by Cajio, Linda
The imperious tone was suspiciously familiar, and James asked, “Lettice? Is that you?”
“It’s not the Queen of England,” Lettice snapped. “It took me four hours to track you down there in Idaho.”
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, her words about his having to come home finally penetrating his brain.
“Battle Cry. There’s something wrong with him. Anne needs your help.”
Everything clicked into place for him at the thought of her needing him. Why she was an obsession, why he would never be able to accept a rejection from her, why he had never been able to truly excise her from his mind. Why he needed her so badly. He was in love with her! And now she needed him—for help with the horse. The idea of a problem with that beautiful gift of nature made his stomach churn. Whatever it was, he’d see it through no matter the time or cost. He’d see it through with Anne. And maybe when that was resolved she’d need him for other reasons. Maybe it was time to stop avoiding the problem of Annie Kitteridge and face her head on.
“I’m on my way.”
He slammed the receiver down before Lettice could say another word.
Seven
“All right, bring her in. Steady now.”
Anne stood by the entrance of the breeding shed as the men, using calm movements and gentle voices, urged the mare into the stable. With her all-brown coat and black mane and tail, she looked like fifty others at the farm. But she was different, very different.
Curtis came out of the small barn. “Jezebel’s Pride is ready. I’m going over now for Battle Cry.”
“Fine,” Anne replied through gritted teeth. Her stomach was already a knot of anxiety.
“It’s probably a wasted effort,” Curtis said gloomily. “His first seven mares didn’t take—”
“Do it.”
He nodded and walked toward the stallion barn.
Anne turned and stared inside the breeding shed. It was ironic that she had seen horses mating on only two occasions, and they had been by accident. The breeding crew were all men, and she had made it clear from the beginning that she would not make them uncomfortable by helping with the actual mating. She had earned their respect with that action. She allowed herself a brief smile. Truthfully, as the only female in the proceedings baring the mare, she would be just as uncomfortable as they.
But this time she had good reason to stay, and the man moving quietly around the shed knew it. A problem had shown up with Battle Cry. A disaster. The farm’s reputation was riding on that horse. Her belly lurched ominously at the thought.
Anne focused on Jezebel’s Pride. Having been one of the farm’s original mares, Jezzy was an old hand at this. She was already munching on the contents of the hay crib. Dr. Adamson, the veterinarian Anne used, sat on several bales of hay, a much more clinical witness to the spectacle about to take place. She was hoping against hope that they were all doing something wrong and the doctor would spot it. A simple explanation for why every one of Battle Cry’s mares was not pregnant was hardly likely, but still …
She had to get this solved as quickly and as quietly as possible. Although she’d admonished all her people not to talk about the problem, she was terrified it would get out. She’d been over the paperwork, and Battle Cry’s initial fertility tests showed a horse with the “right stuff.” He hadn’t refused one mare so far, so why he couldn’t perform …? She groaned, thinking of James. She didn’t want to tell him. And the way things had been left between them, she was now feeling more of a failure than ever. She hadn’t been able even to take good care of his horse!
The clatter of hooves drew her attention, and she turned back around. Battle Cry literally gleamed with health. Sick at heart, she watched the horse prancing and whinnying in eagerness, clearly scenting the mare nearby. He fought the rope clipped to his head collar, but Curtis was too experienced to allow a randy horse to run amok.
Anne followed the horse until she stood just inside the shed’s entrance. Battle Cry was brought to Jezebel’s Pride, and the next minutes were filled with a savage splendor and tender domination that only nature could create. In the aftermath Battle Cry stood sweating and shaking, while Jezzy calmly went back to munching hay.
“Well, that wasn’t it,” Anne muttered to herself, feeling as shaken as the stallion.
The animal had acquitted himself admirably. In fact, as she’d watched his vigorous thrusting, she had found herself wondering about his owner. Would James treat a woman with overwhelming passion and gentleness? Would he move so deftly inside her? Would the human version with him exceed the equine’s?
