Adelaide, the Enchantress

by Kay Hooper

  If one night without her could do this to him…

  —

  Shane went to the track early that morning since he’d promised Addie he would wait for her there. He had not slept, and the night had left his nerves taut and his temper brittle. His silence warned Tully, who said nothing more than good morning and briskly went about his duties. Shane checked on the health and well-being of both Ringer and Sebastian, then went to lean against the wall near the hall opening and gaze blindly out on the normal controlled chaos of track life.

  But a few minutes later he straightened, his eyes sharpening, focusing on the man striding toward him. So, he thought, Tate had returned from Sydney earlier than expected.

  “She isn’t here,” he told the other man abruptly.

  Tate, something hard and reckless stirring in his gray eyes, smiled a tight smile. “I gathered that from your expression. When will she be back?”

  “Later.” Already Shane could feel taut nerves and muscles tightening, feel something closer to animal than man moving restlessly within him. His mind told him Tate was no rival for Addie; his instincts growled deep inside. “Leave her alone, Tate. Just leave her the hell alone.”

  “I’ve known her longer than you have, mate,” Tate said softly. “I lifted her up on her first pony. I was the first man to kiss her. The first to touch her. Did you know that?” There was something eager in his eyes, something hard and militant and as old as the caves. “If she wants me to leave her alone, she’ll tell me herself.”

  Shane fought his temper, aware of his hands curling into fists at his side, knowing that a fight between himself and this man would only hurt Addie. “Stay away from her,” he warned stonily. “Stay away from her horse.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Control shattered; Shane stepped toward the other man with a red haze blurring his vision. But he saw Tate’s gaze shift sideways, saw abrupt pain tighten his face and something ashamed replace the savage eagerness in his eyes. Without a word he turned on his heel and walked quickly away.

  Shane knew even before he turned, and he felt ashamed himself when he looked into Addie’s great dark eyes and saw the pain there.

  “He was baiting you,” she said unsteadily. “Cruel. I never knew he could be cruel.”

  In two quick steps Shane reached her and drew her into his arms. “I let him bait me,” he said huskily. “I’m sorry, Addie. Last night without you was hell. I was ripe to deck somebody.”

  She burrowed close to his chest, her face hidden from him. And her voice was muffled. “I can’t take any more of this. It has to stop. It has to stop now.”

  He managed a smile as her head lifted and huge wet eyes met his. “I’ll do what I can to stop it. Avoid him, I guess. Addie, he’s in love with you, and you’re a woman who’d haunt a man for a very long time.”

  She stepped back, her chin lifting and soft lips setting stubbornly. Steel. “I’m going to stop it,” she said. “He’s acting like a spoiled little boy, and I’m going to stop it. Shane, he’s in love with the idea of loving me.”

  “Even if you’re right about that—Addie, he’s close to being a basket case.” Shane’s lips twisted. “And I know the feeling. He could hurt you without meaning to.”

  She gazed up at him for a moment. “I’ve got to try. Will you wait here for me?”

  “Dos it have to be now?” he asked, reluctant but knowing she had made up her mind.

  “I think it does.”

  “All right. I’ll wait here.”

  She rose on tiptoe to kiss his chin quickly, then hurried off. The Justins leased a block of stables on the far side of the track and kept an office there; she knew where to find Tate. And he was there when she pushed open the door and went inside, closing it behind her. He was sitting on the edge of the scarred old desk, an empty glass in his hand and a half-empty bottle beside him.

  He looked up as the door clicked softly, his gray eyes darkening, face hardening. “All right,” he said harshly before she could speak. “I made an ass of myself. You don’t have to tell me.”

  Addie leaned back against the door, conscious only of the need to put things right between them. “For the past couple of years,” she said slowly, “you’ve acted as if every word I spoke were a betrayal. I only had to look at another man for you to pick a fight with him. I found myself walking on eggshells around you.”

  Tate splashed more whiskey into his glass and drained it in one swallow, his eyes avoiding hers. “I can’t help how I feel,” he said thickly.

