Page 29

An eleven o’clock poolside brunch had been scheduled for the following morning, late enough to allow the revelers to recover from last night’s party.

Ellie arrived to find Clay already there, along with Avery and just about everyone else.

She and Clay had returned to the castle a little before dawn, she to her room, he to his.

From the moment they parted, she’d been assailed by doubts.

Her mind kept remembering the way they had parted before.

Clay had left her alone in a London hotel room and gone off with another woman.

She remembered the betrayal she had felt, the seemingly endless pain.

Last night, in an emotion-filled moment, Clay had asked her to marry him, but he hadn’t mentioned it again.

They’d spent the night making love, passionately yet tenderly, stirring emotions even more intense than before.

But what would happen now?

In a white linen pants suit, her hair in loose curls, the way Clay liked it, she headed outside, her heart beating a little too fast.

What would he say when he saw her? How would he treat her?

Spotting him on the pool deck, she summoned a tentative smile.

Clay saw her, and his return smile she was so bright and so full of pleasure it made emotion twisted her heart.

In beige gabardine slacks, alligator shoes, and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he looked impossibly handsome.

Clay picked up a crystal flute filled with orange juice and champagne and tapped it lightly with a silver spoon.

In seconds, the ringing began to quiet the crowd.

Clay’s deep voice did the rest.

“Excuse me, everyone.

Could I please have your attention?”

All eyes turned in his direction as Clay strode across the terrace to her side.

She felt the warmth of his hand at her waist and the reassuring sweetness of his smile, and some of her nervousness faded.

“First, I’d like to thank my friends, those of you who are fool enough to admit it, for putting up with me for all these years.

In one way or another, when I really needed you, each of you has been there for me.

But I especially want to thank Prissy—for having the courage of her convictions—and a lot more sense than I have.”

A slight chuckle went through the crowd, though no one completely understood the comment.

Prissy hoisted her glass in mock salute and smiled.

Clay put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders and her eyes filled with tears.

“Last night I asked Ellen Fletcher to marry me.

She has done me the great honor of accepting.

Today I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

After a moment of stunned silence, everyone cheered.

Flex was on his feet in an instant, engulfing Clay in a warm man-hug.

Prissy was crying and hugging Ellie, Shep was smiling.

Jake looked surprised and pleased, and Maggie discreetly dabbed at her eyes.

Only Avery didn’t seem happy.

With a scowl that made his opinion clear, he signaled the waiter to refill his glass then drained it in a single long swallow.

“Congratulations, son,”

he said, approaching Clay at last.

The smile on his face looked tight.

“I said she was a looker, didn’t I?”

He laughed a little, the sound forced, and turned in Ellie’s direction.

“You’re a brave girl, Ellie.

A woman willing to take on a man like Clay.

A man of his appetites, I mean.” He winked. “She’s either got a lotta grit—or she’s downright crazy!” Avery laughed.

Ellie tensed.

“I love him, Avery.”

Instinctively, she knew she’d never call him father.

A man like Avery Whitfield hated to be reminded of his age.

“Of course, my dear.

He’s my son, isn’t he?”

He turned to the circle of people surrounding them.

“A toast.”

He lifted his glass.

“To the bride and groom.

May they both come to their senses before it’s too late!”

There was a round of nervous laughter, but nobody drank.

“To the future bride and groom,”

Flex put in smoothly.

“May they continue to enjoy the happiness they’ve found in each other.

It took them long enough!”

Everyone laughed, lifted their glass, and drank to Clay and Ellie.

More champagne flowed, corks popping while the guests drank freely, each excited by the news.

From across the terrace, Maggie watched Jake congratulate the happy couple as she had done a few minutes earlier.

He seemed genuinely pleased for them.

They were a good match, Maggie thought.

In an opposite way, maybe as good as she and Jake.

Ellie brought out Clay’s more sensitive nature while Clay generated a certain strength in Ellie.

Maggie sighed and took a sip of champagne.

Seeing the glow on Ellie’s face and the happiness and pride in Clay’s only made her own situation more heartbreaking.

She and Jake had spent every clandestine moment they could together, the time more precious because of the uncertainty ahead.

Jake had told her, albeit grudgingly, that whatever the Soviets were planning seemed likely to happen this week.

The show would end on Saturday, the team leaving for home on Sunday.

Would she and Jake be together this time next month? Or would something happen so terrible it would keep them apart forever?

