Irish Rose (15 page)

"He found you?"

"No, I found him." Rosa went back to her glasses. "Burke is not a man who looks for anyone. He owned part of a casino in Reno. Because I wouldn't take the money he offered, I went to work for him. He's never been comfortable with it, but he doesn't send me away."

"He couldn't. You're his sister."

"Not to him. Because to him our father never existed. There is no family in Burke's life, no roots, no home."

"That can change."

"Only Burke can change it."

"Aye." Nodding, she stood. "Thank you, Rosa."

She didn't tell him about the baby. Over the next few days she fretted over the secret but didn't speak it. There were races to prepare for. Important ones. Now, as she watched Burke handle his business and deal with his horses, she watched from a different perspective.

How had his early life shaped him? She took note of the way he treated those who worked for him. He was firm and demanding but never unreasonable. Not once had she heard him raise his voice to any of his men. Because he knew what it was like to be abused by an employer? she wondered. Because he understood how it felt to be dependent for your existence on another?

He loved the horses. She wasn't sure he was aware of it himself, but she could see it in the way he watched them take to the track, the way he supervised their grooming. Perhaps it was true that when he'd won the farm it had been only another game, but he'd made a life out of it whether he realized it or not. That alone gave Erin hope.

The time came for them to fly to Kentucky. Erin vowed she would tell him about the baby when they returned.

There was something different about her, Burke thought as he fixed himself a drink in the parlor of their hotel suite. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Her moods were like a roller coaster—up, down and sideways as quick as a wink. Not that he didn't find them interesting. He'd never been one who wanted to settle in too comfortably, and a man would hardly do that with a wife who was raging one minute and smiling sweetly the next. She was always doing the unexpected these days, cuddling up against him and falling into long, thoughtful silences or racing down to the stables to drag him back for a picnic under the willow.

She was the same in public, playing the dignified wife one moment and a flirtatious woman the next. And she didn't always flirt with only him. He couldn't deny it made him jealous, but he was fully aware that was her intent.

He found her daydreaming one minute and rushing around talking about redecorating the next. At times he worried that she was becoming restless again, but then she would reach for him at night, and no one had ever seemed so content.

He'd noticed she seemed to have lost her taste for champagne, though they attended the spring parties with regularity. She'd taken to sipping plain juice and discussing bloodlines and the pros and cons of certain tracks.

Then there had been the day he'd given her the earrings, sapphires to match her necklace. She had opened the box, burst into tears and fled, only to come back an hour later to gather him close and thank him.

The woman was driving him crazy, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

"Are you almost ready, or do you want to be fashionably late?" he asked as he strolled toward the bedroom.

"Almost ready. Since we're going to win the race tomorrow, I thought I should look my best for the pictures they'll be taking tonight. I've never known people with such love for taking pictures at parties."

"You didn't complain about having yours in the paper," he began, then stopped to stand in the doorway. She smiled when she saw him and turned a slow circle.

She'd chosen the dress carefully, knowing that before too many more weeks she would be showing and wouldn't feel proper wearing something daring. The midnight blue was shot through with silver threads so that she shimmered even standing still. It left her shoulders bare, then slithered down her body without drape or fold. Without the slit up the skirt, she wasn't sure she could have moved in it.

"Well, do you like it? Mrs. Viceroy said I should have something to show off my necklace."

"Who's going to notice the necklace?" He came to her and, in the way he had of making her heart stop, took both her hands to kiss them. "Irish, you're gorgeous."

"It's sinful for me to want the other women to be jealous, isn't it?"

"Probably."

"But I do. I want them to look at you and think he's the most wonderful man here. And she has him."

Laughing, she spun another circle. "Then I can just look at them and smile, sort of pitying."

"It's a shame I won't be able to notice, because I won't be able to take my eyes off you."

She turned back to touch his cheek. "You know, when you say things like that, it still makes my insides curl up. Burke…" She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she knew he would only smile and kiss her forehead. Then her heart would break a little because he wasn't able to give the words back to her. "Did you ever think these parties are a little—slow?"

