Irish Thoroughbred

  "Don't be so literal." But she was too excited to take offense. "In a matter of days I'll be in a new country, a new place, a new job. New money."

  He started to reach for a cigar, then thought better of it. "The money puts a gleam in your eye."

  "Anyone who's ever been poor gleams a bit when they've got enough money."

  He acknowledged this with a nod. He'd been poor, but he doubted Erin would understand that degree of poverty. He appreciated money, though if he lost it, as he had before, he would simply shake the dust off his shoes and make more. "You'll earn it."

  "I wouldn't be having it any other way." She stopped as reality began to seep through. "But I need a passport and the green card that allows you to work. There must be a pile of papers that have to be processed."

  "I told you I'd see to it." He drew a paper out of his pocket. "Fill this out and drop it off at the inn tonight. It's an application," he explained as she studied it. "I've already arranged to have it processed tomorrow. Your passport and whatever else you need will be in Cork when we get there."

  She tapped the paper slowly against her palm. "You were damn sure of yourself, weren't you?"

  "It pays to be. You'll need a picture they can use, too. A recent one."

  "What if I'd said no?"

  He simply smiled. "Then you'd have been a fool and I'd have thrown the application away."

  "I can't figure you." She tucked the application in the pocket of her baggy pants, but shook her head at him. "You've made me a very generous offer, you're giving me the opportunity to do something I've wanted to do for as long as I can remember. But even as you're doing it, it doesn't seem to matter to you one way or the other."

  He remembered the surge of relief, but chose to ignore it. "Things matter too much to people. That's how they get hurt."

  "Are you saying that things don't matter to you? Nothing at all? What about your farm?"

  He shifted a bit, surprised that the question, when she asked it, made him uncomfortable. "It's a place. A comfortable and fairly profitable one at the moment. But that's all it is. I don't have the ties to it that you have to the land here, Erin. That's why if I leave it I will leave without a second glance. When you leave Ireland, no matter how much you want to go, you're going to hurt."

  "There's nothing wrong in that," she murmured. "It's my home. It's only right to miss your home."

  "Some people don't make homes. They just live somewhere and leave it at that."

  She saw more clearly now, though the light was still dim. She saw, though she'd told herself she didn't care, that there were places inside him no one, no woman, would ever touch. "That's a cold and sorry way to live."

  "It's a choice," he corrected. Then he pushed the subject aside. "Make sure you get me the application tonight. I'm leaving for Cork first thing in the morning."

  "But you said we weren't going for a couple of days."

  "I'll meet you there."

  "All right, then. I should be getting along. There's a lot to be done."

  "There's something else I think we should get out of the way." He rocked back on his heels a moment, then stunned her by grabbing both her arms and dragging her against him. "This has nothing to do with business."

  Infuriated, she brought her hands to his chest and gave him one hard shove. It didn't budge him an inch. Then he clamped his mouth down on hers, rough and ready and with no patience at all.

  She would have ripped and clawed at him. She would have struggled and bit and cursed. That was what she told herself she would have done if she hadn't been so stunned by the heat. His lips were firm. That she already knew. But she hadn't known they could be so hot, so passionate, so tempting.

  Her head filled with sounds-louder, deeper sounds than the rain that drove furiously on the roof above. Her hands were trapped between their bodies so that she could feel the pounding of a heart without knowing which of them it came from.

  This is what the apple must have tasted like when Eve took the first forbidden bite, she thought giddily.

  Succulent, tart, unbearably delicious. Nothing else ever tasted would be as satisfying. Lost in the flavor, she parted her lips and let him take more.

  He'd known what he'd wanted but hadn't been sure what to expect. If she'd hissed at him, he would have ignored her and taken his fill. If she'd struck out at him in anger, he would have taken her struggles in stride and enjoyed the fury. He'd fought or gambled for everything he'd wanted all of his life. For days he'd been trying to convince himself that Erin McKinnon was no different. But she was.

  She gave. After the first stunned instant she gave passionately, with the kind of desperation that left him shaken and edgy for more. Her mouth was avid and mobile, her body taut and trembling. He could feel the raw, jagged need raging through her, rising, speeding up to meet and match his own.

  He wanted to take her there, on the damp floor with the smell of rain and earth everywhere. He wanted her to touch him, to feel those capable hands on his flesh. To hear her say his name. To watch her eyes go dark as midnight as he covered her body with his. It could be now. He could feel it in the press of her body against his, in the give of her mouth.

  It could be now. There had been times, and there had been women with whom he wouldn't have hesitated. Why he did so now he couldn't be sure. But he drew her away, though his hands stayed on her shoulders and his eyes stayed on hers as they slowly fluttered open.

