Legends Lake

by JoAnn Ross

  Kate had proven true to her word. Ever since the race on the beach, she’d been letting Zoe work with the horse, walking it after his morning workouts, currying it; yesterday she’d even let Zoe saddle him for his breezing. Alec had worried about that, but Kate had assured him everything would be fine. Which it was.

  The one thing Zoe had been secretly wanting to do, but hadn’t dared ask, suspecting that Alec’s answer would be a flat “no,” was ride Legends Lake.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts, the colt tossed his head. Come on, he seemed to be saying. The world’s still asleep, there’s only you and I up and about and sure, it’s a grand morning for a run.

  Zoe didn’t hesitate. She threw on the Santa Anita sweatshirt she’d filched from Alec for working in the barn, tugged a pair of jeans over her hips and a heavy pair of striped wool socks onto her feet, then crept downstairs, avoiding the stair she’d discovered squeaked. The boots Kate had loaned her were by the kitchen door. She pulled them on, grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from the bowl in the center of the table, then, holding her breath, left the kitchen and went out into the soft day.

  As she practically tiptoed toward the pasture, Legends Lake came trotting toward her; they met at the white fence.

  “Hi.” He pushed his nose against the front of her sweatshirt, searching for the treat she always brought him. “You big baby.” She held out the sugar cube, which his large yellow teeth nipped with amazing delicacy from her open palm. She stroked his long face. “How would you like to go for a run?”

  She’d said the magic words. His ears lifted. He tossed his lush mane and whinnied what Zoe took for an answer.

  “Shhh.” She touched her fingertips to his velvety nose. “It’s got to be our secret.”

  He nodded slowly, soberly, as if he understood her perfectly. Then stood as still as a stone as she climbed up on the fence, and half climbed, half threw herself, onto his back.

  Unfortunately, she overestimated the force needed and slid back down the other side, landing in an ungraceful heap on the wet grass.

  He snorted, but remained still so as not to step on her.

  “You don’t have to laugh,” she muttered, pushing herself to her feet. She glanced around and was relieved to see that the house—and Alec’s windows over the barn—were still dark, which meant that no one had witnessed her fall. She considered going into the barn to get the saddle and tack, but worried that by then Kate, who seemed to get up with the sun, would be awake.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden a horse and I’m not going to be as good as Kate. But you’re just going to have to adapt.”

  Zoe climbed up on the fence again. “Now hold still.”

  She grabbed hold of the silky mane and held on tight, this time managing to stay put. “Good boy.”

  She’d forgotten how tall a horse could be. It was a little scary up here. Remembering how Alec had soothed her fears the first time he’d put her on the back of that mare he’d bought her so many years ago, she leaned down and patted Legends Lake’s neck. Then fisted her hands in his mane and took a deep breath.

  “Okay, let’s go for it.”

  And go for it, they did. Zoe bent low and pressed her knees against the racehorse’s sides, the way Alec had taught her. The sea breeze ruffled Legends Lake’s mane and her short hair and as they ran together—horse and girl—in the misty dawn, over emerald fields, Zoe felt as free as the birds that were beginning to sing their morning songs. The air from the colt’s wide nostrils looked like puffs of smoke.

  “Dragon smoke,” Zoe decided fancifully. And for the first time in a very long while, she laughed.

  Kate woke early. Partly because it was her custom, and partly because some deep-seated maternal instinct responded to her desire to keep the children from knowing where she’d spent the night. In truth, she didn’t want to leave the warmth of this bed and the glorious comfort of Alec’s arms. But responsibility called.

  They were curled up together like two spoons in her cutlery drawer. She’d known people slept this way, but had never experienced the pleasure herself. In a way, it was like when he’d filled her last night, making them seem like two individual parts of a perfect whole.

  Sighing with regret, she lifted his arm, which was lying heavily, but not uncomfortably so, across her breasts. He muttered a complaint, then, without waking, rolled over onto his back. Kate slipped from the bed and found the clothes he’d brought her lying on the chair. She lifted a brow and smiled when she realized he’d left the bra back in her underwear drawer.

