Irish Thoroughbred

  at me and shoving me into dressing rooms. I couldn't make her listen to reason."

  "I thought Trish might be helpful."

  "Helpful?" She gave a long-suffering sigh. "I felt like I was being blown about by a whirlwind. Packages growing like a great mountain, and Trish smiling and finding something else. She had a fine time," she added, mystified.

  "Yes, I imagine she did. I don't see her having much trouble filling out your wardrobe." He smiled at the picture and leaned back in his chair.

  "Travis," she began after a small pause, "whatever will I do with all those things?"

  "You might try wearing them," he suggested. "It's the usual procedure."

  "That's fine for a time. I understand I can't go about in my old clothes with things as they are now. But after, when-" She stumbled and searched for the right words. "When things are back as they were before, I-"

  "The clothes are yours, Adelia," he interrupted with a quick gesture of his hand. "You'll keep them whatever happens. I certainly have no use for them." Rising, he paced the length of the terrace and stared out over the smooth expanse of lawn.

  Adelia sat silently, concerned by his anger and bewildered over how she had caused it. She stood and approached him, laying a tentative hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Travis. That sounded ungrateful; I didn't mean it to. Everything's happening so fast. I don't want to take advantage of what you're doing for me."

  "One can hardly call it taking advantage when it's like pulling teeth to get you to accept anything." His shoulders moved and he turned to face her. "Adelia." he said with a sigh somewhere between impatience and amusement, "you are so artless."

  She did not question the ambiguity of his words, so relieved was she that his anger had faded and he was smiling at her again.

  "I have something for you." Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small box. "My signet ring was fine in an emergency, but it looks big enough to fit on your wrist."

  "Oh." She found nothing else to say as she opened the box and found a small band studded with winking diamonds and glowing emeralds.

  He removed the large, masculine ring from her finger and replaced it with the jeweled wedding band. "I'd say that suits a bit better."

  "It fits," she murmured inadequately, overcome with the longing to throw her arms around him and cry out her love.

  "I've studied those hands enough to make an educated guess as to your ring size." He spoke lightly and, dropping her hand, moved back to his chair.

  Swallowing the obstruction in her throat, she followed him. "Travis." She stood in front of his chair, feeling the strangeness of looking down at him. "Travis, you're doing all the giving, and I have nothing for you. I want to- Is there nothing I can do for you? Is there nothing you want from me?"

  He met her eyes with a long, unfathomable stare until she thought he would not speak at all. "For now,

  Dee," he said at length, "the best thing you can do for me is to accept what's given and not question it."

  She sighed at his answer. "All right, Travis, if it pleasures you."

  He stood and took her hand, a finger running over her wedding band. "Yes, it pleasures me. Come inside and we'll eat, and I'll tell you how Majesty sulked for you today."

  The next two weeks passed quickly, Adelia's days full between the hospital and the stables. Paddy was moved into a regular hospital room. No longer attached to machines, he improved daily, complaining vigorously about being stuck in bed and poked with needles. The easy friendliness of the men at the stables and the soothing routine of riding and grooming brought a sense of normalcy back to Adelia's life, and at times she almost forgot she was Mrs. Travis Grant.

  Travis was kind and casually affectionate, speaking of Paddy's recovery and on the general topic of horses when they took meals together. He left Adelia free to pursue whatever project she chose, making no demands, his attitude tolerant, generous and distant. She was aware of a subtle change in their relationship, and she found it did not please her. He never raised his voice or criticized, and he never touched her in any way unless strictly necessary. She wished fervently that he would yell at her or shake her, or do something to lose his cool, composed manner. Their relationship was now far less personal than it had been when they had been employer and employee.

