Adelaide, the Enchantress

by Kay Hooper

  And there were innocuous subjects to discuss as they unhitched the borrowed trailer from the borrowed truck and drove to their hotel. They even managed to be reasonably composed while checking into the hotel and settling into their rooms. When Shane came to take Addie to dinner sometime later, she rather dimly surprised herself by boldly pulling him into her room.

  For the first time since that morning, Shane’s polite mask cracked.

  Feeling peculiarly giddy, Addie gave him a shove that unbalanced him. “I’m not pushing you,” she said untruthfully, sitting beside him on the bed. “But if I have to make one more damned stupid polite remark, I’ll scream!”

  “I know, I know. But I can’t make any promises, Addie.”

  “Then don’t.” She smiled at him, unknowingly bewitching. “Just don’t treat me like a stranger.”

  Shane’s nostrils flared, and his voice dropped to the deep, cracked sound of an ancient bell. “A stranger? I’ve never felt like this about a stranger, Addie. I’ve never felt this aching need to touch and go on touching….” His hand rose to brush a strand of burnished copper hair from her cheek, lingering to trace the soft curve.

  “I’ve never heard music in a voice, or wanted to bury myself in a slender body, lose myself in the mystery of dark eyes. I want to feel your hands on me, Addie, feel your body holding mine deep inside you while I…” His voice trailed hoarsely into silence, but his eyes were alive and vivid and yearning.

  Addie felt hypnotized, entranced. A throbbing near the core of her being spread outward like ripples in a pool until she could feel it to her fingertips, feel the flush of an inner heat prickling her skin. Her breath quickened and her lips parted, her eyes growing heavy-lidded.

  “Oh, hell, don’t look at me that way,” he pleaded his voice like the raw sound of a saw biting into wood.

  “I can’t help it.” Addie tried to shake off the feeling, but it defeated her. “You did it. You made me feel this way.” Her own voice was dark and still, suspended.

  Shane pulled air into his lungs with a ragged sound, and slowly took his hand from the resting place it had found on her neck. But he didn’t withdraw this time; his eyes still flickered hotly with promise. “We—we seem to do that to each other.”

  “Yes.” Her smile lingered, playing about her lips with a fey kind of knowledge. “It’s wonderful.”

  Shane, very aware of need that was acutely painful, found a smile somewhere. “Yes,” he agreed softly, knowing that whatever else it was, it was indeed wonderful. He rose to his feet and pulled her gently to hers. “But I won’t let you push me, dammit.” There was a bleak edge to his thoughts, but not the words; he was entirely unwilling to destroy the softened mood between them.

  Addie said nothing more until they were outside her room. “You’re going to shove food at me again, aren’t you?” Her plaintive tone somehow set them in balance again and made things as right as they could be.

  —

  They were at the track very early the next morning, and Shane watched Addie ride Resolute for the first time. It was barely dawn and there was little activity—which was, Shane knew, a perfect time to test the speed of a racing hopeful without revealing his strengths to the trainers of other horses. Or to track tipsters eager to change the betting odds before a race.

  Shane stood by the rail, a stopwatch in his hand, waiting for Addie to start her mount on the far side of the track. Heavy mist shrouded distant buildings in a ghostly blanket. And the gray horse was nearly invisible, curiously unreal.

  He shot forward abruptly from a standing start; the small figure on his back was a mere shadow, only her black crash helmet distinct through the haze. Shane pushed the stopwatch button as horse and rider reached the correct distance pole, but he kept his eyes on the racing figures rather than on the watch. The muffled sounds of hoofbeats grew sharper as they rounded the turn, more distinct, and all else was eerie silence.

  Shane pressed the button again as they came abreast of him, glancing down at the watch as the horse slowed, and then doing a double-take. That couldn’t, he thought, be right. But it was right, and the horseman within him felt the rising of an excitement most never knew. He held up the watch as Addie and a snorting Resolute paused on the other side of the rail, and she bent over to look. It didn’t surprise her.