Anne pushed away the lingering sensations she had experienced while watching the animals. James had bluntly told her there would never be a time or place. She ought to be worrying instead about his horse.
“All his reactions are quite normal,” Dr. Adamson said, coming up to her after his examination.
She nodded. There was nothing she could say.
They began to walk back to the house as he added, “In fact, that was a textbook case of mating if I ever saw one. And I’ve seen a few in my time. At least there’s no sign of sexual dysfunction …”
Anne listened as the doctor droned on about Battle Cry’s performance. So much for her prayer that the stallion was as green as a newborn foal on the subject of sex. Unfortunately, he’d caught on early. Probably the same as his owner, she thought with silent sarcasm.
“… and I sent the samples you gave me to the lab the other day. We ought to have the initial fertility testing results back anytime.” He shrugged. “Although it’s unlikely, it is possible his original test results are inaccurate. It’s more probable that whatever’s wrong is subtle. Don’t worry, Anne, we’ll get it fixed.”
She sighed. “If it’s fixable.”
He patted her shoulder in commiseration. “Have you told his owner?”
“Not yet. I want to be able to tell him exactly what’s wrong when I do.”
“Smart thinking. It could be anything, even the change in environment that’s affecting him. No sense upsetting …”
“Mr. Farraday,” she supplied when the doctor paused.
“Mr. Farraday before you have to.”
Good advice, Anne thought. But when they came in sight of the house she realized the doctor’s advice was a moot point. James’s car was parked in the driveway.
“I better get moving on,” Dr. Adamson said. “I have to go over to the Radissons’ place. They have a horse with a hot hoof that refuses to heal.”
Anne nodded. She supposed she ought to face James alone. It was a punishment she deserved. Her motives for taking Battle Cry hadn’t been as pure as the driven snow. That snow had had a lot of dirt behind it, and she knew it. Her attempted trick with Lollipop’s Rainbow was now coming home to roost—with an ironic vengeance.
After seeing the doctor off, she trudged up the portico steps and into the house. She hung her jacket on the coatrack and slipped off her boots, leaving them on the rubber mat by the front door. Voices were coming from the living room, and she took a deep breath before pulling open the old-fashioned oak double doors. Lettice was seated on the sofa while James was standing by the tall, narrow window.
“Look who’s back, dear,” Lettice said with a knowing smile. “I was just telling James how much we missed him.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” Anne said, keeping her gaze on the older woman. Her one look at James, in his chambray shirt and pleated wool trousers, had caused her blood to throb in her veins. “Will you excuse us? I need to talk to James alone in my office.”
The room went quiet, a little too quiet. In the frozen silence Anne realized that this wasn’t just a social call on James’s part. He knew. And Lettice was her number-one suspect on the blabbermouth list of the month.
James strode briskly across the room and out into the hallway without a word. He didn’t look at her as he passed. She wished a hole would open in the floor and blessedly swallow her into oblivion. Anything was better than this
.
“Thanks a lot, Grandmother,” she whispered fiercely.
“Well, you were sitting on your fanny not calling him,” Lettice snapped back. “I had—”
Anne closed the doors on the rest of Lettice’s words. Something about the room bothered her, as if there were one too many tables. But the notion was silly; she knew how many tables she owned. Probably it was nerves. She put the “extra” table question out of her mind and tried to gather the right words to deal with James. None came.
When she reached her office, she found him standing by her bookshelves, looking at the titles. The books were a mix of breeders’ information, classics, cookbooks, horror, mystery, and romances. She lifted her chin. She liked what she liked and she wouldn’t apologize for it. She just wished he hadn’t seen the romances. They revealed a little more about herself than she wanted him to know.
He set her copy of a recent best seller back on the shelf and turned to her. “What’s wrong with my horse?”
