Irish Hearts (6 page)

"What would I be doing with that kind of money?"

"First time anyone around here complained about being overpaid," Travis commented and received a baleful glance.

"Here." Adelia turned her attention back to her uncle and held the check out to him. "You take it."

"Now, why would I be doing that, Dee? It's your money; you earned it."

"But I've never had so much money at one time in my whole life." She sent him a pleading look. "What will I do with it?"

"Go out and buy some of those female trappings and folderol," he suggested vaguely, waving his hand, then pushing the check back at her. "Treat yourself to something. The good Lord knows it's about time."

"But, Uncle Paddy-"

"Why don't you buy yourself a dress, Dee?" Travis inserted with a grin. "I'm curious to see if you've got legs under those jeans."

Adelia's head snapped up, and she eyed Travis with a dangerous gleam. "Aye, I've legs, Mr. Grant, and I've been told a time or two it's not a trial to look at them. But you'll not have to be worrying yourself; it's not dresses I need to tend your horses."

His grin only widened as he gave a negligent shrug. "It doesn't matter to me if you want to be taken for a boy."

Her wrath increased as he had meant it to, and her eyes fired sharp green daggers. "There's only one who ever made that mistake, he being an ill-mannered, bad-tempered brute of a man without a brain working in his empty head."

"Shopping's a marvelous idea," Trish broke in, deciding it was time to play peacemaker. "As a matter of fact, Travis"-she smiled and fluttered her lashes-"Dee's taking the rest of the day off so we can do just that."

"Oh, really?" he returned dryly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes, really. Come on, Dee."

"But I haven't finished-"

Trish linked her arm through the still protesting Adelia's and propelled her to a late-model compact. Before she had time to think things through, Adelia had an account at a local bank, a checkbook, and more cash than her apprehensive brain could comprehend.

"Now"-Trish backed the compact from its parking space-"we're going shopping."

"But what will I buy?" She stared at Trish's clear profile in complete consternation.

Stopping at a red light, Trish turned to her anxious face. "When's the last time you bought something for yourself for the fun of it? Have you ever bought something because you wanted it instead of just needing it?" The light changed, and as she joined the flow of traffic she sighed at Adelia's blank expression. "Don't misunderstand. I'm not saying people should just throw their money away, but it's high time you did something for yourself." Glancing at Adelia's furrowed brow, she smiled and shook her head. "You can afford to slow down, Dee, take a day off, buy something foolish, stretch your wings, take a breath."

She grinned as Adelia merely stared at her. "The sky will not fall if Adelia Cunnane takes time off to have some fun."

No one was more surprised than Adelia when, in fact, she did have fun. The large mall fascinated her with its various small specialty shops and large department stores. There were more clothes than she had ever seen, in colors and soft materials that had her staring and touching in frank admiration.

While Adelia gazed around her, Trish examined garments critically, going from rack to rack, dismissing dozens of dresses, skirts and blouses, occasionally removing an item and hanging it over her arm. Finding herself in a changing room, Adelia could only stare at the garments Trish had placed on a hook. Then, taking a deep breath, she stripped off her shirt and jeans and slipped on a soft jersey dress in muted shades of green.

The silky material felt strange and wonderful to her skin, clinging to gentle curves and falling gracefully below her knees. She gaped at the stranger in the mirror, her hand seeking the cross at her throat to assure herself that she was still the same person.

"Dee," Trish called from outside the curtain, "have you got one on yet?"

"Aye," she answered slowly, and Trish pulled the curtain aside, smiling in triumph at the reflection in the full-length mirror.

"I knew that dress was you the minute I saw it."

"It doesn't feel like me," Adelia mumbled, then turned to face Trish directly. "It's beautiful, but what would I do with so grand a dress? I exercise horses. I work in a stable-"

"Dee," Trish interrupted firmly. "Whatever your occupation, you're still a human being; you're still a woman, an exceptionally beautiful woman." Adelia's eyes widened, and her mouth opened to protest, but before the words could be uttered Trish took her by the shoulders and turned her to face her reflection. "Look at yourself, really look," she ordered in no-nonsense terms, then shifted to gentler tones. "There'll be times when you'll want only to be a woman; this dress is for those times. Now," she said with practical authority as she released her, "try something else on."

