Adelaide, the Enchantress

by Kay Hooper

  No need at all.

  —

  “Do you ever take this off?” He was fingering the silver medallion she wore as they lay curled together on the bed, but his eyes were fixed on her serene face.

  She traced his bottom lip with a gentle finger and smiled a little. “Not since I started racing. It’s the Delaney luck. Each of my sisters has an identical one.”

  Shane moved his gaze reluctantly to the medallion, but interest stirred as he looked at it. It was about the size of a silver dollar, with a turquoise stone centered on a crosslike indentation. Very old silver. Very old turquoise. Something about the medallion bothered him, tugged at an elusive memory, but it flitted beyond his grasp.

  “The Delaney luck.” He chuckled softly, dismissing the puzzle. “Maybe this is the talisman you charmed me with.”

  “I’m glad something worked.”

  He placed the medallion carefully back at its resting place between her breasts, his hand covering the silver to lie warmly over metal and creamy flesh. He could feel her heart beating steadily, feel the slight rise and fall of her breathing, and his own breath grew short.

  “Dammit,” he said softly, bewildered. “I can’t keep my hands off you. Touching you is like touching a live wire—my body pulses with a current.”

  She kneaded his shoulders like a sleepy cat, smiling. “We’re going to shock people, I think,” she murmured. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you either.”

  He kissed her smiling lips gently, then the slope of one firm breast before laying his cheek against it. His hand moved almost compulsively, stroking the smooth skin beneath her breasts. “That story, about what the Aborigine told you. Is that why you—waited?”

  She half-closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath, the soft touch of his hand. “Partly, I suppose. And, looking back, I’ll bet that’s what he intended. He was a moral old man. I guess he knew that a story that magical would appeal to little girls too young to really know what he meant. And it stayed with me all these years. But I really waited because it was never right.”

  His hand had moved to her side and tightened suddenly. In a curiously strained tone he said, “I’ve never in my life felt possessive about a woman. Until now. Now I hate all the years you had without me. I hate every boy who kissed you, and every man who wanted you.” He laughed roughly. “I hate Tate, heaven help him, because he loves you.”

  Addie waited until he lifted his head, then looked steadily into his hot eyes. “And I hate all the women who found pleasure in your arms, all the women who undoubtedly loved you. If I ever encounter one of them, I’ll probably scratch her eyes out.”

  Shane laughed again, a more natural sound. “We’re a fine pair,” he muttered, kissing her.

  “Aren’t we? Shane, in case I haven’t put it quite this way before, I’ll never even be tempted by another man. I always knew I was a one-man woman.”

  He traced the curve of her cheek, his expression suddenly somber. “I never knew I was a one-woman man. Until I met you. Addie, you could stand in a room full of goddesses and I’d never see them. Only you.”

  Her arms tightened around his neck and she responded fierily to his lips on hers. But deep in her heart there was a small, cold lump of fear. Time was racing against her, and she was still unsure she would win in the end.

  She knew that Shane’s commitment was as deep and certain as her own, but she also knew that his would be tested in every race she rode. It was for that reason, she knew, they had almost unconsciously avoided any talk of the future. Shane was scheduled to leave Australia after the Cup, and he had said nothing of changing those plans.

  She had won his love, but she didn’t know how long she could hold him. She didn’t know if he could conquer his fear of her racing, or if either of them could deal with that pain. He had said it would be worse once they were lovers…and she was afraid now that he had been right.

  She was grateful for the basic honor of this man of hers, knowing that he would never ask her to stop racing. And all her instincts told her that Shane had to come to terms with his fear for her if only because there would always be things he could not protect her from. Things that life would fling painfully at her feet in spite of safety and caution and happiness.

  And she knew that Shane would not talk of the future until he could deal with that, until he was certain himself that he would not smother her with his love.

  Her heart told her he would do that, but her mind, weighed with time’s passing and the knowledge that someone was trying to hurt Resolute, to stop them from racing, refused to release the cold fears.

