing to the tiles. “You needn’t worry, I won’t clean it up.”
“Are you finished?”
“I haven’t decided.” Crossing her arms, she stared at the clear water of the pool.
He put his hand on her shoulder. Perhaps she did love him a little. It would take a bigger fool than he to push her away. “My mother spent more than half of her life on her knees scrubbing other people’s floors. She was barely forty when she died. I don’t want you on your knees for anyone, Erin.”
When he started to draw his hand away, she clasped it in her own. “That’s the first thing you’ve trusted me with.” She turned to put her arms around him. “Don’t you see you’ll drive me mad if you shut me out?”
“You agreed to take me for what I am.”
“I have. I will. I do love you, Burke.”
“Then let me see you enjoy yourself.”
“But I am.” Tilting her head back, she grinned at him. “I like to fight.”
He ran a finger down her nose. “Then I’m glad to oblige you. Did you take that swim?”
“No, I had the books, and then I argued with Rosa for a while.”
“Busy day. Let’s take one now.”
“I can’t.”
“More arguing to do?”
“No, I’ve done with that, but I don’t want to swim.”
“Can’t you?”
Her chin angled as he’d expected. “Of course I can, but I don’t have a suit.”
“That’s okay.” Lifting her up, he walked to the edge as she giggled and shoved against him.
“You wouldn’t, and if you try, by God, you’ll go in with me.”
“I never intended it any other way.” They went in together, fully dressed.
Chapter Nine
Before she had been married a full month, Erin had taken trips to New York and Kentucky and back to Florida. She grew used to the look and feel of the racetracks, whether they were earthy or glamorous. She grew used to, but never less fascinated by, the people who inhabited them, from the young grooms still shiny with ambition to the older hands who lived from race to race and bet to bet.
The contrasts were a constant curiosity. From her box she could watch the other owners, their families and friends. Seersucker suits and picture hats. While against the rail, elbow to elbow, were the masses who came for the fun or the money. She learned that wagering had its own scent, often a desperate one, always a little sweaty. Away from the stands were the horses, the scales, the tack and the riders. Only a few who watched knew the thrill and the anxiety of ownership.