  Smiling, she said, “Remember two things when you look at that time. He traveled all day yesterday. And I was holding him back.”

  Numbly, Shane followed them back to the barns. Dear God in heaven, he thought, no wonder she raced him.

  —

  The track was stirring to life now. Thudding hooves could be heard as other horses were exercised, along with shouted commands and the metallic sounds of equipment being sorted and shifted. Horses called out in impatience for morning feed, and grooms swore good-naturedly at their anxious charges.

  Absently scratching behind Sebastian’s ear as the koala sat in his accustomed place on top of the stable door, Shane watched Addie grooming her stallion. A tray of brushes and tools was at her feet in the straw, and Resolute munched his grain contentedly while she worked on his glossy coat.

  She stood back at last to admire him, but her smile faded to a frown when the horse swished his tail in faint irritation. She glanced back at Shane. “Flies. Can’t get away from them, dammit.” Bending to search in the tray, she straightened with a can of insect repellent and a cloth. She uncapped the repellent and poured some onto the cloth, replacing the can in the tray.

  Then she stopped and stared at the cloth, frowning. “That’s funny. The smell—” Yelping in surprise, she dropped the cloth suddenly and shook her hand.

  “What is it?” Shane reached in to draw her out of the stable just as Bevan hurried up.

  “It’s burning like hell,” she said in surprise.

  Bevan went into the stable to retrieve the tray while Shane led Addie swiftly to a faucet and rinsed her reddening hand. He didn’t turn off the water until the tension had left her face.

  “Better?”

  “Much better.” She lifted her hand palm-up and they could both see the tiny blisters rising there.

  Promptly, Shane held her hand under the water again. Grim, he said, “If that’s an insecticide, it sure as hell isn’t meant for horses!”

  Addie glanced worriedly back over her shoulder, but Bevan had come out of the stall and was gingerly sniffing the uncapped can. His leathery face was a little pale when he met her eyes.

  “There’s ammonia in it,” he said in a strained tone. “And a few other things. I think. It would have peeled the hide right off him.”

  She had almost forgotten the danger. Addie looked back at Shane, meeting his somber gaze and feeling real fear creeping over her for the first time.

  “Let’s get you to a doctor,” he said.

  She was beyond protest and nodded before glancing back at Bevan to remind him not to leave Resolute…not for any reason.

  Chapter 4

  “At least I’ll be able to ride Saturday.” Addie was looking at the gauze bandage wrapped around her right hand as they walked back toward the barns. She flexed her fingers absently.

  “Yes, you’ll be able to ride. Unless something else happens.” Shane’s voice was hard.

  She looked up at his profile for a moment, then slid her left hand into his, warmed when his fingers tightened instantly around hers. “Thanks for telling the doctor it was an accident.”

  “I knew you’d want me to.” He would have said more, but they both saw Tate striding toward them from the direction of Resolute’s barn, and his face was white.

  “Bevan told me what happened,” he said as he reached them. His gray eyes flicked from their clasped hands to Addie’s bandaged right one. “Are you all right?” he added sharply.

  Shane and Addie had stopped, and she nodded. “I’m fine, Tate. A few blisters, that’s all. We’ll run Saturday.”

  Tate ignored Shane as if he didn’t exist. “Sell him to me,” he said in a flat, taut voice.
“Sell Resolute. I’m doubling my last offer, Addie.”

  Shane could feel her sudden tension, and a sidelong glance showed him her expression was troubled. He said nothing, knowing what her answer would be.

  “No, Tate. I won’t sell Resolute.”

  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You and your sisters? You’re running out of time, Addie. Sell me the bloody horse!”

  “No.” Her voice was soft. Final.

  Something terrible was happening to Tate; something was wrenching at him. “He’ll get you killed. Sell him, Addie—to someone else if not to me. We’ll put you on Nightshade for the Cup and give you the purse. Just scratch Resolute!”

  “No.” She was staring at him, her eyes puzzled and a little frightened. But her soft voice was steady. “I can’t do that, Tate. I can’t scratch him. He’s running.”