  “I love you,” he murmured.

  She held him, moved with him. “I love you,” she whispered achingly, and pushed the fears away.

  She would win. If she had to abandon home and pride to chase him thousands of miles, if she had to spend the balance of her life convincing him of her own strength, she would win.

  There was simply no other choice.

  Chapter 7

  Returning to Melbourne meant returning to horses and the track and problems. The trap they had set remained unsprung; Tate was still in Sydney and would remain there until the following weekend. Addie didn’t like to think about that and what it seemed to mean, and Shane made no reference to Tate’s absence.

  There were other things to deal with.

  Addie rode at Flemington on Monday, winning only one race out of four. It was the first race of the afternoon she won; Shane was near the winner’s enclosure to welcome her, but his face was taut and his eyes haunted. With each race that haunted look grew stronger, darkening his eyes and sharpening the planes and angles of his face. Before Addie’s eyes he seemed to lose weight within scant hours, and tension coiled visibly in his lean body.

  By the third race she knew her own nerves were raw, screaming silently from the pain she saw in him. She was nearly sobbing after the fourth dismal finish, pulling her saddle off the sweating filly that should at least have finished with the leaders and had instead barely avoided dead last.

  Blindly, she changed out of her silks and showered, telling herself the wetness on her face held no salt at all. She dressed slowly in jeans and a blouse, afraid to go out and face Shane with this terrible pain between them. A distant, determined part of her mind was calculating swiftly, coming to the realization that she couldn’t afford to be torn apart; she had to win, or the struggles of these last weeks would be for nothing.

  He was not outside the changing room, and she walked slowly to the barn stabling Ringer. She didn’t see Shane immediately once inside the wide hall, but then he stepped from the shadows across from the stable supposedly holding Resolute.

  “I couldn’t wait for you out there,” he said, his voice raw, the taut face stony and terrible in its immobility. “All those people…” He took a deep, slow breath. “And next time…I’ll watch where you can’t see me. That did it, didn’t it? You were thinking of me instead of the race.”

  She stepped closer, her whole body aching. She looked up at his closed face, the hell in his eyes, and hot tears burned her own eyes when she remembered his tenderness last night in her hotel room. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t speak. But Shane could, and his words were unimportant, his tone flat.

  “I sent Tully to get his dinner. When he gets back, we’ll go check on Resolute before we go to the city. You must be exhausted.”

  Addie’s heart clenched suddenly. His words, she realized, were not all unimportant. Behind the final sentence was a meaning that cut her to the bone. And the words now following told her she was right.

  “You have six races tomorrow,” he said heavily. “Four here and two more at Caulfield. You’ll need to rest tonight.”

  “Alone, you mean?” She hardly recognized the blurred sound of her own voice.

  His stone face cracked in a sudden quiver. “You’ll need to rest,” he repeated dully.

  The steel in Addie found its place then, and her slim shoulders squared. “I want you in my b
ed,” she said, her soft voice contrasting sharply with the determined lift of her chin and the blunt words.

  The stone cracked even more, and the fire in his green eyes leaped at her. “Addie, for heaven’s sake—”

  “What?” She stepped closer, one small hand lifting to touch his face, stroking the stone until it softened beneath her fingers, until hardness melted into pain and yearning. “I can’t stop us hurting, Shane. But neither one of us is going to hurt alone.”

  A raw, hoarse sound came from deep in his throat, and Shane reached out finally to catch her in his arms, holding her with bruising tightness. “It’s so much worse than I thought it would be,” he whispered into her silky hair. “I watched you out there, and all I could think of, all I could see, was your face, so beautiful in passion, your body so warm and responsive. So vital and alive, holding me, touching me. And I heard the sounds of hooves, so hellishly powerful and fast…so deadly.”

