Chapter 13
Chapter 13
T he police had taken Dean into custody that same afternoon, and when pressed with the evidence stacked against him, Dean had confessed that he had been responsible for drugging Sentimental Lady in her stall six years before.
Injecting Sentimental Lady with Dexamethasone had been Jason Chambers’ idea. He had dealt with Dean in the past and knew that Becca’s brother was always in debt, so he offered to pay him twenty-five thousand dollars to drug the horse. It was beneficial to both parties. Dean would be able to pay off several mounting gambling debts and an impatient loan shark. The last five thousand he would give to Jackie for the baby. The deal was sealed and Jason Chambers didn’t have to worry about his horse.
According to Dean, Jason had considered Sentimental Lady strong competition and he was unsure of Winsome’s ability when it came to racing against the fleet filly. To withdraw Winsome from the race was out of the question because it would be obvious that the colt was demurring to the filly. Jason couldn’t take a chance on losing the race. He had to keep Winsome’s racing record intact because he planned to put him out to stud and wanted to demand the highest possible fee for Winsome’s services. He knew that no matter what the outcome of the race, Sentimental Lady would be disqualified when traces of the steroid were found in her test sample taken immediately after the race.
Twice Rebecca had tried to see her brother, but he had refused, preferring not to face her or the fact that he had let her shoulder the blame for his crime. It was difficult for her, but she realized that if and when Dean wanted to see her, he would contact her. She left the police station feeling drained and exhausted and was met by a bevy of reporters who had gotten wind of the story. She was grateful for Brig’s strong arms and calm sense of responsibility. After a firm “no comment” to the eager press, he had whisked her away from the throng and into his car. Within minutes they had left the inquisitive reporters on the steps of the station house.
“They’re not going to leave you alone,” Brig pointed out, gently smoothing her hair away from her face.
“I know,” she murmured, her misty eyes darkened with pain. “But I just can’t face them . . . not yet.” She turned her head and tried to focus on the passing landscape, but she couldn’t think of anything other than her brother’s lies. For six years he had hidden the truth. It was ironic, she thought quietly to herself, that six years ago, when she thought Brig had betrayed her, Dean had helped her through that rough period. As it turned out, Dean had been the culprit, and now Brig was helping pull her life back together.
She felt safe once back at Starlight Breeding Farm, but her dreams were tormented with haunting images of her brother behind bars and a terrorized Sentimental Lady rearing against the pain in her bloodied foreleg. When Becca woke in the middle of the night, still trembling from the frightening images, Brig was beside her. His strong arms surrounded her and helped comfort her. “It’s all right,” he whispered against the tangled strands of her hair. “Everything’s all right now. You’re with me, darling Becca.” And she believed him. In the desperate hours of the night, with the shadowed fragments of the dream still fresh, she believed him.
It was dawn that brought reality thundering back to her and forced her to rebuild her life. Two days after Dean’s arrest, there was a sharp rap on the front door. As Becca raced down the stairs to answer it, she could hear a car idling in the drive. Since it was only seven in the morning, Becca knew it had to be someone with news of her brother. Her heart hammered fearfully as she conjured reasons for the unexpected visit. Had Dean decided to see her after all, or had he attempted to escape? Or was it worse? In his confused state of depression, could he have tried to harm himself?
She yanked open the door, expecting to face a grim police officer. Instead she stood face to face with a slim, attractive woman of about thirty-five, whose well-manicured appearance and practiced smile were neatly in place as her brown gaze swept over Becca’s slightly disheveled appearance.
“Ms. Peters?” the woman inquired with a flash of near-perfect teeth and inviting smile.
Becca was instantly wary. She ran her fingers through her long golden hair, attempting to restore it to some kind of order. “Yes?”
“My name is Marian Gordon. I’m with the Stateside Review.” She paused for a moment, waiting for the desired effect, and then extended her hand. Becca forced a wan smile onto her face, hoping not to appear overly alarmed. The Stateside Review was little more than a cheap scandal sheet that boasted a healthy nationwide circulation. The stories it covered were usually the most bizarre imaginable and Becca realized that there was probably no way to put off the inevitable. One way or the other, Marian Gordon would get her story. Becca took the slim woman’s hand grudgingly, and then released it.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Gordon?” she asked coolly. Her elegant dark brows arched instinctively upward.
