by Joan Wolf
Tracy remembered the words of her old riding instructor, Beware of the rider who blames his horse and not himself. She ate a strawberry and inquired mildly, “What does Harry say?”
“Hah!” Gwen folded her arms defensively across her chest. “He keeps telling me that Dylan is a Thoroughbred and that I can’t ride him the same way that I ride my warmbloods. ‘Be tactful,’ he tells me.” She did a fair imitation of Harry’s clipped, upper-class voice. “ ‘Don’t demand. Ask.’ ” Gwen snorted. “When I tell a horse to do a canter pirouette, I expect him to do it! I’m not going to waste my time coaxing him.”
“Thoroughbreds do have to be ridden with a light touch,” Tracy said.
Gwen’s glare increased in intensity. “I ride the way I ride. If that doesn’t suit the horse, then I’ll get rid of him.”
Tracy’s heart leaped when she heard those words. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes. I do. I went over to Germany on Tuesday and saw a magnificent black Hanoverian—that I can ride just fine! I’ve decided I’m going to sell Dylan and buy the Hanoverian. But I wanted to take Dylan to this show to shop him around.”
Tracy said, “I’ll buy him from you.”
Gwen stared in astonishment. “You?”
“Yes.” Tracy smiled pleasantly. “I’ve always been interested in dressage, and I grew up riding Thoroughbreds. I think Dylan would suit me very well.”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think this is a way to cozy up to Harry? Do you have a fancy to be a countess, Miss Collins?”
Tracy said, “How much do you want for him?”
“I’m asking forty thousand pounds for him.”
It was far too much money. Tracy knew it, and Gwen did, too. “I’ll give you twenty- five,” Tracy said.
“Thirty-five,” Gwen came back.
“Thirty,” said Tracy.
“Thirty-two and we have a deal.”
“Done,” Tracy said. “How soon can I have him?”
“You can have him today, as far as I’m concerned,” Gwen said. “I’ve already got a bid on the Hanoverian.”
“I’ll write you a check, but I’ll want all of his papers.”
“They’re in my London flat. I’ll have them by tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed again. “His board and his training fees are due on Monday.”
“How much are they?”
The sum she named caused Tracy’s eyes to widen. Harry certainly doesn’t undervalue himself, she thought with a trace of amusement.
Gwen stood up. “Well, I wish you luck with Dylan. But I wouldn’t count on making any points with Harry for buying him.” There was a distinct note of warning in her voice.
A thought struck Tracy. “How long have you been in Wiltshire?”
“I came yesterday.” Gwen’s voice took on a tinge of sarcasm. “I was expecting to have a lesson this morning.”
Tracy tried to think of how she could phrase her next question so it didn’t sound nosy. There wasn’t any way, she decided, so she came right out and asked, “Was your father at home last night?”
Gwen had bent to pick up her purse, and she stared at Tracy with open suspicion. “Why do you ask?”
Inspiration struck. “It’s just that Tony had a dinner engagement last night and I wondered if he might be meeting your father. That’s all.”
“What business is it of yours who Tony has dinner with?”
Tracy said bluntly, “Was he having dinner with you?”
Gwen sat back down. “I thought it was Harry you were interested in, not Tony.”
Tracy lowered her lashes to hide her eyes. “Harry is a great guy, but he’s devoted beyond all reason to this mausoleum of a house. And he wants to be a farmer! Tony doesn’t have the same… encumbrances.” She lifted her lashes and treated Gwen to a gaze of great innocence. “I was just wondering if Tony was free.”
“Are you asking if I have any claim to him?”
’‘Well… yes.”
“I don’t,” Gwen said briefly. “He has a business relationship with my family, that’s all.”
“The golf course?”
“Yes, the golf course.”
Tracy did her wide-eyed innocent look again. “But what relationship does Tony have to the golf course? He doesn’t own the property; Harry does.”
