by Janet Dailey
"Gossiping about you, of course," his mother replied.
"I didn't realize you gossiped, mother." His comment held a touch of dry mockery.
"I'm human," she said in explanation. "Would you like some lemonade?"
"Yes, I'll have a glass, mother. Thank you." Judd pulled one of the chairs closer to Valerie and sat down. His hand rested on the back of her chair, a finger absently stroking the bare skin of her shoulder. She felt that quivering ache to know the fullness of his caresses and had to move or betray that need.
"Tadd's been so busy playing with the puppies he hasn't had time for lemonade," said Valerie, rising from her chair. "I think I'll see if he wants some now."
Avoiding the glitter of Judd's green eyes, she walked to the edge of the veranda. All but one of the puppies had grown tired of Tadd's games and had rolled into sleepy balls on the lawn.
"Let the puppies rest for a while, Tadd," she called. "Come and have some lemonade and cookies."
"Okay," he agreed, and stood up, hugging the last puppy in his arms as he started toward the veranda. The mother shepherd rose, made a counting glance at the sleeping litter, and pricked her ears toward Tadd.
"Leave the puppy there, Tadd," Valerie told him. "Its mother wants to keep them all together so they won't accidentally become lost."
Glancing over his shoulder, Tadd saw the anxious black dog looking at him and reluctantly put the puppy onto the grass. The puppy didn't seem sure what it was supposed to do, but its mother trotted over, washed its face and directed it toward the others. Tadd, who seemed to know only one speed, ran to the veranda. He stopped when he reached Valerie, his face aglow, happiness beaming from his expressive hazel green eyes.
"Did you see the puppy? He likes me, mom," he informed her with an eager smile.
"I'm sure he does." She tucked his shirt inside his pants and brushed at the grass stains on his clothes. Finished, she poked a playful finger at his stomach. "How about some cookies and lemonade for that hole in your tummy?"
"Okay." Tadd skipped alongside of her to the table, hopping onto one of the chairs and resting his elbows on the glass-topped table. Maureen Prescott gave him a glass of lemonade and offered him a cookie. He took one from the plate. "Are all those puppies yours, Reeny?" He used the nickname without hesitation.
"I guess they are," she answered with a smile.
"You're lucky." Tadd took a swallow from the glass as Valerie sat down in her chair, moving it closer to the table to be out of Judd's reach, a fact he noted with a bemused twitch of his mouth. "I wish I could have one puppy," Tadd sighed, and licked at the frosting on the cookie.
"I'm afraid they aren't old enough to leave their mother yet," Maureen Prescott explained.
"Are you going to keep all of them?" His look said that would be greedy.
"No, we'll keep one or two and find good homes for the others," the woman admitted. "But not for another two or three weeks."
"We have a good home, don't we, mom?" Tadd seized on the phrase.
"No, we don't, Tadd," Valerie denied. "Those puppies are going to grow into big dogs like their mother. They need lots of room. Besides, you know that pets aren't allowed where we live."
"Your mother is right," Judd inserted as Tadd twisted his mouth into a grimace. "A puppy needs room to run. You really should live in the country to have a dog like Sable, somewhere like your grandfather's farm. Maybe then your mother would let you have one of the puppies."
Valerie shot him an angry look. She recognized Judd's ploy and resented his using Tadd's desire for a puppy as a wedge to get what he wanted. Tadd latched onto the idea as Judd had known he would.
"But we already live there." He turned an earnest, beseeching look on Valerie.
"Only until the end of the summer," she reminded him.
"Why can't we stay there forever and I could have my puppy," Tadd argued, forgetting the cookie he held.
"But we don't own it." She felt the lazy regard of Judd's green eyes and knew he was enjoying the awkward situation she was in. "Eat your cookie before you make a mess."
"We don't own the apartment in Cincinnati, either," Tadd argued. "So why can't we stay here?"
"Because I have to work. I have a job, remember?" Valerie tried to be patient and reasonable with his demands, knowing she shouldn't release her shortening temper on him.
