Im not sure. Ive been working the pub since morning.
Lana spoke up. Dont be worrying over nothing. She took the day to do a bit of shopping. The holidays are coming up, you know.
Caitlin relaxed. Lana was right. Her mother had lived alone for a long time. She wasnt accustomed to announcing her plans to anyone. If you see her tell her that Im on my way to the Curragh.
Lana stiffened.
The children are meeting me there after school, Caitlin said hastily, backing out of the restaurant.
Back on the street, Caitlin sighed, pulled on her knitted hat, and rolled up the brim. Her weekend in Galway had resulted in more than a dressing down from Martin. There was no mistaking Lanas hostility. She saw Caitlin as a rival for Brian Hennesseys affections. Their time away could be easily explained, of course, but Caitlin wasnt convinced that a few chosen words in Lanas ear would solve the problem.
The truth of it was that she was attracted to Brian Hennessey. That night on the vets couch in Galway was proof enough if shed ever doubted it. She tingled, her body flushed with the memory of his tongue parting her lips, his mouth and hands moving across her skin, awakening a desire she hadnt known existed, not for her anyway.
She wanted him. That part was undeniable, but was it enough, her wanting without offering more? Martin insinuated that it wasnt, that Brian Hennessey was a man who should not be trifled with. Was it fair to make him love her unless she loved him in return, and if not, was it honest to offer a man the promise of love some time in the future just because he knew the secret of lighting a flame inside of her?
19
He wasnt concentrating. Deliberately pushing aside all thoughts except the horse beneath him, Brian rose instinctively in the saddle, allowing the full weight of his body to balance on the balls of his feet. Graybeards Lady, the horse hed taken a chance on and purchased at Ballinasloe, responded like a champion and sailed over the hurdle as if she were born for the Grand National, the most important steeple chase in the world. Recovering, she moved into a slow gallop, running easily.
On Brians cue, Davy Flynn leaned over, yelled and prodded her in the rump. The filly would need to become accustomed to shouting, bumping, and quick movements, the world of horse racing. Brian liked the way she movedconfidently, deliberately, more like a veteran three year old than the two year old she was. It was time to teach her how to run like a racehorse, to level out and reach for ground.
Brian clucked to the horse, urging her to pick up speed slowly. At the quarter pole he chirped. She leveled and reached out, stretching, her body lower to the ground, accelerating rapidly, gathering speed. Steady, girl, the trainer crooned, give yourself time. No need to rush into anything.
Responding to the soothing voice, the filly stabilized, synchronized her legs and gathered momentum. It was raining steadily by the time she reached the three-eighths pole, the midpoint, and the track was muddy. Brian felt her fall against the bit. He eased down in the saddle, reached forward with his whip and waved it in front of her right eye. Immediately she increased her speed, striding hard against the bit, breathing easily, all the way to the wire. The time was 0.36, a perfect twelve clip. Brians heart pounded. At Ballinasloe, for an absurd price, hed found his champion.
Walking back to the stalls, Davy kept up a flow of conversation. Brian heard none of it. Cursing his lack of discipline, he dismounted, ran a hand down the colts trembling flank and held out the reins. Lets call it a day, Davy, lad. Im not thinking clearly.
Davy threw him a curious look, nodded, reached for the leather, and maneuvered the filly in the direction of the hotwalker.
Brian watched as they disappeared around the whitewashed walls of the foaling pens, his attention once again claimed by his meeting with Caitlin the day before. Their tentative relationship had turned into something he hadnt expected, something stronger, deeper. Brian wasnt a believer in miracles. He knew it would take just that for a woman like Caitlin, hurt as shed been to risk her heart again.
Brian took a long time checking the stallions boxes. There were eight of them left. The mares had been sent back to their owners for a brief respite before they came into season again. The stallions were unusually silent, libidos calm, muscles relaxed. Brian spoke to them all, soothingly, caressingly, as a man does who understands the potential of arousing eighty stone of deadly power.
