Page 85

Becca’s stomach was churning with bitter memories of the Lady and the grueling, treacherous race. “In that instance, I was mistaken,” she admitted reluctantly.

“And what makes you so sure that this time will be any different?”

“Gypsy Wind is not Sentimental Lady.” Becca’s voice was thin but determined. Brig recognized the pride and resolve in the tilt of Becca’s face.

“You just admitted your mistake with Sentimental Lady.”

“We aren’t talking about Lady. If we were, I’d probably agree with you. But Gypsy Wind is an entirely different horse.”

“A full-blooded sister.”

“But she’s stronger, Brig, and fast—”

“What about her temperament?” Brig demanded.

For the first time that morning, Becca hedged. “She’s a winner. Ian O’Riley is training her. You know that he wouldn’t bother with a horse if she didn’t have the spirit.”

“That was Lady’s problem: her spirit. Ian O’Riley should know better than anyone. After all, as her trainer, he paid the price.”

“For the last time, we are not talking about Sentimental Lady!”

Brig was pensive as he sat on the railing, his hands supporting his posture. Becca’s large green eyes were shining as she talked about the filly. She was proud of Gypsy Wind, sure of her. Brig found himself wanting to believe Rebecca, to trust her as he once had. If only he could. Instead he voiced the question uppermost in his mind. “So why did you come here to tell me about her—why now?”

“I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

“But the old man knew. What if my father hadn’t died?”

“I would have come to you.”

“When? If that horse is as good as you say she is, why didn’t you start her as a two-year-old?”

She avoided his gaze for a moment. “I didn’t think she was ready. I don’t know when I would have come to you.” When she looked up and her eyes met his, they were once again steady. “It would have been soon. I wouldn’t have allowed her to race until I had told you about her. I just wasn’t sure how to approach you. When I found out that Jason had been killed, I knew I had to see you, as much for myself as for the horse. I wanted to know and see with my own eyes that you were all right.”

“You knew that much from the papers.”

“I wanted to touch you, Brig, to prove to myself that you were unhurt. Ihadto see for myself. Can’t you understand that?” Her honesty rang in the clear air and Brig had to fight the urge to take her into his arms and crush her against his chest.

“Now that you’re here, what do you expect of me?”

Becca drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm and think clearly. “I want you to let me race the horse. I’m going to be honest with you, Brig, because I really don’t know how else to handle this. I don’t own a lot in this world, and most of what I do have is mortgaged to the hilt. But I do own Gypsy Wind, and I’d stake my life on the fact that she’s the finest two-year-old alive. When she begins to race, I’ll be able to repay you, but not before.”

“Are you asking me to forget about the note?” His dark eyes watched her, waited for any emotion to appear on her face.

“No. I’m only asking that you hold onto it a little longer. You can’t possibly need the money.”

“Do you really think I would try to take your horse away from you?”

She swallowed with difficulty. “I hope not.”

His eyes clouded. “You never have understood me, have you?”

“I thought I did once.” Becca’s throat began to tighten as she looked at him. Why did she still love him with every breath of life within her?

“But you were wrong?” he prodded.

“I never thought you would . . . crucify me the way you did.”

“Crucify you? What are you talking about?”