Page 73 of Irish Rebel
Now that her own temper was fired, she curled her hand into a fist and used it to thump his chest. “I was defending myself just fine.”
“You half-Irish, stiff-necked birdbrain, he’s twice your size and then some.”
“I was handling it, but I appreciate your help.”
“The hell you do. It’s just like with everything else. You’ve got to do it all yourself, No one’s as smart as you, or as clever, or as capable. Oh it’s fine to give me a whistle if you need a diversion.”
“Is that what you think?” She was so livid her voice was barely a croak. “That I make love with you for a diversion? You vile, insulting, disgusting son of a bitch.”
She raised her own fists, and might have used them, but Travis stepped in and gripped Brian by the shirt. His voice was quiet, almost matter-of-fact. “I ought to take you apart.”
“Oh, Travis.” Adelia merely pressed her fingers to her eyes.
“Dad, don’t you dare.” At wit’s end, Keeley threw up her hands. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we all just beat each other senseless today and be done with it?”
“You’ve a right.” Brian kept his eyes on Travis’s and kept hands at his sides.
“The hell he does. I’m a grown woman. A grown woman,” she repeated rapping a fist lightly on her father’s arm. “And I threw myself at him.”
She gained some perverse satisfaction when her father turned that frigid stare on her. “That’s right.I threwmyself at him. I wanted him, I went to him, and I seduced him. Now what? Am I grounded?”
“It doesn’t matter how it happened. I was experienced, and she wasn’t. I’d no right to touch her, and I knew it. In your place I’d be doing some pounding of my own.”
“No one’s doing any pounding.” Adelia moved forward, laid a hand on Travis’s arm. “Darling, are you blind? Can’t you see what’s between them? Now let the boy go. You know damn well he’ll stand there and let you pummel him, and you’d get no satisfaction from it.”
No, Travis wasn’t blind. Looking in Brian’s eyes he saw his life shift. His baby, his little girl, had become someone else’s woman. The someone else, he noted, looked about as miserable and baffled by the whole business as he felt himself. “What do you intend to do?”
“I can be gone within the hour.”
Amusement was bittersweet. “Can you?”
“Yes, sir.” For the first time he knew he’d never pack all he needed, all he wanted into his bag. “Reivers is capable enough to hold you until you find another trainer.”
Stubborn Irish pride, Travis thought. Well, he’d had a lifetime of experience on how to handle it. “I’ll let you know when you’re fired, Donnelly. Dee, we still have that shotgun up at the house, don’t we?”
“Oh, aye,” she said without missing a beat. And wondered if she’d ever been more proud of the man she’d married, or had ever loved him more. “I believe I could lay my hands on it.”
Yes, amusement was bittersweet, Travis thought as he watched every ounce of color drain from Brian’s face. “Good to know. It’s always pleased me that my children recognize and appreciate quality.” He released Brian, turned to Keeley. “We’ll talk later.”
Tears were threatening again as she watched her parents walk off, saw her father reach for her mother’s hand, forge that link that had always held strong.
“I’ve competed for a lot of things,” she said quietly. “Worked for a lot of things, wanted a lot of things. But underneath it all, what they have has always been the goal.” She turned as Brian walked unsteadily to the steps and sat down. “He won’t shoot you, Brian, if you decide you still need to run.”
It wasn’t the shotgun that worried him, but the implication of it. “I think the lot of you are confused. It’s been an emotional day.”
“Yes, it has.”
“I know who I am, Keeley. The second son of not-quite-middle-class parents who are one generation out of poverty. My father liked the drink and the horses a bit too much, and my mother was dead-tired most of the time. We got by is all, then got on. I know what I am,” he continued. “I’m a damn good trainer of racehorses. I’ve never stayed in one job, in one spot, more than three years. If you do, it might take hold of you. I never wanted to find myself fenced in.”
“And I’m fencing you in.”
He looked up then with eyes both weary and wary. “You could. Then where would you be?”
“Talk about birdbrains.” She sighed, then walked over to him. “I know who I am, Brian. I’m the oldest daughter of beautiful parents. I’ve been privileged, brought up in a home full of love. I’ve had advantages.”
She lifted a hand when he said nothing, and brushed at the hair that tumbled over his forehead. “I know what I am. I’m a damn good riding teacher, and I’m rooted here. I can make a difference here, have been making one. But I realize I don’t want to do it alone. I want to fence you in, Brian,” she murmured, framing his face with her hands. “I’ve been hammering at that damn fence for weeks. Ever since I realized I was in love with you.”
His hands came to her wrists, squeezed reflexively, before he got quickly to his feet. “You’re mixing things up.” Panic arrowed straight into his heart. “I told you sex complicates things.”
