Page 68 of Irish Rose
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“You don’t expect me to miss my first Derby? I know what the doctor said, but—”
“Then you’ll know you’re not getting up from that bed for twenty-four hours. Don’t be stupid.”
She opened her mouth, then firmly shut it again. She wouldn’t argue with him. She’d been close to death, and that made a person think about how much time was wasted on pettiness. “You’re right, of course. I’ll just sit here and be pampered while I watch on television.” Why didn’t he come to her? Why didn’t he hold her? Erin kept her lips curved as he turned again to stare out the window. “You’d better be on your way.”
“Where?”
“To the track, of course. It’s nearly noon. You’ve already missed the morning.”
“I’m staying here.”
Her heart did a quick flip, but she shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You can’t miss this. If I’m to be shut up here it’s bad enough. At least I can have the pleasure of watching you step into the winner’s circle. There’s nothing for you to do here.”
He thought of how helpless he’d felt through the night. Of how helpless he felt now. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”
“Then off with you,” she told him, forcing her voice to be light.
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands over his face.
“And I don’t want to see you back here until you’ve had some rest.”
She lifted her face for a kiss, but his lips only brushed over her brow. “See you later.”
“Burke.” He was already out of reach. “You’re going to win.”
With a nod, he closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, almost too exhausted to stand, far too exhausted to think. He didn’t give a damn about the Derby or any other race. All he could see, playing over and over in his mind, was Erin curled in the corner of that van, cringing away from him.
She’d bounced back, smiling and talking as though nothing had happened. But he could still see the white bandages on her wrists.
He was afraid to touch her, afraid she’d cringe away again. Or, if she didn’t, that he’d hurt her. He was afraid to look at her too long because he’d see that glazed shock in her eyes again. He was afraid that if he didn’t gather her close, keep her close, that she’d slip away from him, that he would lose her as he’d nearly lost her only hours before.
But she was urging him to go, telling him she didn’t need him beside her. All she needed was a win, a blanket of red roses and a trophy. He’d damn well give them to her.
She hadn’t realized she would be nervous. But even watching the preliminaries, the interviews, the discussions on television, kept her pulse racing. When she saw Burke caught by the cameras as he stepped out of the stables, she laughed and hugged her pillow. Oh, if she could just be there with him, holding on. But he avoided the reporter, leaving Erin disappointed.
She’d wanted to hear him, to see his face on the screen so that they could laugh about it later.
Then it was the reporter facing the camera, recounting the story that had unfolded since the Bluegrass Stakes. It pleased her to hear that Burke’s name had been cleared absolutely and that Double Bluff was considered the favorite in the Run for the Roses.
She listened, trying to be dispassionate as he talked about her kidnapping and Durnam’s arrest. The groom had been picked up sleeping off a bottle in a stall. Apparently it hadn’t taken much encouragement for him to spill the entire story. There were pictures of the van, with its broken door and police barriers, that she had to force herself to look at.
It almost amused her to be told that she was resting comfortably. Somehow the reporter made it all sound like a grand adventure, something out of a mystery novel—the lady in distress, the villain and the hero. She wrinkled her nose. However much she might consider Burke a hero, she didn’t care to think of herself as a lady in distress.
She let it pass as she watched the horses being spotlighted as they were led from the paddock. There was Double Bluff, as big and as handsome as ever. Double Bluff, the three-year-old from Three Aces. Owners Burke and Erin Logan. She smiled at that. Though of course it was Burke’s horse and the news people had made a mistake, it still gave her a good feeling to see her name flash on the screen with Burke’s.
She laughed at herself again because her palms were getting sweaty. The track was just as she’d known it would be, filled to capacity. The camera panned over Dorothy Gainsfield. Erin gave herself the satisfaction of sticking out her tongue.
Then it focused on Burke, and her heart broke a little. He looked so tired. Worn to the bone. That was why he’d been so distant before. The man was exhausted. When he’d rested and had time to get his bearings, things would be right again.
“I love you, Burke,” she told him, rubbing her cheek against the pillow. “Loving you is what got me through.”
Then the screen flashed back to the horses. It was nearly post time.
There was the blare of the trumpet and the roar of the crowd. Again Erin found herself tempted to jump out of bed and hurry to the track. If it hadn’t been for the baby, she would have ignored the doctor and done just that. Instead she forced herself to be patient.
“We’ll go to our first Derby together,” she murmured as she placed a hand on her stomach. “Next year, the three of us will go.”