“Tony is going to manage it. Actually, he’s going to manage the whole property, the hotel as well as the golf course. He’ll be great at it. Tony can charm the skin off a snake.”
Tracy produced a dewy-eyed smile. “Yes he can, can’t he? So he was having dinner with your father and not you last night?”
“That’s right.”
Tracy racked her brain to see if there was any way she could reasonably ask if Tony had been late for the restaurant reservation. Before she could come up with a reason, however, Gwen stood up once more. “I’ll call you tomorrow, when I have Dylan’s papers, and we can get together to do the sale.”
“Great,” Tracy said. “I’ll be tied up filming but leave a message with my secretary and I’ll get back to you.”
Gwen opened her purse and took out a small notebook and a pen. “What’s her number?”
Tracy recited Gail’s number and Gwen wrote it down. She returned the pen and notebook to her purse, then, without saying anything further, she left.
From her position in front of the sink, Mrs. Wilson said, “Would you care for more coffee, miss?”
The warmth that had heretofore been in her voice when she addressed Tracy was gone. In its place Tracy detected a distinct chill. Clearly Mrs. Wilson had listened to the conversation between Tracy and Gwen and did not approve of it.
“No thank you, Mrs. Wilson,” Tracy said mildly.
At that point, Meg came in the kitchen door. She marched to the table, sat down, and said to Mrs. Wilson, with a trace of defiance, “I’ll have a dish of fruit and a bowl of cornflakes, Mrs. Wilson.”
The housekeeper turned sharply in surprise, saw Tracy’s warning gaze and infinitesimal headshake, and stopped what she was going to say. “Very well, Lady Margaret. I’ll bring them right away.”
The dogs came over to Meg and nudged her. “Poor babies. They miss Harry dreadfully when he’s not here.” She looked up from petting Millie, and asked, “You said we can go to see him in hospital today, remember?”
“Yes, but I can’t go until this evening.” Tracy ate a spoonful of cornflakes. “I have to work all day.”
A grin lit Meg’s waiflike face. “I have to work, too. Dave asked me to stand in for Nancy again. She’s still sick.”
Tracy raised an eyebrow. “If this keeps on, you’ll have to demand a paycheck.”
Meg shook her head. “It’s so much fun. I can’t imagine getting paid for something that’s so much fun.”
“You’re good at it,” Tracy said. And it was true. The continuity supervisor’s job was to make certain that the costumes and props remained in continuity with the script. If a particular ornament had been on a table in a previous scene, then it was the continuity supervisor’s job to make certain that that same ornament was in the exact same position for a second shoot.
Dave had given Nancy’s notebook to Meg, but it was a daunting task to pick up in the middle of a movie with someone else’s notes.
“I’m surprised Dave asked you to do the job,” Tracy said frankly. “You’ve had no experience.”
“He says I have a good eye,” Meg said with pride. “I’ve been kind of shadowing Nancy, and the other day I picked out that the magnifying glass was in the wrong place on the desk.”
Tracy smiled warmly. “Good for you. Perhaps you’ve found a career, Meg. The money for a continuity supervisor is quite decent.”
Meg’s sharp-boned face looked radiant. “Do you really think I could do this job?”
“You are doing it,” Tracy pointed out.
“Here you are, Lady Margaret,” the housekeeper said as she put Meg’s fruit and cornflakes on the table.<
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Meg looked at them as if she was afraid they might jump out of their bowls and bite her. Tracy said reasonably, “If you are to do this job, you need energy. If you want energy, you must eat. This is less food than I eat for breakfast. It’s not too much for you.”
Meg was chewing nervously on her hair. “If I eat this much food, I’ll get fat.”
“I think I can safely promise you, Meg, that you’ll never be fat.” Tracy reached over to touch Meg’s hand. “But you will gain weight. You need to gain weight. Every doctor you’ve ever seen has told you that, and it’s true.”
“I know,” Meg muttered. She had not yet picked up her spoon.