"No, you don't. You got fired—I heard you tell Clara," he retorted.
"We'll discuss this later, Tadd," she said firmly. "Finish your cookie."
For a minute he opened his mouth to continue his stubborn argument, but the warning look Valerie gave him made him take a bite of the cookie. Tadd was wise enough to know that arousing his mother's temper would accomplish nothing.
"I'm sorry, Valerie," Maureen Prescott sympathized with her dilemma. "It isn't easy to say no to him."
"It isn't," she agreed, and flashed a look at Judd. "But it's a word you learn when you become an adult, sometimes the hard way."
A dark brow flickered upward in a faintly challenging gesture, but Judd gave no other sign that he had received her veiled message. Tadd washed his cookie down with lemonade and turned to Judd.
"Are we going to see Mickey?" he asked.
"Whenever you're ready," Judd conceded.
Tadd hopped off the chair, not even cookies and lemonade keeping him seated for long. "Maybe we can look at the horses, too?" he suggested.
"I think Mickey's planned to show you around and meet the new horses he's looking after." Judd rose from his chair when Valerie did. She avoided the hand that would have taken possession of her arm, and walked to Tadd.
"Thank you for the lemonade and cookies, Mrs…Maureen," she said.
"Yes, thank you," Tadd piped his agreement.
"You're very welcome. And please, come any time," the other woman insisted generously.
"Maybe I could play with the puppies again," Tadd suggested, looking up at Valerie.
"We'll see," she responded stiffly and pushed him forward.
"It's shorter to cut across the lawn," said Judd with a gesture of his hand to indicate the direction they would take.
Despite Valerie's efforts to keep Tadd at her side, he skipped into the lead and she was forced to walk with Judd. She was aware of the way he shortened his long strides to match hers. He made no attempt at conversation, letting his nearness wreak havoc on her senses.
At the barns, they had no trouble finding Mickey. He appeared from one of them as they arrived. He hurried toward them, his bowed legs giving a slight waddle to his walk. Tadd ran forward to meet him.
"Hello, Valerie. How have you been?" Mickey greeted her with his usual face-splitting grin.
"Fine," she responded, a little of her tension easing. "Tadd has missed you."
"I've missed him, too." Mickey glanced down at the boy holding his hand. "Come on, lad. I want you to see some of the finest-looking horseflesh there is in this part of the world. You've got to learn to know a great horse when you see one if you want to work with horses when you grow up."
"I do." Tadd trotted eagerly beside him as Mickey turned to retrace his path to the stable. "I'm going to have a lot of animals when I grow up—horses and dogs and everything."
Valerie followed them with Judd remaining at her side. She glanced at his jutting profile through the sweep of her gold-tipped lashes. The hard sensuality of his features attracted her despite her anger.
"It wasn't fair of you to tempt Tadd with the prospect of a puppy," she protested in a low, agitated breath.
Judd's gaze slid lazily down to her face. "All's fair," he countered smoothly.
In the shade of the stable overhang, Valerie stopped. "The end does not justify the means," she said sharply.
Judd stopped, looking down at her in a way that heated her flesh. "You can justify any means if you want something badly enough—and you know what I want."
The message in his eyes seemed to cut off her breath. She could feel the powerful undertow of desire tugging
at her, threatening to drag her under the control of his will. She seemed powerless to resist.
Farther down the stable row, Tadd glanced over his shoulder at the couple lagging behind. "Mom, are you coming?" he called.
Her breath came in a rush of self-consciousness. "Yes, Tadd," she answered, and turned to catch up with them.
"You can't run away from it," Judd's low voice mocked her disguised flight. He lingered for an instant, then leisurely moved to follow her.
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Chapter Eight
THE QUARTET led by Mickey Flanners had made almost a full tour of the brood farm, impressive in its efficiency. Nothing had been overlooked, especially in the foaling barn, a facility that Valerie was sure had no equal.
The tour had paused at a paddock fence where Tadd had climbed to the top rail to watch a pair of galloping yearlings cavorting and kicking up their heels. From the stud barns came the piercing squeal of a stallion answered by the challenging scream of a second. Valerie glanced toward the sound, noticing Judd had done the same.