For the rest of the afternoon Adelia allowed Trish to take command. For the first time in more than a decade, she permitted someone else to make all the decisions, and somehow she found she was having fun. They halted in front of a cosmetics counter, and Trish began spraying scents until Adelia grumbled in protest.

"This." Trish selected one of the bottles she had sampled. "Light and delicate, with just a touch of spirit." Paying for the cologne, she handed the package to Adelia. "A present."

"Oh, but I can't!"

"Yes, you can. Friends get pleasure from giving presents. Now, that marvelous skin of yours doesn't need any help, but I think we'll accent your eyes-and some lipstick, nothing too dramatic." She stopped and laughed. "I'm bullying you, aren't I?"

"Aye," Adelia agreed, feeling caught up in a genial whirlwind and finding she liked it.

"Well, you needed it," Trish said firmly. "Is there anything else you want?"

She hesitated, then blurted out quickly. "Something for my hands. Your brother said I've hands like a ditchdigger's."

"That man!" she exclaimed in disgust. "He's the epitome of tact and diplomacy."

"Trish, hello!"

Adelia turned to see a flash of amazing silver-blond hair before Trish was enveloped in an exuberant embrace. Adelia's first startled impression was of lavish curls and musky scent.

"I'm so glad to see you, darling." A high, bubbly voice drifted with the scent. "It's been weeks."

"Hello, Laura." With an affectionate smile, Trish disentangled herself. "It's good to see you too. Laura Bowers-Adelia Cunnane."

"How do you do, Mistress Bowers." The greeting was returned with a flash of beautiful white teeth before Laura's attention returned to Trish.

"Darling, how is that fabulous brother of yours?"

"Fabulous," Trish returned, giving Adelia a quick grin of mischief.

"Don't tell me he's not pining after Margot?" Laura sighed and gave a flutter of extensive lashes.

"I was so hoping to offer him my comfort. Not even a tear or two to be dried?"

"He seems to be bearing up under the strain," Trish returned. Hearing the unexpected sarcasm, Adelia glanced at her in surprise.

"Oh, well, if he doesn't need comfort," Laura continued, obviously not affected by Trish's tone, "he's still at loose ends, so to speak. If dear Margot overplayed her hand by whisking off to Europe, I for one am not above volunteering to fill the gap. Heard from her lately?"

"Not a peep."

"Well, then, I'll take it that no news is good news." She gave Trish a wink and tossed her brilliant curls. "Such a gorgeous man. Do you know Travis, Adelaide?"

"Adelia," Trish corrected before Adelia could do so herself. "Yes, Dee knows Travis very well."

"Charming man," Laura bubbled. "Now that Margot's out of the picture, at least temporarily, I'll just have to give him a ring. Do tell him I'll call, won't you?" With another flurry of curls, she pecked both of Trish's cheeks. "I hate to, darling, but I simply must run. Don't forget to give Travis my very best. So nice to have met you, Amanda."

Adelia opened her mouth, then closed it again as Laura scurried off in a wave of musk.

"Sorry, Amanda." Trish grinned and patted Adelia's cheek. "Laura's really very sweet and basically kind, but she's a bit short of brains."

"She has such beautiful hair." Tearing her gaze from Laura's retreating coiffure, Adelia turned back to Trish. "I've never seen hair that color before. She must be very proud of it."

Trish laughed until she was forced to wipe away tears as Adelia looked on in puzzlement. "Oh, Dee, I adore you! Come on, we'll get that hand cream; then I'll buy you a cup of tea."

Waiting patiently while her mentor weighed the pros and cons of various lotions, Adelia reflected on Laura Bowers's conversation. Margot, she repeated, nibbling absently on her bottom lip. Who is this Mar-got, and what is she to Travis? For a moment she struggled with the urge to ask Trish outright, then, remembering her manner, she kept silent. Perhaps he's in love with her. This thought brought such a sharp, unexpected pain that she nearly gasped aloud. But he's not, a part of her insisted. If Travis Grant were ever to love a woman, he would never let her go. He would go to the ends of the earth to bring her back. Unless, of course, he had been rejected. His pride would never allow him to pursue a woman who had refused him. But who would ever refuse such a man? It's not my concern, she told herself fiercely, forcing herself to concentrate on Trish's detailed description of various hand lotions.