“I’m not going to sit here and monitor you,” Tracy said, standing up. “I trust you to uphold your end of the bargain, just as Harry has upheld his.”
“All right!” Meg shouted. “I’ll eat the bloody food! Will that satisfy you?”
“Yes, it will,” Tracy replied.
As she left the room she heard Meg saying, “I have to work today, Mrs. Wilson. Do you think you could find the time to take the dogs for a walk?”
Tracy smiled at the note of pride she heard in Meg’s voice.
22
When Harry awoke the following morning and found a large muscular stranger sitting by his bed reading a newspaper, he demanded to know who the person was. When he learned that someone had hired Tom Edsel investigations to baby-sit him, he blew up.
A call to Tom Edsel produced the information that Tracy Collins had hired him the previous evening after an attempt on Harry’s life. When Harry tried to dismiss the agency, he was told that only Tracy Collins could do that.
Harry put in a call to Tracy, but she was filming. He tried again later, with the same result. By the time she and Meg showed up at the hospital at six o’clock, he was fuming.
His current baby-sitter stopped reading the newspaper aloud to him as Tracy and Meg came into the room. “Thanks, George,” Harry said. “Would you mind waiting outside while I visit with Miss Collins and my sister?”
“Sure.”
Harry waited for the door to close behind George before glaring at Tracy. “Why the hell did you hire Edsel? I don’t need to be guarded, for God’s sake!”
When Tracy did not immediately reply, Meg said, “Dr. Webster wants to make sure you stay in bed, Harry. He recommended that we hire someone to sit with you.” She smiled brightly. “This way, if you want anything, you won’t have to get up to get it for yourself. And if you can’t read yet, you have someone to read to you.” Harry looked into Meg’s innocent eyes and realized that she had not been informed about last night. Nor had he told her about the brakes being tampered with.
Damn. How could he yell at Tracy with Meg in the room?
Tracy said, “Meg, I left my sweater in the car. Would you mind terribly getting it for me?”
Meg looked from Tracy to Harry, then back again to Tracy. She smiled. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”
As soon as Meg was out of the room, Harry proceeded to tell Tracy, in great detail, exactly what he thought of her hiring Edsel investigations.
She stood there, looking like an angel, and listened. When he had finally finished, she said, “It’s no good, Harry. I’m not taking Edsel off the case.”
He couldn’t believe what he had heard. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“I heard every word of it, and I’m sorry that your male ego is hurt, but someone has twice tried to kill you, and the chances are very good that he’ll try again. You are helpless in a hospital bed. You need a guard.”
He glared. “I am not helpless!”
“You have nothing to protect yourself with. And when you’re asleep, you’re doubly vulnerable.”
He had no answer to this, so he said stubbornly, “I don’t want a guard. I mean it, Tracy. Call them off.”
“I can’t,” she said.
He glared again. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I mean that I can’t take the chance of losing you. I couldn’t bear it.” Her voice trembled, and she steadied it. “I’m so scared, Harry. Please don’t be a bull about this. Let the guards stay.”
How had they got to this point? Harry wondered. He had kissed her twice, and she felt she had the right to make decisions about his life. Even more strange was that he felt that way, too.
“I’m not paying Edsel for guards,” he said.
“You don’t have to. I’m the one who employed him.”
He didn’t want her paying Edsel on his behalf. “Shit,” he muttered in frustration.
Then she said something that completely distracted him from the issue he had been stewing about all day. “Would you mind terribly if I kissed you?”
He stared at her. “No,” he croaked. “Not at all.”
She came to the side of the bed where he was not hooked up to an TV, bent, and touched her lips to his.
It was the same way it had been the other two times they had kissed. Part of him wanted her so badly that he wanted to rip off her clothes, push her down, and take her; the other part wanted to go on kissing her forever, to cherish her, be kind to her, worship her.
“Oh dear,” Meg’s voice said. “Perhaps I should go back out to the car.”
