“She’s a trainer?” York asked, clearly skeptical.
“Best one in the world! She’s got Diablo eating out of her hand.”
Burke spoke up then, his voice hovering somewhere between astonishment and anger. “You let this poor bewildered child get near your devil-horse?”
“She more or less dared me to,” Rafe explained apologetically.
“Oh, that’s how it was!” Burke seemed satisfied.
“Naturally you couldn’t ignore that,” York agreed.
Maggie wanted to tell them to stop talking about her, but all her attention was focused on Rafe’s right earlobe. She imagined a golden earring and considered the vision thoughtfully. “Gold, but very fine,” she said suddenly. “Not bulky.”
Rafe didn’t miss a step or even blink. “Certainly not bulky,” he said, utterly calm.
She directed her owlish gaze to his face. “It’d spoil the effect if it was bulky,” she insisted, sensing disagreement. “More pirate than gypsy.”
A choking sound drew an offended frown from her, but both York and Burke seemed perfectly serious. Burke was even nodding slowly with an air of gravity.
“I should think,” he said somewhat unevenly, “that very fine and not bulky gold would be perfect.”
She smiled blindingly at him, pleased to have her opinion applauded. Then she tightened her arms around Rafe’s neck and said simply, “Rafe, I want to go to bed.”
Rafe’s stony face cracked a bit, and he threw her a laughing glance. “Please, lass. That demand fairly cries out for a less…uh, public moment.”
“But I want to go to bed now,” she said solemnly.
“Doesn’t beat around the bush, does she?” York murmured.
“She’s not herself,” Rafe said, adding with a sigh, “More’s the pity.”
Burke and York exchanged glances, and the elder said dryly, “We won’t touch that remark.”
“Thank you,” Rafe said.
Maggie rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly so sleepy, she couldn’t hold her eyes open. “Rafe…? Will you please take me to bed?”
She never heard his answer.
—
For a second time Rafe carried a sleeping Maggie to her bed. As before, he paused for a few minutes to stare down at her, to push her tangled, smoke-darkened hair away from her face. She looked as if she’d been fighting the devil in his own hell, he thought. Her face and hands were filthy with soot and dirt, and her clothes blackened. He knew she would have felt better after a long bath, but he had no intention of either waking her from the exhausted sleep—or bathing her himself.
He didn’t have that kind of willpower.
Nor, he knew, was he in his most patient frame of mind at the moment. Her comical hysteria had sparked laughter that had drained away his rage, but Rafe knew it would be a frozen day in hell before he forgot the image of her dashing into that burning inferno. He felt he’d aged a good ten years in a single morning, and wouldn’t be surprised if a glance in the mirror showed him his hair had turned pure white.
Gazing down at her sooty face, he sighed roughly. He wanted to hold her tightly, because he’d come so close to losing her forever. Straightening, he turned and headed for his own bedroom and the shower, his jaw aching from being clenched with determination.
He was going to marry that woman.
After showering, shaving, and changing clothes, Rafe felt a bit more calm and relaxed. He had a word with Mrs. Taylor, the temporary housekeeper, then went into the den to wait for his brothers to finish cleaning up. Glancing at the clock, he was mildly surprised that it was still early morning, but shrugged and headed for the bar in the corner of the room.
Early it was, certainly, but Rafe decided they’d all earned a drink or two. He was on his second when Burke came into the room, and he lifted a questioning brow at his brother.
Burke nodded, then accepted the glass Rafe handed him with murmured thanks. He watched Rafe drain his own glass and immediately fill it, and said mildly, “Not even your hard head can take much of that with your stomach empty.”
“Mrs. Taylor’s fixing us something,” Rafe said in an absent tone. Then he looked at his brother and frowned. “You could have borrowed some of my stuff,” he said, noting that although Burke had washed, he was still wearing his smoke-blackened clothing.
“No need. And no need for food for me. I have to be getting back.”
