by Nora Roberts
the chain around her neck. His fingers on her skin were warm and gentle, and Adelia lowered her eyes, struggling not to tremble. "Better?" he asked when the clasp was secured, and she nodded, swallowing before the words would come.
"Much better, thank you, Travis."
He studied her bent head a moment; then, taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet. "Come on, close the door behind me and go to bed. You're tired." Reaching the door, he paused, one hand on the knob. "You look like a child." Her chestnut hair hung loose and heavy over the shoulders of her robe, and he ran a hand down the length of it. "A child can't be bundled off to bed without a goodnight kiss," he said softly. Before she could step away, his hand had circled her neck, his mouth lowering to linger on her cheek while her lips parted in hunger. Her hunger was to go unsatisfied, for his mouth barely brushed her other cheek. As in a dream, she watched him straighten, then turn to leave, closing the door gently behind him-
With Paddy's return, Royal Meadows threw itself into preparing Majesty for the Bluegrass Stakes. The race was a preliminary for the most prestigious race in the country, the Kentucky Derby. Majesty's record was impressive, and his good showing in Florida had hopes running high for his next venture on the track.
Adelia leaned on the fence surrounding the track, chin resting on crossed arms, as Steve Parker, the young jockey, raced Majesty around the large oval. There had been an immediate liking between her and the small man, an easy rapport born of a mutual love of horses. She watched their progress around the track, enjoying their fluid harmony.
Pushing the button on the stopwatch he was holding, Paddy let out a loud whoop of approval before he handed it to Travis. "If he runs like that in Kentucky, there's not another horse will come within five lengths of him at the finish. He holds the turns like a lover."
"Aye, and he runs for the sheer love of it," Adelia murmured, sighing as Steve brought the colt toward them in a slow walk.
"Let's hope he loves it as much in Kentucky," Travis put in and sauntered over to speak to his jockey.
"Are you excited about your first race, little Dee?" Paddy asked, ruffling her hair.
"You might say I'm a bit excited," she returned with a grin. "My eyes will be glued to the television; not even a ton of dynamite could blast me away."
"Television?" Paddy repeated, the skin crinkling around his eyes as he narrowed them. "What's put it in your mind about television? You'll be coming with us."
"Coming with you?" She stared back in confusion.
"Of course, Adelia." She spun around at Travis's voice, her eyes making contact with his hard chest before she tilted her head back to meet his calm, controlled gaze.
"Now why would I be doing that?"
"Because," he answered evenly, "I say so."
"Is that the way of it?" she demanded, infuriated by the tone of command in his voice. "Well, if it's a groom you need, there's others who've been here longer. Stan or Tom deserves to go more than me."
"But, Dee," Steve protested with a wide grin as he joined them, "you're much prettier than those two. I'd rather look at you-you'll give me inspiration."
"Inspiration, is it?" she returned, amused by the compliment. "You're mad as a hatter." She turned to Travis again, shifting her eye level by several long inches. "I think you'd best take one of the men," she began, but he cut her off, narrowing his eyes and grabbing her hand.
"Excuse us," he called over his shoulder as he began to stride off, dragging Adelia in his wake. When at last he stopped some distance away, she rounded on him furiously.
"What the devil do you mean racing off like that and carting me behind you?" she panted, outraged. "Your legs are almost as long as my whole body, and I had to fair run to keep up with you."
She glared up at him, a picture of righteous indignation.
"I prefer to argue in private, Adelia," Travis said coolly, meeting her mutinous face with nonchalant command. "I run Royal Meadows and I give the orders." Even through her own anger, Adelia could see the signs of temper held in check; his eyes hard and direct, he was suddenly the essence of the master. "I will not have you countermanding my orders privately, and most certainly not publicly." His words annoyed her further simply because she knew he was right. "You're going to have to get it through that stubborn head of yours that you are no longer in solitary control of what is to be done. Now, I believe the issue here is your presence in Kentucky," he went on calmly, his face expressionless.
"I was telling you-"
"I'm telling you," he interrupted imperiously. "You're going."
