Chapter Twelve
“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 set 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.”
“And he wasn’t.” She wasn’t afraid. There were people around, she thought quickly. She had only to call out. But a Grant didn’t cry for help at the first tussle. She could deal with a drunk and pitiful bully.
“Fit to run for you, though. To run and win. That purse is mine by rights.”
It was only the money, she thought. Just as Brian said, with some, it was all facts and figures, and no feeling. “You’ve got all the money out of me you’ll get.” She turned away to brush the gelding. “Now I suggest you leave before I file a complaint.”
“Don’t you turn your back on me, you little bitch.”
It was shock as much as pain that had Keeley gasping when he grabbed her arm and dragged her around. When she tried to jerk free, the sleeve of her shirt tore at the shoulder. Beside her, Finnegan whinnied nervously and shied.
“You look at me when I talk to you. You think you’re better than me.” He shoved her back against the gelding’s side, then yanked her forward again. “You think you’re special ’cause your daddy’s rolling in money.”
“I think,” Keeley said with deceptive calm, “that you’d better take your hands off me.” She reached in her pocket, closed her fingers, and they were rock steady, around a hoof pick.
It happened fast, a blur of motion and sound.
Even as she tugged the makeshift defense free, Finnegan whipped his head and bit Tarmack’s shoulder.
For the second time Tarmack rapped her hard against the solid wall of the gelding’s side, and as he drew back his fist she shouted, leaping to block it from connecting with Finnegan’s head.
It skidded over her temple instead, sending a shocking ribbon of pain across her skull, and a haze of pale red over her vision. As she staggered, stumbling around to defend herself and her horse, Brian came through the doors like a vengeful god.
Instinctively Keeley grabbed Finnegan’s bridle, to calm him, to balance herself. “It’s all right. It’s all right now.”
But hearing the unmistakable sound of fists against flesh and bone, she ran out.
“Brian, don’t!”
His face was blank, a mask without emotion.
It seemed all sharp bones and cold eyes.
He had Tarmack braced against the wall with a hand over the man’s throat, an arm cocked back to deliver another blow.
Tarmack’s mouth and nose were already bleeding.
Keeley grabbed Brian’s arm, and hung on like a burr. It felt like gripping hot iron.
“That’s enough. It’s all right.”
Without even a glance, so much as a flicker of acknowledgment, Brian shook her off, rammed a ready fist into Tarmack’s gut. “He put his hands on you.”
“Stop it.” Panting, she grabbed his arm again, and wrapped both hers around it. “He didn’t hurt me. Let him go, Brian.” She could hear Tarmack struggling for air through the hand Brian had banded around his windpipe. “I’m not hurt.”
Very slowly, Brian turned his head. When his eyes, flat and cold with violence met hers, she trembled. “He put his hands on you,” he said again, carefully enunciating each word. “Now step back.”
“No.” She could hear the shouts behind her, see out of the corner of her eye the crowd already forming. And she could smell the blood. “It’s enough. Just let him go.”
“It’s not enough.” He started to shake her off again, and Keeley had an image of herself flying free as he flicked her off like a gnat.
She hadn’t feared Tarmack, but she was afraid now.
“What’s the problem here?”
She could have wept with relief at the sound of her father’s voice. The crowd parted for him. She’d never known one not to. He took one long look at her face, skimmed his gaze over the torn sleeve, and though the hand he laid on her shoulder was gentle, she’d seen the edge come into his eyes.
“Move back, Keeley,” he said in a voice of quiet steel.
“Dad.” She shook her head, twined around Brian’s arm like a vine. “Tell Brian to let him go now. He won’t listen to me.”
Brian rapped the gasping Tarmack’s head against the wall, a kind of absent violence as he once again spoke with rigid patience. “He put his hands on her.”
The edge in Travis’s eyes went keen, sharp as silver. “Did he touch you?”
“Dad, for God’s sake.” She lowered her voice. “He’ll kill him in a minute.”
“Let him go, Brian.” Adelia hurried in, took in the situation with one glance. Gently she touched a hand to Brian’s shoulder. “You’ve dealt with him. There’s a lad. You’re frightening Keeley now.”
“Her shirt’s torn. Do you see her shirt’s torn?” He continued to speak slowly, as if in a foreign tongue. “Take her out of here.”
“I will, I will. But let that pathetic man go now. He’s not worth it.”
Perhaps it was the voice, the lilt of his own country that broke quietly through the rage. Brian loosened his grip and Tarmack wheezed in air.
“He had her trapped in the stall. Trapped, you see, and his hands were on her.”
Adelia nodded. Her gaze shifted briefly to her husband’s. A lifetime ago he’d dealt with a drunk who’d had her trapped. She understood the barely reined violence in Brian’s eyes. “She’s all right now. You saw to that.”