Gil made his way to the building they called the “working barn,” where the work horses were housed. Sam’s quarters lay shrouded in darkness. At Gil’s knock, a grunt sounded, followed by the creak of bedsprings. Sam opened the door, took one look at Gil, and reached for his plaid shirt on the hook beside the door. “Georgina?”
Gil nodded. “It’s time.”
They walked in comfortable silence back to the stables, where Sam joined Brianna in the stall. Gil waited in the corridor while the older man made a thorough examination.
“Shouldn’t be much longer now,” Sam said as he wiped his hand off on a towel. “We’d best get her to the birthing stall, where there’s more room.”
But several hours after they’d moved the mare to the larger enclosure, Sam’s optimistic prediction proved wrong. Georgina lay bathed in sweat after straining repeatedly with no success.
“What’s wrong, Sam?”
The fear in Brianna’s voice tore at Gil’s composure. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Sam scratched his head. “I’m not sure. This foal should’ve been born long ago. I’ll do another exam, and we might have to call in the doc.”
When he’d finished, the expression on Sam’s face told Gil the situation wasn’t good.
Sam let out a long sigh. “Brianna, you’d best go up to the house and call Doc Phelps. Tell him to come as quick as he can.”
Tears bloomed in Brianna’s eyes as Gil helped her to her feet. “I don’t want to leave her.”
Gil brushed some pieces of straw from her skirt. “She’ll be fine until you get back. I’d go, but Sam might need me. And you’ll be quicker.”
“All right. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With a last whispered word to Georgina, Bree hurried out of the stall.
When her footsteps faded, Gil knelt to rub the mare’s head. “What’s wrong, Sam?” he asked quietly.
Sam planted his hand on his hips and shook his head. “I don’t like to speculate, knowing how set Mr. O’Leary is on this foal being a champion.” His shoulders slumped, and he expelled a long breath. “I can’t be sure, but this foal might be lame.”
Gil swallowed the lump of dread in his throat. Not only would James be upset, but Brianna would be devastated. “I hope you’re wrong, Sam.”
“You and me both, son.”
The sun had started its morning rise by the time Doc Phelps arrived. A grizzled man of undetermined years, he’d been the vet on call for as long as Gil had lived at Irish Meadows. Both Gil and Sam breathed easier when he took over in the stall, knowing the mare was in capable hands. Doc would do whatever he could to ensure the health of the mother and the foal.
Gil and Brianna stood together in the corridor, watching through the open door. When Brianna shivered in the cool morning air, he saw she wore only a thin blouse. “Where’s your wrap?”
She shrugged. “I think I left it at the house.”
He stepped closer and put his arm around her to share his warmth. “Did you wake your father?”
“No.” She lifted weary eyes to his. “He’d only yell at me for being here, and I didn’t want him to ruin this moment.” On a sigh, she let her head fall to his shoulder.
A fierce wave of protectiveness rose in Gil’s chest, and he tightened his arm around her. He wanted to be the one to shelter her from every worry, every disappointment in life. If only James would agree to let him court Brianna. But that was never going to happen—for many reasons.
A flurry of activity drew his attention back to the stall.
“Easy, girl. Whoa.” Sam soothed the mare, who was trying to rise. “You’re not quite finished.”
At the other end of the horse, Doc Phelps had his arm up inside Georgina, his face contorted as he struggled to assist the straining animal. The horse gave a loud whinny followed by the sound of liquid gushing onto the floor.
Brianna jerked as though ready to fly inside the stall, but Gil held her back with firm hands. “Give them a minute.”
Sam moved back as the mare lurched to her feet. Doc Phelps worked to free the foal from the birth sac. An oath escaped him as he straightened, hands on his hips, staring down at the straw.
The smile on Brianna’s face slid away. “What’s the matter? Is the baby all right?”
Doc Phelps raised his head. The sorrow on his face said it all. “I’m afraid not. He’s got a malformed back leg.”