Her eyes flashed at the order. Why, she thought, if it's God's pleasure for me not to be forever bursting with temper did He give me such a demanding one?
"Majesty responds better to you than anyone else," Travis went on. "I want you tending to him." Anger receded slowly at his words, and she dropped her eyes, staring at the ground while she considered his statement. "You'll come to Kentucky because it suits me to have you there, and I'm accustomed to having what suits me." His smile spread in a rapid change of mood as her head snapped up with fresh anger. His hands claimed her waist, then trailed slowly upward, resting on the sides of her firm young breasts as her anger faded into confusion. Lingering, his thumbs caressed in a slow circle, then trailed once in a lazy arch over the subtle curves, pausing at their fullness before moving to rest under their soft swell. Her lips parted, but she found no strength to protest against the unfamiliar intimacy, her body responding to his touch, eclipsing her will. She felt herself rising from the ground, and her hands went to his shoulders automatically to compensate for the loss of gravity.
"Put me down." The order emerged as a trembling whisper, and his smile grew wider before his mouth lowered.
"In a minute."
His mouth was dominant and sure, and her fingers dug into his shoulders as the force of the kiss held her in its prison. With a final flash of lucidity, she knew she could never fight Travis on these terms. Then all was lost in the dark demand of need.
"Steve's right," he murmured, his teeth nibbling at her lip and sending shooting sparks of flame through her veins. "You are prettier than Tom or Stan."
With a final hard, brief kiss, he dropped her back to the ground, to stride away with casual arrogance, whistling the first few bars of "My Wild Irish Rose." Adelia stood gaping after him, trembling with a confusing mixture of indignation and longing.
CHAPTER 5
Adelia found herself on a plane for the second time in her life. This plane, however, was vastly different from the crowded economy section of the passenger jet in which she had traveled over the Atlantic. Now she was passing over the relatively short distance between Maryland and Kentucky in the lush comfort of Travis's specially equipped private jet. Adelia's attitude during this flight was also a marked variation from her first. She stared, mesmerized, from the window, fascinated by the topography of far-distant West Virginia.
She looked down on patchworks of green and umber dotted by small houses, toy-train cities and gray ribbons of roads snaking and winding to connect them. There were rivers and pine-topped mountains, their colors soft from her eagle view, and she thought with pleasure that the world was indeed a wondrous place. Engrossed in her new discoveries, she did not notice when Travis sat next to her.
"Enjoying the view, Dee?" he asked at length, smiling at the way she pressed her forehead to the glass like a child at a bakery window. She started at his voice, then turned her head to face him, pushing back the chestnut curls that spilled over her face at the movement.
"Merciful heavens, you're forever surprising me. You move like the wind through a willow."
"Sorry. I'll practice stomping." He grinned and shifted in his seat to regard her more directly. "I've often thought you move like one of those fairies Ireland's so famous for, or maybe one of your leprechauns."
"Oh, well, it can't be both. A leprechaun's not considered a fit associate for a reputable fairy."
"Only a disreputable fairy," he ret
urned, amused at the sobriety of her statement.
"Aye, and for the most part they're on their good behavior, hoping to be readmitted to Paradise on the last day."
"Tossed out, were they?"
"When Satan was rebelling, they stood back from the fighting, not wanting to take sides till they knew how it would end. But since that was their only offense, they were banished to earth instead of tossed into the pit with the rebels."
"Seems fair," Travis concluded with a nod. "As I recall, they have the rather awesome power to turn one into a dog or a pig or something equally undesirable, but are normally disposed to good deeds if treated with the proper respect."
"That's right," she agreed. "How did you know that?"
"Paddy saw to the holes in my education." He leaned over her, smiling, and she pressed back into the cushions, green eyes growing wide. "Relax." His voice tightened in annoyance. "I'm not going to eat you." He fastened the seat belt around her waist and leaned back. "We'll be landing in a minute."
"So soon?" She controlled her voice to casualness while the beating of her heart vibrated in her ears.