  She couldn't speak, not for a moment. The feeling was so immense it left no room for words. She'd never known that a body could be filled so quickly with sensations or that a mind could be emptied of them just as swiftly. She knew now. If anyone had told her that the world could change in the single beat of a heart, she would have laughed. Now she understood.

  He didn't speak. Erin struggled to find her footing as he kept his silence. She couldn't allow herself that kind of madness, not again. If she were to travel an ocean with him, work for him, understand him just a little, she couldn't let this happen again. Not with a man like him. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. No, never with him. If the past few moments had taught her anything, it was that he was a man who knew women and who understood their weaknesses very well.

  "You had no right to do that." She didn't unleash her temper, knowing she hadn't the energy left for it.

  He was shaken, down to the bone, down to the heart, but it wasn't the time to dwell on it. "It wasn't a matter of right but of want. That was a proper kiss, Irish, and we needed to get it out of our systems whether you were coming with me or not."

  She nodded, hoping she sounded as casual as he. She'd rather have died on the spot than have admitted her own inexperience. "Now that our systems are clear, there'll be no need for it to happen again."

  "Don't ask me for promises. You'll be disappointed." He strolled to the door, pushing it open so that the wind and rain lashed their way in. It helped cool his head and steady his heart rate. "You can talk to Dee and Travis when you bring the papers in. Give your family my best."

  Then he was gone, into the storm. Though Erin dashed to the door, he was only a quickly fading shadow in the gloom.

  A shadow, she thought, who she knew nothing about. And she would be going with him to America.

  CHAPTER 4

  America. Erin wasn't naive enough to believe the streets were paved with gold, but she was determined to make it the land of opportunity. Her opportunity.

  It was the speed of things that struck her first, the hurry every living soul seemed to be in. Well, she was in a bit of a hurry herself, she decided as she sat in the back of her cousin's station wagon and tried not to gawk.

  The cold had surprised her, too, a numbing, bone-chilling cold she'd never experienced in the mild Irish climate. But the snow was novelty enough to make it a small inconvenience. Piles of it, more than she'd ever seen, rolling over the gentle hills and heaped on the sides of the road. It was a different sky above, different air around her. So what if she gawked, Erin thought to herself
, and she smiled as she tried to see everything at once.

  Burke had been true to his word. The paperwork had gone so smoothly that in a matter of days after he'd offered her the job she'd been across the Atlantic. He'd left her with her cousin's family at the airport in Virginia, with a casual comment that he'd see her in a couple of days, after she'd settled in. Just like that. Erin was still trying to catch her breath.

  She'd hoped he'd say more. She'd hoped-perhaps foolishly-that he would seem more pleased that she was there. She'd even waited to see that half smile, that dark amusement in his eyes, or to feel the flick of his finger down her cheek. But he'd only dismissed her as an employer dismisses an employee. Erin reminded herself that was precisely what they were now. There would be no more waltzes or wild embraces.

  Did she wish there would be? The devil of it was she'd done just as much thinking about Burke Logan as she had about coming to America. Something had told her that they were both chances, the man and the country. Sometime, somehow, she'd begun to mix them together and had discovered she wanted both. She knew she was being foolish again and resolved to settle for the land.

  It was beautiful. The mountains dark in the distance reminded her just enough of home to make her comfortable, while the whiz of the cars beside them in three lanes were foreign enough to add excitement. Erin found it a palatable combination and was already hoping for more.

  Adelia shifted in her seat so that she could smile back at her cousin. "I remember my first day here, when Uncle Paddy picked me up at that same airport. I felt like I'd been plopped down in the middle of a circus."

  "I'll get used to it." Erin smiled and took another long look out the window. "I'll get used to it very quickly, as soon as I believe I'm really here."

  "I for one am grateful to Burke." Distracted a moment, Dee murmured to Brady, who was fretting in his car seat, then soothed him with a stuffed dog. "It was never in my mind when we went to Ireland that we'd be bringing family back with us."

  The guilt tingled a little, shadowing the pleasure. "I know it was all very sudden, and I'm beholden to you, Dee."

  "Oh, what a pack of nonsense. I feel like a girl again, having my best friend come to stay. We'll have a party." The minute the thought struck, Adelia rolled with it. "A proper one, too, don't you think, Travis?"

  "I think we could handle it."

  "I don't want you to go to any trouble," Erin put in.

  "If you don't let Dee go to any trouble, you'll break her heart," Travis said without embellishment.

  They crossed over the line into Maryland. "Nearly home now, love."

  "I'm as excited to be back as I was to leave. Brendon, if you don't stop teasing your sister you'll be seeing nothing but the four walls of your room until morning." Dee sighed a bit and shifted.

