Page 60 of Irish Rose
“She’s worried about you,” Travis murmured as Erin walked away from the stands.
“I’d prefer she didn’t. What I’d prefer is that she went back to the Three Aces until this is cleared up.”
“If you’d wanted a quiet, obedient wife, you shouldn’t have picked an Irish one.”
Burke pulled out a cigar and contemplated it. “How many times have you been tempted to throttle Dee?”
“In the last seven years or in the last week?”
For the first time in days, Burke smiled and meant it. “Never mind. Do me a favor and keep an eye on her, will you? I don’t think she’s feeling well.”
“You could try talking to her yourself.”
“I’m not much good at talk. I’d like you to take her back with you after the race tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you coming back?”
“I might have to stay in Kentucky a few more days.”
“Got a lead?”
“A hunch.” He lit the cigar and blew out smoke. “Trouble is the racing commission likes proof.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He hesitated, only because it still seemed unnatural to confide in another. “Yeah. You got a few minutes?”
Erin wasn’t sure why she felt the sudden need, but she walked toward the stables. Maybe if she could prove to herself that she was strong and capable, Burke would begin to believe it. She’d faced the gossip, she’d stood tall against the innuendos. She’d held her own. But there was one thing she’d yet to face, one fear she’d yet to vanquish. So she would do it. Then, tomorrow, she would walk easily beside Burke into Double Bluff’s stall, and she would stand beside him without a quiver in the winner’s circle.
Three yards from the stables, she stopped to give herself another lecture. It was foolish to be afraid after all this time. It was useless to cling to a feeling that had been caused years before by an accident. She’d been around animals all her life. Married to Burke, she would continue to be around them. And the child... She rested a hand on her stomach. Her child would be raised without fear of his inheritance.
She would walk in alone. Then, tomorrow, even if Burke wished her to hell and back, she would walk in beside him.
She went closer. The scents were there—the hay, the sweet smell of grain, the pungent smell of horse and sweat. The sounds, too—hooves scraping over concrete, harness jingling, the sighs and lazy whinnies of horses at rest. She’d be quiet and go carefully, remembering that each step was one step closer.
The light changed almost from the moment she stepped inside. It was dimmer, softer, and now there was the scent of leather as well.
Most of the horses had already been exercised, and the grooms were indulging in their own breakfasts before it came time to brush and rub and wrap. She’d chosen this time, the least busy time, so that if she bolted no one would see.
But she didn’t bolt. One of the horses dipped its head over the gate and she jumped a little, but she stood her ground. She could touch him, Erin told herself. The gate was latched. She could lay her hand on him just as easily as she had with Burke’s foal.
Her fingers trembled a little, but she laid them gingerly against the horse’s cheek. He eyed her, but when he shifted his weight she jerked back.
“I’ll have to do better than that,” she muttered, then laid her hand more firmly on his neck. Her palm was damp and she didn’t move a muscle, but she felt a little thrill of victory.
He was a fine-looking animal, she told herself as she made her hand move just a little over his neck. It was the Pentel colt, one she’d seen race nearly as often as she’d seen Bluff.
“There, now,” she managed with a sigh. “It’s not so bad. My heart’s thumping, but I’m here.” I’m here, she repeated silently, and I’m coming back every day. Each time it would be a little easier. She drew her hand back, then made herself reach out again. And it was easier. Just as it would become easier to face and overcome her insecurities with Burke. She wasn’t going to go through life being cowed and miserable because her husband was too stubborn to accept her love and her support. She might have taken him the way he was, but there would be some changes made. And soon.
When she heard voices, she drew her hand back again, embarrassed. She didn’t want one of the grooms wandering in to find her. She didn’t think she was quite ready to stand in the stables and hold a conversation. Erin wiped her damp palm on her slacks and fixed a casual smile on her face.
She’d started out when the tone of the voices stopped her. There was anger in them and, though they remained quiet, more than a little desperation. Because she hesitated, she had time to recognize one of them.
“If you want your money, you’ll find a way.”
“I tell you the horse isn’t alone for five minutes. Logan’s got him locked up like the crown jewels.”
Erin’s lips parted, then firmed. She took a step back into the shadows and listened.