"That's right," he answered, matching her tone as he secured his own belt. "You've been staring down at Kentucky for some time now."
With amazing organization and economy of movement, the plane was landed, Majesty was unloaded, and transferred to a waiting van, and the travelers were on their way to Churchill Downs.
Adelia's impression of Louisville was vague. Her mind was in the back of the van with Majesty. She worried that he might be frightened and confused by the strange sights and long transport. When she voiced her concern, she was rewarded with a deep, full laugh from Travis. The ominous gleam in her eye was ignored as, chuckling, he informed her that Majesty was a seasoned traveler and took it in his stride.
Her irritation had faded by the time the van reached the extensive stables at Churchill Downs. Travis immediately confirmed the arrangements that had been made for Majesty's stall space and feed.
Travis Grant was well known and highly respected in racing circles. Adelia noted that he was greeted with warmth by the men and women milling around the stable area. He stood head and shoulders above the group, exuding power and a virile masculinity which, she observed with a rude stab of jealousy, was obviously appreciated by the women who greeted him. Infuriated with herself for her own weakness, Adelia turned sharply back to Majesty and led the gleaming colt into his stall.
Time passed swiftly as she tended to the animal's needs, brushing and soothing as she kept up a flow of one-sided chatter. As she was completing her duties, she heard loud footsteps approaching and turned around to see who was causing the din.
"Loud enough?" Travis grinned at her with unexpected boyishness.
"Aye," she agreed and gave him a solemn nod. "You sounded like a herd of great African elephants. You're a funny man, Travis," she commented, tilting her head to the side and studying him.
"Am I, Dee? How?"
"There's times you're like the local squire tossing orders about, and the steel in your eyes could freeze a man in his tracks. Then I think you're a hard man.
But then sometimes-" Faltering, she shrugged and turned back to Majesty.
"Don't stop now." Deliberately, he turned her back to face him, a faint smile playing on his mouth. "You've intrigued me."
She was uncomfortable now and wishing with a full heart that she would learn to think before speaking. But Travis ignored her expression of embarrassment, hands light but firm on her shoulders, eyes demanding her elaboration.
"Sometimes- I've seen you laughing and talking with the men, or carting one of the twins about on your shoulders. And I see the way it is between you and Uncle Paddy, and the way you treat your horses. I think then maybe there's a gentle side, and maybe you're not so hard, after all." She finished in a rush, wishing she had never started, and turned back to give Majesty unnecessary additional attention with the brush.
"That's very interesting," he commented, taking the brush from her hand and continuing the grooming himself. "She's spoiling you," he addressed Majesty, running an affectionate hand along his flank. "She'd stand in here rubbing you down for the next hour if I let her."
She tore her eyes from Travis's fingers as they stroked the rich chestnut hide. "I don't spoil him; it was just love and care I was giving. We all need that from time to time."
He turned his head and met her eyes with a long, level look. "Yes, we all need that from time to time." That night, awake in the unfamiliar hotel room, Adelia tossed and turned, ultimately rolling over and pounding her innocent pillow. Love was decidedly uncomfortable, unpredictable and unwelcome. Sighing, she hugged the pillow she had just beaten, determined to erase incredibly blue eyes from her dreams.
The next morning Adelia had her first real look at Churchill Downs. Leading Majesty from the stables, she stopped as she came to the track, her companion waiting with calm indulgence as she stared in open amazement.
The grounds were enormous, the wide mile-and-a-quarter track encircling a grass field bordered by fences and graced with well-shaped shrubs and flower beds of brilliant color. Moving her eyes over the vast expanse of stands, she wondered somewhat whimsically who would be left to tend to the outside world when they were filled with people. The tops of the stands were roofed, crowned with spires, she noted.
"Something wrong, Dee?" Her observations were interrupted by Travis's question, and she jumped in surprise. "Sorry," he said without bothering to conceal a grin. "Forgot to stomp."
"I should be getting used to it by now." She sighed and began to lead Majesty along once more.
"What a grand place this is." Her hand swept in an expressive arch as he fell into step beside her.