A frown flickered across his face, followed by a crooked smile of dismissal. "It sounds as if Battleground and King's Ruler are at it again. They're always feuding with each other across the way."
Valerie nodded in silent understanding. Stallions were often jealously competitive. The instinct within them to fight to protect their territory was strong, which was why they had to be kept separated by the strongest of fences. With Judd's explanation echoing in her mind, she ignored the angry exchange of whistles that had resumed.
A muffled shout of alarm pivoted Judd around. More shouts were followed by a flurry of activity around the stud barn. A grimness claimed his expression.
"I'll be back," he said without glancing at her.
His long, ground-eating strides were already covering the distance to the stallion pens before either Valerie or Mickey thought to move. Tadd followed curiously after them, sensing something different in the air.
When Valerie reached the barrier of the first stud pen, she felt the first sickening jolt of danger. The two stallions were locked in combat, rearing, jaws open and heads snaking for each other's jugular vein. The clang of pawing steel hooves striking against each other vibrated in the air amid the blowing snorts and rumbling neighs. Stable hands were warily trying to separate the pair. The blood drained from her face as she saw Judd wading into the thick of it.
"Stop him, Mickey!" she breathed to the ex-jockey beside her.
"Are you crazy?" he asked in disbelief. "Judd isn't going to stand by and watch his two prize stallions kill each other."
She could hear him snapping orders to coordinate the efforts. Fear for his safety overpowered her and she turned away. "I can't watch." Valerie knew what those murderous hooves could do. They were capable of tearing away hunks of human flesh, exposing the bones. "Tell me what happens, Mickey." She closed her eyes, but she couldn't shut her ears to the sounds. "No, I don't want to know," she groaned, and remembered Tadd.
She reached for him, trying to hide his face from the sight, but he tore out of her arms. "I want to see, mommy!" he cried fearlessly, and raced to Mickey's side.
Valerie felt sick with fear. The turmoil within the stud pen seemed to go on without end. Her eyes were tightly closed, her back to the scene as she prayed desperately that Judd would be unharmed. She hadn't the strength for anything else. Fear had turned her into jelly.
"Hot damn! He did it!" Mickey shouted, and danced a little jig, stopping at the sight of Valerie's ashen face as she collapsed weakly against a fence post. "Hey, Valerie—" his voice was anxious with concern "—it's over."
"Judd…?" was all she could manage as a violent trembling seized her.
"He's fine." Mickey said it as though she shouldn't have thought otherwise. Tipping his head to one side, he looked up at her, smiling in gentle understanding. "You're still in love with him, aren't you?" he commented.
She nodded her head in a numbed, affirmative gesture before catching the phrasing of his question. "How…" she began, but her choked voice didn't seem to want to work.
"I noticed all those rides you were taking seven years ago and the look that was in your eyes when you came back. I knew a man put it there," Mickey explained softly. "And I happened to notice that Judd was taking rides the same time you were. I just put two and two together." At the apprehensive light in her eyes, he answered her unspoken question. "Your grandad didn't know and I didn't see where it was my place to enlighten him. There was enough grief around the place after you left without adding to it."
A shuddering sense of gratitude rippled through her and she smiled weakly. Her stomach had finally begun to stop its nauseous churning, but her legs were still treacherously weak. She gripped the fence tightly for support as Mickey turned away. She didn't guess why until she heard Judd's grim voice speaking as he approached them.
"I've fired that new man, Rathburn. The stupid fool had to clean King's paddock, so he put the stallion in the one next to Battleground and didn't check the gates," Judd said with ruthless scorn for the guilty man's incompetence. "Battleground has some wicked-looking cuts. The vet is on his way, but you'd better see if you can give Jim a hand, Mick."
"Right away." The ex-jockey moved off at a shuffling trot.
"That was really something!" Tadd breathed in excitement.
"Is that right?" Judd's mocking voice sounded tolerantly amused.