  Shane could no longer be silent. “Shut up, Justin! Can’t you see what you’re doing to her?”

  The normally chilly gray eyes were molten now, almost wild. Tate reached to grasp Addie’s right hand, holding it up between them. “Would you have her hurt worse next time?” he asked harshly. “Stop her, for God’s sake! If you love her, stop her!” He turned on his heel and strode away.

  Feeling cold and worried, Addie watched him walk away. Her thoughts were tangled, unclear, and there was something at the back of her mind that she couldn’t grasp.

  Quietly, Shane said, “How badly does he want Nightshade to win the Cup?”

  She answered without thinking. “He’d be their first Cup winner, and he has an outstanding record now. Better than Resolute’s really, because he’s raced more. They could get enormous stud fees if he won the Cup.”

  “Maybe Tate’s willing to do anything to ensure that. He’s here in Sydney, for one thing.”

  “Nightshade’s running on Saturday. Against Resolute. Of course he’s here.” They had continued walking, and Addie shook her head in an instinctive denial of Shane’s first comment. “No. Not anything. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Accidents happen. Or it could have been Bevan…”

  Again, Addie’s denial was instinctive. “Bevan wouldn’t hurt Resolute. Not for any reason.”

  Shane’s own instincts agreed with her, reluctantly. Bevan’s reaction to the repellent had been one of horror—and sincere. And Tate had been frantically disturbed by what had happened to Addie. Still…“Tate knows something, Addie. Maybe he and Bevan aren’t in it together; maybe he just assumed Bevan would groom the horse.”

  “He’d know better than that, Shane. Everyone knows Bevan can feed Resolute, but he can’t groom him. He can’t even touch him unless I’m around. No one can except my valet Storm. Resolute likes her.”

  They reached Resolute’s stall a few moments later, and Addie stood looking at her horse, still holding Shane’s hand. Bevan, who had been hovering near the stable, faded away into a nearby feed room, still obviously upset.

  Shane watched her troubled face, thinking of what Tate had said to her. He knew, Shane realized. Knew why she had to race. And it was something that her sisters were also involved in. Unbidden, his painful question emerged. “Did you tell Tate why you have to race, Addie?”

  She turned quickly, looking up at him. “No. He knows, but—but only because of the circumstances. I didn’t tell him, Shane. I promised not to tell anyone.”

  “All right.” Shane was suddenly sick of racetracks and horses and childhood friends with mysterious knowledge. “Addie, let’s spend what’s left of the day away from the track. We can do all the tourist things and explore Sydney.”

  Addie looked at him for a moment, seeing his restlessness and tension, and she knew it would do both of them good to forget all this for a while. “I’ll tell Bevan,” she said, and left to do so.

  —

  They were able, for a while, to forget. Addie had been in Sydney many times, and it was she who advised a cruise of the harbor. Shane was given an excellent first viewing of the lofty Harbor Bridge, which was, Addie told him, the largest single-span bridge in the world and which she laughingly referred to as the Coathanger. And he admired the Danish-designed Sydney Opera House, saying it was just a pity they hadn’t put a keel under it, since the roof resembled nothing so much as several white sails ready to catch the wind.

  But mostly Shane watched Addie, and listened to her soft, lilting voice. She was never more than a touch away, and usually not that, since his hand felt bare without hers in it. The huge dark eyes glowed up at him, and she laughed often because he purposely said things to make her laugh.

  After the cruise they walked around near the harbor and, in spite of Addie’s laughing protests they ate. The day flowed lazily past them.

  Then they finally climbed back into the borrowed truck. Shane automatically turned toward the track, knowing she would not feel comfortable returning to the hotel without first checking on her horse.

  It was just feeding time when they arrived, and Bevan went off to get his own meal while Addie measured out Resolute’s grain and carried it into his stall. The gray horse eagerly poked his nose into the box, and Addie stood for a moment stroking his neck.

  But then Resolute snorted, backing away from the feed box and shaking his head so that grain flew from his mouth. He coughed harshly, and then again.

