Page 69 of Irish Rebel
“I’ve got to go check on Betty, make sure she’s transported back to the farm.”
“If you run into any of my family, tell them where I am, will you?”
“I will. He’s had his moment in the sun, hasn’t he?” Brian murmured.
Keeley set the brush down, crossing over as Brian opened the stall door. “You’ve had quite a day, Donnelly.”
“I have. I don’t know when there’s been another like it.”
She put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “There’ll be more.” For all of us. She tipped back her head. “We’ll make more,” she promised as she raised her mouth to his.
He could have lost himself in her. It was so easy when he was holding her to slip away from the moment and into the dream.
“You’re neglecting your horse.” He rested his cheek against hers, closed his eyes. “I’ll come back for you.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
But he didn’t move, only stood with her gathered close while the love inside him pulsed like light. Then he drew back, taking both of her hands and bringing them to his lips. “Don’t forget to give him apples. He’s fond of them.”
“Yes, I know.” It felt as though her heart were shaking. “Brian—”
“I’ll be back,” he said and strode away before the words rising into his throat could be spoken.
“Something’s changed,” Keeley whispered. “I felt it.” She pressed her hands, still warm from his, to her heart. “Oh, it’s been a hell of a day. And it’s not over yet.” She swung back into the stall where Finnegan stood, watching her patiently. “He loves me. He just can’t get his tongue around the words yet, but he loves me. I know it.”
She picked up the dandy brush again. “We’re going to cross another finish line before the day’s over. I’ve got to make myself beautiful. We’ll have candlelight and wine, and...”
She trailed off as she heard the stall door open again. Thinking it was Brian come back, she turned. Her brilliant smile faded into ice when she saw Tarmack.
“You think you pulled a fast one, don’t you?”
“You’re not welcome here.”
“Snatched this horse out from under me. No better than a horse thief. Figure you can get away with it ’cause you’re a Grant.”
“You were paid your asking price.” She spoke coolly. She caught the stink of too much whiskey on his breath. And so, she thought, did Finnegan. The horse was beginning to quiver. Calmly, she hooked her hand in his bridle. “If you have a complaint, take it up with the Racing Commission.”
“So your father can pay them off?”
Her head came up. Her eyes went from ice to fire. “Be careful what you say about my father.”
“I’ll say what I want to say.” He moved in, his eyes glazed and mean from drinking. “Cheats, all of you, looking down on those of us just trying to make a living. Stole this horse from me.” He jabbed a finger into her shoulder. “Said he wasn’t fit to run.”
“And he wasn’t.” She wasn’t afraid. There were people around, she thought quickly. She had only to call out. But a Grant didn’t cry for help at the first tussle. She could deal with a drunk and pitiful bully.
“Fit to run for you, though. To run and win. That purse is mine by rights.”
It was only the money, she thought. Just as Brian said, with some, it was all facts and figures, and no feeling. “You’ve got all the money out of me you’ll get.” She turned away to brush the gelding. “Now I suggest you leave before I file a complaint.”
“Don’t you turn your back on me, you little bitch.”
It was shock as much as pain that had Keeley gasping when he grabbed her arm and dragged her around. When she tried to jerk free, the sleeve of her shirt tore at the shoulder. Beside her, Finnegan whinnied nervously and shied.
“You look at me when I talk to you. You think you’re better than me.” He shoved her back against the gelding’s side, then yanked her forward again. “You think you’re special ’cause your daddy’s rolling in money.”
“I think,” Keeley said with deceptive calm, “that you’d better take your hands off me.” She reached in her pocket, closed her fingers, and they were rock steady, around a hoof pick.
It happened fast, a blur of motion and sound. Even as she tugged the makeshift defense free, Finnegan whipped his head and bit Tarmack’s shoulder. For the second time Tarmack rapped her hard against the solid wall of the gelding’s side, and as he drew back his fist she shouted, leaping to block it from connecting with Finnegan’s head.