“Your brother is Dean Peters?” Becca drew in a long, steadying breath before nodding. “I thought so.” Marian Gordon seemed pleased. Her poised smile became smug. “Mr. Peters has agreed to give me an exclusive interview concerning his arrest and alleged part in the scandal concerning Sentimental Lady’s death.”
“He did what?” Becca replied, stunned. Then, collecting herself, she retaliated. “Is this with or without his attorney’s knowledge?”
Marian shrugged, obviously not interested in minor details. “I was hoping that I would get your cooperation, Ms. Peters. It would give the story more depth and perspective if I could hear your side of it. Don’t you agree?”
“I wasn’t aware there were sides.”
“Obviously you haven’t spoken to your brother lately.”
“Obviously.” Becca bit back the hot retort that hovered anxiously on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t think I can comment on anything at the moment,” Becca hedged with a lofty arch of her brows. It took all of her control to be polite to the sharply dressed woman.
Marian Gordon smelled a story—a big story. This could be the story that would give her career the shot in the arm it so desperately needed. Rather than be taken aback by Rebecca Peters’ cool reception, she pursued that elusive big story. “Your brother claims that you’ve . . . been keeping company with Brig Chambers again. True or false?”
“It’s true that I see Mr. Chambers,” Becca admitted after an initial moment of hesitation. “What does that have to do with my brother or his case?”
“Are you living with him?”
“Pardon me?”
Marian smiled sweetly. “I asked you if you were living with him.” This was turning out better than the wily reporter had expected and she switched on her pocket tape recorder. She was right. The story was hot.
“Mr. Chambers has visited the farm,” Becca replied evasively.
“Is he here now?”
Becca paused slightly. It was useless to lie. The Mercedes was visible in the driveway. No other vehicle on the farm compared to its luxury. It wouldn’t take this reporter long to figure out that it belonged to Brig. “Yes. As a matter of fact, he is.”
The woman’s eyes lighted with unexpected pleasure. “Good. Then maybe I’ll get a chance to have a word with him. This story involves him, too. You know, what with his father being involved and all.” Marian couldn’t believe her good fortune.
“I don’t think so.”
“But surely he has some thoughts about your brother and his father and why they drugged that poor horse.”
Becca nodded her head and smiled. “I’m sure he does,” she agreed. “And I’m sure that I can convince him to give you a call when he decides to make an official comment.”
Marian was cagey. She tried another, more subtle tack. “Is there any truth to the rumor that you borrowed money from Jason Chambers in order to breed nearly a carbon-copy of Sentimental Lady. What was that horse’s name—Gypsy Wind?”
Becca’s suppressed temper began to flare. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re insinuating.”
The reporter looked appalled. “Insinuating?” she echoed. “Why, nothing, dear. According to your brother, you borrowed a rather large sum of money to produce a horse which would be a full sister to Sentimental Lady. Jason Chambers loaned you that money . . . privately of course. True?”
Forcing her fingers to unclench, Becca replied. “I bred Night Dancer to Gypsy Lady a second time. I had no idea that the offspring would be a filly, but it was. Gypsy Lady gave birth to Gypsy Wind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, that’s all I have to say on the subject . . . make that any subject.”
“Well, one last thing. Can I see her?”
“What?” Becca had begun to turn, but spun back to face the tenacious reporter.
“I’d like a picture of Gypsy Wind for the paper. Surely you wouldn’t mind a little free publicity for your horse. After all, she never raced as a two-year-old. The public will want to see if she’s all she’s cracked up to be.”
Becca’s thin patience shattered. “What she is, Ms. Gordon, is a fine racing Thoroughbred. She’ll prove herself on the racetrack. And I don’t want any photographs of her to be taken, not yet. She’s very high-strung and there’s no reason to upset her.”
“You said she’ll prove herself on the racetrack. What will she prove? That Rebecca Peters is still a qualified horse breeder?”
“That Gypsy Wind is a great filly.”
“Prove it. Let me get a picture of her.”
“No.”
“The horse, if she is a champion, will have to get used to it sooner or later—”
“When the time comes. Not now.” Becca’s voice was stronger and filled with more determination than she had thought possible. The reporter had made her angry and she felt an impassioned need to protect Gypsy Wind.
