Fear Familiar Bundle (76 page)

"I believe I can tell the difference between a sore foot and a knee injury," Catherine said. She had to hold on to her temper, and she noted the cook was doing the same. Mauve's face looked like a thundercloud as she left the room. Catherine had to remember, the objective was to get Kent away from Beltene before he became suspicious about whether Limerick was actually there or not. If she'd been hesitant to broadcast the horse's disappearance at first, now she was convinced that she had to keep it quiet. Limerick was at stake, but so was an elderly man.

Kent had already proven that he couldn't be trusted to keep his mouth shut.

"I didn't mean to question your judgment when it comes to an injury," Kent said gently. "It's just that Shaw is a slick devil. He's capable of pulling the wool over anyone's eyes. He has that Irish charm and the complete ability to feed you a line a kilometer long."

"Thanks for the warning." Catherine picked up her cup of tea. "I made the decision to rest Limerick. He's too valuable to the future of Beltene to risk in a match race. Not even for the pleasure of beating your horse."

"Then you've forgotten the terms of the race?" Kent looked startled.

"What terms?"

"The winner of the match has the option to buy the defeated horse, for the amount of the purse. Thirty thousand pounds, which is a lot less than I paid for King's Quest. So if Limerick wins, you could be in an excellent position to have another stud at your farm."

"It's a match race, not a claim race." Catherine forced herself to stay calm. "I'd never agree to a claim race. Not in a million years."

"But you did. I saw the contract." Kent looked genuinely puzzled. "I thought it was curious, knowing that Limerick was the horse you considered to be the future of Beltene, but then I thought what an absolute stroke of genius it was. I was dazzled by your confidence in the horse and your willingness to risk him and everything. That takes guts, Catherine. Real guts. I'm proud of you."

Kent's words were like projectiles pinging into her soul. She'd never voluntarily agreed to a race where she risked Limerick. How had this happened? She remembered signing the racing forms to set up the match with the blood-bay stallion called King's Quest. He was a good match for Limerick, and she'd viewed it as a fair and equal test of Limerick's heart and ability. But the terms she'd agreed to were for a match, one horse against another. Nothing more.

She'd never agree to a type of claim race where the loser was sold.

"If you're the competition, you don't have to claim, do you?" Catherine asked Kent suddenly. "I mean, you could simply decide not to invoke the claim clause, right?"

"Getting cold feet?" he teased.

"Merely trying to understand my options." She answered him with a lighthearted smile. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought he might hear, but she'd learned at the bank never to let a competitor smell blood. And Kent, no matter what his professed feelings for her were, was a predator.

"I don't know if I have to claim the loser, but I do know that there isn't a scratch clause."

"If Limerick is still unsound, would you consider a rematch in, say, two weeks? Give me a chance to top him up. After all, a true sportsman wouldn't want to run against an injured horse."

"I might consider. On one condition." He swallowed the last of his brandy.

"What might that be?" Catherine kept it light, coy. Kent was playing with her and enjoying every minute of it. He was a risk-taker, a man who loved the thrill of putting everything on the line. She'd watched him come alive more than once at the track when he had his money and his reputation riding on a horse that was in a dead heat and almost up to the wire. She simply could not let him suspect how thin the ice she walked on was. "What is your single condition?"

"That I judge whether he's fit or not."

It wasn't an unreasonable request. Actually, it was exactly the request she'd make if the positions were reversed. The only trouble was that Limerick wasn't around to be checked.

"That's agreeable." She'd just have to brazen it out. "How about giving me three days to try to work him into condition? That'll still give you time to reschedule the race if he isn't in peak condition. I wouldn't ask you to do this except he was out of my care for almost a week."

Kent smiled. "That's fair," he said. "You drive a hard bargain, Catherine Nelson. I'm beginning to see that you learned a lot from your father."

"Enough." Catherine returned her cup to the tray. "I'm going up to County Mayo to look at some prospects. I'll be gone for a couple of days. Maybe we could meet here in three days to check out Limerick, if I still feel he's not in condition. Patrick may be able to work a miracle."