"It's one of my favorites. The architecture's basically the same as it was when it was built over a hundred years ago. And, as you well know, it's the most famous track of all because it is here that the Derby is run. And the Derby, everyone remembers. On the first Saturday in May, this ribbon of track is gold, and for a few minutes the world stops, and it's only the race." He turned to her with a smile. "It all conies down to the challenge at the turn for home, when the goal is still a quarter of a mile away. Since eighteen seventy-five the best horses have run here, and the best horses have won here. It's not only the classic race, it's a breeders' race, and there isn't anyone in the States who wouldn't rather produce a winner in this than in any other contest. The winner of a Derby becomes the horse to beat for the rest of the season; the magic stays with him. And this," he continued, giving Majesty a friendly slap on the flank, "is one who likes to win."
"Aye, that he does," she agreed, giving Majesty an indulgent smile. "And he's not shy about his own capabilities. He's feeling pretty sure of himself. He wants the Bluegrass Stakes out of the way so he can move on to the Derby."
"Does he?" The corner of his mouth tilted as Majesty nuzzled Adelia's shoulder. "And how do you feel?" His finger touched her cheek, and she turned to face him. "Do you want the prep race out of the way so you can dive into the Derby?"
"I'm not ready for the first one yet." Adelia shrugged, nearly stumbling as Majesty's head nudged at her back. "It's him that's in the hurry. But I like the looks of this place." Again, she encompassed Churchill Downs with a sweep of the hand. "I like knowing it hasn't changed much in all these years." She began to walk again, at Majesty's urging. "Never did I think to see such a place."
"There are other tracks that are perhaps more eyecatching," he commented, following her fascinated gaze. "At Hialeah in Florida, they have hundreds of pink flamingos in the center-field lake."
Stopping, she turned to him with wide eyes. "I should like to see that."
"I'm sure you will," he murmured, twining his fingers in the ends of her long, silky waves. Then, pulling the brim of her cap down over her eyes, he repeated in a lighter tone, "Yes, Dee, I'm sure you will."
The week moved swiftly, hours crammed with duties and activities. Most of Adelia's time was given t
o Majesty's care, talking and fondling as much as grooming and seeing to his more practical needs. She spent much of her free time with Steve Parker, teasing him about his girlfriends or watching from the rail as he accustomed Majesty to the track. Other times she spent with Paddy, discussing the Thoroughbred's qualities and the style of the other colts who would compete in the qualifying race.
"The colt that wins is automatically eligible for the Derby," he informed her, giving Majesty a thorough examination as she watched from the stall door. "Of course, Travis nominated this fellow right after he was born, the same way he's entered Solomy's foal, and kept up with the nomination as he got older. He knows when he's got a winner. Travis is a man who keeps one eye on the future."
"He's good with the horses," Adelia commented. The obvious pride and affection in Paddy's voice warmed her. "You can see he cares for them; it's not just a matter of the money they'll bring him."
"Aye, he cares," Paddy agreed, giving Majesty an affectionate slap on the flank. "And he's fierce on the matter of using painkillers or drugs as others have been known to do. If one of Travis's horses isn't up for the race, he doesn't run and that's that. Of course, money's not a problem with Travis, but it wouldn't make any difference if it was, because that's the man he is. Now, he has a practical side as well." He moved from the stall to join Adelia and slipped an arm around her shoulder. "Investments-and he's mighty crafty about them. He knows how to take a purse or the sale of a foal and turn it into more. He's got the touch," Paddy added with a wise nod. "And a time or two, he's stretched my pennies for me, though not on as grand a scale as his. Travis takes care of his own." Squeezing her shoulder, Paddy led
Adelia out into the flash of sunlight. She remained silent, thinking of this new aspect of the man she loved.
The sky was overcast on the day of the Bluegrass Stakes. The air was heavy. Lead-gray clouds lay thick as a blanket overhead. Tension seemed to start at Adelia's brow and spread down to her toes; the stillness of the air weighed like a stone at the nape of her neck. To take her thoughts off the coming race she kept both hands and mind busy. Glancing up she saw Travis enter the building. She smiled as he approached.
