Irish Rose Read online

  "I don't understand why you're angry. The money's mine, after all."

  "It's yours," he murmured. "Damn it, Erin, there's a checkbook in the office. If you'd felt the need to send money home, why didn't you just take what you wanted and be done with it?"

  "There's more than enough out of my wages."

  "You're my wife, damn it, and that entitles you to whatever you want. You're past the point where you have to draw wages."

  She was silent a moment, and when she spoke, she spoke carefully. "That's it, isn't it? You still believe that I'm here because of your fat checkbook."

  He didn't know what he thought, Burke admitted as he stared out of the window. She was perfect, warm, loving. And the longer she was with him, the more he was certain there had to be a catch. No one gave unconditionally. No one gave without wanting something back. "Not entirely," he said after a moment. "But I don't believe you'd have married me if I didn't have one. I told you before it doesn't matter. We suit well enough."

  "Do we?"

  "The point is the money's there and you may as well make use of it. You never know how long it'll last." With a half smile, he lit a cigar. "That's a bridge we'll cross when we come to it. Enjoy it, Irish, it's all part of the bargain."

  She thought of the child inside her and could have wept. Instead she stood. "Is there anything else?"

  "I want you to go write out a check for whatever your family needs."

  "All right. Thank you."

  "We'll be leaving for Kentucky in a few days. The Bluegrass Stakes and the Derby." He turned and leaned back against the sill. "You should enjoy it. It's quite a show."

  "I'm sure it's wonderful." She took a long breath and watched him carefully. "It's a pity Dee's too far along to travel so she and Travis won't be there."

  "That's the price you pay for having a family." He shrugged and moved back to his desk.

  "Aye," she said quietly, but the light had gone out of her eyes. "I'll let you get back to work."

  "Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me?"

  "No. It was nothing." Erin closed the door behind her, then covered her face with her hands. Hadn't she told him she loved him? Hadn't she showed him in every way she knew? And now she was carrying physical proof of her feelings, but none of it mattered to him.

  Then it would have to matter to her even more. Erin straightened her shoulders and walked away from the door, unaware that Burke stood on the other side, hesitating, his hand on the knob.

  He hadn't meant to be angry. She'd looked so happy when she'd come into the room. She'd smiled at him as though… as though she loved him. Why couldn't he get past the block and just accept? Because he didn't believe in that kind of love, not even when he felt it himself.

  He did believe that she would stay with him, happily enough, as long as he continued to provide her with what she needed. When he'd met her, he'd recognized the hunger for more he himself had always felt. He'd recognized the need to see new things, climb new mountains and win. It was just fortunate for both of them that he was in a position to show her those things, to provide her with the means to taste and hear and see the fantasies she'd had.

  She could love him for that, and that he could understand.

  But what about the man who had come from nothing? What about the man who could be back to nothing at the toss of the dice? What would her feelings be for him? He couldn't afford to find out, because the man who thought love only existed for convenience was desperately in love with his wife.

  She was far from aware of it. As Erin walked into the kitchen, she was certain Burke only wanted her as long as she did nothing to upset the balance of his life-style. Sooner or later, he would be aware that together they already had.

  Rosa was washing crystal in the sink but stopped the moment Erin walked in the room.

  "Is there something you want, senora?"

  "I'm just going to fix some tea."

  "I'll heat the water."

  "I can do it myself," Erin snapped as she slammed the kettle onto the stove.

  "As you like, senora."

  Erin leaned her palms against the stove. "I'm sorry, Rosa."

  "Denada."

  As Rosa went back to her crystal, Erin found a cup and saucer. What kind of wife was it, she wondered, who didn't even know which cupboard held her dishes? How could she be so happy and so unhappy at the same time?

  "Rosa, how long have you worked for Mr. Logan?"

  "Many years, senora."

  "Before he came here to this house?"

  "Before that."

  Like pulling teeth, she thought, determined to pull harder. "Where did you work with him before that?"

  "In another house."

  Erin turned from the stove. "Where, Rosa?"

  She saw the housekeeper's lips tighten. "In Nevada. In the West."