After a last glance at Jake, Maggie quietly left the terrace.

The beautiful Irish countryside was alive with colorful red and yellow blossoms, their sweet scent filling the air.

The grass was a vibrant green, the air so crisp and clear the surrounding mountains seemed only a few short meters away.

Maggie plucked a delicate pink rose, the petals soft beneath her fingers, and sank down on an old stone bench in the garden.

She still didn’t know what the Soviets wanted Jake to do, but she was determined to find out.

And equally determined to stop him.

After this weekend, she was more convinced than ever that Jake had decided to comply.

He was too resigned, too determined to enjoy what little time they had left.

“I wish we were the ones announcing our engagement,”

Jake said softly as he walked up beside her.

Maggie looked up at him and managed a tremulous smile.

“So do I.

But I’m glad for them.

It’s obvious they love each other very much.”

Jake nodded.

“It’s a side of Clay I’ve rarely seen.

But I had a hunch he was far more complicated than he appeared.”

“I had a feeling Clay cared more for Ellie than he was willing to admit,”

Maggie said.

“Thanks to his father, Clay’s always kept his emotions locked away.”

Jake glanced back toward the pool where Clay had an arm wrapped protectively around Ellie.

“I’m not really surprised he fell in love with her.

Ellie has a lot to offer a man.

Maggie followed his gaze.

“Avery’s going to give them fits.”

“Unless Clay puts a stop to it.”

“He’s never confronted his father before.

I’m not sure he’ll be willing to do it this time.”

Jake’s hard look settled on Avery.

“Neither am I.”

The Dublin Horse Show, held at the Ballsbridge Show Grounds, began on Tuesday.

The setting, with fields of lush green grass and beautiful flowers, was alive with pageantry.

Fifteen hundred horses had been brought together for events that included international show jumping, the Dublin Show Chase, and Irish National jumping competitions.

Pony jumping, hunter jumping, driving horses, dressage, and countless other events were scheduled.

On Friday, the prestigious Aga Khan Trophy would go to the winner of the Nations’ Cup.

On Saturday the individual international stars would compete in the Grand Prix of Ireland.

Jake had prowled the show grounds, checking the horses incessantly and reviewing the team’s equipment, but he couldn’t get his mind off the final demand the Soviets planned to make on Friday.

His anxiety and constant fear of surveillance were keeping him on edge.

“Have a good weekend?”

Jake jumped at the sound of Daniel’s low voice.

“Damn, you scared the hell out of me.”

They stood at the back of the arena watching a group of thoroughbred and Irish draught stallions being judged.

“Sorry.”

Daniel took a long, appraising look at him.

The man had always been good at reading people.

Jake did his best to appear nonchalant.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve heard from the Soviets and haven’t told me?”

Daniel said.

Jake held his gaze.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re jumpy as hell, and the way you’re acting, something’s coming down and it’s coming down soon.”

Jake fought the impulse to lie.

Daniel was an astute observer and a very good friend.

“You could be wrong,”

he said, buying time.

“It isn’t much fun having someone watching your every move.

I could just be worried about the team.”

“And Maggie Delaine?”

Jake bit back a curse.

“What’s she got to do with this?”

“We’ve been friends too long, Jake.

Why don’t you just level with me?”

So far there wasn’t that much to tell.

Jake released a slow, resigned breath.

“You’re right.

They did make contact. But what they’re asking isn’t life threatening. I want your word as my friend you won’t interfere.”

“You know I can’t do that.

You’ll have to tell me what’s going on and let me make the decision.”

“Sorry.

Too risky.”

Daniel laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“I only want to help, Jake.

There are a million things the agency could do to stop you.

We could have you taken in for questioning or flown home on some sort of phony emergency. But that’s not what we want. We want to help you solve this problem so no one else gets hurt.”

Jake thought of the years he and Daniel had been friends.

He hadn’t forgotten the hours of conversation, the dinners they’d shared in Washington during those first trying months when Jake had first arrived and hadn’t known a soul.

Then later in Charleston.

Jake had become a successful businessman by then, and Daniel was pleased and proud of his accomplishments.

“All right, I’ll tell you.”

With a calmness he didn’t feel, Jake related the most recent happenings, including the threats against Maggie and Sarah, and the package he’d picked up in the tobacconist’s shop.

He relayed every detail but one—the demand the Soviets would be making on Friday.

“Something’s not right,”

Daniel said.

“I’ll have our people look at the package they gave you, have the contents re-analyzed.