"I believe that, if you could, you'd get into the silks and ride him today."
"The truth of it is," she began, finding the ease of his smile soothing, "I think I'd be less terrified that way. But I don't think Steve would care for it."
"No." The syllable was accompanied by a slow, grave nod. "I don't think he would. Come up to the stands with me. Paddy'll take over now."
"Oh, but-" Her objection was neatly cut off as he captured her arm and propelled her to the door. "Wait!" she cried and pivoted to run swiftly back to Majesty, throwing her arms around his neck and whispering in his ear.
When she rejoined Travis, he stared down at her, both amused and frankly curious. "What did you tell him?"
She gave him a mysterious smile for an answer. As they approached the stands, she dug into her back pocket and thrust some bills into his hands. "Will you place a wager for me? I don't know how to go about it."
"A wager?" he repeated, looking down at the two dollars in his hand. Looking up, his features were entirely too serious. "Who do you want to bet on?"
"Majesty, of course." She frowned at the question, her expression lightening as she recalled some of the terms she had heard tossed around the stables. "To win- on the nose."
To his credit, Travis's features remained grave. "I see. Well, let's see- his odds are five to two at the moment." Brows drawn, he studied the odds board. "Now, number three there is ten to one, but that's not too long for a gambler. Number six is two to one; that's rather conservative."
"I don't know about all that," she interrupted with a frustrated wave of her hand. "It's just all a bunch of numbers."
"Adelia." He said her name slowly, giving her a small pat on the shoulder. "One must never bet unless one knows the odds." Ignoring her, he glanced back up at the flashing numbers. "It's three to one on number two, a nice safe choice for win, place or show. It's eight to five on number one."
"Travis, you're making my head spin with all of this. I just want to-"
"And fifteen to one on number five." He looked down at the two crumpled bills. "You could amass a small fortune if that one came in."
"It's not for the money." Her breath came out in one impatient huff. "It's for the luck."
"Ah, I see," he returned with a solemn nod before the grin escaped and spread. "Irish luck is not to be scoffed at."
Though she scowled quite fiercely for a moment, he slipped his arm over her shoulders and led her to the two-dollar window.
Before long, she was standing next to him and gaping openly at the masses of people filling the stands. The enormous stadium would hold one hundred and twenty-five thousand, Travis had informed her, and to her astonished eyes there seemed to be no less than that. Several people greeted Travis, and she felt an occasional twinge of discomfort as eyes often passed over her in speculation. Embarrassment was soon eclipsed by excitement as post time approached. She watched the horses step onto the track, her eyes immediately focusing on Majesty and the rider in brilliant red and gold silks on his back. As Majesty's name was announced, Adelia closed her eyes, finding the combination of excitement and nerves nearly overpowering.
"He looked ready," Travis commented casually, then laughed as she jolted at his words. "Relax, Dee, it's just another race."
"I'll never be easy about it if I see a hundred." she vowed. "Oh, here comes Uncle Paddy. Is it going to start?"
For answer, he pointed, and she watched the horses being loaded into the starting gate. Her hand clutched at the cross at her neck, and she felt Travis's arm slip over her shoulder as the bell sounded and ten powerful forms lunged forward.
It seemed to her a mass of flying hooves and thunderous noise, the pack clinging together in one speeding block. Still, her eyes were glued on Majesty as though he were racing alone. Her hand reached up of its own accord to grasp the one on her shoulder, tightening as she urged the colt to greater speed. Steadily he moved forward, as if following her remote-control command, persistently passing one, then another, until he emerged alone from the field. Suddenly the long legs increased their stride, streaking across the dirt track until his competitors were left with the sight of his massive hindquarters as he lunged under the wire.
Travis's arm encircled her, and Adelia found herself crushed to his hard chest, sandwiched between his lean body and her uncle's stocky frame. It was like being caught fast between two unmoving, loving walls, and she found the sensation