Gil’s heart sank to his boots. Sam had been right, after all. He shuddered to think what this would mean to James.
Brianna pushed into the stall. Gil followed, prepared to carry her out if need be. Despite the oddly shaped back leg, the colt struggled valiantly to get to his feet as his mother licked away the fluid from his coat. Brianna knelt on the straw beside him, whispering words of encouragement. Gil knew she longed to touch him but would wait until he’d gotten his footing—if that were even possible. At last, the colt made it to a standing position, and Brianna clapped her hands.
“Oh, he’s a beauty. A chestnut like his mama. And he’s got white socks. What will we call you, little one?”
Gil’s chest squeezed with pain, knowing what was to come. Gently, he lifted her to her feet, keeping a hand under her arm. “We won’t be naming him, Bree.” The unfairness of life rose up to choke his words.
“What do you mean? Of course we’ll name him.”
Loud boots thundered in the corridor. Without looking, Gil knew James had arrived. His foul mood was about to get a whole lot worse.
“Brianna O’Leary, what in tarnation are you doing in this barn when I expressly forbid you—”
The dark scowl on his face turned to shock as his gaze landed on the deformed leg of the new colt. “Sweet mother of Job.” All color drained from his cheeks.
Sam, who was standing nearer to the door, reached out a steadying hand. “I’m so sorry, James.”
Doc Phelps had wiped his arms and hands on a large towel and was packing his bag. “There’s nothing we could do. A real shame, because he would have been a beauty.”
Brianna’s brow puckered. “You act like the foal is dying. He’s got a turned leg, but otherwise he’s healthy.” She looked from the doctor to Sam, to the grim face of her father, then finally to Gil.
As he stared into her wide, uncertain eyes, the words froze on his tongue. Maybe they hadn’t done Brianna any favors, sheltering her from this cruel side of the horse-breeding business. Gil couldn’t bear to be the one to inform her of the colt’s fate. He shook his head, silently pleading for understanding.
James seemed to rouse himself. “Take him out back, away from the mother. I’ll get the gun.”
Gil tightened his grip on Brianna’s arm, prepared for her to either bolt or faint.
“What are you talking about?” The words shrieked from her as she strained to get free.
James didn’t acknowledge her question but strode away from the stall. Brianna wrenched out of Gil’s grasp to race after him.
“Daddy. Wait.”
Dear God, give her the strength to bear this. The silent prayer formed on Gil’s lips as he darted after her.
Brianna threw herself at her father, catching him by the arm. “You are not going to kill that baby!” The hysteria in her voice rang throughout the barn.
As Gil reached them, James twisted to face his daughter. Pain etched in the lines around James’s eyes, and Gil realized how much this was costing him.
“Don’t argue with me, girl. The colt has to be put down. He’s useless with a lame leg.”
“He’s not useless,” she shouted. “He may not be a champion racer, but he still has value.”
Red blotches marred the big man’s cheeks. “I’m not paying to house an animal that will be nothing more than an overgrown pet. He won’t be any good as a work horse. And no one will buy him as a racehorse. We can’t afford to keep him.”
James continued down the corridor toward the locked cabinet that housed the hunting rifles.
Gil followed him. “
Surely there’s another option. I’ll put out feelers to see who might be willing to take him. Maybe someone needs a horse for their child.”
James shook his head. “No one will buy him. Trust me.”
Brianna pushed past Gil and ran to her father. “I won’t let you do this. You can’t murder an innocent animal.” An unholy sob tore out of her. “Daddy, please.” The wail erupted, keening with such grief that it nearly cracked Gil’s heart in two.
When James ignored her, she turned wild eyes to Gil, clutching his shirtfront. “Gil, do something. Don’t let him do this.” She sank to her knees on the dirt floor as sobs overtook her body. “Just because he’s not perfect doesn’t give Daddy the right to kill him.”