  She was returning to the house one afternoon, wondering if Travis had returned from a business appointment, when she stopped and gaped at a large, dirty gray mound of fur exploring a bed of marigolds. After a careful study, she concluded that under the grubby fur was a dog of rather alarming size.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said in a quiet voice that had the dog's head jerking up. "Now, don't be running off. I won't hurt you." The dog hesitated, eyeing her warily, and she kept the distance between them and continued to speak. "It's just that I've seen Travis's gardener-a terrifying man he is. And one that wouldn't take kindly to anyone digging at his flowers." She crouched down, and they studied each other eye to eye. "Are you lost, then, or just roaming? I can see by your eyes you're hungry. I've been hungry myself a time or two. Wait here," she ordered and stood. "I'll fetch you something."

  Entering the kitchen, she commandeered a large hunk of roast beef. The whine of the vacuum cleaner was audible from the living room, and, deciding it would be foolish to disturb Hannah and vowing to apologize to her after the deed was done, Adelia slipped back outside.

  "It's prime beef, my lad, and from the looks of you, you've not seen its kind before." She placed the offering on the grass and stepped back a few paces.

  He came forward slowly at first, eyes shifting from the beef to his benefactor until either his confidence or his hunger grew, and he threw himself on the unexpected meal. She watched him polish off what would have fed three hungry men, finding enormous pleasure in his appetite.

  "Well, now, you've made a pig of yourself, and that's the truth, and you don't look a bit ashamed." She grinned and watched the long tail thump in agreement. "Pleased with yourself, are you?" Before she could move, she found herself flat on her back, trapped under a hundred pounds of appreciation, her face being drenched by a large wet tongue. "Get off me, you great hairy brute!" Laughing, she pushed to no avail and tried to turn her face from the moisture. "Surely there's not a rib that's not cracked, and it's God's truth you've not had a bath since the day you were born."

  After much pleading and wriggling, she managed to release herself, staggered to her feet, and surveyed the damage. Her shirt and jeans were covered with dirt, her arms smeared with it. She pushed at her disordered hair and stared down at the dog that sat at her feet, his tongue hanging out in adoration.

  "We'll both be needing a bath now. Well-" She let out a deep breath, tilted her head, and considered. "You wait here, and I'll see what can be done about you. It might be best if you were cleaned up a bit before I introduce you."

  On the way back to the house, she paused on the terrace to brush at the dirt that covered her.

  "Dee, what happened? Were you thrown? Are you hurt?" Travis rushed to her, his hands claiming her shoulders, then moving to stroke her face. She shook her head, thrown off balance by the frantic tone of his voice.

  "No, I'm not hurt. Travis, you mustn't touch me-you'll get your suit filthy." She tried to take a step away, only to be caught closer.

  "The devil with the suit!" His voice was edged with anger as he pressed her against him, one hand cradling her head.

  The small intimacy after so many days of impersonal distance swamped her with pleasure, and her arms encircled his waist before she could lecture herself on the wisdom of the action. She felt his lips tarry in her hair, and she thought, with a brief flash of joy, that if she could only have this much of him from time to time, she would be content.

  Suddenly, one hand gripped her shoulder while the other tilted her face back, and she saw temper flame in his face. "What in heaven's name have you done to yourself?"

  "I haven't done anything to myself," she said with a show of dignity, shaking off his ha
nd. "We've company." She gestured to the lawn.

  His eyes moved past her, narrowed, then returned. "Adelia, what in the name of heaven is that?"

  "It's a dog, Travis, though I wasn't sure myself at first. The poor thing was half starving. That's why"-she paused and braced herself for the confession-"that's why I gave him the roast beef."

  "You fed him?" Travis asked in low, even tones,

  "Surely you wouldn't begrudge the poor thing a bit of food. I-"

  "I don't care a whit about the food, Adelia." He shook her briefly. "Don't you have any more sense than to fool with a strange dog? You could have been bitten."

  Straightening, she glared at the censure in his voice. "I know what I'm about, and I was careful. He needed food, so I gave it to him-the same as I'd give it to anyone who needed it. And as for that, he hasn't a thought in his head about biting anyone." Glancing over, she watched the dog's tail begin to thump the ground again. "There"-she pointed triumphantly-"you see."