"I thought you liked them."

"Well, I do." She moved closer to run a finger down his lapel. "But sometimes, sometimes I find myself in the mood for something that takes a little more energy." She smiled as she looked up at him under her lashes. "A lot more energy. You smell very nice."

"Thanks." He lifted a brow as she loosened his tie. "Are you trying to start something?"

"And what if I am?" She pushed his jacket off his shoulders.

"Just checking," he murmured while she unbuttoned his shirt. "This isn't going to make all those women jealous."

With a laugh she ran her hands up his chest. "That's what you think." Grinning, she shoved him onto the bed and jumped in after him.

For the first time since she'd fainted, Erin insisted on going down to the stables with Burke. She told him it was a matter of pride, and it was. Pride in him.

She wasn't able to bring herself to go in, but urged him to as she stood in the sun and watched the people.

A long way from Skibbereen indeed, she thought. The air was warm with springtime, and flowers were already in bloom. Trainers and exercise boys she'd come to know by sight nodded or tipped their hats as they passed her and greeted her as Mrs. Logan.

There was excitement in the air as well, the kind that hummed before an important race. Before long, it would be
the
race. The Derby. But for now everyone's attention was on today and the Bluegrass Stakes. A win here added to Double Bluff's record would make him the favorite. Erin smiled as she thought that would lower the odds, but odds didn't matter. She wanted Burke to win, today and at Churchill Downs. She could almost taste the satisfaction of having Double Bluff named Horse of the Year. More than she'd wanted anything, she wanted that for Burke, for him to know he'd done something special, something only the best could accomplish.

"Good day to you, Mrs. Logan."

"Paddy." Pleased to see him, Erin opened her arms for a hug. "Oh, it's a fine day, isn't it? How's Dee?"

"Right as right and mean as a bear. She told me to tell you if Travis's Apollo doesn't win, Burke's Double Bluff better."

"And who are you betting on?"

"Now who do you think? I trained Apollo myself. But if I was hedging my bets, I'd lay some money on the colt out of Three Aces."

"A smart man would put his money down on Charlie's Pride." Durnam came up behind them and slapped Paddy on the shoulder.

"Well, now, it's a fine colt you have there, Mr. Durnam, and that's the truth. But I think I'll stick with my own."

"That's your choice. Hello there, Mrs. Logan. You're looking as pretty as ever."

"Thank you. Good luck to you today."

"You don't need luck when you've got the best." He pulled at the brim of his straw hat and moved on.

"We'll see who's the best," Erin said under her breath.

"Got the fever, do you?" Chuckling, Paddy slipped an arm around her shoulders. "There's a powerful competition in this business. Can't be otherwise when money and prestige change hands in a matter of minutes."

"How do you know when you've got a winner?"

"Well, now, there's breeding and training and a matter of attitude. There's feed and grooming. There's the jockey that sits on top and finding the right man for the right mount. But what it comes down to, darling, is blood. It's in the blood or it isn't, just like with people."

"Aye, the blood." She looked toward the stables and thought of Burke. "So you think that someone could be denied the proper care and feeding, the training, and still be a winner?"

"We talking horses or people?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not much." He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "It's in the blood and it's in the heart. I've got to tend to my boy now."

"I'll wave to you from the winner's circle, Paddy Cunnane," she called after him.

"You sound sure of yourself," Burke commented as he crossed to her.

"Sure of you." She gripped his hands as they headed for the stands. "You don't have to walk me up. I know you want to stay to see your jockey weighed in and watch Double Bluff saddled."

"The last time I didn't go with you I found you surrounded by reporters."

"I know how to handle them now. Besides, I did like seeing my picture in the paper."

"You're a vain woman, Irish."

"Aye, and why not?" She brushed a finger over his cream-colored shirt and found herself pleased he didn't go in for the seersucker of his associates. "Whether it's pride or vanity, I find it exciting to see my picture on the society page. Did you know, Mr. Logan, you're a very important man?"

"Is that so?"

"Aye,'tis so, and so I'm told often enough. Then, by rights, I have to be an important woman."