  "What did he do there?"

  "He had much business. You should ask Mr. Logan yourself."

  "It's you I'm asking. Rosa, don't you think I have a right to know who my husband is?"

  She saw the brief hesitation before Rosa began to polish glasses. "It's not my place, senora."

  "I need something." With an angry flick of her wrist, she shut off the flame. "I don't care what he did, what he was. If he's done something wrong it doesn't matter. How can I get through to him if I don't understand him?"

  "Senora." Carefully Rosa set down the first glass and picked up another. "I'm not sure you would understand even if you knew."

  "Tell me, and let me try."

  "Some things are better left alone."

  "No!" She wanted to throw something, anything, but managed to hold the need back. "Rosa, look at me. I love him." When the housekeeper turned, Erin spoke again. "I love him and I can't stand being kept apart from who he is. I want to make him happy."

  Rosa stood silently a moment. Her eyes were very dark and very clear. For a moment Erin felt a stab of recognition. Then it passed. "I believe you."

  "It's Burke who needs to believe."

  "For some, believing such things doesn't come easily."

  "Why? Why for Burke?"

  "Do you know what it's like to be hungry? Truly hungry? For food, for knowledge, for love?"

  "No."

  "He grew up with nothing, less than nothing. When there was work, he worked. When there was not, he stole." She moved her shoulders and picked up the next glass. "Not such a bad life for some. Hell for others. He never knew his father. His mother was not married, you understand?"

  "Yes." Erin sat and made no objection when Rosa moved over to the stove to fix her tea.

  "His mother worked very hard, though she was never well. But in such places a person always owes much more than they could ever have. At times he went to school, but more often he worked in the fields."

  "On a farm?" she asked, remembering the way Burke had looked over hers.

  "Si. He lived on one for awhile so that he could give his mother his pay."

  "I see." And she was beginning to.

  "He hated the life, the dirt and the stench of it."

  "Rosa, how did you know him when he was a child?"

  She set the tea down in front of Erin. "We had the same father."

  Erin stared. Then, when Rosa would have walked away, she grabbed her arm. "You're Burke's sister?"

  "Half sister. My father took me to New Mexico when I was six. He met Burke's mother. She was pretty, frail and very innocent. After Burke was born he left me with her, promising to send for us all when he had a job. He never did."

  "Something might have happened to him. He might—" She stopped when she saw the look in Rosa's eyes.

  "Burke's mother discovered he'd met another woman in Utah. That was his way. So she worked, washing up other people's dirt, for twenty years. Then she died. She had done her best for him, but Burke was always wild and restless. The day she was buried, he left. It was five years before I saw him again."

  "He found you?"

  "No, I found him." Rosa went
back to her glasses. "Burke is not a man who looks for anyone. He owned part of a casino in Reno. Because I wouldn't take the money he offered, I went to work for him. He's never been comfortable with it, but he doesn't send me away."

  "He couldn't. You're his sister."

  "Not to him. Because to him our father never existed. There is no family in Burke's life, no roots, no home."

  "That can change."

  "Only Burke can change it."

  "Aye." Nodding, she stood. "Thank you, Rosa."

  She didn't tell him about the baby. Over the next few days she fretted over the secret but didn't speak it. There were races to prepare for. Important ones. Now, as she watched Burke handle his business and deal with his horses, she watched from a different perspective.

  How had his early life shaped him? She took note of the way he treated those who worked for him. He was firm and demanding but never unreasonable. Not once had she heard him raise his voice to any of his men. Because he knew what it was like to be abused by an employer? she wondered. Because he understood how it felt to be dependent for your existence on another?

  He loved the horses. She wasn't sure he was aware of it himself, but she could see it in the way he watched them take to the track, the way he supervised their grooming. Perhaps it was true that when he'd won the farm it had been only another game, but he'd made a life out of it whether he realized it or not. That alone gave Erin hope.

  The time came for them to fly to Kentucky. Erin vowed she would tell him about the baby when they returned.

