by Kay Hooper
She lost her breath in a hoarse gasp, her eyes going wide at the sensation of possession. And it was, she knew dimly, instinctively, possession this time. For the first time she belonged to him; he was taking her with the hard, maddened strength of his body, thrusting with increasing power deeper and deeper within her as if he wanted more of her, all of her.
He drove into her, feeling her surge against him, feeling the impossibly strong muscles of her lithe body holding him passionately. His heart thundered in his ears, the inferno within him burning away everything that was civilized, everything that set man apart from beast.
Addie couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. He was filling her as never before, holding back nothing from her. She clung to him, her fingers digging into the bunching muscles of his back and shoulders, her legs straining to draw him even closer. The wild, heated thrusts of his body ignited a runaway fire in her own, and spiraling tension stretched all her nerves taut until it was torture—sweet, mindless agony.
An explosion of all her senses made her cry out breathlessly and his mouth captured the mindless sound to make it his own. She writhed beneath him, becoming a wild thing, the waves of pleasure catching him in their rippling force.
Still his body moved in the stark, intimate dance of possession. His tongue twined with hers and he drove into her, the silken sheath of her body driving him out of his mind. He drew a single harsh breath when his mouth lifted from hers, her second abandoned cry causing him to bury himself in her with a wild sound, and when her body contracted around him rhythmically, he shattered, the pleasure so intense he thought he was dying….
Long moments passed before they returned from wherever that frenzied union had thrown them. Shane lay heavily on her, trembling in every muscle, his breathing still ragged. If he could have found the strength, he would have eased his weight from her, but his body refused to obey the vague commands of his mind. And Addie’s shaking body was holding him with that impossible strength of hers, refusing to let go even now.
Her trembling arms were around him, her fingers threading through his hair again and again. He opened his eyes slowly, and the first thing he saw was her torn blouse lying near them. Groaning softly, he lifted his head to stare down at her.
“Addie…did I hurt you?” He felt bruised himself, and appalled by his own savagery.
Her eyes opened, glowing deep within, and she raised her head to kiss him softly. “For the first time,” she said huskily, “you didn’t hold back. You weren’t afraid of breaking me. Oh, Shane, I’ve wanted that from the first! You do understand now that I’m not the frail creature you thought I was, don’t you? I love you. And no matter how you love me, you could never hurt me.”
He eased up on his elbows, but didn’t leave her because she wouldn’t allow it. “I was so rough,” he murmured, stroking a strand of fiery hair away from her damp brow.
She traced a long scratch on his shoulder with one finger and smiled. “So was I. And in case you didn’t notice, I loved every minute of it.”
He glanced around at their makeshift bedroom and smiled despite himself. “We could get arrested for this.”
“I’d gladly spend time in jail for this.” Her gaze was very direct. “I’d pay any price for this.”
His smile faded, and he lowered his head to kiss her tenderly. “So would I,” he whispered, and realized that it was true. Loving her was worth whatever it cost.
She looked up at him and the glow in her eyes brightened as if she were alight from within. “You aren’t afraid anymore, aren’t hurting anymore.”
He knew it was true; he could feel the lack of fear as surely as he’d felt its stabbing pain. Somehow, in the midst of that savage, desperate union, he had found an anchor to hold on to. A part of Addie would always be with him, and there was certainty in that.
“I love you,” he said softly, deeply.
“Shane.” She locked her fingers in his silky hair, lifting her lips for his kiss, her face glowing. “I love you…I love you so much.”
—
In the last rays of the afternoon’s sun, a small boy chased a ball into the bushes, vaguely surprised when a tall blond man wearing only trousers appeared suddenly to return his property. The child accepted the ball with polite thanks and scurried back to his impatient mother, wondering what the blond man and the unseen lady had been laughing about.
—
Hours later, cuddled close together in Addie’s bed, they were still laughing. “We’re lucky it wasn’t a policeman,” Shane said.