  "I see it appears you've made another conquest. Now," he said, and turned her firmly to face him directly. "Just how did you get in this condition?"

  "Oh, well." She looked up at Travis, back to the dog, and back to Travis again. "You see, after he'd finished eating, he was overcome with gratitude, and he-well, he forgot himself for a minute and knocked me down and sort of thanked me in his way. He's a bit dirty-as you can see."

  "He knocked you down?" Travis repeated, incredulously. At his tone, Adelia hurried on. "He's very affectionate, and he didn't mean any harm. Really, Travis, don't be angry with him. See how pretty he is, sitting there now." She glanced over at the dog and saw he was smart enough to blink soulful eyes in Travis's direction. "I told him to wait, and that's just what he's doing. He only wants a bit of affection."

  Travis turned back and gave Adelia a long look. "I'm getting the impression you intend to keep him."

  "Well, I don't know about keeping him, exactly." She dropped her eyes from him, stared at a spot of dirt on Travis's jacket, and brushed it away.

  "What's his name?"

  "Finnegan," she responded immediately, then, seeing she had fallen into the trap, looked up frowning.

  "Finnegan?" Travis repeated with a sober nod. "How did you come by that."

  "He reminds me of Father Finnegan back in Skibbereen, oversized and clumsy but with much inner dignity."

  "I see." He moved over, crouched down, and inspected Finnegan. To Adelia's relief, the dog remembered his manners.

  When Travis returned to her, she moistened her lips and launched into her campaign. "I'll take care of him, Travis; he won't be any trouble. I won't let him come in the house and get in Hannah's way."

  "There's no need to use your eyes, Adelia." At her bewildered frown, he laughed and tugged her hair. "Lord help the world if you ever realize what you're doing. You're perfectly free to keep him if that's what you want."

  "Oh, I do! Thank you, Travis-"

  "There are, however, two conditions," he interrupted before she could finish being grateful. "One, that you teach him not to knock you down; he's every bit as big as you are. And two, that he has a bath." He glanced over at Finnegan and shook his head. "Or several baths."

  "I think I'm due for one myself." She brushed again without success at the clinging dirt, then lifted her face with a smile. The smile wavered as she found Travis looking down at her strangely.

  "You know, Dee, I'm tempted to stuff you in my pocket where I won't have to worry about you."

  "I'm small," she agreed, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe, "but I think I'm rather too big for that."

  "Your size is intimidating."

  She frowned, wondering what he could find intimidating about a bare five feet two. His hand wandered through her hair, gently for a moment; then, tousling it with casual friendliness, he added, "I believe it would be easier if you didn't continually look fifteen instead of twenty-three- I guess I had better change my clothes before I give you a hand bathing that mountain."

  As her marriage approached its third week, Adelia sat in her uncle's hospital room, smiling at him as he spoke with excitement of his discharge scheduled for the following day.

  "Anyone would think they'd been torturing you and starving you to death, Uncle Paddy."

  "Oh, no, it's a fine place, with good and kind people," he protested. "But a hospital's for the sick and never have I felt better in my life."

  "You are better, and it makes me happier than I can say. But"-she paused and gave him a stern look-"you've still got to rest for a while and do as the doctors tell you. You're coming home to stay with Travis and me for a few days, till you can get by on your own."

  "Now, Dee, I can't do that," Paddy objected, patting her hand. "You two should be off on your honeymoon, not worrying about the likes of me."

  With a great deal of self-control, she managed not to wince at the word honeymoon and went on in calm but firm tones. "You'll be coming back with us, and that's the end of it. I didn't even have to ask-Travis suggested it himself."

  Lying back against the pillows, Paddy smiled. "Aye, he would. Travis is a fine man."

  "That he is," Adelia agreed with a sigh. She forced a bright smile and continued. "He's fond of you, Uncle Paddy. I knew as soon as I saw the two of you together."