  "All right?" Travis sent her a quick, concerned glance.

  "They're just active." She patted his hand to make light of the discomfort. "Probably squabbling between themselves already."

  "I'd like to help with the children." The closer they came, the more Erin's nerves began to jump. "Or however else I can to pay you back for taking me in this way."

  "You're family," Adelia said simply. Then she sat up straighter as they drove between the stone pillars that led to home. "Welcome to Royal Meadows, cousin. Be happy."

  Erin didn't know what she'd been expecting. Something grand, surely. She wasn't disappointed. The sun shone hard on the February snow, causing the thin crust to glitter and shine. Acres of it, Erin thought. This world was white and gleaming. Even the trees were coated with it, their bare black branches mantled with snow and dripping with cold, clear ice. Like a fairyland, she mused, then called herself foolish.

  When the house came into view, she could only stare. She'd never seen anything so big or so lovely. The stone rose up as sturdy as it was majestic from the white base of snow. Charm was added by the wrought-iron-trimmed balconies that graced the windows.

  "It's beautiful," Erin murmured. "It's the most beautiful house I've ever seen."

  "I've always thought so, too." Dee reached over to unhook Brady as Travis brought the car to a halt. "And it's so good to see it again. Come now, my lad, we're home."

  "Uncle Paddy!" From the back seat, both Brendon and Keeley began to shout. Then they were out and kicking through the snow. A short, stocky man with wiry gray hair and a face like an elf spread his arms wide for them.

  "Give me the baby, missy," Hannah told Dee. "You're already carrying two. And we'll let the men handle the bags while you come in for a nice cup of tea and put your feet up."

  "Stop fussing," Dee said. Then she laughed as her uncle grabbed her in a fierce hug.

  "How's my best girl?"

  "Fit as a fiddle and glad to be home. Look what we brought back with us from Skibbereen." Still laughing, she held out a hand to Erin. "You remember Erin McKinnon, Uncle Paddy. Mary and Matthew McKinnon's daughter."

  "Erin McKinnon?" His face seemed to scrunch together as he thought back. Then, with a hoot, he was beaming. "Erin McKinnon, is it? Faith, lass, the last time I saw you you were no more than a baby. I used to raise a glass with your da now and then, but you wouldn't be remembering that."

  "No, but they still speak of Paddy Cunnane in the village."

  "Do they now?" He grinned as if he knew exactly what was said. "Well, get inside out of the cold."

  "I can help with the bags," Erin began as Adelia started to shoo her children indoors.

  "I'd appreciate it if you'd go with Dee, let her show you your room." Travis was already pulling out the first of the luggage. Even as he set them in the drive, his gaze was following his wife. "She doesn't like to admit she gets tired, and having you to fuss over will keep her from overdoing."

  Erin stood a moment, torn between carrying her own weight and doing what was asked of her. "All right. If you like."

  "It wouldn't hurt if you told her you'd like to sit down with a cup of tea."

  Quietly domineering, Erin thought again. On impulse, she leaned over and kissed Travis's cheek. "Your wife's a fortunate woman. I'll see that she rests without knowing she's been maneuvered into it." Still, she picked up one of the cases and took it inside with her.

  The warmth struck her immediately, not just the change of temperature but the colors and the feel of the house itself. The children were already racing through the rooms as if they wanted to make sure nothing had changed in their absence.

  "You'll want to go up first, see your room." Dee was already stripping off her gloves and laying them on an ornamental table in the hall. Hooking her arm through Erin's, she started up the stairs. "You'll tell me if it suits you or not, and if there's anything else you want. As soon as you feel settled in, I'll show you the rest."

  Erin only nodded. The space alone left her speechless. Adelia opened a door and gestured her inside.

  "This is the guest room. I wish we'd had time to have some flowers for you." She glanced around the room, regretting she hadn't been able to add a few more personal touches. "The bath's down the end of the hall, and I'm sorry to say the children are always flinging wet towels around and making a mess of it."

  The room was done in gray and rose with a big brass bed and a thick carpet. The furniture was a rich mahogany with gleaming brass pulls and a tall framed mirror over the bureau. There were knickknacks here and there, a little china dog, a rose-colored goblet, more brass in a whimsical study of a lion. The terrace doors showed the white expanse of snow through gauzy curtains, making a dreamlike boundary between warmth and cold. Unable to speak, Erin gripped her case in both hands and just looked.

  "Will it suit you? You're free to change anything you like."

  "No." Erin managed to get past the block in her throat, but her hands didn't relax on the handle of the case. "It's the most beautiful room I've ever seen. I don't know what to say."

