Page 10 of Irish Rebel
“Hah” was all she said to that. “Would you have coffee, Brian, or tea?”
“Tea, thank you.”
“Sit.” She pointed to a chair, then shifted the finger to her son. “You, go. I’ll finish with you later.”
“I’ll be at the stables, doing penance.” With a heavy sigh, Patrick rose, then he wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist, laid his chin on top of her head. “Sorry.”
“Get.”
But Brian saw her lay a hand over Patrick’s, and squeeze. With a quick grin tossed to the room in general, he bolted.
“That boy’s responsible for every other line on my face,” Adelia muttered.
“What lines?” Travis asked, and made her laugh.
“That’s the right answer. So, Brian, does Royal Meadows suit you?”
After drying his hands, he crossed to the table to sit. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, we’re not so very formal around here. You don’t have to ma’am me. Unless you’re in trouble.” She poured tea for him, and coffee for Travis, then stayed where she was, her free hand resting on her husband’s shoulder.
“How did Zeus do this morning?”
“Took the oval in a minute-fifty flat.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.” She turned back to the stove to heap golden bread onto a platter.
“I’ll offer you a one-year contract,” Travis began.
“Can’t you let the boy eat before you talk business?”
“The boy wants to know.”
Brian took the platter, transferred three slices to his plate. “Yes, he does.”
“You’ll have a guaranteed annual salary.” Travis named an amount that had Brian struggling not to bobble the syrup. “And, after two months, a two percent share of each purse. In six months, we’ll renegotiate that percentage.”
“We’ll negotiate it up.” Steady again, Brian cut into his breakfast. “Because I promise you, I’ll have earned it.”
They discussed—haggled a bit for form’s sake—responsibilities, benefits, bonuses, duties.
Brian was on his second serving of toast, and Travis the last of his coffee, when Keeley came in.
She wore buff-colored jodhpurs. Elegant and form-fitting. Her high black boots were shined like dark mirrors. Her white blouse draped soft with its wide collar buttoned high. She had tamed her hair into a sleek twist that left her face unframed. Small, complicated twists of gold glinted at her ears.
Her brow lifted at the sight of Brian eating breakfast in her kitchen, and her mouth thinned before it moved into a cool, practiced smile. “Good morning, Mr. Donnelly.”
“Miss Grant.”
“I’m pressed for time this morning.” She walked to her father, bent down, and rubbed her cheek against his.
“You should eat,” her mother told her.
“I’ll get something later.” She went to the refrigerator, took out a soft drink. “I’ll be done in a couple of hours.” She went to her mother, bending first to scratch Sheamus on the top of the head, then in the same manner she’d used with her father, rubbed cheeks with Adelia before she headed out the back door.
“I’ll come down in a bit,” Adelia called after her. “I’d like to watch.”
Twenty minutes later, Brian walked from the house toward the trainer’s quarters. He saw Keeley in the paddock in front of the small building. She sat astride a black gelding. As she walked the horse, a man photographed her from various angles.