  She was about to pull on her sweater, when she saw the green T-shirt hanging on the top edge of a framed photograph Michael had taken of Jamie and Brigid beside the lake. That was strange. She vaguely remembered Alec taking the shirt off her, remembered how it had seemed to dissolve, as if by magic. Considering how far he’d flung it, Kate now realized how much control he must have utilized in order to keep his touch and his kisses so blissfully soft and unthreatening. Unlike Cadel, who’d never given a thought to her comfort or pleasure.

  Even Andrew Sinclair, Jamie’s father, who’d introduced her to passion, had been more interested in satisfying his own needs than pleasuring her. When the dashing American horse trainer had passed through Castlelough on his way to the Irish Derby at the Curragh in County Kildare, she’d been only a bit older than poor confused Zoe.

  Looking back on it now, Kate could not fault the naive country girl she’d been for being thrilled that such a man had chosen her, out of all the girls in Ireland, to warm his bed. The moment she’d sensed him staring at her across the Irish Rose, she’d felt as if her heart had sprouted wings and flown straightaway out of her breast. Sure that only love could make her feel so deliciously warm and damp in those private places that were never discussed in polite company, Kate had not hesitated to go on a summer’s eve drive with him. And when he parked at the edge of the cliff and kissed her until she was breathless and so thrillingly, achingly needy, she hadn’t given two thoughts to accompanying him back to his room at the inn.

  Kate had come to realize that while the American had introduced her to the mechanics of sex, he’d taught her nothing about love. He’d never written, as he’d promised. Never dropped by the stud when he was in the country, which, given his occupation, she’d assumed he must be from time to time. For years, whenever she’d attend one of the larger, internationally known horse fairs, she’d surreptitiously keep on the lookout for him, fantasizing that he’d sweep her into his arms, declare himself thrilled to be a father, and rescue her from the war zone of her marriage.

  The years passed; memories faded. As Kate accepted the idea that she’d been little more than a pleasant diversion for the man, and learned to sleep in the cold and often harsh bed she’d foolishly made, there was not a single day that she wasn’t grateful for the son born of that stolen night.

  She plucked the T-shirt from the frame and, on impulse, pulled it over her head, covering it with her sweater. It would be her little secret, she decided. A private way of keeping Alec close by her all day long.

  Kate was in the kitchen, frying up a rasher of bacon and eggs for the children when he walked in. His eyes were heavy-lidded from lack of sleep, there was a sexy stubble of dark beard on his face, but the sparkle of moisture in his hair revealed that while he hadn’t shaved, he had showered.

  Kate could see him, hot water sluicing down his hard male body, looking outrageously sexy in the clouds of steam. She saw the curtain pull back, and there was herself with not a stitch on, her skin all rosy with desire and expectation. There was a buzzing somewhere in the room, like a trapped wasp trying to escape, but drawn by the seductive power of the man, Kate ignored it.

  He smiled a welcome. Pulled her into his arms, lifted her up, braced her against the tile wall and entered her with one strong, deep thrust.

  “Ma?” The buzzing proved to be Jamie talking to her.

  Kate blinked, clearing the vision. “What is it?” Her voice was a bit sh
arper than she’d meant it to be.

  “The bacon.” He nodded toward the iron skillet. “It’s burning.”

  “It’s well done,” she corrected, waving away a bit of smoke as she took the pan off the burner. “It’s healthier that way.”

  “I like black bacon,” Brigid assured her with a huge sweet smile. “It’s crunchy, like the outside of black marshmallows.”

  “Yuck,” Jamie said.

  “That’s the best kind,” Zoe entered into the argument. “When you stick them right into the flames and they’re all crunchy on the outside and soft and gooey on the inside.”

  “Aye.” Brigid enthusiastically nodded her bright head. “Gooey is the very best part.”