If they’re as you’ve described, you can do as they ask.

It’s a shame McGrath and Whitfield have to suffer, but under the circumstances we have no choice.”

Daniel rested a thick hand on the arena fence.

“Are their people following you?”

“They must be.

Back home, they made no bones about it.

Here, I haven’t been able to spot their tail, but they damned well know my every move.”

Daniel shook his head.

“I wish I knew what the hell this is about.”

“So do I.”

“You’re sure there’s nothing more?”

Daniel pinned him with a last hard stare.

“That’s it so far.

Maybe they’ll expect more from me in Seoul.”

He glanced at the huge draught stallions in the arena.

Anything to avoid his friend’s perceptive gaze.

“Anything new on your end?” he asked.

“Nothing good.

We know there are some high-ranking officials involved, which is why their demands seem so out of proportion to the effort they’ve expended.”

Daniel’s gaze followed Jake’s into the arena.

“Whatever happens, I think this should be the last direct contact you and I make—at least until we get back home.

I don’t want to take any chances.”

Jake just nodded.

“If something new develops or you need anything...”

Daniel handed him a folded slip of paper with a local phone number on it.

“Be sure you call from a pay phone.”

“What about the package?”

“Bring the items down to the stable in the morning.

One of our undercover people will pick it up and return it as soon as we’re through testing.”

“All right.”

“Good luck, Jake.”

Smiling at a passerby, Daniel moved away, blending easily into the throng of horse people watching the competition.

The next few days progressed uneventfully, except that early in the evening on Wednesday the water line that serviced the team barn broke, leaving grooms from the Canadian, British, and American teams hauling water from quite some distance away.

The problem was rectified early the following morning.

That day Julius Caesar pulled a muscle in his foreleg going over a water jump.

“He’ll be all right.”

Lee Montalvo, the team vet, spoke to Prissy and Damien Gould of the Greenbriar Stables, the horse’s owner.

“But he won’t be competing again until Seoul.”

Lee was a top-notch veterinarian who specialized in horses.

His family had emigrated from the Philippines just after the war.

“You’re sure the horse will be all right?”

Gould asked, thick gray eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

“The injury isn’t that serious, but we don’t want to take any chances.”

With Caesar out, Jake wanted Ellie to ride Jubilee in the Nations’ Cup.

The way she’d been competing, combined with Jube’s shining performance at Hickstead, Ellie would be an asset to the team.

Daniel’s people were working to verify the contents of the package, but Jake didn’t have time to wait.

Since the medicine would probably make Clay too sick to ride, Prissy would wind up riding her alternate horse, Deuteronomy.

Through it all, Maggie had been sticking to Jake like fly paper, sure something was going to happen and determined to help in some way.

Jake had indulged her at first but when she showed up at the stable the third morning in a row, he lost his temper.

“Damn it, Maggie, if you don’t take your sweet little ass back to wherever it belongs, I’m going to haul it there for you.

How’s that going to look to your associates back home?”

Maggie just smiled.

“I only wanted to see how you were doing.

I missed you.”

“Well, I haven’t had time to miss you.

You’ve been underfoot for days.”

She smiled as if the remark meant nothing, but he couldn’t miss the hurt in her eyes.

He wanted to hold her, tell her everything would be okay, but he couldn’t afford the luxury.

Still, it was impossible for him to stay mad at her.

“Listen to me, Maggie.

You’ve got Sarah to think of.

In a little while this will all be over—one way or another.

Until then, I don’t want anything to go wrong—and I don’t want you involved.”

She brightened at his concern.

“All right, you win.

I’ve got some paperwork to do anyway.”

She threw him a last warm glance and left, only to return two hours later, pretending to need his help.

Jake sighed in frustration but resigned himself that she wasn’t going to let him get too far away.

On Thursday, he sponsored a team dinner in the small restaurant off the hotel lobby.

Using the Nations’ Cup competition as an excuse for the get-together, the dinner created the perfect opportunity to fulfill Popov’s demands.

“Hey, Clay,”

he said, approaching him at the bar.

“My stomach’s killing me.

You wouldn’t happen to have any of that medicine you use, would you?”

“I’m afraid it’s practically a fixture.”

Clay pulled the plastic bottle from his inside coat pocket.

Jake excused himself, went into the bathroom, dumped out the liquid in the bottle, poured in the mixture from the second bottle, and returned the bottle to Clay.