“Well, it wasn’t. And all he saw was a bare American chest.”
“A couple of minutes earlier and he would’ve gotten a crash course in sex education.” Shane sighed and pulled her even closer. “But I don’t regret a thing.”
“That’s good.” Solemnly, she added, “There’s nothing like a good old-fashioned pagan ritual to brighten a dull afternoon.”
“Was that what it was?” he asked in surprise.
“Certainly. And we’re going to schedule it as a regular event. Aren’t we?”
“I hope so.” His voice was suddenly deep and low. “In fact, I know a beautifully pagan meadow near the farm in Kentucky. A perfect place for rituals.”
Addie gazed at him, feeling that she couldn’t quite breathe.
“I want to take you there, Addie. I want to build a house for us with plenty of room for temperamental racehorses and absurd koalas…and children. Marry me, sweetheart.”
She traced the tender curve of his lips with a finger and whispered a response past the lump in her throat. “Yes…oh, yes, Shane….”
Sometime later he reached to turn out the lamp on the nightstand. “But first,” he said, “we have a race to win.”
Addie snuggled closer, smiling in the darkness. At the moment, winning a race seemed distant and unimportant.
It hardly mattered at all.
Chapter 9
Out of five races the next day, Addie won four. If she had stopped to think about it, she might well have decided that her exuberant happiness had communicated itself to the horses; as it was, she didn’t care what the reason was.
She knew that Shane had been tense during each race, but the dreadful fear was all but gone, and he was waiting with a smile for her after each race.
They watched the crowds leaving the track that afternoon. They had decided earlier to bring Resolute back to Flemington late that night, and Addie had already taken the guard at the main gate into their confidence.
In three days the Cup would be run.
“We’ll leave Ringer where he is,” Shane was saying, “and just stable Resolute in that quarantine stall on the end; he won’t be able to stick his head out, and no one should see him.”
Addie nodded. “As long as we can keep Sebastian sitting at Ringer’s stable, no one’ll doubt it’s Resolute inside.”
They both knew that their unknown enemy would likely take at least one final shot at removing Addie’s horse from the coming race, but they were as confident as possible about their precautions. Now they could only wait.
Shane, who had discovered that his compulsive need to touch Addie constantly had not entirely left with the fear, bent his head to kiss her despite the people all around them.
“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he murmured, his fingers toying with the top button of her blouse.
“Good.” She smiled up at him.
He laughed a little, then hooked a finger under the chain she wore and brought out the medallion. “This thing’s bothering me.”
“Why? It isn’t big enough to get in your way.”
He cleared his throat. “Not for that reason,” he said firmly. “It’s because…Well, how did it come into your family?”
“William Delaney,” she answered somewhat idly, since she was watching one of Resolute’s future competitors being led past. “He brought it over from America.”
Catching his breath, Shane heard a years-old conversation filter through his mind as clearl
y as though he were hearing it again.
It had to be William—he stole the damn thing. God knows where he left it; old Shamus would have forgiven him more than that, but no one bothered to ask about the necklace. So we have a piece missing from the family history.
“Addie, have you ever heard of the Shamrock Trinity? Three American brothers named Delaney?”
“Everyone has, probably,” she answered, calm. She smiled at him. “They’re very famous.”
Shane gazed down at the medallion lying in his palm. The old, beaten silver, a turquoise stone set within a crosslike indentation…and there were three medallions on the original necklace. She’d said each of her sisters had an identical one.
She touched his cheek suddenly. “Shane? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He laughed. “Damn! Rafe’ll be delighted. All of them will.”
She frowned a little. “Rafe?”
“Rafe Delaney. The youngest of the trinity—and a very good friend of mine. Addie, this necklace has been a missing piece in their history since William bolted from Arizona with a posse at his heels. Rafe said it was common knowledge within the family that William had taken the thing, but he didn’t have it when he came back years later.”
