Irish Rebel

by Nora Roberts

  apple-loving, sweet-natured gelding who'd already broken down once and had lost far more races than he'd won in his short career.

  Brian was fond of him, of course, and wanted him to have his day in the sun. But he had no illusions about this one being a champion.

  He was simply guiding the horse toward doing what he'd been born for. And that was run his best.

  And still nerves danced in Brian's belly.

  "The track's dry and fast," he told Larry as they walked past the backstretch. "That's good for him. The field's crowded, and he likes that, too. Blue Devil's the number six horse, and odds-on favorite. There's reason for that."

  "I know Blue Devil." Larry nodded and gnashed a mouthful of gum. "He can slither through a pack like a snake. He gets in the lead, he sets a fast pace."

  "I expect that's what he'll do today. I need you to feel what Finnegan's got in him. I don't want you overracing him, but don't hold him back past the first turn. Let him test his legs."

  "I'll take care of him, Mr. Donnelly. Here's Miss Grant come to see us off. He looks fine, Miss Grant. You done good with him."

  "Yes." A little breathless from the run back from the betting window, she gave Finnegan a brisk rub. "We did."

  When the call sounded for riders up, she stepped back. "Good luck."

  "Talk to him." Brian gave Larry a leg up. "Don't forget to talk to him all the way. Don't let him forget what he's there for."

  "They look good," Keeley decided. "Here."

  "What now?"

  "I put fifty down for you."

  "You—damn it."

  "You can pay me back out of your winnings," she said breezily. "We'd better get to the rail. I don't want to miss the start. Have you seen my family?"

  "No. They're around. The lot of you's everywhere." Because she was moving through the crowd, he grabbed her hand. He could imagine her being trampled. "I don't know why you don't go up into the bar where you can watch in civilized surroundings."

  "Snob."

  "It's not a matter of—" He gave up. "I want you to tear up those papers."

  "No. Look they're bringing them to the gate."

  "I'm not taking a half interest in your horse."

  "Our horse. Who's number three? I lost myRacing Form ."

  "Prime Target, eight to five, likes to come from behind. Keeley, it's a thoughtful gesture, but—"

  "It's a sensible one. Okay, here we go." She shot him a brilliant smile. "Our first race."

  The bell rang.

  They shot out of the gate, ten muscular bodies with men clinging fiercely to their backs. Within seconds they were merged into one speeding form with legs reaching, flying, striking. Silks of red, white, gold, green streamed by in a shock of color. And the sound was huge.

  Blindly Keeley groped for Brian's hand and clung.

  She lost her breath, and her sense, in the sheer thrill.

  Clouds of dust spewed from the dry track, jockeys slanted forward like dolls, and the pack began to break apart at the second turn.

  "He's holding onto fourth," Keeley shouted. "He's holding on."

  The lead horse edged forward. A head, a half a length. Finnegan bulled up the line, nipping the distance, vying for third. Keeley heard the crowd around her, the solid roar of it, but her heart pounded to the rhythm of hoofbeats.

  Those legs stretched, reached, lifted.

  "He's gaining." She began to laugh, even as her hand clamped on Brian's, she laughed. From the joy bursting inside her, she might have been riding low on the gelding's back herself. "He's gaining. He's moving up, into second. Would you look at him?''

  He was looking, and the grin on his face was wide. "I didn't give him enough credit for guts. Not nearly enough credit. He'll move on the backstretch. If he's still got it in him, he'll move."

  And he moved, a big, unhandsome horse at twenty to one odds with a washed-up jockey in the irons. He moved like a bullet, streaking down the dirt, charging the leader, running neck-in-neck with the favorite while the crowd screamed.

  Seconds before the finish line, he pulled ahead by a nose.

  "He won." Keeley whirled to Brian. She wondered if the shock on his face mirrored her own. "My God, Brian, he won!"

  "Two miracles in one day." He let out a short, baffled laugh, then another, longer. Riding on the thrill, he plucked Keeley off her feet and spun her in circles.

  "I never expected it." She threw her arms in the air, then wrapped them around his neck and kissed him. "I never expected him to win."

  "You bet on him."

  "That was for love, not for reality. I never thought he'd win."

  "He did." Brian gave her a last spin before setting her on her feet. "That's what counts."

  "We're going to celebrate. Big time."

  While Betty's win had left him shaken to the soul by that heady taste of destiny, this was sheer, stupefied delight. He snatched Keeley again and spun her into a quick waltz through the crowd.

  "I'll buy you a bottle of champagne."

  "Two," she corrected. "One for each of us. We have to get down to the winner's circle."

  "You have to. I don't go to winner's circles."