Her agony became his, fisting around Gil’s lungs to squeeze the breath out of him. He knelt beside her, his arm around her quaking shoulders. “Come on, Bree. Let me take you inside.” He had to get her out of range before James fired the fatal shot.
Her head jerked up, her face ravaged with tears. She seized his arm in a vise grip. “Please, Gil. Make him stop.”
Gil’s brain whirled at a dizzying speed, searching for some way to prevent the disaster about to happen. He couldn’t bear to let Brianna down, as her father always had.
Lord, show me a solution. How can I fix this for her?
James had unlocked the closet and taken out one of the rifles. He leaned it against the wall while he searched for the bullets. Did he not see his daughter falling apart on the ground? Did he even care?
Gil lurched to his feet as James reached for the gun. “I’ll take him.”
James stopped dead and fixed Gil with a dark stare. “What?”
“I’ll buy the foal from you.”
James snorted. “Don’t be stupid, boy. You couldn’t afford it anyway.” He went to grab the rifle, but Gil blocked his path.
“I have money saved. I’ll give you a fair price. Better than any other offer you’d receive.”
James stopped to stare at him. “Are you insane? What will you do with a lame horse?”
He must be insane. A good portion of the money he’d saved for his own farm would be wasted on an animal who’d be more of a liability than asset. But it was the right thing to do. His gut told him so. And it would be worth every penny to see Brianna smile again. “I’ll find a use for him.”
Shaking his head, James blasted out a sigh. “If you’re fool enough to pay for him, as well as his upkeep, then who am I to turn down good money?”
A flood of relief spilled down Gil’s spine. His legs wobbled as the tension drained away.
Muttering under his breath, James snatched the gun, returned it to the closet with the bullets, and locked the door. “Meet me at the house, and we’ll discuss the terms.” With an odd look at his daughter, still kneeling on the ground, James turned and stalked out of the barn.
The moment he’d gone, Brianna leapt to her feet and launched herself into Gil’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time. Tension seeped out of his body as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Her shaking shoulders told him she was weeping, most likely from relief. He held her until the trembling subsided, taking the time to relish the sweetness of her in his arms.
At last, she wiped her face on her sleeve and pushed back to gaze into his face. Her hair sat in disarray around her shoulders, damp pieces clinging to her cheeks and to the lashes surrounding her puffy eyes, yet she’d never looked more beautiful. His fierce avenging angel, fighting for a helpless animal.
“Thank you, Gil,” she whispered, wide eyes brimming with emotion. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
He managed a half smile. “Oh, I think I do.” With one finger, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, fighting the power of emotions swirling through his system like a drug.
The truth—something he’d repressed for far too long—could no longer be denied. He was irrevocably in love with Brianna. Probably always had been—and always would be.
Before he did anything he’d regret, he took a deliberate step back, away from her magnetic pull. “It’s been a long night. Let’s go check on the foal before we both get some rest.”
As Gil moved away, Brianna’s breath hitched in her lungs. She may be delirious from lack of sleep and overwrought from the onslaught of emotions she’d just been through, but she knew what she had just witnessed. The unmistakable hunger in Gil’s eyes matched her own longing. And after what he’d done for her, she was more than certain. The evidence was as plain as the sun rising over the back meadow.
Gil loved her.
He knew what destroying the colt would do to her, and he’d bought the horse to save her from pain. A tidal wave of love rose up inside her. “Oh, Gil.”
Leaning forward on her tiptoes, her hands against his chest, she followed her heart’s desire and pressed her lips to his.
At last, her mind sighed. He tasted just as she’d imagined. Masculine and warm—intoxicating. It took her a moment to realize he hadn’t moved a muscle. His body, no longer soft and comforting, went as rigid as the wooden support beam beside them. She opened her eyes to see his horrified expression. Surely he couldn’t be that shocked by her behavior.
She pulled back, despair flooding her body. Maybe she’d gotten it all wrong. Maybe the thought of kissing her filled him with revulsion.