At least the man didn’t dither, she thought. She walked behind her cherrywood desk, seeking protection. Gathering calm words, she said, “He’s not … performing the way we all hoped, James.”
“Is he gay?”
She blinked.
“He is, isn’t he?” He paced the room. “It figures. I buy the biggest horse in five decades, and the damn thing would rather have a purse and high heels—”
“No! No!” Anne started giggling. She couldn’t help it, with the vision he was creating. “Horses don’t have homosexual tendencies. Battle Cry is not gay.” She remembered the breeding shed. “Definitely not gay.”
“Then what is he?”
James’s green eyes were practically boring into hers. His jaw was tight with frustration, and his smile was nonexistent. He looked sexier than ever. The topic of conversation was having its usual effect, and her thighs were tightening slowly with the pull of attraction. Her skin was sensitized, almost irritated with the weight of her clothes. It wasn’t fair that he could elicit this kind of response from her—especially when she needed all her wits about her.
She cleared her throat and tried to bring herself under control. “He’s … well, none of the first mares he’s been with have become pregnant. They’ve all gone back into season again. I told you before, it’s not unusual for one or two not to take. But every one so far … that just doesn’t happen unless there’s a fertility problem.”
James looked stricken. “You mean he’s shooting blanks!”
Anne found herself giggling nervously again. She also nodded in agreement.
“But that’s impossible!” he exclaimed, staring at her. “He’s been tested, and he came out fine.”
“I know. It’s practically impossible for his original tests to be wrong, but I’m having him re-tested just the same. I’ve had him examined by our vet, and he’s in good general health. The vet feels, and so do I, that the sterility is temporary. Just the change in environment can affect a horse. If these tests come back fine, then we’ll have more subtle testing done as an added precaution.” She looked down at the cluttered desktop. “I’m sorry, James. This is my fault—”
“Your fault?”
Glancing up for a moment, she nodded. “Yes. I should have allowed more time for his adjustment.”
“Anne.” He came over to the desk. “I was here every day, remember? That horse was as happy in your pastures as Lettice is with a new charity. I saw that myself.”
She took a deep breath. “Our breeding schedule might be too … vigorous for him. After all, he’s unproven—”
“Bull.” He began pacing again. “I saw that schedule, remember? I might be inexperienced about breeding techniques, but even I could see you were giving him enough time to recover his potency between matings.”
She refused to blush at his bluntness. It was about time she acted like a mature adult around him. Having made that decision, she knew she had to confess her attempted finagling with Battle Cry. James should know she had been ready to pull a dirty trick with Lollipop’s Rainbow. He should know just how much integrity she lacked. She owed him that.
“You know the saying ‘what goes around, comes around’?” she asked.
“Yes, but what—”
“I … I was greedy with him, James.”
Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat again to cover it. To her horror, tears she couldn’t control trickled down her cheeks. She whipped around so her back was to him.
“Greedy?”
He walked up behind her. She moved away to the window, knowing she’d never calm herself unless she put distance between them.
“I had planned to breed him to Lollipop and tell you after the fact.”
“But you did tell me,” he said. “When I took the tour that morning. We talked about the custom of the breeder getting a place instead of charging a fee, and you got a place.”
“I lied about that!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking with her frustration.
“You mean it’s not customary?”
“It’s just one of the ways a breeder and horse owner can cover costs. But it’s not a hard and fast custom!”
“It sounds like a good deal to me.” Chuckling, he approached her again. “Why shouldn’t the breeder share in the profits? She’s doing all the work and taking as much of a risk with her reputation as the owner is with his money.”
She turned to face him, not caring that he was so close. She was determined to get everything out in the open. “Dammit, James! I tried a dirty trick, and now it’s come back on me … and on you.”
He frowned in puzzlement. “But you just said getting a place is one of the ways of covering costs. As an owner who doesn’t have to pay breeders’ fees, I think it sounds like a damn good way.”