It didn’t matter whether Clay got sick tonight or in the morning.

Either way, he’d be out of the competition.

Flex was a more difficult proposition.

Since he was wearing his hard contact lenses, Jake would have to get into Flex’s room in the morning and make the substitution before he dressed.

Depressed at the thought, he ordered a drink and sat down at a table after the others had gone up to their rooms.

Then Maggie walked in, looking tired and strained, and so damned beautiful his chest ached.

“I caught a late flight back from Germany.”

A problem had arisen with the dressage team, and she’d made a quick trip over to straighten things out.

“Anything new?”

“Not a thing,”

Jake said as she sat down beside him.

Maggie noticed the way his eyes slid away and knew he was lying.

Something had happened—or was going to.

“How was your flight?”

Jake asked, giving her a brittle smile.

“Tiring, but it gave me time to think.”

One of Jake’s black eyebrows went up. “About?”

“About what you’re planning to do.”

“I told you, Maggie, Daniel’s working on the problem.

You don’t have to worry.”

“Stop it, Jake.

I’m not a fool.

You’re going to do exactly what the Soviets tell you to do.”

Jake’s gaze fixed on the drink in front of him.

“You’re an American now, Jake,”

Maggie said.

“How can you even consider doing what the Soviets want?”

He turned toward her.

“I have to do what’s best for my family.

When I went over that fence in Rome, I left my responsibilities behind.

It’s time to pay the price.”

He covered her hand with his.

“You’re part of my family, you and Sarah.

I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“What about the others? I don’t know what the Soviets want, but the team is part of your family, too.”

“Maggie, please try to understand.”

Maggie fought to hold onto her temper.

“Hasn’t living in this country taught you anything? If you do what they tell you, you’ll never be truly free.”

Jake’s expression hardened.

“Can’t you see I have no choice? Unless Daniel finds an alternative, there’s nothing else I can do.”

Willing him to understand, Maggie’s voice softened.

“When I told you about the car accident in Florida, about what happened to Les, you said it wasn’t my fault—that God makes those decisions.

You can’t play God, Jake.

Not with other people’s lives.”

Jake shook his head.

“I don’t expect you to approve.”

“If you go through with this, what will it do to us? I love you.

Nothing can change that.

But how will you feel about yourself? Even if you get away with it, what will it do to our relationship?”

Jake didn’t answer, just stared down at his drink.

When he picked it up, his hand shook, making the ice cubes clink against the side of the glass.

“You’d better get some sleep,”

he told her, his voice hollow and flat.

“We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Think about it, Jake. Please.”

Ignoring the ache in her throat, Maggie came up out of her chair.

With a last glance at Jake, she headed up to her room.

At the sound of the buzzer on the alarm clock, Jake jerked awake.

Five-thirty.

He’d barely slept.

Knowing Flex usually slept later than the other team members, Jake figured he had time to shower and dress and still get into Flex’s room with time to spare.

It took six raps on the door before Flex’s unkempt, red-haired head appeared in the narrow crack he opened.

“Yeah?”

His voice was thick with sleep.

“Sorry to wake you.

Thought you’d be up already.

Mind if I come in?”

Flex slid the chain off, and Jake pushed through the door.

“What time is it?”

Flex asked, yawning.

“About six.

Figured you’d want an early start.”

“Six o’clock?”

Flex’s eyebrows went up.

“In the morning?”

“Yeah.

Mind if I use your john?”

Flex ruffled his hair with his hands.

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Jake stepped through the door, found the contacts in their tiny plastic vial, put the container in his pocket, and substituted the lenses in the vial the Soviets had supplied.

At least Daniel and his staff had discovered Popov’s intent—the prescription had been changed, a subtle difference that would alter Flex’s vision enough to throw off his riding, but not enough for him to notice the change.

Jake’s lips thinned as he thought of the Soviets’ scheme.

Glasnost, they preached today.

New freedoms, a new westernization of thought.

Jake had almost begun to believe it. Obviously, things in his homeland hadn’t really changed.

Flushing the toilet for effect, he stepped back into the room.

“Listen, Flex.

I’m sorry I woke you.

I just wanted to come by and tell you I know you’ll do well.”

Flex stretched and yawned.

“Thanks, Jake.”

“I’ll see you down at the stables.”

Flex nodded.

Jake walked back into the hall and the door closed behind him.

He’d done what they asked, though his conscience nagged him.

In an hour, he’d know what they really wanted him to do.