Mortification burned her cheeks. “I . . . I’m sorry.”
She tried to step away, but his hands clamped around her upper arms. With a groan, he hauled her against him and pulled her mouth back to his.
Like a caged bird trying to take flight, her heart soared and bumped against her ribs. She melted into him and kissed him back with every ounce of emotion in her, relishing the feel of his hands in her hair, which now tumbled around her shoulders. A second groan rumbled up through his chest, followed by a rush of cool air that blasted between them as he pushed her away.
“Brianna, no. We can’t do this.”
Stunned and swaying slightly, she fixed her gaze on his face, alarmed by the tortured agony shining in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He stepped back and leaned against the stable wall, as though his legs wouldn’t support him. “It’s not right. Your father thinks of me as a son, as your brother.”
Hurt welled up and turned into boiling anger. Once again her father had ruined a beautiful moment in her life. She clenched her hands until her nails bit into her palms. “I don’t care what Daddy thinks. You are not my brother.”
Gil plunged his fingers through his hair, dislodging his dark curls. “I’m sorry, Bree. After everything he’s done for me, I can’t betray his trust like this. Please, let’s forget this ever happened.” He jerked away from the wall and strode down the corridor, kicking up dust and straw in his wake.
Brianna bit her lip, checking her initial urge to chase after him, to convince him he was wrong. He needed time to come to grips with what had happened between them. She wrapped her arms around her waist to hold on to the warmth of his arms and the delicious knowledge that now burned in her heart.
She was in love with Gil, and he loved her, too.
Despite his rejection, a trickle of happiness wormed its way into her heart. She’d kissed Gil and he had kissed her back—in no uncertain terms. Finally she had her answer. Gil did care for her as more than a sister, even if he couldn’t admit it. She held a finger to her slightly swollen lips and allowed the thrill of his kiss to wash over her anew. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t matter that his conscience had intervened and he’d pushed her away. Their feelings for each other would win out in the end. After all, Daddy already thought of Gil as a son. Why not make him a son-in-law?
The thought of her desire for a college career gave her a momentary twinge of concern, but she stiffened her spine. Gil knew how important her education was to her. Surely he would wait for her. It would give him time to save more money for his farm, as well.
She floated on a wave of happiness back to Georgina’s stall, n
eeding to assure herself the little fellow and his mother had bonded. Sam was the only one left outside the stall when she approached.
“How’s he doing?” she asked, peering into the enclosure.
Sam gestured toward the mother and the tiny foal who suckled from her. “As you can see, he’s doing great.”
Her heart swelled. “Isn’t he gorgeous? To think Daddy was going to get rid of him.”
Sam turned to study her. “What changed his mind?”
She smiled tenderly at the wondrous thing Gil had done. “Gil offered to buy him.”
“Well, if that don’t beat all.” Sam scratched his head, a bemused expression on his weathered face. “That boy is something else.”
A rush of laughter bubbled out. “That he is, Sam. That he is.”
12
GIL WALKED BLINDLY along the country lanes that weaved between the different estates on Long Island, too aggravated to do anything but keep moving. He must have hiked several miles before he’d turned and headed back, his emotions no more settled now than they’d been two hours ago. He kicked viciously at a stone in the path and sent it hurtling into a grove of trees. How had his life spiraled out of control so quickly? In a matter of hours, he’d bought a lame horse and kissed Brianna O’Leary—the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do.
And now he could never undo it. Never forget the taste of her sweet lips, the smell of her hair, the feel of her warm body in his arms. He’d kissed a few girls in his day, all enjoyable enough, but nothing had come close to this life-altering experience. The moment her lips touched his, he knew his world would never be the same again. No other woman could ever compare to that soul-stirring sensation.
I am ruined.
Gil crested a hill, and the O’Leary mansion came into view. His shoulders slumped. No use putting off the unpleasant task of facing Mr. O’Leary. His body, now as weary as his soul, longed for the oblivion of sleep.
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