Kent's irritation was immediate. "I didn't realize you were leaving Beltene. It's a long drive here and I'd hoped to spend some time with you. I want to look over those two-year-olds. I'll take them to Wicklow on your word. I've never known the Nelson family to default on a debt."

"I'm sorry, Kent. You didn't give me a chance to tell you my travel plans, and the opportunity to pick up a very nice mare or two is one I can't pass up." She saw his next request coming and had to avoid it. "I'd ask you to come with me, but I've made arrangements to take Patrick. The two of you mix like oil and water."

"You could leave your employee at home," Kent said pointedly. "I believe I can give you the proper advice on horse purchasing."

"I could do that, but as you say, he is my employee. You— " she smiled and lifted one eyebrow "— are my competition. Now who would you trust?"

"Touché," Kent agreed. He tugged at his top lip with his teeth. "What about those two-year-olds?"

"Your offer is kind and generous, but I don't want to get in a position of running Beltene in the red, especially not until Limerick is on the track and making some money and a name for himself."

"I trust your word." Kent came toward her. "Let me do that for you, Catherine."

"Maybe in a few months. When I'm in a better position, it won't seem like I'm obligating myself to you." He was terribly generous to offer to train the animals with no guarantee of pay. She felt guilty at her lack of trust in him.

"You could pay me back now. Get rid of Shaw. Put him on the road and get him out of your life. As long as he's here, Beltene will run under a cloud. The men still look to him as boss and owner. They know you've paid good money for the place, but to them, Beltene is still the Shaw farm and Patrick calls the shots."

"The men are getting used to me." Catherine started to get up but she remembered the notes tucked into the cushion of her chair. She had to stay put, but damn, Kent was making her antsy.

"Patrick will always have their allegiance. Let him go. It's the best thing for both of you, Cat. How do you think it is for him to come to work to the place that used to belong to him? Every little change you make, even if it's an improvement, is like a slap in his face."

"He seems to be living with it." Catherine shrugged. "If he's unhappy here, he can move on. There's nothing stopping him."

"Except he can't free himself from the past. He suffers from the Irishman's disease, a bulldog tenacity to cling to events and traditions that no longer apply to their lives. It's pitiful. And dangerous."

"Tradition is a hard master, for all of us." Catherine couldn't help the anger in her voice. It wasn't fair that Kent accused Patrick of the very traits that he so lovingly manicured in himself— the tradition of Wicklow, the winning tradition, the rituals of the true sportsman. Kent acted as if the Ridgeway name and money bought him a right to such fancies that others did not have.

She'd grown up in a world where such attitudes were second nature. In fact, she'd never noticed them before; they'd been so much a part of her life. Now, though, there was a distinct difference. As far as family and financial status, she was Kent's equal. Socially, yes, without question. Buffered by the mountains and mountains of money the Nelson name symbolized, she might even be Kent's social superior. Once she'd stepped into the role of horse breeder, she hit the gender wall. As a woman, she'd never be Kent's equal. At least, not in his opinion. It was a galling revelation.

"I see by your tone and your expression that I've angered you." Kent was more amused than distressed. "You are a volatile woman, Catherine. I find that exciting."

"I find the idea of— " She stopped herself. She was about to say that a book up against the side of his head would really be amusing. "A match race between Limerick and King's Quest will be irresistible. I'll look forward to it. Either Saturday, or two weeks from Saturday, if we can arrange the track."

"Yes," Kent said. "I think I'll stroll over to the barn and see that big gray devil, if you don't mind?" He watched her carefully.

"Patrick has taken him to the upper pasture where he can graze without smelling or hearing the other horses."

"And you left him unattended, after he'd been stolen once?"

"Someone is with him." Catherine itched to stand up and pace the room, but she couldn't without revealing her stash of notes.

"When are you leaving for County Mayo?"