Shane frowned suddenly. “And William never bothered to tell his family he’d left a wife and child behind in Australia. At least I assume—”
Addie chuckled. “He did. But to do him justice, he didn’t know about his son. According to our family history, Mary Devlin Delaney knew she couldn’t hold him, so she let him go. She really loved him.”
A little searchingly, Shane said, “I’m surprised your family wasn’t bitter about their American cousins who never acknowledged your existence.”
“Well, I can’t speak for my ancestors.” She smiled up at him. “For myself, I think I always suspected that William was too footloose to admit he’d been driven to the altar with a shotgun.”
Shane started to laugh. “Really? Rafe’ll love it! They all have a soft spot for that ruffian.” He released the medallion and drew her close, half-catching his breath as his body responded instantly to the closeness of hers. “And all three of them,” he added quietly, “will be delighted to find out they’ve got Australian cousins. May I call Rafe and tell him?”
She hesitated, then smiled. “After the Cup, all right?”
“After the Cup,” he murmured, his head bending to hers.
—
Resolute was very quietly installed in the quarantine stable at the end of the hall during the night, apparently unnoticed by anyone except the guard at the main gate. Tully and his friend—who was equally muscled—stood guard constantly now, taking turns sleeping during the day, when Addie and Shane were on watch.
Addie had been able to exercise the stallion nearly every morning while he’d been at the other track, and it was clear that Resolute was in top shape and more than ready for the Cup. In the days before the race she rode him very early in the morning at Flemington, with Shane timing the runs. But the track tipsters and other trainers were also interested observers now as the race drew near, and word swiftly spread that Addie’s gray stallion was faster than any horse ever seen on the track.
Reminding Addie that no one would think it strange that security for the stallion had increased, Shane calmly leased the entire block of stables housing Resolute and Ringer, leaving them the only horses in the barn, and charged Tully and his friend to make certain the area was off limits to everyone but themselves.
Truth to tell, Shane was more than a little worried, and knew Addie shared his concern. As talk of Resolute’s speed increased, the stallion was more and more of a target, and neither Shane nor Addie expected to go to the post on Cup Day with no further problems. Addie raced only twice during those last days, and Shane stuck close to her side whenever possible, alert for any attempt to stop Resolute by stopping her. But the races went as planned, with Addie gaining two more wins.
“I could sell him now.” She looked up at Shane as they stood near the barn; she had changed from her silks, and the afternoon crowd was moving noisily toward the parking area. “With what Tate offered me for him, I’d have enough.”
Shane’s hands rose to surround her face, and he smiled slowly. “You and Resolute are going to win the Cup,” he said. “And if you want to race him after that, we’ll set some American tracks on fire.”
Her hands came up to hold his, and her eyes glowed. “We made it, didn’t we? We really made it.”
“We made it.” He kissed her tenderly. “Thanks to that steel in you, we made it. I love you, Addie.”
She would have responded in kind, but Tate stalked up to them just then, his face livid. “Your valet is a wildcat!” he snorted. “Storm! She threw your helmet at me again!”
Biting her lip at Shane’s expression, Addie turned to her childhood friend and spoke in a soothing tone. “Tate, you have to remember that Storm isn’t impressed by your lord-of-the-manor attitude.”
Tate made an inarticulate sound. “My what? I asked her out to dinner, Addie. Dinner! And she acted like I’d insulted her!”
“Knowing you,” Addie murmured, “you probably commanded her to attend. Try saying please next time, Tate.”
He was speechless.
Storm reached them just then, her blond hair wilder than ever and her eyes matching her name. Shane nearly laughed because she stalked just as Tate had, and then ignored him as if he didn’t exist. “I’ve got your stuff ready for the Cup, Addie,” she said calmly. “Hello, Shane.”
“Hello, Storm.” Shane had seen enough of Addie’s valet by now to be very interested in her prickly attitude toward Tate, especially since he knew of Addie’s matchmaking plans.
“Storm—”
She ignored Tate. “I’ll be at the track early tomorrow, so I’ll see you then.”