“You don’t understand.” She sighed. “I thought you were using my farm only as a temporary hideaway for Battle Cry—”
“Why the hell would you think that?” he demanded.
“Because you said so that night at the dance!” she replied, indignant. “You said you hadn’t inquired about placing him at the big farms in California or Kentucky, that you didn’t want them leaking the news.”
“I said I thought of you!” He sliced the air with his hand. “I didn’t consider any of them because I wanted to place him with you.”
“I …” She turned around and sniffled back a second set of threatening tears. “I figured that out eventually. But don’t you see, I was going to mate Lollipop without consulting you first because I was angry. That was unethical. And now Battle Cry is … It’s all my fault.”
He uttered a low curse, and she closed her eyes, feeling the condemnation. Then his hand touched her hair, his fingers gently sweeping tendrils back from her face.
“You’re crying.”
“No, I’m trying to refill the river so we don’t have another drought this year,” she said sarcastically, her survival defenses surfacing at his touch.
He pulled her to him. She knew she should be fighting his embrace, but it felt good to be held by him. She even admitted that she needed it. He rubbed her back in comfort, and she snuggled closer, her tears trickling off. Her cheek was against his shoulder, and she could hear his heart beating faintly but steadily. His long absence seemed almost unreal now.
James held her tightly, blaming himself for not being there sooner to take some of the burden off her. That stupid business trip had been an exercise in selfishness. He had never seen her cry before, not for anything? But seeing the single track of a teardrop on each cheek nearly broke him.
“I’m sorry, Annie,” he whispered. “I wish I’d never bought that damn horse.”
She managed a chuckle. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” he parroted, smiling. It was heartening that she could make a joke. And she was right. He didn’t really regret buying Battle Cry; he was only frustrated at the moment.
He realized the former awkwardness between them had vanished, thanks to this problem with Battle Cry
. Hell, he was almost grateful for it. Almost. Still, if it wound up Battle Cry had developed a sterility condition, then he’d just swallow his pride and let the horse enjoy a real retirement. He doubted that Battle Cry could generate the same prestige and purses if he were put back into racing. He’d just have to make more deals than Donald Trump to get back his investment.
It was just like Anne, though, to confess a “sin.” He had tried hard not to laugh. He doubted she would have appreciated it. He had so many things he needed to say to her, but now she needed comforting. And companionship. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted her to feel for him, but it would do very well for a beginning. “You’ve done a great job with Battle Cry—”
She interrupted him. “Someone else could do much better. If you want to move him to another farm, I’ll understand.”
“Battle Cry and I are happy right here,” he said firmly. “You’re a top breeder, Anne, with a top reputation.”
“Not for too much longer.” The break in her voice was clear.
He held her more tightly and said the words he prayed would come true. “Battle Cry will be fine, you’ll see.”
She didn’t answer, content just to be held. And he was quite willing to accommodate her. Minutes passed, and he wasn’t exactly sure when the comfort changed to something different. Maybe it was when she began absently toying with the buttons on his shirt. Maybe it was when she pressed her body more snugly to his.
Whatever, he was all too aware of her breasts teasing his chest, her hips aligned with his. One of his legs was almost trapped between her thighs as he kept himself braced to carry her slight weight. His hands were at her slender waist. All he had to do was smooth his fingers down a few inches and he would be cupping her derriere. It would just take one movement to lift her farther into him. He told himself this was not the time to indulge primitive urges. Definitely not the time.
She looked up at him, and he was lost the moment he gazed into her blue-green eyes. He took her mouth fiercely, the kiss flaming to open passion in the blink of an eye. Her tongue swirled with his, fencing and teasing, and his blood flamed to a volcanic heat. Her immediate response surprised and delighted him. He lifted her to him, his hips crowding against hers. Her fingers dug into his shoulders almost painfully, not to force him away but to pull him closer. She wanted him just as she had the other night by the breeding shed. He’d be damned before he walked away from her again. Not this time …