Valerie didn't find anything humorous about the near disaster that could have ultimately crippled horse and man. Glancing over her shoulder, she east Judd an accusing look, her face still white as a sheet. His white shirt was stained with dirt and sweat, and a telltale scattering of animal hairs showed he had put himself in equal danger as his stable hands.
"You could have been killed or maimed!" A thin thread of her previous fear ran through her hoarse voice.
His gaze narrowed on her in sharp concern. "You look like a ghost, Valerie," Judd concluded in his own accusation. "Quick, Tadd, run and get your mother some water."
His hand gripped the boy's shoulder and sent him speeding on his way. Then he was walking to her. Valerie turned toward the fence, relieved that he had come away unscathed, frightened by what might have happened, and weak with her love for him. His hands spanned her waist to turn her from the fence and receive the complacent study of his gaze.
"As many times as you've wished me to hell, I would have thought you would relish the prospect of my death," Judd taunted her.
"No," Valerie denied, and protested painfully, "That's a cruel thing to say!"
"Why? Do you really care what happens to me?" His voice was dry and baiting.
"I do." What was the use in denying it? Her downcast gaze noticed the smear of red blood on the sleeve of his shirt. It was horse blood. At the sight of it, her hands spread across his chest to feel the steady beat of his heart. She swayed against him, the side of her cheek brushing against the hair-roughened chest where his shirt was unbuttoned. She wished she could absorb some of his indomitable strength. "I don't want to care, but I do," Valerie admitted in an aching breath.
His arms tightened around her in a crushing circle. The force of it tipped her head back and his mouth bruised her cheekbone. "You're mine, Valerie," he growled in possession. "You belong to me."
"Yes," she agreed to the inevitable.
"There'll be no more talk about you leaving in September," Judd warned.
"No." Valerie surrendered to his demand.
With that final acquiescence, his mouth sought and found her parted lips. He kissed her deeply, savoring this moment when she had yielded to his will and admitted what she couldn't hide. He stirred her to passion, creating a languorous flame that ravished her. She molded herself to his length, to fire his blood as he had hers. The sudden bruising demand of his mouth consoled her that he couldn't resist her, either.
"Mommy?" Tadd's anxious voice tore her lips from the satisfaction of Judd's kiss. Her dazed eyes focused slowly on
the small boy running toward them. "Reeny's bringing the water. Is mommy all right?"
Judd's bulk was shielding Valerie from the view of both the boy and the woman hurrying behind him. With shuddering reluctance Judd relaxed his hold to let her feet rest firmly on the ground, instead of just her toes. His green eyes blazed over her face in promise and possession, letting her see he didn't welcome the interruption before he turned to meet it. A supporting arm remained curved across her back and waist, keeping her body in contact with his side.
"What's happened, Judd?" His mother hurried forward, a glass of water in her hand. Her gaze flicked from her son to Valerie, and Valerie guessed that Maureen Prescott had recognized that embrace for what it had been. She flushed self-consciously. "I heard an uproar down around the stallion barns, then Tadd came running to the house talking about horses fighting and Valerie needing water. I didn't know whether to listen to him or call an ambulance."
Judd explained briefly about the stallion fight, glossing over his part in it, and concluded, "It left Valerie a little shaken, so I sent Tadd to the house as an excuse to get him away. I thought she was going to faint and I didn't want that scaring him." He took the glass from his mother's hand and offered it to Valerie. "You might want that drink now, though."
"Thank you." Nervously she took the glass and sipped from it, too self-conscious about the scene his mother had witnessed to draw attention to herself by refusing his suggestion.
"Do you feel all right now, Valerie?" Maureen asked with concern.
"Yes, I'm fine." But her voice sounded breathless and not altogether sure.
"You look a little pale," the other woman observed, frowning anxiously. "You'd better come up to the house and rest for a few minutes."
"No, really I—" Valerie tried to protest.
But Judd interrupted. "Do you want me to carry you?"
"No, I…I can walk," she stammered, and flashed a nervous glance at his mother.