“You’ll eat before you leave,” Rafe said firmly. “Heaven knows I owe you a hell of a lot more than that. Especially for going into that burning barn with me after my—”
“Your lass,” Burke murmured, with the same soft brogue that their father had used when speaking the same endearment to his wife.
Rafe looked at him for a moment, then smiled crookedly. “Gave myself away, huh?”
“I believe I got the point when you started to slug me,” Burke said. “When you nearly decked that poor fireman, I was reasonably sure.”
Rafe dropped his gaze to study intently the glass in his hand, then looked up again when Burke briskly changed the subject.
“I’ll file the insurance claim this afternoon.”
“No, I’ll do that.” Rafe shook his head slightly and sent his brother an oblique glance. “You’ve enough on your mind right now.”
“I haven’t said so, have I?”
Rafe smiled slowly. “Funny thing about problems. When you have one yourself, it’s always easy to recognize the same sort of problem in someone else.”
“Some…mergers take longer than others, that’s all,” Burke said.
Rafe started to comment on that, but decided not to. Instead, he brought up something that was worrying him far more because it involved his brother’s personal safety. “That crazy bastard out there…” He shook his head, feeling a chill as he thought of how close the gunman had come to achieving his goal—and how close he’d come to killing at least one Delaney. “What’re you going to do about him? And what can I do to help?”
“I’m going to let Cougar loose,” Burke replied with a faint smile. “Take off all the restraints. He’ll get the job done.”
Thinking of his brother’s security chief, Rafe didn’t doubt it. He nodded. “Keep me posted, will you? Daily reports, at least. And in the meantime I’d feel better if you flew my helicopter back to Killara instead of your own. Yours should be thoroughly checked out first, and my mechanic’s on vacation.”
Burke had obviously considered what worried Rafe, because he instantly shook his head. “That bastard’s had no access to the copters. He couldn’t have sabotaged mine.”
“Just the way he couldn’t get to you?” Rafe asked evenly.
“I’ll handle it, Rafe.”
He swore softly. “Right,” he muttered.
Burke’s tone softened. “Stop blaming yourself. Your security system’s set up to protect the stock and buildings, not to protect people. You couldn’t have known he’d take a shot at me here.”
“I should have canceled the alarms alerting you and York,” Rafe insisted. “There was no need to roust you both at the crack of dawn. My people could have handled the fire alone.”
“Thanks,” Burke said dryly.
Rafe quickly looked up. “You know I didn’t mean—”
Burke grinned. “I know. And you know that the possibility of something like today’s fire prompted us to install that warning system in the first place.”
“Those Delaneys,” Rafe murmured with a smile that held affection for both his brothers. “One yells help, and they all come running.”
“Would you have it any other way?”
“Hell, no.”
“Neither would I.”
“Nor I,” York said from the doorway, and walked into the room. He, too, had cleaned up and, like Burke, was wearing the clothes he’d arrived at the ranch in. “If the bar’s still open, I could use a drink.”
After searching his brother’s face quickly, Rafe handed him one. He wished he could have taken the bu
llet that had gotten York, but knew better than to say it. His protective feelings toward his brother were deeply ingrained, but York no longer needed protection. “How’s the arm?”
“Painful,” York said succinctly.
“Put it in a sling,” Rafe said. “It’ll add romance to your classic profile.”
“I already owe you two,” York said dangerously. “Don’t compound the felony, brother.”
Rafe grinned, knowing very well how much his brother hated any reference to his startling good looks. But then he sobered and enlisted York’s aid on a topic they both agreed on. “I told Burke he should take my bird back to Killara instead of his own.”
“I agree,” York said instantly, turning to stare at Burke. “Better yet, I’ll fly him in mine.”
“I don’t,” Burke said flatly, “need a guardian.”
“Seems to me that’s just what you need,” York said.
Burke began to pace restlessly around the room. “I’ll be fine, I tell you. At the moment I’m more concerned with what Rafe’s lost. Although the horses are safe, and the insurance—”
“Won’t pay a penny,” Rafe said calmly. His mind was a bit sluggish after the various shocks of the morning, but was waking up now.