  "Say it pleasures you." Gently Dee pried the case from her. "I want you to feel comfortable, Erin, at home. I knew what it's like to leave thing
s behind and come to some place strange."

  Erin took a deep breath. She wasn't able to bear it, not for another second. "I don't deserve this."

  "What foolishness." Businesslike, Dee set the case on the bed with the intention of helping her cousin unpack.

  "No, please." Erin put her hand over Dee's, then sat. She didn't want her cousin to tire herself, and she didn't want her to see what a pitiful amount she'd brought with her. "I have to confess."

  Amused, Dee sat beside her. "Do you want a priest?"

  With a watery laugh that shamed her, Erin shook her head. "I've been so jealous of you." There, it was out.

  Dee considered a minute. "But you're much prettier than I am."

  "No, that's not true, and that's not it, in any case." Erin opened her mouth again, then let out a long breath. "Oh, I hate confession."

  "Me, too. Sinning just comes natural to some of us."

  Erin glanced over, saw both the warmth and humor and relaxed. "It comes natural enough to me. I was jealous of you. Am," she corrected, determined to make a clean breast of it. "I'd think about you here in a big, beautiful house, with pretty things and pretty clothes, your family, all the things that go with it, and I'd just near die with envy. When I met you at the airport that day, I was resentful and nervous."

  "Nervous?" She could pass over resentment easily. "About seeing me? Erin, we all but grew up together."

  "But you moved here, and you're rich." She closed her eyes. "I've a powerful lust for money."

  A smile trembled on Dee's lips, but she managed to control it. "Well, that doesn't seem like a very big sin to me. A couple of days in purgatory, maybe. Erin, I know what is it not to have and to wish for more. I don't think less of you for envying me-in truth, I'm flattered. I suppose that's a sin, too," she added after a moment's thought.

  "It's worse because you're so kind to me, all of you, and I feel like I'm using you."

  "Maybe you are. But I'm using you as well, to bring Ireland a little closer, to be my friend. I have a sister-Travis's sister. But she moved away about two years ago. I can't tell you how much I miss her. I guess I was hoping you'd fill the hole."

  Because her conscience was soothed by the admission, Erin touched a hand to Dee's. "I guess it's not so bad if we use each other."

  "Let's just see what happens. Now I'll help you unpack."

  "Let's leave it. I'd really like to go down and have a cup of tea."

  As Erin rose, Adelia eyed her. "Did Travis tell you to keep me off my feet?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Lying's a sin, too," Dee reminded her, but she smiled as she led her downstairs.

  She dreamed of Ireland that night, of the heady green hills and the soft scent of heather. She saw the dark mountains and the clouds that rushed across the sky ahead of the wind. And her farm, with its rich plowed earth and grazing cows. She dreamed of her mother, telling her goodbye with a smile even as a tear slid down her cheek. Of her father, holding her so tight her ribs had ached. She heard each of her brothers teasing her, one by one.

  She cried for Ireland that night, slow, quiet tears for a land she'd left behind and carried with her.

  But when she woke, her eyes were dry and her mind clear. She'd made her break, chosen her path, and she'd best be getting on with it.

  The plain gray dress she chose was made sturdily and fit well. Her mother's stitches were always true.

  Erin started to pin her hair up, then changed her mind and tamed it into a braid. She studied herself with what she hoped was a critical and objective eye. Suitable for work, Erin decided, then started downstairs.

  She heard the hoopla from the kitchen the moment she'd reached the first floor. At ease with confusion, she headed toward it.

  "You'll have plenty to tell your friends at school." Hannah was at the stove, lecturing Brendon as she scooped up scrambled eggs.

  "You've missed two weeks, my lad." At the kitchen table, Dee was fussing with a ribbon in Keeley's hair. "There's no reason in the world you shouldn't go back to school today."

  "I have jet lag." He made a hideous face at his sister, then attacked the eggs Hannah set in front of him.

  "Jet lag, is it?" With an effort, Dee kept a straight face. After kissing the top of Keeley's hair, she nudged her daughter toward her own breakfast. "Well, if that's the truth of it, I suppose we have to forget those flying lessons when you're sixteen. A jet pilot can't be having jet lag."

  "Maybe it's not jet lag," Brendon corrected without missing a beat. "It's probably some foreign disease I caught when we were in Ireland."

  "Bog fever," Erin said from the doorway. Clucking her tongue, she walked over to rest a hand on

  Brendon's brow. "Sure and that's the most horrible plague in Ireland."

  "Bog fever?" Dee made sure there was a tremor in her voice. "Oh, no, Erin, it couldn't be. Not my baby."

  "Young boys are the ones who catch it easiest, I'm afraid. There's only one cure, you know."