  “And I can’t help how I feel. Tate, you’ve been like a brother to me, and I don’t want to lose that. I love you in a special way. Don’t destroy that love. Don’t make me hate you.”

  In a sudden, violent movement, he flung his glass to shatter against the wall. “Damn you, Addie,” he said raspily, his eyes turbulent as they met hers. “I’m not some kid to be satisfied with just being friends!” There was a world of contempt and bitterness in the last word. “I want you, d’you understand that? I want you in my bed every night! I want what Shane has—” He broke off abruptly, making an obvious effort to control himself, then demanded, “Why him? Just tell me that, Addie. Why did it have to be him?”

  “You like him,” she said, suddenly realizing the truth.

  Tate’s lips firmed and his jaw went hard. “Yes, damn him to hell, I like him. Or did. I hate his guts now. I want to break his neck…and yours.”

  She pushed away from the door and walked across the small room, stopping directly in front of him and less than an arm’s length away. “All right.”

  She was nearly standing between his knees, and Tate’s hands clenched on his thighs. “All right, what?” he demanded shortly.

  “Break my neck.” She met his eyes steadily. When he made no movement, no response, she took both his hands and lifted them to her neck. “Go ahead, Tate.”

  For a fleeting instant his fingers tightened just a little around her slender throat. But then they slid downward to grip her shoulders and he shook her gently. “Damn you, Addie.”

  She smiled at him. Very softly, she said, “Remember when I was ten? You dared me to ride that bay gelding that you couldn’t ride. And when I did, you wouldn’t speak to me for a month. But you got over it, Tate. It wasn’t that I was better than you, it was just that he liked me. And now it isn’t that Shane is better than you, it’s just that I love him.

  “I won’t apologize for that. I hope with all my heart that you find what I have.” Her smile grew. “You wouldn’t have found it with me, you know. We’ve never in our lives been able to spend more than an hour together without being at each other’s throats.”

  His smile was a shadow, but it was there. “Yeah. I know. But it’s hard to give up a dream. You get under a man’s skin, Addie. Like a bloody thorn.”

  “Thorns work themselves out after a while,” she said, then grinned a sudden, impish grin. “When Storm comes back from her vacation, why don’t you ask her out?”

  Tate was startled. “Storm?” He frowned a little. “She threw your helmet at me one day—but other than that we haven’t spoken.”

  Addie waited patiently for this new idea to sink in. She didn’t even mentally apologize to Storm, who had been silently and helplessly in love with Tate for years and grimly fighting it. Left to herself, Storm would never have made a move to get what she wanted, Addie knew. But Addie also knew Tate, knew him well; his strongest characteristic was curiosity. With the germ of this idea in his mind, he would certainly seek out the wild blond hair and startled blue eyes of the young woman who had only to this point shown him her temper.

  They’d suit each other, Addie thought.

  Tate blinked, his eyes focusing on Addie’s complacent expression. Then he shook her, a bit harder this time. And laughed with real amusement. “Damn, Addie, only you could get away with something like this! I was ready to murder Shane and drag you off by the hair, and now—”

  “Storm gets back next week,” she said.


  He cocked his head. “I never knew you were a matchmaker.”

  “Neither did I. But I like the people I care about to be happy.”

  He was silent for a moment, then smiled a little. “And time heals all wounds,” he said ruefully. “All right, brat. I’ll stop challenging your Yank and glowering at the both of you. I can’t promise more than that.”

  “It’s enough.” She smiled, then turned toward the door after he released her. But before she touched the knob, his level voice drew her to face him again.

  “Addie? Sell me the horse.”

  “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

  His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “I know. But I’d hoped maybe—Hell. Be careful, Addie.” His eyes were restless, worried. “Just be damned careful, all right?”

  “I will.” Addie left the office, feeling oddly cold. Tate knew, she realized. He knew who was behind the attempts to stop Resolute. Or thought he knew.

  But it couldn’t be Tate. It just couldn’t.