  “You’re both daft,” Jamie decided with a shake of his head. “Shall we have marshmallows at my birthday party?” he asked his mother.

  “I don’t see why not,” Kate agreed as she placed the plate of bacon in the middle of the table. “I’ll put them on my list.”

  “Good.” He nodded, pleased. “I like marshmallows. When they’re cooked the right way,” he tacked on as he bit into a piece of charred bacon.

  Kate smiled at that, glanced over at Alec and noticed that he was smiling as well. “Sit down and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.” She’d begun making it when he’d finally admitted he preferred it to tea but hadn’t wanted to make extra work for her.

  “Thanks.” He snatched a piece of bacon, crunched it and said, “Delicious.” But the way he was looking at her, the same way he had the last time they’d made love this morning, assured Kate he was not referring to the burned pork product.

  Brigid got down from her chair and without waiting for an invitation, went around the table and crawled up into Alec’s lap. “Jamie’s having a birthday.”

  “So I just heard.”

  “Will you be coming?”

  “I suppose that depends on if I’ll still be here in Ireland.”

  “You will,” Kate said quickly. Too quickly, she thought as she felt some embarrassed color rise in her face. Could she have sounded any more desperate?

  “It’s two days before the Castlelough May Day fair,” Jamie offered, hope blazing in his eyes.

  “Well, then, you can count on me.”

  “Will you bring a present?” Brigid asked. “Everyone has to.”

  “Bri!” Jamie turned beet red. “That’s not polite. Mr. MacKenna doesn’t have to buy me a present.”

  “I want to,” Alec assured him. “In fact, Zoe, maybe as the time gets closer, you and I can go shopping together in town.”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. We’ll make a day of it. Maybe have lunch at the pub.”

  That settled, the conversation returned to last night’s events, Nora Barnacle’s new foal. Kate was surprised by how easily it flowed, and how, after all those hours tangling the sheets with the MacKenna, she felt no discomfort or embarrassment. Indeed, having him here, in the heart of the house with her and their children, felt absolutely right, making her worry about what the Fates might have in store for her, to exact payment for so much happiness.

  24

  “SO,” NORA GALLAGHER SAID as she put her infant daughter down for a nap, “how are you getting along with your Yank these days?”

  “He’s not my …” Kate’s voice drifted off. She sighed even as she smiled down at the black-haired baby who was gazing up at her with those solemn blue eyes. “Do you remember when I asked you the same question about Quinn?”

  “Of course. We were having tea at O’Neill’s Chicken and Chips. I assured you that there was nothing at all going on between us, that he was only my boarder.”

  “Which was a lie.”

  “More of a sin of omission.”

  Kate laughed softly as she bent down to kiss the satiny pink cheek and inhaled the scent of warm milk and baby powder.

  They closed the door to the nursery that Nora had decorated for a princess and went downstairs to the bright, cheery farm kitchen. Since marrying Quinn Gallagher, Kate’s sister-in-law was undoubtedly one of the wealthiest women in all Ireland. But money hadn’t changed her. Other than Quinn’s office, where he wrote his internationally best-selling horror novels, the wonderful media room, and the nursery, the rest of the house Nora had grown up in hadn’t changed. It was still every bit as warm and inviting as its owner.

  “Alec isn’t really my Yank,” she said as she bit into an oatmeal biscuit still warm from the oven.

  “But you’d like him to be.” Nora poured tea into cups and placed them on the table. The older children were at school and Brigid was upstairs in the media room, happily watching The Little Mermaid for the umpteenth time.

  “Liking something, or wishing it were so, doesn’t make it true.”

  She took a sip. It was perfect. Like everything Nora did. If they hadn’t been best friends forever, if Nora wasn’t godmother to her children, Kate might, at times, become a bit envious.

  “There’s no way anything could come of it,” she told her sister-in-law what she’d been telling herself for days.

  “Isn’t that what I said?”

  “You were a widow and free to fall in love. I’m married.”