Marian realized that she had blown whatever chance she had for a more in-depth interview, and she cast a hungry glance at Brig Chambers’ car in the drive. Beyond the car were the barns. If only she could get one peek inside. Rebecca Peters was still lingering at the door and her expression was more than slightly perturbed, but Marian couldn’t resist the chance for a final question. Why not? She had gotten far more than she had expected from the fiery blond woman.
“Well—no pictures. But tell me this, do you think your horse can duplicate Sentimental Lady’s racing career?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Something bothers me, Ms. Peters.”
“Just one thing?”
Marian let the pointed remark run off her back. “Why did you take a chance like that?”
“I’m sorry—like what?”
“Why would you borrow fifty thousand dollars to breed a horse so much like one who ended in such a tragedy? Was it for the horse—or the man? Did you really want another racing Thoroughbred, or was this one last desperate attempt to reunite with Brig Chambers?”
Becca’s green eyes grew deadly. “I think that’s about enough questions. Good day.” Refraining from slamming the door in Marian’s pleasant face, she watched the reporter step into her waiting car, make a full circle and drive down the lane. “And good riddance,” Becca mumbled under her breath once she was assured that the reporter had left the farm. Becca wanted to make certain that Marian didn’t try to snoop around the barns looking for Gypsy Wind.
“Bravo,” a strong male voice asserted from somewhere in the house.
Becca closed the door behind her and noticed Brig leaning against the staircase, just out of Marian’s range of vision from the front porch. “Have you been lurking there, listening to the entire conversation?”
Brig’s grin wasn’t the least bit sheepish. “Most of it,” he admitted.
“Then why didn’t you add your two cents?”
“With that vulture? Not on your life.”
“Chicken,” she accused with a laugh.
He came up to her and put his hands on her waist as he looked deeply into her mocking green eyes. “You did an eloquent job,” he insisted.
“And you could have helped me out.”
He touched her lightly on the nose. “Not true, beautiful lady. I think my presence here would only add fuel to the rampant fires of gossip.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. It seems as if those fires are blazing pretty well with or without you.”
Brig laughed and his eyes twinkled. “It’s good to see you smile again,” he whispered. “You handled yourself very well and I’m proud of you. What brought about your sudden change of heart?”
“Marian Gordon’s holier-than-thou attitude might have had a lot to do with it. I suddenly realized that I had to put my life back in order with or without Dean.”
“Are you sure you can do that?” he asked, serious concern clouding his sharp features.
“I hope so. I can’t believe that he would sell out to a cheap scandal sheet like the Stateside Review,” she fumed.
“There were quite a few things you couldn’t believe about your brother,” he whispered, folding her into his arms. She sighed as she leaned against him.
“The worst is that I was so easily duped. God, what a fool I’ve been.”
“Becca, we’ve all made mistakes. This whole thing about Sentimental Lady colored everyone’s judgment. Besides, it’s not stupid to love someone or care about them the way you did with Dean.”
“Unless you become blind to their flaws.”
Once again he smiled. Dear God, she thought she could die looking at the warmth of his smile. “Are you blind to mine?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered against his chest. “Do you have any?”
“Why don’t you tell me . . .” His finger touched the gentle pout of her lips, forcing them apart so he could run it along the serrated edge of her lower teeth. She touched the tip of it with her tongue and the salty impression started a yearning deep within her.
He groaned and his hand lowered to the neck of her sweater. “You’re the one who’s perfect, lovely lady,” he stated in a rough whisper. His hands gently cupped a breast through the lightly ribbed fabric of her sweater, while he softly kissed her eyelids. Feeling the weight of her breast in his palm, his throat went dry with sudden arousal. “Marry me,” he pleaded. “We’ve run out of excuses and out of time.”
His voice was as persuasive as the tips of his fingers running lightly over her nipples. He gently lifted the sweater over her head and let her naked torso crush him. “Marry me and end this torment,” he coaxed.
“You’re right,” she agreed with an acquiescent sigh. “We have run out of time. I need you.” She let her fingers twine in the coarse strands of his dark hair. His gray eyes held her bound. “We’ve waited much too long . . . let too many things come between us. I was just too stupid to understand that I have to be with you.”
“The one thing you’re not, Rebecca, is stupid.” He cocked his head as if to study her. “Strong-willed and determined, yes. Stupid? Never!”