After slipping in the bolt on the last stall, Brian turned off the light and walked up the paved walk, through the copse of trees to the small whitewashed cottage where Neeve waited patiently for her evening meal. He refilled her water dish, set down a bowl of kibble and opened his refrigerator with disinterest. Tonight his own cooking didnt appeal to him. He could go into town and have a meal at Bernies or he could make do with what he had in his own cupboards. Venturing into Kilcullen meant risking a meeting with Lana. She was everywhere these days.
He frowned, looked at his watch, and once again surveyed the contents of his refrigerator. Brian didnt pretend to be a creative cook. Food was a necessity, a means of satisfying the hunger pangs in his stomach, nothing more. The less time he spent in the kitchen the better. He couldnt run from Lana for the rest of his life. It was Tuesday and still early for dinner. With luck he could be in and out of Bernies before anyone knew he was there.
Bernie Lewis, the proprietor of Kilcullens only fine restaurant, opened the door for him. Have you tired of your own cookin so soon, lad? You were in just last week.
Brian grinned. He was the only customer. Are you turnin away business, Bernie?
Not a bit. I wasnt plannin on openin up the restaurant but if you dont mind the bar, Ill put you in a chair by the fire.
Pulling his cap off, Brian impatiently fingercombed his hair. As long as the foods hot, Im not particular.
Ive salmon tonight and leg of lamb, if you can wait. Its not quite done.
Brian sat down on a stool near the fire. Salmon will do, along with some of those potatoes and a green salad if you have it.
I have it. Bernie set a glass of Guinness in front of Brian. Word has it weve important visitors in town.
The ale was mellow and creamy against the back of his throat. He savored the flavor before speaking. This is Kilcullen, Bernie. Were less than five miles from the most important race track in Europe. We always have important visitors.
This ones different. Hes Caitie Keneallys husband come to take back his colt.
Brian could feel the tendons swell and stiffen in his neck. Is that so?
Aye. Bernie leaned over the bar, eager to impart his information. So they say.
They?
An icy breeze swept through the restaurant. Brian turned toward the door, words of welcome dying on his lips.
Sam Claiborne, his voice dripping with sarcasm, spoke to the man beside him. Is this the best you can come up with, Fahey? The clientele really isnt up to standard. Eating with the hired help wont do at all.
Fahey looked uncomfortable. He moved closer to Claiborne. Be reasonable, Sam. This is the only place in town, he muttered under his breath.
Brian swallowed more of his Guinness. Keeping his expression neutral, he waited for Claiborne to make a decision. Long minutes passed. From across the room the mans eyes challenged him. Unperturbed, Brian met his stare. No one was chasing him away. Sam Claiborne would have to lower his standards or go hungry.
Claiborne was the first to look away. Without a word, he walked to the opposite end of the bar and sat down. Fahey glanced apologetically at Brian before taking the seat beside him.
Brian was in the middle of an exceptionally good cut of salmon when once again he heard the door open and felt the cold on his neck. This time the voice that greeted Bernie froze his fork in the air, halfway to his lips. He turned to see Caitlin framed in the doorway, her slender figure wrapped in something long and red and definitely more elegant than the town of Kilcullen was accustomed to seeing on one of their own.
It was the first time hed seen her since her revelations when theyd met in Naas,
and he was more than a little curious as to how she would behave when she saw him again. He neednt have worried. She didnt so much as glance in his direction, but went directly to where Sam Claiborne and the man hed called Fahey waited. Brian glanced over his shoulder. Obviously she was expected. The men shifted to make room for her.
The salmon tasted like ashes in his mouth. He would have given an enormous percentage of his next winning purse to know what the topic of conversation was on the other side of the room.
Before long, the sound of chair legs scraping the floor alerted him. Casually, he glanced in their direction. Fahey was standing, clearly calling it a night. Caitlin had turned so that Brian could see her profile. What caught his attention was the expression on her face. Clearly she was disturbed, not an unexpected emotion considering her circumstances, but she was looking at Fahey, not at her husband. Could she be upset that the man was leaving? And where in bloody hell was Bernie? The man was never around when you wanted him.