  There was something different about her, Burke thought as he fixed himself a drink in the parlor of their hotel suite. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Her moods were like a roller coaster—up, down and sideways as quick as a wink. Not that he didn't find them interesting. He'd never been one who wanted to settle in too comfortably, and a man would hardly do that with a wife who was raging one minute and smiling sweetly the next. She was always doing the unexpected these days, cuddling up against him and falling into long, thoughtful silences or racing down to the stables to drag him back for a picnic under the willow.

  She was the same in public, playing the dignified wife one moment and a flirtatious woman the next. And she didn't always flirt with only him. He couldn't deny it made him jealous, but he was fully aware that was her intent.

  He found her daydreaming one minute and rushing around talking about redecorating the next. At times he worried that she was becoming restless again, but then she would reach for him at night, and no one had ever seemed so content.

  He'd noticed she seemed to have lost her taste for champagne, though they attended the spring parties with regularity. She'd taken to sipping plain juice and discussing bloodlines and the pros and cons of certain tracks.

  Then there had been the day he'd given her the earrings, sapphires to match her necklace. She had opened the box, burst into tears and fled, only to come back an hour later to gather him close and thank him.

  The woman was driving him crazy, and he was enjoying every minute of it.

  "Are you almost ready, or do you want to be fashionably late?" he asked as he strolled toward the bedroom.

  "Almost ready. Since we're going to win the race tomorrow, I thought I should look my best for the pictures they'll be taking tonight. I've never known people with such love for taking pictures at parties."

  "You didn't complain about having yours in the paper," he began, then stopped to stand in the doorway. She smiled when she saw him and turned a slow circle.

  She'd chosen the dress carefully, knowing that before too many more weeks she would be showing and wouldn't feel proper wearing something daring. The midnight blue was shot through with silver threads so that she shimmered even standing still. It left her shoulders bare, then slithered down her body without drape or fold. Without the slit up the skirt, she wasn't sure she could have moved in it.

  "Well, do you like it? Mrs. Viceroy said I should have something to show off my necklace."

  "Who's going to notice the necklace?" He came to her and, in the way he had of making her heart stop, took both her hands to kiss them. "Irish, you're gorgeous."

  "It's sinful for me to want the other women to be jealous, isn't it?"

  "Probably."

  "But I do. I want them to look at you and think he's the most wonderful man here. And she has him."

  Laughing, she spun another circle. "Then I can just look at them and smile, sort of pitying."

  "It's a shame I won't be able to notice, because I won't be able to take my eyes off you."

  She turned back to touch his cheek. "You know, when you say things like that, it still makes my insides curl up. Burke…" She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she knew he would only smile and kiss her forehead. Then her heart would break a little because he wasn't able to give the words back to her. "Did you ever think these parties are a little—slow?"

  "I thought you liked them."

  "Well, I do." She moved closer to run a finger down his lapel. "But sometimes, sometimes I find myself in the mood for something that takes a little more energy." She smiled as she looked up at him under her lashes. "A lot more energy. You smell very nice."

  "Thanks." He lifted a brow as she loosened his tie. "Are you trying to start something?"

  "And what if I am?" She pushed his jacket off his shoulders.

  "Just checking," he murmured while she unbuttoned his shirt. "This isn't going to make all those women jealous."

  With a laugh she ran her hands up his chest. "That's what you think." Grinning, she shoved him onto the bed and jumped in after him.

  For the first time since she'd fainted, Erin insisted on going down to the stables with Burke. She told him it was a matter of pride, and it was. Pride in him.

  She wasn't able to bring herself to go in, but urged him to as she stood in the sun and watched the people.

  A long way from Skibbereen indeed, she thought. The air was warm with springtime, and flowers were already in bloom. Trainers and exercise boys she'd come to know by sight nodded or tipped their hats as they passed her and greeted her as Mrs. Logan.

