Page 62 of Irish Rose
“Sure.”
“Burke?”
“Yeah?”
“Something wrong?”
His hands were cold. Ice-cold. “No, nothing. See you in a couple hours.”
They stayed cold as he drove from the track toward the hotel. It wasn’t like Erin to simply go off without a word. But then, they hadn’t been exchanging a great many words lately. His fault. He accepted that with a shrug. He didn’t feel right about her being there. And he hated seeing her brace herself against the gossip that would certainly swell before it diminished.
If she wasn’t so damn stubborn about maintaining a social position... but then, that was one of the things he’d promised her when they’d married. He couldn’t help but be grateful that she was sticking by him, whatever her reasons, but with gratitude came only more guilt and responsibility.
He was no fonder of responsibility now than he’d ever been. Maybe it would be a relief to head the car west and keep going. To start from scratch as he’d done so many times before. Nothing had ever held him back before. But then, there hadn’t been an Erin before.
Once the race and the scandal were behind them, they would talk. The air had to be cleared, the rules had to be reset. Maybe, just maybe, after it was all done, he’d tell her about his past. The way he’d grown up, the things he’d filled his life with. It was better to have it out, to make it clean now and let her walk away, than to continue waiting for her to find out for herself.
He’d never thought of his past as anything to be ashamed of. That was something else she’d done to him. She’d forced him to look back at his past a little too hard. And he didn’t like what he saw.
His mood hadn’t improved by the time he reached the hotel. He knew it was ridiculous for him to be angry with her for leaving the track when he’d demanded she leave altogether. But, damn it, she’d made him depend on her. The days were easier to get through when he knew he could look around and see her. He didn’t care for that, either.
By the time he walked into their suite, he was primed for a fight. It had been too long since they’d developed a polite veneer and no substance. He was going to shout at her and let her shout back. Then they’d both vent the rest of their frustrations in bed.
“Erin?” He slammed the door behind him, but had gone no farther than the center of the parlor before he knew she wasn’t there. And his hands were cold again.
Cursing himself, he walked into the bedroom. Had she left him? Had he pushed her away far enough, consistently enough, that she’d decided to take that final step? He didn’t want to lose her. That admission left him shaken as he reached for the closet door. No, he didn’t want to lose her any more than he wanted to need her.
He had to make himself pull open the door of the closet, and was nearly dizzy with relief when he saw her clothes undisturbed.
She’d gone shopping, he told himself. Or to have her hair done. But those thoughts didn’t relieve his mind as he closed the closet door.
He was pacing the suite nearly thirty minutes later when the phone rang. Burke pounced on it, ready to rail at her no matter what her explanation.
“Burke, it’s Travis.”
“Yeah?”
“Is Erin back at the hotel?”
“No.” And now his mouth was dry. “Why?”
“Lloyd Pentel just brought me her wedding ring. He found it on the floor in the stables.”
“What? The stables?” He was lowering himself into a chair, unaware that he’d moved at all. “That’s not right. She wouldn’t go in the stables. She’s afraid of horses.”
“Burke.” Travis kept his voice calm. “Has she been back to the hotel?”
“No, she hasn’t been here. I want to talk to Pentel.”
“I already have. He hasn’t seen her. Burke, we may be jumping the gun, but I think you should call the police.”
She’d lost track of the time. Once she’d thought the ropes had loosened, but had had to accept it as wishful thinking. More than her wrists hurt now. There were bumps and bruises all over from a fall she’d taken while trying to maneuver standing up. Because the fall had scared her badly with the thought of what might have happened to the baby, she no longer tried to stand. For a time she closed herself off and thought of Burke, as if she could will him to find her.
Would he be worried? Had enough time passed that he would begin to wonder where she was? Would he care? She may have prayed, then slept a little while, dreaming first of Ireland and the farm. Why had she wanted to leave so badly what had been safe and secure? Then she dreamed of Burke and knew that part of the answer was that she’d been meant for him.
“Mrs. Logan.”
Her body jackknifed as a hand touched her shoulder. The blindfold was loosened, and she had to blink and struggle to focus. In the dim light she made out the face of the groom, and panic flooded back. He’d come to kill her. And her baby.