  She pushed it out of her mind, knowing that to worry now would only get between her and what she had to do. They had taken precautions; there was nothing else they could do but sit tight.

  —

  Shane was waiting for her, tense and restless, but when she smiled, he did as well. “All right?” he asked, drawing her into his arms in spite of several passing—and grinning—grooms.

  “All right. A start, anyway. I love you, Shane.” Her arms were around his waist and she gloried in the feeling of hard muscles pressed to her body.

  “I love you. And I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” He cast an impatient glance around at the busy stable area. “Dammit, why aren’t we alone?” he muttered.

  She stepped back and took his hand, leading him into the barn hall. She waved at Tully and called a hello, but didn’t pause to talk. Instead, she guided Shane into the nearby feed room and closed the door behind them. “Now,” she said, “we’re alone.”

  “Shameless wench.” He hauled her against him and bent to kiss her hard. “I didn’t sleep a wink without you. I kept hearing your magic voice, seeing your lovely face…feeling the silk of your body against mine.”

  “I missed you too.” She moved against him, unconsciously seductive in the effort to be closer to him. “I kept thinking of you at the oddest moments, kept remembering yesterday morning.”

  Shane was remembering, too, and trying to remind himself that they were in a dusty room surrounded by sacks of feed and bales of hay. He tried to concentrate on something other than his throbbing desire. “Um…your sister. Is everything all right with Sydney? And Manda?”

  “Everything’s fine. Or will be, I think.” She stroked her hands up his back and smiled at him.

  Swallowing a groan, Shane slid his own hands down to grip her hips, pulling her even closer. “I want to be in bed with you,” he said hoarsely. “Right now, this minute.”

  Practicality fought its way through veils of passion, and Addie swore softly. “I have to shoe six horses today.” And ride in the last race.

  Shane remembered as well. “And race.” He kissed her again, his hands holding her fiercely against him, then released her with a ragged sigh. “After the Cup,” he said roughly, “I’m taking you to bed for a week. Or two.”

  Addie’s heart leaped into her throat as they left the feed room. After the Cup! For the first time he had as good as said he wouldn’t be leaving as planned.

  She could have laughed out loud.

  —

  The day went quickly and their night together was all too short. Shane had watched her ride in the day’s final race, but he had made certain she couldn’t see him and become distracted. It was not, of course, a perfect solution; even unable to see him, Addie knew that every stride her horse took had tortured Shane. But she was somehow able to concentrate, and she won. And Shane seemed calm when she found him near Ringer’s stable after the race. He didn’t attempt to shut her out, but it was obvious he had dealt stoically with his fears and pain alone.

  Addie hurt for him, and in the night she tried her best to reassure him—without promising. Because she couldn’t promise. She couldn’t promise she would never leave him; she could only promise she would never leave him willingly.

  The latter part of the week passed busily. Addie raced every chance she got, and continued to work as the track’s blacksmith. She seemed to find a new source of strength; no matter how tiring her day, Shane saw no more of the white exhaustion that had so worried him in the beginning.

  He never tired of watching her, of hearing her sweet voice and seeing her glowing smile. And heaven knew he never tired of touching her. But the fear kept growing. He made sure he was out of her sight while she raced, and always retreated to the stable area to calm down before she saw him, but it never got any better. He found himself touching and holding her compulsively throughout the day, and waking often in the night to assure himself she slept at his side.

  As a lover, he found her to be completely natural and unselfconscious with him, and the passion between them grew stronger with every day that passed. And since neither made any effort to hide what they felt, Shane was amused to find himself under rather fierce scrutiny from most of the men on the track. They were, he realized, very protective of Addie, and he knew his life wouldn’t have been worth anything at all if he had made her unhappy.

  He saw Tate several times, but the other man merely nodded somewhat brusquely and passed. There was, at least, no longer a challenge in his eyes. As Addie had said, it was a start.

  And Shane was treated to something he enjoyed tremendously on Friday afternoon. He remembered, later, that he’d been warned of Addie’s temper, but during the event itself he could only listen in grinning silence.