  Addie stood frozen for a moment, then reached quickly into the box for a handful of the feed. She examined it carefully, checking the texture, the scent.

  “What is it?” Shane asked from the door.

  She looked at him worriedly. “I don’t know. But he’s eaten this brand of feed for over a year; it’s the only kind he’ll touch.” Resolute coughed again.

  “I’ll get a vet,” Shane said grimly, even as he began to move swiftly.

  —

  Addie was leading her stallion around outside the barn when the vet arrived. Resolute was sweating and irritable, the whites of his eyes showing, and he was far from pleased to be examined by this stranger. Only Addie’s quieting hand on his neck and the soft magic of her voice prevented him from exploding in six different directions.

  There were other people—grooms and a couple of trainers—standing around watching in silence. None were close enough to hear what Addie and the vet were discussing, but most winced when they saw the vet reach into his heavy bag and produce a long length of rubber tubing.

  Shane was near enough to see what was going on, even though both Addie and the vet were subtly shielding some of their actions from the other onlookers. The tube was passed into the stallion’s stomach, and Shane saw the vet use a small suction device to retrieve a minute amount of the contents into a glass vial while the stallion fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “You’ll be all right, mate,” the vet said cheerfully when the tube was out, giving the horse a friendly slap on the shoulder and nearly losing his hand in the process. He added something in a low tone to Addie, then packed up his gear and departed. The other onlookers drifted away.

  Shane waited until Addie had led the horse back into his stall before approaching her. “Well?”

  She was leaning on the door, her face still pale. “Dr. Random’s going to have that sample analyzed, along with some of the feed. He thinks it was poison. He said Resolute didn’t get enough into him to do any harm, except to make him uncomfortable.” She glanced at Shane. “We made it look as if he were giving Resolute medication.”

  “Yes, I saw.”

  “He said we should get another bag of feed somewhere here in Sydney—but not from the track.” They watched while the horse drank thirstily from his water pail, then Addie said, “I’ll send Bevan.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore. I would have bet Resolute’s life that Bevan wouldn’t hurt him.” Bleakly, she added, “I did bet his life.”

  “He’s fine, Addie. And if it’s any comfort to you, I agree about Bevan. I think it’s someone else.”

  “I hope we’re both right.
”

  The barn lights were on, and they stood quietly until Bevan hurried in a few minutes later. The trainer was pale and his brown eyes were anxious. “I heard—they said you had the vet for Resolute—”

  “He’s all right, Bevan. But we need more feed from a store—off the track.” She reached into her pockets and found some money, handing a few bills to the trainer. “Would you mind?”

  He accepted the money, but stood staring at them both. “It was a new bag,” he said, his voice a bit higher than usual. “I opened it this morning.”

  “Then somebody got to it,” Addie said matter-of-factly. “We’ll wait here until you get back, all right?”

  He nodded slowly and turned away, his steps dragging.

  “What did the vet say about Saturday?” Shane asked after a time.

  “He’s checking back tomorrow, but he said he thinks we’ll be able to race.” She went over to sit on a bale of hay on the other side of the hall, and Shane followed.

  “If it were any other time,” she said softly. “I’d just chuck it for now. Take Resolute home to Killaroo for a while. But I can’t do that.”

  “And you won’t sell him.”

  “No.”

  “Not even to me?” Shane smiled a little at her startled look. “I do buy horses, you know.” Cautiously, wary of offending her pride, he added, “That horse is greased lightning; he’d be an asset to any stud farm. And I know—you need the money, Addie, for whatever reason. I’d give you the money if I thought you’d take it, but I know you won’t.”

  “No. But thank you.” She smiled at him, loving him so much she could hardly stand it. “I have to do this myself. And Resolute deserves to run in the Cup; he’s earned it.”

  “All right.” Shane pulled her into his arms, hungry for the touch of her even amid worry, and anger toward whoever was trying to hurt her and her horse, and the painful fear of her racing. “Then we’ll just have to think of some way of protecting Resolute. And you.”