“Thank you, Storm,” Addie murmured.
“Storm! Ahhh, hell! Please?”
She looked at Tate then and asked indifferently, “Please what?”
Tate drew himself to his full height and glared at her. “Please, will you go out with me tonight.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
He ground his teeth, then spoke in a careful, even tone. “Will you please go out with me tonight, Storm?”
“Yes.”
He was taken aback. “Yes?”
“Come on.” She took his arm firmly and began leading him away. “We’ll have to argue about restaurants and things. And who drives. And I suppose you’ll think a steak will get you into my bed, but you’re wrong, of course, so we’ll fight about that. We might as well get started….”
A kind of unwilling fascination gripping his features, Tate meekly allowed himself to be led away.
Shane was laughing almost too hard to speak, barely aware that Addie was in the same condition. “They’ll kill each other!” he gasped when he could.
“No, but we’d better be prepared to duck whenever they’re around.” Addie wiped streaming eyes and grinned up at him. “It ought to be interesting!”
“That,” Shane said, “is not the word I would have chosen.” He slipped an arm around her as they went to check on their barn a final time before leaving.
They lingered for a few moments, talking to Tully, and were just about to head toward their car when the shrill sound of an alarm rent the air abruptly. All three of them froze, staring at one another, and it was Tully who said hoarsely, “Fire!” and bolted toward the end of the barn hall.
Addie and Shane raced after him, like everyone else in the area. All of them converged on one of the barns nearest the stands, where black smoke billowed angrily. Horses were screaming in terror and people shouted to one another as they scrambled for buckets and hoses.
“Resolute!” Addie stopped abruptly, staring at Shane with a white face. “What if they took a page from our book? What if this is a diversion?”
It took no more than seconds for Shane to realize how perfect a diversion this w
ould be. Instinctively, everyone had raced to help fight the fire—including the people watching over Resolute. And he was only an instant behind Addie as she turned and bolted back toward their barn.
People were returning from the parking area and from the other barns, and the distant scream of sirens could be heard. Shane, shoving his way through the crowd, lost Addie in the chaos and found himself alone as he rounded the corner and ran into the barn hall.
And he stopped, his heart leaping into his throat, just feet away from Ringer’s open stable door. He realized later that he could remember with crystal clarity every detail of the scene before him.
Sebastian, who had remained at his post at Ringer’s stable somewhat unwillingly these last days, had obviously decided that enough was enough; he was waddling down the hall toward Resolute’s stable several doors away. Addie stood motionless, small hands clenched into fists at her sides, her face white. And in the open stable door stood a man with a pistol in one hand and a hypodermic syringe in the other.
The pistol was pointed at Addie.
Shane shifted just a bit, but went still again when cold eyes recorded the movement; he had hoped to draw that gun to himself, but it remained pointed squarely at Addie. Shane felt cold all over. He couldn’t hope to move even to put himself between Addie and the gun, not with it pointed at her from a distance of only two feet. He forced himself to listen to the hoarse, gravelly voice, his mind working rapidly.
“I started it myself. Funny, isn’t it? If I’d waited until after the Cup to sell the land, you probably wouldn’t have raced him at all, would you?”
“You’re wrong. I would have raced him.” Addie’s voice was steady, soft. “I would have taken him to the Cup.”
Marshall Justin’s eyes were icy. “But it was because of the land that you kept the horse here after I poisoned the feed. If it hadn’t been for the land, you would’ve taken him away then.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. I would have taken him home.”
Justin nodded as well, his expression thoughtful. “It was two entirely different decisions, you know. I didn’t need the land, so I notified your father as I’d agreed to do. And I entered Nightshade in the Cup. But you…Why did you have to race him?” He was almost pleading. “Winning doesn’t mean anything to you. Tate offered you more than the purse if you’d just sell him to us. You could have made the money that way. And I would have put you on Nightshade for the Cup. You would have brought him home a winner. I wouldn’t have had to destroy the horse.”