  “For the time being only,” Nora reminded her. “I also remember how, that day, you didn’t believe you could leave Cadel. You said you owed him loyalty for having married you when you were carrying Jamie.”

  “And didn’t I pay that debt, a thousand times over?”

  Nora patted her hand. “The important thing is that you’re out of a terrible situation. And you’re moving on with your life.”

  “Aye.”

  “May I ask you one thing?”

  “Aren’t you my best friend? There’s nothing we can’t say to one another.”

  “Do you love him? Your Yank?”

  “I tried not to. But I believe I just might.” Kate sighed and bit into another biscuit. “How can you not love a man who makes you fly?”

  “Fly?” There was a click of china as Nora lowered the cup that had been on the way to her lips back to the saucer. “Kate Fitzpatrick,” she said, refusing, as she’d done since the separation, to use Kate’s married name, “are you saying that you and Alec MacKenna have made love?”

  “It was probably sex on his part.” Kate was no longer the wide-eyed virgin who believed that every romance came with a happily-ever-after ending. “But whatever it was, it was wonderful.” Her lips twitched. “Every time.”

  “Every time? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “It was only last night. What would you have had me do? Pick up the phone in the office and ring you up right away and say, “I’ll be over at three for tea and biscuits, and by the way, I just discovered that multiple orgasms are no myth?”

  “Oh, they’re grand, indeed,” Nora agreed on a merry laugh. “And I can understand you not ringing me from bed, but you’ve been here for over an hour and we’ve only talked about your new foal, Legends Lake, and Jamie’s party.”

  “I wanted to tell you as soon as I walked in the door. To tell the truth, I wanted to stand on the rooftop this morning and shout it out to everyone in the county. But Brigid was with me, and while I believe children should be taught far more about sex than in our day, I felt that four years of age was a wee bit young to be learning that her mother can come by a man biting the back of her knee.”

  “No!” Nora’s hand went to her breast. She leaned forward, her eyes wide and fascinated. “Can you, really?”

  “I can. And did. Several times.” Kate had never felt so smug. “Alec believes I’m particularly sensitive there from all the years of riding horses.”

  “Well, that does it,” Nora decided. “I’m definitely going to be spending more time on that mare Quinn bought from you.”

  They laughed, enjoying the jest, enjoying each other.

  “Kate?”

  Nora’s eyes were moist.

  “Is something wrong?” It was not like her friend to weep. Indeed, despite having overcome the tr
agedy of being widowed, Nora was the most optimistic person Kate had ever known.

  “No.” Nora shook her auburn head, sniffed, and offered Kate a watery smile. “It’s just that I’m so happy for you.”

  Kate felt her own eyes mist as she smiled back. “I’m happy for me, too.”

  Kate had always been easily able to compartmentalize. Wasn’t it the only way she’d survived her marriage, after all? In her work she was required to live in not only the present, but the past and future, as well. How else to determine what stallion and dam to bring together, melding the best of them both in hopes of creating the next Red Rum or Arkle, whose bones were on display at the National Stud.

  In her personal life, she’d learned to live not only day by day, but often minute by minute. Cadel had never been an easy man, but there were those weeks, and even months, when the worst she could say about him was that he had an unfortunate fondness for the bottle, an aversion to work and a sour disposition he appeared to have been born with, which he’d managed to conceal from her that day he’d suggested rescuing her from the plight of unmarried motherhood.

  But his moods could turn on a dime, which was why she’d spent the years until his leaving tiptoeing on eggshells. She’d never looked toward the future because having to face the prospect of spending the rest of her days with such a man would have ground her natural optimism down to dust.

  She couldn’t have imagined that such behavior could prove useful in love, but it did. It allowed her not to look forward to when the time would come—which it must—for Alec to leave Ireland and return home with Legends Lake.

  Her days were spent with her usual work, along with breezing Legends Lake, who was becoming less whip nervous with each session. Despite what she secretly admitted was a less than stunning outer package, he definitely had championship potential.