Both his brothers stared at him for a full minute before realization dawned on them. Burke swore softly while York grimaced.
“No publicity,” the middle brother said. “We agreed.”
“Which means the fire has to look accidental,” Rafe said. “The fire marshall accepted my assurance that the fire was accidental—but the insurance company won’t, Burke. If I file a claim, they’ll send an inspector out to check what’s left of barn four. And he won’t have to be a genius to realize that only sabotage could have caused the whole security and fire system to fail.”
He shrugged. “So I can’t file a claim. If I did, the whole thing would go public.”
“Maybe they wouldn’t send an inspector,” York said, but without certainty. He knew they would, and Rafe’s explanation confirmed it.
“They went over my alarm system thoroughly before issuing the policy, and they know damned well it’s almost foolproof. And the company that installed it was recommended by them in the first place. Since the system failed, they’ll want to know why.”
“If you file a claim,” Burke said heavily.
Rafe shrugged again. “So I won’t. The ranch is in the black; I can afford to rebuild the barn.”
Burke instantly shook his head. “The funds will come out of corporate profits. The ranch won’t suffer just because a madman was trying to get to me.” He held up a hand when Rafe would have protested.
Knowing his brother, Rafe finally gestured in defeat. “All right.”
“I’ll transfer the funds immediately.”
“No hurry.” Rafe had just realized that without most of her equipment and tack Maggie would be unable to work as hard as she had recently, at least until replacements could be purchased. The thought pleased him, and the gleam in his eyes wasn’t lost on either of his brothers.
They exchanged looks, but Rafe was speaking again, intent once more on Burke’s safety. “If you won’t take my bird, or let York fly you back—”
“I won’t.”
“Burke—”
Mrs. Taylor came to the door. “Mr. Delaney?” All three men looked at her, and she seemed a bit uncertain. “I’ve prepared a meal—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor,” Rafe said, gesturing for his brothers to precede him. He followed, marshaling arguments against Burke’s stubbornness.
He was still protesting when he saw both his brothers off some time later; he was resigned by that time to losing, but he was clearly unhappy about it. He and York both checked Burke’s helicopter in spite of his objections, but neither was at ease even after the checks showed no tampering.
“Call when you get home.” Rafe said, holding Burke’s gaze with his own.
Burke laughed softly. “Yes, Papa.”
“And be careful,” York added fiercely before turning toward his own helicopter.
Rafe called after him, “And you have a real doctor take a look at that arm!”
A wave was his acknowledgment, and Rafe stood back as both helicopters lifted from the pad moments later. He watched them head in their different directions, then grinned when, as he’d expected, York’s bird turned and began trailing Burke’s. Rafe had a feeling Burke would probably see or sense his escort, and would no doubt curse York heartily over the radio. But York would follow him safely home to Killara nonetheless.
And none of them would have had it any other way.
—
When Maggie woke, the dimness of her bedroom told her it was late afternoon. Her throat hurt, aching dryly, and she felt stiff and sore. She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, yawning, realizing only then that she’d slept in her clothes. And what clothes! Dirty, grimy, reeking of smoke—
Smoke?
In a split second it all came back to her. All of it. The fire, the horrifying race to save the horses, an insane sniper’s gunfire…and her meetings and subsequent conversations with the Delaney brothers.
Maggie wished that God had taken those memories and locked them away where she would never have found them.
Staggering a bit, Maggie walked into her bathroom and peered into the mirror above the vanity—and groaned. Dear Lord. Not only had she sounded like a madwoman, she looked like one!
Her hair was tangled, filthy, and smelled of smoke—like the rest of her. Her clothing was torn and impossibly dirty, her hands blackened, and her face was streaked with soot. If Rafe had looked a casualty of a war after his infamous brawl, she looked like a casualty of three wars.