  "Aye," he murmured. "Travis and I go back a long way. Just a lad he was when I came to work for his father. Poor motherless child, so solemn and straight he was."

  Adelia's mind wandered as she tried to picture Travis as a small boy, wondering if he was tall even then.

  "Stuart Grant was a hard man," Paddy went on. "He ran the lad harder than the horses he raised. Trish he left to Hannah, barely showing the girl a passing interest, but the boy he wanted molded in his image. Always giving orders, with never a kind word or a dab of affection.

  "I found myself taking the lad in, telling him stories and making games out of the work we did." He grinned, lost in memory. " 'Paddy's Shadow,' the hands called him, 'cause he took to following me about whenever his father wasn't there. He worked hard, and he knew the horses even then. A fine, good lad he was, but the old man couldn't see it. Always finding fault. I wondered sometimes when he grew older why he didn't lay the old man out, goodness knows he was big enough, and the temper was there. But he took the abuse the old man handed him and only looked at him with his eyes so cold." Paddy paused and let out a long breath.

  "Travis was away at college when the old man passed on- that would be about ten years ago. He stood there looking down at the grave, and I went over and laid my hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry about your father, lad,' says I, and he turned and looked down at me. 'He was never my father, Paddy,' says he, just as calm as you please. 'You've been my father since I was ten years old. If you hadn't been there, I'd have left a long time ago and never looked back.'"

  The room was suddenly silent. Adelia gripped the hand that lay in hers tighter as Paddy's eyes grew moist with memory. "And now the two of you are together, I couldn't have wished it any better."

  "You'll stay with him, Uncle Paddy, always, no matter what? You'll promise me that?"

  He turned to her, surprised by the urgency in her tone. "Of course, little Dee. Where else would I be going?"

  CHAPTER 9

  The following evening, after Paddy was comfortably settled into his room in the main house, Travis announced plans for a party.

  "It's expected after Majesty's win, but with Paddy's heart attack it's had to be postponed." He swirled a glass of after-dinner brandy, his eyes sweeping over her, resting for a moment on her hair shimmering on the shoulders of her Nile blue dress. "Our marriage has, of course, leaked to the press, and it will seem odd if we don't have some sort of gathering where you can meet some of my friends and business associates."

  "Aye," Adelia agreed, unconsciously nibbling on her lip as she turned to gaze out the window. "And so they can get a look at me."

  "That too," he answered in solemn tones. "Don't worry, Dee: as long as you don't t
rip over your feet and fall on your face you should get by fairly well."

  She whirled around to rage at him that she wasn't exactly a clumsy fool, but his good-natured grin stopped her. "Thank you very much, Master Grant." She smiled back at him. "It's a great comfort you are to me."

  She gasped out loud at the length of the list Travis gave her for the projected reception. There couldn't be less than a hundred, she estimated, staring at the paper.

  "You've nothing to worry about," he assured her. "Hannah will handle the details. You're only expected to make polite conversation."

  The attempt at reassurance hurt her pride. "I'll have you know I'm not a complete cabbagehead, Travis Grant. I'm well capable of helping Hannah, and I won't be making a fool of myself in front of your fancy friends."

  "You're the one who said she was afraid of making a fool of herself, not me," Travis reminded her reasonably.

  "It's not what I said that matters," she concluded with her own brand of logic. "It's what I'm saying." Tossing her head, she turned and stalked into the kitchen.

  Despite her proud claims, Adelia found herself terrified on the evening of the party. There had been no time for nervousness in the days before; she had been too busy with plans and preparations. But now, alone in her room, with only the prospect of dressing ahead of her, she began to feel the first flutter of anxiety.

  She chose the green silk gown that Trish had insisted she buy and slipped it carefully over her head. Its classic lines accentuated her softly rounded figure; its deeply scooped neckline revealed a teasing hint of her firm breasts. The silk glowed against the creamy health of her skin. She arranged her hair on top of her head, trying for a more sophisticated style, but gave up in disgust and allowed it to fall loose and full to her shoulders, a fiery auburn waterfall.