  He might behave like a mule, she mused, but he was a man. And she knew which button to push. "You don't have to go for me, or even for yourself. But you have to go for him." She held out a hand.

  He wanted to swear but figured it a waste of breath. "I'll go, as his trainer. He's your horse. I don't own any part of him."

  "Half," she corrected, trotting to keep up as Brian tugged her along. "But we can discuss which half."

  Chapter Twelve

  Contents-Prev

  "Of course I'm seeing to him." Keeley bent to unwrap Finnegan's right foreleg.

  "You should be up celebrating."

  "This is part of it." She ran her hands carefully up the gelding's leg before pinning the wrapping to the line. "Finnegan and I are going to congratulate each other while I clean him up. But you could do me a favor." She pulled her ticket out of her pocket. "Cash in my winnings."

  Brian shook his head. "At the moment I'm too pleased to be annoyed with you for betting my money." With one hand on the horse he leaned over to kiss her. "But I'm not taking half the horse."

  Keeley hooked an arm around Finnegan's neck. "You hear that? He doesn't want you."

  "Don't say things like that to him."

  She laid her cheek against the gelding's. "You're the one hurting his feelings."

  As two pairs of eyes studied him, Brian hissed out a breath. "We'll discuss this privately at some other time."

  "He needs you. We both do."

  The muscles in his belly twisted. "That's unfair."

  "That's fact."

  He looked so uncomfortable, she sighed. She wanted to throw up her hands, give the man a good thump. But it wasn't the time to rage or demand he take a good look at a woman who loved him.

  "We will talk about it." They were going to talk about a great many things, she decided. Very soon. "But for now, we'll just be happy."

  He hesitated while she went back to unwrapping Finnegan's legs. "I've been happier in the last few months than I've ever been."

  "That doesn't have to change." She finished hanging the wrappings, picked up a dandy brush. "We're a good team, Brian. There's a lot we could do together."

  Brian ran a hand down Finnegan's throat. "We've made quite a start here. Would you want to go out after a bit and have some fancy dinner and wine?"

  Keeley slanted him a look. "Are you finally asking me for a date?"

  "It seems appropriate under the circumstances." Grinning he fingered the betting ticket. "And it seems I've come in to some extra cash."

  "Then I'd love to."

  "I've got to go check on Betty, make sure she's transported back to the farm."

  "If you run into any of my family, tell them where I am, will you?"

  "I will. He's had his moment in the sun, hasn't he?" Brian murmured.

  Keeley s
et the brush down, crossing over as Brian opened the stall door. "You've had quite a day, Donnelly."

  "I have. I don't know when there's been another like it."

  She put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. "There'll be more." For all of us. She tipped back her head. "We'll make more," she promised as she raised her mouth to his.

  He could have lost himself in her. It was so easy when he was holding her to slip away from the moment and into the dream.

  "You're neglecting your horse." He rested his cheek against hers, closed his eyes. "I'll come back for you."

  "I'll be waiting."

  But he didn't move, only stood with her gathered close while the love inside him pulsed like light. Then he drew back, taking both of her hands and bringing them to his lips. "Don't forget to give him apples. He's fond of them."

  "Yes, I know." It felt as though her heart were shaking. "Brian—"

  "I'll be back," he said and strode away before the words rising into his throat could be spoken.

  "Something's changed," Keeley whispered. "I felt it." She pressed her hands, still warm from his, to her heart. "Oh, it's been a hell of a day. And it's not over yet." She swung back into the stall where Finnegan stood, watching her patiently. "He loves me. He just can't get his tongue around the words yet, but he loves me. I know it."

  She picked up the dandy brush again. "We're going to cross another finish line before the day's over. I've got to make myself beautiful. We'll have candlelight and wine, and…"

  She trailed off as she heard the stall door open again. Thinking it was Brian come back, she turned. Her brilliant smile faded into ice when she saw Tarmack.

  "You think you pulled a fast one, don't you?"

  "You're not welcome here."

  "Snatched this horse out from under me. No better than a horse thief. Figure you can get away with it 'cause you're a Grant."

  "You were paid your asking price." She spoke coolly. She caught the stink of too much whiskey on his breath. And so, she thought, did Finnegan. The horse was beginning to quiver. Calmly, she hooked her hand in his bridle. "If you have a complaint, take it up with the Racing Commission."

  "So your father can pay them off?"

  Her head came up. Her eyes went from ice to fire. "Be careful what you say about my father."

  "I'll say what I want to say." He moved in, his eyes glazed and mean from drinking. "Cheats, all of you, looking down on those of us just trying to make a living. Stole this horse from me." He jabbed a finger into her shoulder. "Said he wasn't fit to run."