His lips found hers in a kiss that was savage with passion yet gentle with promise. His hands slid lightly over her body as he undressed her in the unhurried time of a patient lover. His fingers caressed her breasts as if they were new to him. They explored and demanded, creating restless yearnings that made her impatient in her hunger for him.
Warm blood ran in her veins until she could think of nothing but the quiet mastery of his hands on her body and the unyielding desire building within the most feminine depths of her being. She burned for him, ached for his touch.
His movements were slow as he gently pushed her onto the burgundy carpet and savored the sight of her white body stretched against the dark pile. His palms rubbed against her breasts until they tightened in anticipation of the warmth of his mouth covering her nipples. She was not disappointed and gasped in pleasure when she felt the gentle bite of his teeth against her supple breast.
She duplicated his movements. After removing his shirt, she traced the hard line of his muscles with the tip of her finger, past his shoulders, down his chest to stop at the waistband of his jeans. He encouraged her by moving over her and pressing his abdomen closer to her fingers. “Undress me,” he commanded, the ache within him burning to be released.
Deftly she removed his pants and let her fingers and gaze touch all of him, delighting in the feel and the sight of all of his lean, hard length. She quivered at the feel of his firm flesh against hers.
“It’s your turn,” he announced in a voice thickened with awakened passion. “Make love to me.” Quickly he reversed their positions, pulling her over him.
A slow smile crept over her lips as she kicked off the rest of her clothes and lay the length of her body over his. She let him guide her with his hands, while slowly she pressed against him, coaxing the fires within him to burn wildly in his loins.
“I love you,” he murmured, letting his impassioned gaze rove restlessly while he watched her eyes glaze with the desire flooding her veins. He watched her stiffen over him and knew the moment she really wanted him, needed the fulfillment. Then he let go, giving into the rising tide of passion roaring in his blood.
Brig arched up to meet Becca, while his hands pushed her tightly against him. They erupted together in a heated flow of molten lava that began in their souls and ran into each other as their combined heartbeats echoed the thrill of spent love. Spent, they collapsed together.
Becca lay quivering in his arms, exhausted and refreshed at the same time. After a few moments of silence broken only by her shuddering sighs, Brig spoke. “I meant it, Rebecca,” he reaffirmed. His grip on her tightened. “I want to marry you and I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I’m not foolish enough to deny you, my love,” she whispered into his ear. “I think I’ve wanted to marry you from the first moment I met you.”
He grinned at the memory. “Then let’s not wait. Get up and get going.” He gave her a playful slap on the buttocks to reinforce his impatience.
“Today? Right now? Are you crazy? I’m not ready—”
“Idle excuses, woman,” he joked with a mock scowl. “We’ve waited too long to stand on ceremony. Neither one of us has any family to speak of—not close, anyway. Reno is only a few hours’ drive. We could be married by this evening.”
She held her hands up, palms stretched outward. “Wait. Everything’s moving too fast for me. What about the farm? Your business? Gypsy Wind?”
“I’ve considered everything,” he confirmed, tossing her the slightly wrinkled clothes. She caught them along with the satisfied twinkle in Brig’s dark eyes. “The first few months will be rough. There’s no denying that much. I’ll have to spend some of the time in Denver. But I’ve already decided that I can work just as well from the San Francisco office.”
She wasn’t convinced. “But that’s still a three-hour drive from here—”
“A lot closer than Denver. Anyway, it will have to do until we can fix this place up properly. Then I’ll have an office in the house and only make the trip into the city a couple of times a week. If I’m needed in Denver—really needed—I can fly there.” He jerked his jeans on and buckled the belt with authority. “Any other questions?”
Becca struggled into her clothes. “Sounds like you have it all worked out,” she observed with more than a trace of awe in her voice.
“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.”
“Since when?”
“Since the night I found you on the doorstep to my father’s cabin,” he admitted roughly and Becca felt a wayward pull on her heart. He seemed so genuinely earnest. “I just didn’t think I could convince you.”
She had begun to slip into her sweater, but stopped. A wanton smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and she dropped her eyelids suggestively over misty green eyes. “Why don’t you try convincing me again?” she suggested smoothly.
His dark eyes sparked at the game. “You can be a capricious little thing can’t you?” He crossed the room and stood over her, daring her to respond.
She rose to her full height, and then stretched to her toes in order that she could whisper into his ear. “Only with you, love. Only with you.”