  Shane was a bit puzzled to watch the approach of a clearly apprehensive groom leading a lame horse toward Addie, where she worked briskly to shoe another one. But Pat, who was waiting for the horse she worked on, backed up rather hastily, halting at Shane’s side with a smothered laugh. “Stand back,” he warned softly.

  “Why?”

  Pat laughed again. “You’ll see.”

  Addie straightened and removed two nails from her mouth, her eyes narrowing as she watched the limping horse approach. Stepping away from the one she’d been working on, she said mildly, “Copper was shod two weeks ago, Bryce. Why’s he lame?”

  The young groom squared his shoulders and met her limpid gaze with a mixture of defiance and entreaty. “Well…uh…the shoe was loose, Addie. And you were gone. So…uh…”

  “You thought you could tighten it? And drove the nail into the quick?” Her voice was still mild.

  He nodded somewhat miserably.

  Addie went to the horse’s side and lifted the foreleg. She pulled pliers from her back pocket and swiftly removed the shoe, while the horse stiffened and grunted softly. Remaining bent, Addie probed the hoof gently, then let it down and straightened to stare at the groom. She stroked the horse’s shoulder with a soothing hand, and her voice never once lost its sweet, gentle tone.

  But she flayed the hide off that groom.

  Shane found himself gritting his teeth to hold back laughter, barely aware of Pat choking beside him. He listened to a strikingly creative repertoire of basic Anglo-Saxon curses, liberally sprinkled with measured descriptions of Bryce’s skills calculated to make that young man wish he had never burdened the world with his presence. When she started dispassionately to discuss his ancestors. Shane retired to the barn to laugh himself silly.

  He peered once from the dim barn hall to see that Bryce was completely crushed; he seemed to have shrunk two inches and lost a good ten years. He stood with his head hanging like a severely scolded little boy, utterly miserable.

  Pat was leaning against the jeep, his head buried in his arms, shoulders shaking.

  Listening to Addie sweetly inquiring of her victim if there was a head on his shoulders or another part of his anatomy, Shane held his sides and went off again.

 
; That voice, he thought incredulously. It was utter magic. She could melt the heart of a dead sun with that voice. Drive a man very nearly mad with the passion in it. Conjure enchantment. And reduce a grown man to miserable shame with scathing curses uttered in gentle sweetness.

  That voice…

  Chapter 8

  “Manda needs me.”

  It was Saturday afternoon, and Shane stood by Ringer’s stable petting Sebastian. He dimly heard the announcer calling the last race, all his mind occupied with the emptiness of another day without Addie. Summoned by her younger sister, she had taken off with little time for more than a hasty goodbye, on her way to “the back of beyond” to aid Manda.

  From what he had seen of the youngest Delaney sister, Shane was more than a little apprehensive. Still, he knew Addie somewhat better, and had faith in her ability to get herself out of any situation Manda could land her in.

  But he was tense and restless nonetheless. Addie had warned him that she’d be lucky to return by late on Sunday, and he didn’t know if he could stand it.

  It was then that he realized his love for her was bordering on obsession. It was like a kick in the stomach to face that, and he turned quickly away from the stable to go out into the sunlight in an attempt to combat a sudden chill.

  She hadn’t said a word, he realized, but she knew. Knew that his fear for her was growing rather than lessening. Knew that it tore him up inside to let her out of his sight.

  And he knew his obsession would destroy them both if he let it. He’d smother her, bind her so tightly to him she wouldn’t be able to breathe.

  Unconsciously, he pounded a fist against the top rail of the fence he leaned against, feeling the sun but no warmth. She was a woman, he reminded himself fiercely, a strong, independent woman who loved him. She wasn’t a child to be hovered over in protection, or a wraith to be clutched desperately for fear she would vanish like a dream. She wasn’t!

  But no matter what his intellect told him, the fear would not vanish. He had never known magic in his life, and once touched by her magic, he was desperately afraid of losing it. Losing her.