  There was excitement in the air as well, the kind that hummed before an important race. Before long, it would be the race. The Derby. But for now everyone's attention was on today and the Bluegrass Stakes. A win here added to Double Bluff's record would make him the favorite. Erin smiled as she thought that would lower the odds, but odds didn't matter. She wanted Burke to win, today and at Churchill Downs. She could almost taste the satisfaction of having Double Bluff named Horse of the Year. More than she'd wanted anything, she wanted that for Burke, for him to know he'd done something special, something only the best could accomplish.

  "Good day to you, Mrs. Logan."

  "Paddy." Pleased to see him, Erin opened her arms for a hug. "Oh, it's a fine day, isn't it? How's Dee?"

  "Right as right and mean as a bear. She told me to tell you if Travis's Apollo doesn't win, Burke's Double Bluff better."

  "And who are you betting on?"

  "Now who do you think? I trained Apollo myself. But if I was hedging my bets, I'd lay some money on the colt out of Three Aces."

  "A smart man would put his money down on Charlie's Pride." Durnam came up behind them and slapped Paddy on the shoulder.

  "Well, now, it's a fine colt you have there, Mr. Durnam, and that's the truth. But I think I'll stick with my own."

  "That's your choice. Hello there, Mrs. Logan. You're looking as pretty as ever."

  "Thank you. Good luck to you today."

  "You don't need luck when you've got the best." He pulled at the brim of his straw hat and moved on.

  "We'll see who's the best," Erin said under her breath.

  "Got the fever, do you?" Chuckling, Paddy slipped an arm around her shoulders. "There's a powerful competition in this business. Can't be otherwise when money and prestige change hands in a matter of minutes."

  "How do you know when you've got a winner?"

&n
bsp; "Well, now, there's breeding and training and a matter of attitude. There's feed and grooming. There's the jockey that sits on top and finding the right man for the right mount. But what it comes down to, darling, is blood. It's in the blood or it isn't, just like with people."

  "Aye, the blood." She looked toward the stables and thought of Burke. "So you think that someone could be denied the proper care and feeding, the training, and still be a winner?"

  "We talking horses or people?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "Not much." He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "It's in the blood and it's in the heart. I've got to tend to my boy now."

  "I'll wave to you from the winner's circle, Paddy Cunnane," she called after him.

  "You sound sure of yourself," Burke commented as he crossed to her.

  "Sure of you." She gripped his hands as they headed for the stands. "You don't have to walk me up. I know you want to stay to see your jockey weighed in and watch Double Bluff saddled."

  "The last time I didn't go with you I found you surrounded by reporters."

  "I know how to handle them now. Besides, I did like seeing my picture in the paper."

  "You're a vain woman, Irish."

  "Aye, and why not?" She brushed a finger over his cream-colored shirt and found herself pleased he didn't go in for the seersucker of his associates. "Whether it's pride or vanity, I find it exciting to see my picture on the society page. Did you know, Mr. Logan, you're a very important man?"

  "Is that so?"

  "Aye,'tis so, and so I'm told often enough. Then, by rights, I have to be an important woman."

  "You could pass for one today," he decided, taking a quick study of her pale blue suit and pearls. She'd added a plain wide-brimmed straw hat, then had tilted it at an angle so it could no longer be called demure.

  "I decided the day called for dignified." Then she laughed and touched the brim of her hat. "Sort of. Burke, I'll be fine, really. I know you want to stay close to the horse."

  "I'd rather stay close to you. Mind?"

  "No." She hooked her arm through his and grinned. "Why don't I buy you a beer?"

  She thought it was a perfect day. The most perfect day of her life. The sky was cloudless, a soft spring blue that made her smile just to look at it. She noticed the woman from her wedding as she stepped into the box, and made sure she tilted her head and smiled coolly in greeting.

  "Why do I feel you're always sticking pins in Dorothy Gainsfield?"

  "Because I am, darling." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Long, sharp ones. I didn't know until the other day that the skinny blonde who was hanging all over you on St. Patrick's Day was Mrs. Gainsfield's favorite niece." She laughed again, figuring it meant another day in purgatory. "Life can be sweet."

  "You'll have to fill me in on all this later."

  "In ten or twenty years, perhaps. Look, Burke, television cameras. Can you imagine?"