  Voices were audible in the living room as she descended the stairs. She took several deep breaths before joining Travis and Paddy.

  Travis broke off what he had been saying as she entered the room. He rose from his chair. She sought his eyes for approval, but found them strangely veiled and unreadable. She wished that she had chosen one of the other gowns that now hung in the large cherry wardrobe.

  "Ah, now, isn't that a beautiful sight, lad?" Paddy said, surveying Adelia with uninhibited pride. "Why, there won't be another woman here tonight will hold a candle to my little Dee. It's a lucky man you are, Travis."

  "Uncle Paddy." She smiled and moved to kiss his cheek. "What wonderful blarney. But don't stop-I need it. I have to be honest and say I'm scared witless."

  "There's no need for that, Dee." Taking her hand, Travis turned her toward him. "You'll have them eating out of your hand. You look incredible." He smiled at her, his free hand brushing through her hair briefly before he turned away to replenish his drink.

  Love me, Travis, her mind shouted suddenly. I'd give the world and more if you'd only love me half as much as I love you.

  As he turned back, his eyes captured hers. He paused, unreadable emotion flickering over his face. "Dee?" he began, his voice questioning, but before she could speak the doorbell pealed and their guests began to arrive.

  It was infinitely easier than Adelia had imagined. After the first wave of guests, she felt her tension dissolve and met the few speculative glances with characteristic boldness. The house was soon filled with people and chatter and laughter and the chink of glasses. It was apparent that Travis was well liked and respected by his associates, and his choice of bride met with acceptance and approval, if not immediately, then shortly after exposure to Adelia's natural, honest charm.

  One sleekly coiffured woman who had cornered Adelia halted Travis as he passed. "Travis, your wife is refreshing and charming and more than likely too good for you." She smiled with the privilege of old friendship. "I believe it would be a treat just to listen to her read the telephone directory. Such a marvelous accent."

  "Careful, Carla," Travis admonished, slipping an arm around Adelia's shoulder in the casual way she had missed in the past few weeks. "Dee claims we're the ones with the accent-and for all her sweet looks, her temper is not to be trifled with."

  "Travis, darling!" The trio turned, and Adelia caught a glimpse of swirling white as the owner of the voice embraced her husband. "I just got back in town, darling, and heard about your little party. I hope you don't mind."

  "Of course not, Margot. It's always a pleasure to see you." He turned, and Adelia noted that he didn't dislodge the red-tipped hand from his arm. "Margot Winters-my wife, Adelia."

  Margot turned, and Adelia nearly gasped aloud. She was staring right at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Tall and slender, she was elegantly draped in a cool white sheath. Ash-gold hair curled softly around an oval face. Her skin was the color of rich cream. Long-lashed gray eyes, as clear and cool as a mountain lake, looked over and beyond Adelia.

  "Why, Travis, she's adorable." The gray eyes focused now on Adelia, making her feel small and inadequate. "But she's little more than a child, barely out of the schoolroom." The sweet tone was patently patronizing.

  "I'm allowed up with the grown-ups now and again," Adelia said evenly, her chin tilting to meet

  Margot's gaze. "I hung up my book strap some time back."

  "My," Margot observed over Carla's chuckle. "You're Irish, aren't you?"

  "Aye." The quicksilver temper began its swift rise. "As Paddy's pig. Tell me, Mistress Winters, what are you?"

  "Dee." Trish spoke from behind, laying a hand on Adelia's arm. "Will you come out here for a minute? I need you to help me."

  Adelia was pulled out on the terrace, and after she had shut the doors, Trish dissolved into a fit of laughter. "Oh, Dee," she managed between giggles. "How I would have loved to have left you there and watched you lay into her! I just didn't think it was quite the right time. Oh-" She wiped at her eyes. "Did you see Carla? I thought she was going to explode! She kept choking on her drink and trying to keep a straight face. I wouldn't have missed that for the world! How