  “I’m alive.” Her voice was a whisper, fierce and strong. “Alive, Shane.” She drew back slightly, gazing up into his tormented face. “But there’s nothing you can do to protect me from dying. We both know that. You could wrap me in cotton wool and hide me away somewhere, but you couldn’t keep me alive if it wasn’t meant to be. I could get sick, or fall in the bathtub, or—”

  He held her face in cold hands and kissed her swiftly, even his lips cold from the iciness of his fear. But they warmed slowly as she responded, and he rested his forehead against hers at last with a ragged sigh. “I know. Dammit, I know. And I know I’m hurting you, making you lose your concentration.”

  After a moment Addie took his hand and led him over to the stack of hay bales, sitting on one and drawing him down beside her. Very quietly, she said, “Shane, my sisters and I made a pact, but I know they’d understand my telling you.” She felt that if he knew just how important racing was to her right now, it might make all the difference. Hoped, anyway.

  “You mean—why you have to race?” He was gazing at her, his eyes still tormented but his face no longer so stiff.

  “Yes.” Quietly, she explained about her father’s desperation to reclaim his land and the terms of his agreement with Tate’s family. “Our time is up,” she finished, “the day after the Cup. Sydney, Manda, and I all had a plan, and we’re all trying very hard. Shane, I have to earn five hundred thousand dollars. Dad’s life may depend on it.”

  He looked down at their clasped hands, understanding for the first time Addie’s iron determination to race. A twisted smile formed on his lips. “And you won’t take it from me.”

  She smiled a little as well. “You know I won’t. Shane, if I were racing for anything else, for any other reason, I’d stop now, today. I’d even—sell Resolute if that would get me the money. But it won’t, not yet.”

  “You love that horse,” he said roughly.

  “I love you.”

  He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes, feeling the last quiver of the day’s fear and pain vanish. It would return, he knew, with the next race. But for now it was gone, and the glow of her dark eyes seemed somehow to heal the wounds it had left behind. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll watch where you can’t see me. Don’t let me stop you, Addie. Don’t let me do that to us.”

  She cuddled close to his chest as he drew her into his arms, her own pain dimming. It was not a victory, she knew, but it was something. She didn’t think he’d attempt to shut her out again.

  And Shane didn’t leave her alone in her bed that night.

  They made love with slow sweetness, each touch and kiss shatteringly gentle as warm desire built into hot passion, climbing steadily. And when that fiery tension crested, they clung together like survivors of an earthquake, murmuring words of love that were vows glowing in darkness.

  —

  Shane woke early the next morning with the vague anxiety of knowing something was wrong, different. He reached for the slender warmth that was Addie, then opened his eyes abruptly when his searching hand encountered nothing. At that moment he heard her voice, and half sat up, blinking at the morning light. She was sitting at the small desk near the window, talking on the phone which she’d removed from the nightstand by the bed.

  He listened to her side of the conversation, startled to realize she was speaking to a trainer and apologizing because she couldn’t ride for him today. Shane heard the trainer’s name, and tensed as he recalled it; it was one of her scheduled rides she was giving up, not a new offer. Then he absorbed the fact that she was fully dressed, and that an overnight bag lay on the floor by her chair.

  What the hell?

  Addie cradled the receiver and rubbed the nape of her neck absently, staring out the window. “Damn,” she said very softly.

  “Addie?”

  She turned quickly, her faint frown gone and her eyes glowing. “Good morning.”

  He sat up fully, unsettled because there was something wrong and he felt it. “You told Hawkins to get another jockey. You aren’t—”

  “Sydney needs me. I have to leave for a while. With luck, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “She called you?” He hadn’t heard the phone ring.

  “Manda did.”

  He watched her, fighting the instant fear that she would somehow slip from his grasp and his life. His mind worked automatically. “You’ll miss the races today. That means less money.”

  She shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I allowed a margin, just in case of something like this, or in case I lost a few races I should have won.” She hesitated, then added, “I hate to leave you while our trap is still empty.”

  “I’ll manage.” He felt another flicker of uneasiness, sensing that she was thinking of something other than traps and sisters in need of help. Something to do with them. “Addie, what is it?”

