Page 73

For the first time that night, Becca realized how much Brig had aged. The years hadn’t been kind to him, especially now, right after the death of his father. Her confidence began to waver.

“I want to talk to you about your father.”

Brig’s arms tightened around her and in the moonlight Becca could see his eyes opening to study her. “What about my father?” he asked.

Becca sighed deeply to herself, but it wasn’t a moan of contentment. It was a sigh of acceptance: Brig would never love her, never trust her. She could feel it in the firm manacle of his embrace, read it in the skepticism of his gaze. The tenderness she had once found in him was buried deeply under a mound of suspicion and bitterness. “I owe your father some money.”

No response. Her heartbeat was the only noise in the room. The seconds stretched into minutes. Finally he spoke. “Is that why you came here tonight, because of some debt to my father?”

“It was the excuse I used.”

His gray eyes held her prisoner. “Was there any other reason?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“What was it?”

“I wanted to see you, touch you . . . feel for myself that you were alive. When I first heard about the plane crash I thought you might be dead.” It was impossible to keep her voice even as she relived the nightmare of emotions that had ripped her apart. Even with his powerful arms about her, she could feel her shoulders beginning to shake.

“So you waited nearly two weeks to find me.”

“I didn’t want to intrude. I knew things would be hectic—the newspapers couldn’t leave you alone. I didn’t want to take any chance of dredging everything up again, not until I’d talked to you alone.”

“About the money?” His voice was cynical in the darkness.

“For one thing.”

“What else?”

“I needed to know that you were all right . . .”

“But there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

She nodded silently, her forehead rubbing the hairs of his chest. All of his muscles stiffened. Her voice was steady when she finally spoke. “I had to borrow the money to breed another horse.”

“So you came to the old man? What about the banks?”

“I didn’t have enough collateral—the stud fee was a fortune.”

“You could have come to me,” he offered.

“I don’t think so. You made that pretty clear six years ago.”

“People change . . .”

“Do they?” She laughed mirthlessly. “It took all of my courage to come to you now.... It would have been impossible three years ago. I didn’t even want to approach your father, but it was the only solution. Even Dean agreed, although now he’s changed his mind.”

“Your brother? He was in on this?” The softness in Brig’s voice had disappeared and was replaced by disgust. “I would have thought that by this time you would have gotten enough sense to fire that useless bum.”

“Dean was there when you weren’t,” she reminded him, a touch of anger flavoring her words.

“I wasn’t there because you shut me out.”

“You weren’t there because you chose not to be!” she retorted, shifting on the bed and trying to wiggle free of his embrace.

“After all these years, nothing’s changed, has it? You’re still willing to believe all the lies in the gossip tabloids, aren’t you?” He gave her an angry shake and his eyes blazed furiously.

“Dean was there.”