"You could pass for one today," he decided, taking a quick study of her pale blue suit and pearls. She'd added a plain wide-brimmed straw hat, then had tilted it at an angle so it could no longer be called demure.

"I decided the day called for dignified." Then she laughed and touched the brim of her hat. "Sort of. Burke, I'll be fine, really. I know you want to stay close to the horse."

"I'd rather stay close to you. Mind?"

"No." She hooked her arm through his and grinned. "Why don't I buy you a beer?"

She thought it was a perfect day. The most perfect day of her life. The sky was cloudless, a soft spring blue that made her smile just to look at it. She noticed the woman from her wedding as she stepped into the box, and made sure she tilted her head and smiled coolly in greeting.

"Why do I feel you're always sticking pins in Dorothy Gainsfield?"

"Because I am, darling." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Long, sharp ones. I didn't know until the other day that the skinny blonde who was hanging all over you on St. Patrick's Day was Mrs. Gainsfield's favorite niece." She laughed again, figuring it meant another day in purgatory. "Life can be sweet."

"You'll have to fill me in on all this later."

"In ten or twenty years, perhaps. Look, Burke, television cameras. Can you imagine?"

Delighted with the world in general, she took her seat. Now and then she spotted someone she knew and waved, to Lloyd Pentel, to Honoria Louis, to the elderly Mrs. Bingham.

"Do you know, I've met as many people in a month's time as I've known all of my life. It's an odd and wonderful feeling." She turned to see he was smiling at her. "Why do you look at me like that?"

"It's an education to watch you in a place like this, soaking it all up, storing it away. I wonder what you'll look like when we go to Paris or Rio."

"Probably stand around with my mouth hanging open the whole time and humiliate you."

"There's that." He only laughed when she jabbed him with her elbow. "Try to behave yourself. It's almost post time."

"Oh, Lord save us, so it is, and I haven't bet."

"I bet for you while you were buying my beer and trying to decide if you were going to eat a cheeseburger or two hot dogs. Living in America's improved your appetite."

It wasn't only that that was increasing her appetite, she thought, and wondered when she would work up the nerve to tell him. "It wasn't my fault we missed breakfast," she reminded him. "Where's my ticket?"

Watching the horses being led to the starting gate, he reached in his pocket. Erin took the stub and was about to tuck it away when she noticed the amount.

"A thousand dollars?" Her voice squeaked so that a few interested heads turned. "Burke, where would I be getting a thousand dollars to bet on a horse?"

"Don't be ridiculous." He didn't spare her a glance. His trainer had moved to Double Bluff's head as the colt reared and danced. "Seems a little more wired than usual," he murmured as two grooms stepped up to help.

"But, Burke, a thousand dollars."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No." She stopped. Then, closing the ticket tight in her hand, she said a quick prayer. "No, of course not."

The bell sounded. The gate was released. The horses plunged forward.

She recognized the Pentel colt in the lead. He was a fast starter, she remembered, but he didn't have stamina. With the ticket still clutched in her hand, she put a fist to her breast. The pack was hardly more than a blur, but she could see the green-and-white silks of Burke's jockey. Rounding the first turn he was in fourth, with Travis's colt on his left. The crowd was already shouting so that she could no longer hear the announcer. It didn't matter. With her free hand she gripped the sleeve of Burke's linen shirt and held on.

"He's making his move," Burke murmured.

She saw the whiz of crops, the strain of speed as the jockeys leaned low. Double Bluff moved to the outside. His stride lengthened, eating up distance. It seemed that before her eyes he grew bigger, his coat glossier, his legs longer.

A champion, she thought again, was in the heart. Hers was with the colt. It was more than a race, she knew, more than prestige and certainly more than money. It was Burke's pride. She understood what it was like to come from little, then to have a chance for everything.

The Pentel colt began to lag. As they came down the stretch it was a race between three, leaving the pack behind. Charlie's Pride held first, with Travis's colt and Double Bluff vying for second. She could see the dirt flying and the sweat. All around her there was one huge, bellowing roar.