  Her smile was a wry thing. “Whenever we’re apart, you seem to build walls. Will I come back to find another one?”

  He held out his hand until she rose and came to sit on the bed. He stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “No. No more walls. I love you, honey. Whatever else there is, I’ll learn to deal with.”

  Addie went into his arms, grateful for the answer that allayed her fears. “Thank you,” she whispered shakily.

  His arms tightened, then loosened. He felt the firm mounds of her breasts against his body, and cleared his throat. “Where do you have to go?”

  “Brisbane.” She was unconsciously burrowing closer, enjoying the hard warmth of him, her cheek rubbing against the golden mat of hair on his chest.

  “Then you have to catch a plane.” His voice was hoarse.

  “Mmmm. In just a few minutes.”

  He held her shoulders, pushing her gently back away from him. “You’ll miss it,” he muttered, “if you keep doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  His sigh was nearly a groan. “Seducing me, dammit.” His body was throbbing heavily, and when his gaze dropped to her breasts, the breath caught in his throat. Beneath the thin material he could see fine hard points beckoning, and his hands moved to accept the invitation. Her warmth filled his hands and he squeezed gently, feeling her nipples thrust into his palms.

  Addie half-closed her eyes, the necessity of leaving him momentarily forgotten. She drew breath in a shuddering sigh, her body arching into those big warm hands. A bit dazedly, she murmured, “Who’s seducing whom?”

  Reluctantly, Shane released her, his own eyes sleepy with desire but a smile quirking his lips. “If you don’t get off this bed,” he said, “it’ll be a mutual effort. I’ll get dressed and drive you to the airport.”

  She stood slowly, her breasts feeling heavy and stinging with need. Watched him throw back the covers and rise from the bed. He could hardly hide his own physical response to her, and she felt a quiver deep inside her as she looked at him.

  She didn’t begrudge either of her sisters whatever help lay within her power to give…but fate had played a lousy trick in its timing.

  —

  By late that n
ight Shane knew that he couldn’t willingly have spent a night away from Addie. He lay alone in his hotel room, gazing up at a dark ceiling, his body pulsating with a slow, heavy rhythm. All day he had thought of little but her and the hours of loving. And added to his desire was anxiety. Addie was taking risks in order to earn the necessary money; he felt certain that her two sisters were also risking a great deal with their own “plans.”

  Sydney had needed her sisters’ help. Why? Was there danger involved?

  Shane was so desperately afraid of losing Addie that his mind conjured horrors. Plane and car crashes. The senseless violence to be found in any city of the world. Accidents.

  He shook the fears away. She was coming back to him. She was coming back. Tomorrow. He glanced at the glowing clock on the nightstand and silently amended the thought. Today. She was coming back in just a few hours.

  Pushing fear from his mind left the dull ache of desire, and he stared at the ceiling fixedly. Addie, warm and slippery in the shower. Slender and vibrant beneath him in bed. The strength of her holding him, stroking him, until he had no breath, no will, until he hovered at the edge of madness. Firm breasts filling his hands and slender thighs cradling him, her body sheathing his in a hot, ecstatic union.

  He groaned and tossed restlessly in the bed, aching, his body remembering as vividly as his mind. The long day without her had been hell, and he had caught himself looking for her great dark eyes, listening for the sweet velvet magic of her voice. The bustle of the track had moved noisily about him, but he had remained close to their trap, talking idly to Tully, carrying Sebastian for a while since the koala had demanded it.

  The thunder of hooves had not disturbed him since she was no part of it today. The trap had remained unsprung. No one had noticed that it was not Resolute in his stable.

  Shane pounded his pillow and closed his eyes, trying to sleep. But he knew it was no use. The bed was cold and empty without her, an aching preview of just how it would be with no Addie to share his life and his bed. He gritted his teeth to trap an animal protest in the back of his throat, feeling heat and wetness behind his closed eyelids.