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Brig tossed the idea over in his mind. His work schedule was impossible. He had no time for horses or horse racing. He’d ended that folly six years ago. But Rebecca Peters was another thing altogether. He wanted her. More than he had wanted her six years ago. More than he had ever wanted anything. He saw the look of pride on her face and he noticed the defiant way she stood as if ready to refute anything he might say. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his thumb slowly under his jaw. “What if I disagree with you?”

“You won’t.” Becca wondered if she looked as determined as she sounded.

Brig cocked his head but didn’t argue. “If I do decide to go to California and I think that Gypsy Wind is unsound, will you promise not to race her and give up this foolish dream?”

“Not on your life.” Her eyes glittered with fierce determination.

“And you’re not afraid that someone might do to her what was done to Sentimental Lady.”

“I’ve been racing horses ever since Sentimental Lady’s death. The incident hasn’t recurred.”

Brig’s voice was edged in steel. “Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”

“Only if you want to be.” Her hand reached out and her fingers touched his arm. “Don’t shut me out, Brig. Not now. I don’t think I’m asking too much of you. Please come and see my horse. Reserve your judgment until then. If you think she’s not as fine as I’ve been telling you, we’ll work something out.”

“Such as?”

“I’ll find a way to repay your loan within the year. Is that fair?”

“I suppose so. Now, what about my proposition? Will you marry me?”

“Give it time; Brig. We both need time to learn to love and trust each other again. Six years is a long time to harbor the kinds of feelings we’ve had for each other. You can’t wash them away in one weekend in the mountains.”

“Nor can you prove to the world that you’re one of the best Thoroughbred breeders in the country. I was wrong about you, Rebecca. You haven’t changed at all. You’re still giving me the same flimsy excuse you did the last time I asked you to marry me. I’m not a man who’s known for his patience, nor am I the kind of man who gets a kick out of rejection. I’ve asked you twice to marry me, and I won’t do it again.”

Becca struggled with her pride. When she spoke her voice was strangely detached and the words of reason seemed distant. “I didn’t come to you to try and coerce a marriage proposal from you, Brig, nor did I intend to have another affair with you. All I wanted was to know that you were safe and to tell you about Gypsy Wind. I’ve done those things and I’ve also told you that I intend to repay my note to your father. Business is done. My plane leaves in less than four hours from Denver. I have to go.”

His face was a mask of indifference. “Just remember that you made your own choices today. You’re the one who will have to live with them.”

Chapter 8

The trip back to Starlight Breeding farm was uneventful, and Becca had to force herself to face the realization that she had no future with Brig Chambers. If ever she had, it was gone. She had thrown it away. Becca knew that Brig cared for her, in his own way, but she also knew that he didn’t trust her and probably never would. The best thing to do was to forget about him and concentrate on paying back the debt to him as quickly as possible. She frowned to herself as she unpacked her suitcase. Forgetting about Brig and what they had shared together was more easily said than done. In the last six years she had never once forgotten the tender way in which he would look into her eyes, or his gentle caress.

“Cut it out,” she mumbled to herself. The last thing she should do was brood over a future that wasn’t meant to be. With forced determination, she pulled on her favorite pair of faded jeans and started toward the paddock. The first order of business was Gypsy Wind.

Becca clenched her teeth together as she thought about training Gypsy Wind to be the best Thoroughbred filly ever raced. She may have already made a monumental mistake by not racing the filly as a two-year-old, and if she were honest with herself it had something to do with Brig and the fact that, at the time, he didn’t know about Gypsy Wind. At least the secret was now in the open, and Becca vowed silently to herself that she would find a way to make Gypsy Wind a winner with or without Brig’s approval.

She found Ian O’Riley in the tack room. His short fingers were running along the smooth leather reins of a bridle last worn by Sentimental Lady. He turned his attention toward the door when Becca entered.

“I heard you were back,” he said with a smile.

“Just got in a couple of hours ago.”

Ian’s smile faded. “And how did it go . . . with Brig, I mean?”

Becca tossed her blond braid over her shoulder and shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I guess.” She took a seat on a scarred wooden chair near the trophy case. The award closest to her was now covered with dust, but Becca recognized it as belonging to Sentimental Lady for her record-breaking win of The New York Racing Association’s Acorn Stakes. Absently, Becca rubbed the dust off the trophy.

“What does he think of Gypsy Wind?”

“Not much,” Becca admitted. “Oh, Ian, he thinks I was foolish to breed her. He accused me of trying to absolve myself of her death.”

“He thinks that’s why you did it?”

Becca nodded mutely.

“And he’s got you believing it, too.”

Becca shook her head and put the trophy back in the case. “No, of course not, but he did make me question my motives. He even suggested that I didn’t race her as a two-year-old because I was afraid of his reaction.”