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Why was he apologizing for something so right as making love? “It’s all right . . . really.”

“I didn’t think you would come here.”

She shook her head and the sun glinted in the golden strands of her hair. “I know. Look, everything’s okay.”

“Is it?” A muscle began to jump in his jaw. “Is spending the night with a man so easy for you that you can shrug it off?”

Her gaze hardened. “You know better than that.”

“Did you plan last night?”

A hint of doubt flickered in her eyes. “I don’t really know,” she said honestly. “I . . . I don’t think so.”

“I’m not usually so easily seduced.” His voice was cold.

“Neither am I.”

For the first time since she had come to him, Brig allowed himself the fleeting luxury of a smile. It was just as she had remembered, slightly off-center and devilishly disarming. “I know,” he admitted begrudgingly. He hoisted himself onto the railing and stared at her. His eyes pierced her soul. “Why don’t you tell me about your horse.”

“She’s the most beautiful animal I’ve ever bred.”

“Looks don’t count. Remember Kincsem, an ungainly filly who won all fifty-four of the races she entered.”

“Gypsy Wind is fast.”

“Sentimental Lady was fast.”

“But she’s stronger than Lady—”

“She’ll have to be.” Brig’s eyes implored her. “Good Lord, Becca. What I can’t understand is why you want to put yourself through all of this again. And the horse. Jesus, Becca . . . what about your horse? The minute she begins to race the press will be all over her. And you can bet that they won’t forget about Sentimental Lady, not for a second! Damn it, the entire nation was affected by Lady’s last race.” His voice had increased in volume and he could feel the splinters of wood imbedding into his palms as he curled his fingers around the rough wood of the railing. His eyes were angry as he remembered Sentimental Lady. “I just don’t understand you, Rebecca Peters . . . I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.” His voice was softer as he added, “Maybe I never did.”

Despite Brig’s violent display of emotion, Becca remained calm. It was imperative that he understand. “Rebreeding Gypsy Lady to Night Dancer was a logical move,” she stated softly. “Hadn’t you ever considered it?”

“Never!”

“Your father understood.”

Brig’s gray eyes flashed dangerously. “My father understood only two things in the past few years: How to make a helluva lot of money and how to spend it on a pretty face.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Brig laughed humorlessly. “Maybe not, but I can’t understand for the life of me why he agreed to loan you so much money—just to see it thrown away on some fiasco.”

Becca could feel her anger starting to seethe. “Gypsy Wind is no fiasco, Brig. She’s probably the best racing filly ever bred.”

“You said the same thing about Sentimental Lady.”

“And I believed it.”

“You were wrong!”

“I wasn’t! She was the best!”

“She broke down, Becca! Don’t you remember? She couldn’t take the pressure—she wasn’t strong enough. Her leg snapped! Are you willing to put another horse through that agony?” Brig’s eyes had turned a stormy gray.

“It won’t happen,” she whispered with more conviction than she felt. Something disturbing in Brig’s gaze made her confidence waver.

“You said that before.”