At last Trish was satisfied. Adelia was suitably outfitted and had all the cosmetics that Trish thought were necessary. Laden with parcels, the two women headed back to the car. For once, Adelia was reduced to silence. She sat bolt upright on the front seat as Trish drove swiftly over the winding country roads. She was even too excited to enjoy the rolling hills and the horses grazing in the meadows, now softly outlined by the sinking afternoon sun.

Paddy was there to open the door when Adelia burst in with her new treasures.

"Little Dee, you're looking as happy as the first time you rode Majesty round the track," he said, observing her flushed, happy face.

"This was nearly as exciting, Uncle Paddy." She laughed and stepped through the doorway. "Never have I seen so many clothes, so many people. Do you know, I think everyone in America is in a constant hurry, driving, rushing through the stores-nothing ever seems to move slowly. This place Trish took me was amazing-all these shops in one big building, and it had fountains, right inside." She sighed, then shrugged and grinned. "I know I should be ashamed for squandering money the way I did, but I'm not. I had a fine time."

"It was due time, lass, due time." He kissed her cheek as they entered the living room.

"Well, Paddy, she's lost her innocence." Travis rose from an armchair and grinned down at Adelia and her packages. "Trish corrupted her. I knew I shouldn't have let that sister of mine get hold of her."

"Your sister is a wonderful lady, Mr. Grant." Adelia tossed back her head to meet his eyes, chestnut curls falling back from her face. "She has a sweet and generous soul, and a good deal more in the way of manners than some I could name."

His brow lifted, and he glanced over her head to look at Paddy as the older man struggled not to grin. "It appears Trish has a champion, and one I don't think I care to challenge." He shifted his gaze back to Adelia's irate face. "At least," he added with a slow, enigmatic smile, "not today-"

CHAPTER 4

Saturday dawned sunny and unseasonably warm. The trees were now in full leaf, and the air carried the sweet scent of flowers as spring approached midterm. Adelia sang happily as she groomed Fortune, a sturdy three-year-old colt who listened with approval to her high, lilting voice as she brushed him.

"Dee! Dee!" She whirled around to see Mark and Mike scurrying into the stables. "Mom said we could come down and see you, and the new foal too."

"Good day to you, gentlemen; it's pleased I am to have you visiting me."

"Will you show us the foal?" Mike demanded, and she smiled at his enthusiasm.

"That I will, Master Michael, as soon as I've finished with my friend here. Now." She set down the brush and reached a hand into her back pocket. "Where is it that I put that hoof pick?" Her pockets were empty, and she searched the ground, frowning. "It's the little people at work again."

"We didn't take it," Mark objected.

"People are always blaming kids for everything," Mike complained righteously.

"Oh, but it's not children I'm speaking of," Adelia corrected. "It's leprechauns."

"Leprechauns?" the twins chorused. "What's a leprechaun?"

"Could it be you're telling me you've never heard of leprechauns?" She asked in amazement. The boys shook their identical heads, and she folded her arms across her chest. "Well, your education's sadly lacking, lads. It's a sorry thing to remain ignorant of the little people."

"Tell us, Dee," they demanded, pulling at her hands in excitement.

"That I will." She hauled herself up to sit on a bench as the two boys squatted on the floor at her feet. "Now, the leprechaun is a strange fellow, his father being an evil spirit and his mother a fairy fallen from grace. By nature he's a mischief-maker. He only grows to be about three feet high, no matter how old he happens to be. Some say he likes to be riding on sheep or goats, so a man knows, if his stock is tired and weary of a morning, that the little people have been up to their tricks and using them for some errand where they didn't want to travel on foot. They can be lazy when they've a mind to.

"They love to be making mischief about the house as well. Why, a leprechaun'll make a pot boil over on the stove, or keep it from boiling at all, as his whim suits him. Or he'll steal the bacon or toss the furniture about for the sheer love of the confusion. Other times he'll drink his fill of the milk or poteen and fill up the bottle with water.

"Now," she continued, her eyes bright with excitement as the two boys clung to her words, "to catch a leprechaun would bring certain fortune to the one who had the wit to hold him. The only time you can catch him is when he's sitting down, and he never sits unless his brogues want mending. He's forever running about so that he wears them out, and when he feels his feet on the ground, he sits behind a hedge or in the tall grass of a meadow and takes them off to mend them. Then"-she lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper, and the two heads inched forward-"you creep up, quiet as a cat, and grab him tight in your arms." She flung her arms around an imaginary leprechaun and shouted, '"Give me your gold,' you say. 'I've got no gold,' says he."