Tracy straightened up, and they both looked at Meg, who was grinning.
Tracy said, “Oh, good, you’ve got my sweater.”
Meg handed it to her, then looked accusingly at Harry. “I was talking to George, and he said he’s here because someone tried to kill you. Is that true, Harry?” Well there goes all our care to keep Meg out of this, he thought grimly.
He glanced at Tracy and read clearly in her eyes that she was going to leave him to handle this.
Harry said, “I didn’t want you to know, Meggie. I didn’t want you worried.” He shot a look at Tracy. “This is what comes of hiring outsiders. They blab things they shouldn’t.”
Meg said indignantly, “I’m not a child, Harry. If you are in danger, I think I should know about it.” She came to stand at the foot of the bed and put her hands on the iron footboard. “Was our accident part of this?”
He sighed. “Yes. Ian told me that the brake lines on the car were cut.”
One of Meg’s hands went to her mouth.
Tracy said, “When Dr. Webster called last night, it was to tell me that someone had tried to run him and Harry down in the parking lot. That’s why I got the guards, Meg. Not to keep Harry in bed.”
“You should have told me,” Meg said passionately.
“Yes,” Tracy said. “I think I should have.”
Meg turned back to her brother. “Well, I hope you’re keeping the guards at least!”
He looked from Meg to Tracy, then said gloomily, “Oh all right.”
Both women smiled at him as if he had given them a precious gift.
Dr. Webster kept Harry in the hospital over the weekend, and on Monday Tony brought him home. Tracy finished filming at seven, removed her costume and makeup in record time, and almost ran up the stairs to the family apartment in order to see him. Angry male voices coming from the morning room stopped her at the top of the steps.
Harry’s voice was at its most clipped. “Tony, you have been at me all day about this, and I’m sick of it. I understand that it would be a great opportunity for you to manage the golf course property, but I’m not willing to sacrifice eight thousand acres of farmland in order to give you that opportunity.”
Tony sounded both angry and frustrated. “You’re not sacrificing it, for God’s sake. You’ll be making a bloody fortune out of it.”
“I’m not selling,” Harry said implacably.
“Trying to raise beef cattle in this environment is crazy! Look what happened last year, when so many farmers lost whole herds to foot-and-mouth disease.”
“I didn’t lose my cattle.”
“You were lucky,” Tony shot back. “But you still can’t export your beef, and who’s to say that you’ll be lucky again the next time?”
“No, I do not need a loan! I am making decent money, thank you, but the amount I make is nothing compared to what I could be making at the golf club.”
“Well find another golf club, then,” Harry said harshly, “because this one isn’t going to be built.”
Tony came striding out of the morning room, his face white and pinched-looking as he brushed by Tracy without acknowledging her. She watched his slim back disappear below, then turned toward the morning room, wiping the worried frown from her brow as she went.
Harry was sitting in his favorite chair, with the dogs curled into two content black-and-white balls at his feet.
“However did Millie and Marshal earn the right to come upstairs?” she asked lightly as she crossed the floor.
His dark eyes sparkled as he watched her approach. “I didn’t want to spend the day downstairs, and they were desperate to be with me, so I brought them up.”
Tracy stopped to pick up a leather ottoman. “What about Ebony?”
“Her royal nose is royally out of joint, but she’ll get over it.”
Tracy plunked the ottoman next to his chair and sat down. His hair seemed to have grown longer while he was in the hospital, and she wanted more than anything to run her fingers through it. She said, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” His dark eyes were fastened on her face.
“Well that’s certainly enlightening.”
He raised an impatient eyebrow. “What do you want me to say?”
She made her voice sound dispassionate. “Do you still have a headache?’
“Minor.”
“Any more double vision?”
“No.”
“Any ringing in the ears?”
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“No.”
She was silent, and he said ironically, “Is that it, Dr. Collins? No more questions about my health?”