Brian debated with himself. Should he stride across the room, interrupt their conversation when Caitlin hadnt even acknowledged him? He was fairly certain she hadnt seen him. She wasnt the kind of woman to snub a man who moved in a different social circle. Perhaps it was time to notify her of his presence.
Leaving his salmon and potatoes, Brian stood and crossed the room to stand behind her chair. Hello, Caitlin, he said.
She looked both startled and pathetically relieved. How long have you been here? she asked.
It was a coat. She was wearing a coat, a long red coat with sleek lines and a stand up collar, the kind hed seen on magazine covers. His glance met hers and held. Long enough to finish most of my meal.
Blushing under his intense regard, she gestured toward Faheys empty chair. Please, join us.
Brian hesitated. Before he could refuse, Claiborne spoke up. This is a family matter, Caitlin. I think Mr. Hennessey would only be uncomfortable, not to mention being in the way.
There was nothing Brian wanted more than to leave Sam Claibornes presence but he couldnt resist the appeal in Caitlins eyes. Ive my dinner to finish, he said, ignoring Claiborne completely, but Ive a few matters to discuss with you. Ill wait until youre done and then drive you home.
Ill take my wife home, Hennessey. Claibornes voice dripped with insult.
Caitlin turned on her husband. Actually, I dont believe we can settle anything here tonight. Youve made your position quite clear. We obviously need a mediator. Ill be in touch through my lawyer.
Sams lips paled with anger. Throwing down his napkin he pushed back his chair and rose. I suggest you find yourself a good Kentucky lawyer who knows the risks involved.
Ill stick to the one I have, replied Caitlin. Hes less likely to be influenced by Claiborne money than a good Kentucky lawyer.
Suit yourself. Without a word to Brian he strode across the floor and out the door.
Caitlin stared after him, her eyes wide and dark and mutinous.
Brian waited.
I apologize, she said at last.
For what?
My husbands rude behavior.
Brian sat down beside her. No need. You arent responsible for him.
She looked down at her hands. Her lids were tinted a delicate mauve. No. I suppose not.
Are you hungry?
She looked up. Not really. Sam has a way of ruining my appetite.
He grinned. Mine, too.
You said you had something to discuss with me?
Brian shook his head. Red wool, dark hair, ivory skin, French perfume. His senses were reeling. He wet his lips. Nothin in particular, just a feelin that you needed rescuin.
Her face stilled, all expression erased. Is that why you came over?
What other reason would there be? Your husband wouldnt be my choice for a dinner companion.
Tilting her head, she studied him. Candlelight bathed her face, sculpting her cheekbones, shadowing the hollows beneath them. Youve rescued me, Brian Hennessey, she said quietly. I can find my own way home.
Disregarding the voice in his head warning him that no good could come of this, he reached for her hand. It was cool, her fingers slender with space between the bones. Ive a better idea. Come with me to Naas for a drink and some real Irish music.
Why?
He looked surprised. There was no time to think of a clever response. The truth would have to do. Because I want to dance with you.
The brilliance of her smile shattered him. I hoped that was it.
Will you?
Yes.
Still holding her hand, he stood, pulling her to her feet, and fished in his pocket for money to pay his bill. He nodded at the drinks on the bar in front of them. Is this taken care of?
No.
He threw down a ten punt note. Shall we go?
Caitlin nodded. First, I need to call home. Otherwise, my mother will worry.
She was thoughtful. He liked that. Ill wait in the car.
By the time she climbed into the passenger seat, Brians nerves had taken on the seesaw swinging of a pendulum. No good could come of taking his relationship with Caitlin to another level. Heartache was the inevitable outcome. He knew she wasnt indifferent to him. Their night in Galway had proven it beyond all doubt. But Caitlin wasnt a green girl. She was a woman with experience behind her, a woman who wouldnt be swept away by mere words, not the second time around.