And obviously her side had lost.
She dived for the shower, swearing continuously. She was not a vain woman, but the thought of what Rafe’s brothers had seen—and heard—absolutely horrified her. And she couldn’t help but wonder if Rafe himself had undergone a change of heart after seeing her at her worst. She wouldn’t blame him if he had.
It was one thing, she thought wryly, to state one’s intention of marrying an Irish brat with nothing but a love of horses to commend her, but quite another to maintain that certainty in the face of a soot-blackened woman who’d lost her wits under pressure.
Nearly scrubbing her skin off in the process, she managed to remove all the grime and smoky odor from her body and hair, and the steam from the hot shower eased the dry ache of her throat. Clean clothing felt wonderful, and her hair dryer helped the glossy highlights to reemerge in her golden hair.
Then, squaring her shoulders, Maggie left her room to brave the lion. Or, in her case, the gypsy. Had she really babbled something about a gold earring?
Mrs. Taylor almost literally pounced on her the moment she entered the kitchen, and Maggie found herself very meekly eating a sandwich and silently revising her initial impression of the woman. Obviously the housekeeper had decided that Maggie needed looking after, and she seemed to enjoy scolding the younger woman for her dash into the burning barn. It was equally obvious that the story had gotten around.
Maggie’s uneasy question about the whereabouts of the Delaney brothers produced an answer that relieved her somewhat. Rafe was down in the compound, Mrs. Taylor reported, and the other two had gone.
So she had only one to face, Maggie thought. Only! If the rage she recalled seeing in his eyes had been real and not her imagination, one Delaney was probably more than she’d be able to cope with anyway.
She felt even more certain of that when she reached the burned ruin of barn four and found a frowning Rafe surveying the damage. The barn was still smoldering in places, but there were no firemen. A few Shamrock employees were poking around in the debris in search of anything salvageable.
Maggie stood well back for a minute and watched Rafe’s face. She jumped slightly when Tom’s quiet voice spoke at her side.
“A crew’s coming tomorrow to rebuild.”
She looked
at the foreman, puzzled. “Here, you mean? But won’t the insurance company need to inspect what’s left and discover what caused it?”
“Sabotage caused it,” Tom said calmly. “That’s why Rafe interrupted you when you started to ask if the sniper had been reported. That was what you were going to ask, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. You mean, it hasn’t been reported? The police haven’t been informed?”
Tom smiled a little. “No. And they won’t be. The Delaneys will take care of the problem.”
“Alone?” she exclaimed.
He chuckled. “Those three together…they’d storm hell with no more than a bucket of water between ’em. For that matter, each one’d storm the pit alone. Burke, he’d figure to wheel and deal, and the devil’d find himself done out of his pitchfork and brimstone. York would fight like ten men and leave the place in a shambles.”
“And Rafe?” she asked softly.
“Rafe…” Tom shook his head and smiled. “He’d fight like ten men too. Then offer to buy the devil a drink after it was all over.”
Maggie turned her gaze back to Rafe. No, the Delaneys weren’t royalty, she thought, but they were kingly men. Strong, sure men. Though each could fight trouble alone, they banded together to meet it, finding an extra measure of strength in that unity. It was a kind of closeness that brought a lump to her throat and made hot tears dam behind her eyes.
“How—how did the other two know there was a fire?” she managed to ask.
“They have an alarm system rigged up between them,” Tom explained. “When our fire alarm went off, it was followed five minutes later by alarms in Killara, Delaney Tower in Tucson, and Hell’s Bluff. If ours had been a false alarm, Rafe could have canceled the other three. Works the same way at the mining town, the offices, and the homestead. Any breach of security or problem that triggers the alarm anywhere alerts all three of the brothers.”
“They seem very close.”
Tom nodded. “They are. I doubt anything could come between them. But that doesn’t mean their…magic circle couldn’t open up to include others. That’d just make the circle stronger.” And with that cryptic comment, Tom strolled away.