She saw him waver and, because she was Caitlin, nailed him to the dashboard. Youre very quiet. Regretting me already, Brian?
He had nothing to lose. Not for the reasons you think.
How do you know what I think?
He dimmed his headlights as another car approached on the divided road. It isnt difficult to guess. Youre wonderin if I expect a replay of the other night and how youre goin to refuse without insultin me.
No. That isnt it.
Brian glanced briefly at her profile. It told him nothing. He turned his attention back to the road. No?
She shook her head. If I were going to refuse I wouldnt have agreed to come.
It took a full minute for her words to register. When they did, the imperceptible shaking of his hands on the wheel nearly forced the car into the opposite lane. Swerving quickly to the left, he righted the car and drove for several minutes in silence.
He was at a loss for words. Normally such a condition signalled him to slow down, evaluate, plan a course of action. Instinct told him that this time, with this woman, his normal pattern wouldnt work. For some inexplicable reason, Caitlin was behaving unlike herself and if he took the time to settle his mind, organize his thoughts, it would be too late. He would never again be on the other end of such an offer.
Again his thoughts had distracted him. The blare of a horn and the bright beam of headlights sliced through his concentration. Abruptly, he pulled off to the shoulder of the road and turned off the motor. Im likely to kill us before this night is over, he muttered.
Why is that, Brian?
Shifting so that his back rested against the door, he studied her. Across the space that separated them it was too dark to see more than her eyes, black pools in the pale oval of her face. Christ, she was cool. Once again the terrifying sensation that he was dealing with something bigger than he could handle washed over him. Youre drivin me insane, he said softly.
She moved slightly. The beam of an oncoming headlight lit the interior of the car and for a few timeless seconds her face was caught in golden light.
Brians throat closed and his hands clenched. His chest felt tight and hot. God help him. He knew what that look meant. A man would give up years of his life to inspire such a look on a womans face. Could a woman like Caitlin, a woman who had the power to change her life at the snap of her fingers, really call up that kind of wanting for a man like him?
Me too, she whispered. Im insane, too.
He said something. He was sure of it. The words came from a place deep down in his throat. But somewhere, after he reached for her and their lips met, after the fra
ntic search for buttons and the delicious shock of cold fingers against wool-heated skin, after the warm, weighty melting of her breasts against his chest, and the slide of his palms down all the curves hed fantasized about for months, he forgot what it was he meant to say.
Later, when their exertions had fogged the windows beyond visibility, when his breathing had gone raspy and labored, when his hands and mouth had touched and tasted every inch of bare skin he could uncover within the space of his narrow compact, he remembered it again. Lifting his head he stared down at her kiss-bruised mouth, at the swell of ivory flesh above her lace-trimmed bra, at the dreamlike expression in her eyes.
His arms tightened around her. Lowering his head, he set his mouth on the spot where she was most sensitive, a fraction above her right nipple, and sucked gently, then not so gently. As the intensity of his onslaught increased, she gasped, arched against him, and buried her face against his neck.
Take me home with you, Brian, she whispered.
He lifted his head. A faint strawberry marked the spot where his mouth had been. Tell me you wont change your mind.
Her brow wrinkled.
He forced her chin up so that her eyes met his. Im no good at this kind of thing. No matter what happens, I have to know that you mean this, that you want me, that youll want it with me tomorrow and the day after that. I dont need a fling.
Her voice was sultry, soul searing. What do you need, Brian?
You, he muttered against her mouth fiercely. I need you, the girl who ran away to Kentucky, Annie and Bens mother, the woman who lives and breathes horses, the woman who is Brigid Keneallys daughter and Sam Claibornes wife. God help me, Caitlin, but I need all of you and it terrifies me to think that this might be a game to you, a midpoint between leavin your husband and winnin your freedom.
She sat up, moved out of his arms and spent more than enough time adjusting her clothing. Finally she spoke. Im flattered, she said quietly, more than youll probably believe.
Go on.
I want us to be honest with each other.
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