"In a few hours." She looked at her watch and frowned. "I have a lot to do before I go." It wasn't subtle, but then, she was tired of the game.

"I'll head back to Dublin." Kent watched her. "Is something going on here, Catherine? I've never seen you look so tired or act so stiff."

"Beltene is a lot of work. Probably more than I bargained for." She had to get a grip on her impatience. Kent was getting ready to sniff around for trouble. "I'm upset with myself for thinking it was going to be easier than it is. And I've made some bad decisions. It's part of learning, but I really can't afford to tutor myself by bad example."

"The bank is a world, for all of its complexity, with less risks than the horse world." Kent straightened his expensive jacket. "I don't know that it's a woman's world, but I believe if any woman can survive it, you can, Catherine."

Rather than argue the point, Catherine smiled. "Thanks for the compliment. I hope you're right."

"I'll call you Wednesday. If I have to come here, you have to pay for the ticket. I'm tired of running the roads."

"Agreed. I hope Limerick is fit and ready, but if he isn't, I'll gladly pay for your trip so you can see him for yourself."

"I'll tell you, if he comes to live at Wicklow, he'll learn not to bite the hand that feeds him."

Catherine had forgotten how the horse had snatched at Kent's arm. Obviously, Kent hadn't forgotten. She didn't respond.

"We'll talk soon." Kent bent and kissed her cheek, then left the room without looking back. As soon as Catherine heard the front door close, she stood, gathered her notes and stuffed them into the top desk drawer. Someone had to go to the track at Kildare and find a copy of the racing agreement she'd signed. Allegedly signed, she reminded herself. Never, ever, in a million years would she have agreed to such a crazy arrangement.

Yet the paperwork was there. Kent had seen it. Which meant that not only had someone stolen Limerick, they'd arranged it so that she'd lose him without a prayer of getting him back.

Going to the file cabinet in her office, she pulled the file on the Saturday race she'd set up for Limerick. The edges of the papers were slightly askew. She knew instantly that someone had been in her files. The racing agreement with David Trussell and King's Quest was the first document. Scanning it quickly, Catherine saw that it was, indeed, a claim agreement allowing the loser to be purchased by the winner for the price of the purse. Thirty thousand pounds, for a horse worth more than a million.

The last page showed her signature in black duplicate. Even as she studied the long scrawl of her name, she knew it looked authentic. It couldn't be, but it looked it.

Limerick's registration information was all in order. The document was exactly as she remembered it to be— except for the claim clause.

Because of the nature of the race, it was basically an agreement between herself and David Trussell. That meant that she had a copy of the contract, Trussell had one, and the track had a complementary copy. In all probability, Trussell had sent his agreement with the horse to Kent.

Whoever had switched contracts had had access to either Trussell's or Kent's records, her records, and the track.

Someone had methodically set out to ruin her. Someone who knew her business inside and out. There had been no secret about her race with King's Quest, but neither had it been advertised. Both horses were unknowns. It wasn't as if two record winners had been pitted against each other. So someone had been on the lookout for the race, and they'd gone to the trouble of switching documents, adding the one clause that would be her ruination. She couldn't race Limerick because she couldn't produce him. If she didn't race him, he went up for sale to the owner of King's Quest.

By some fluke of fate, that now happened to be Kent Ridgeway. Or was it merely coincidence? Kent knew more about her personal business than almost anyone except her grooms and trainers.

She picked up the four notes. Expensive paper, well-schooled hand, sealing wax with a horse head crest. Surely Kent wouldn't be so obvious. Was it possible someone was framing him?

"Oh!" She got up and paced the room. It was completely maddening. Her thoughts went 'round and 'round in circles. Who was lying about whom and for what purpose? It only seemed that everyone was suspect.

She had to get the track records and destroy that agreement and Kent's copy. Both had to be replaced with the original agreement.

Kent would certainly recognize the change, but if he didn't have a document, he couldn't prove anything.

Pounding in her temples signaled the beginning of a fierce headache. She had no intention of going to County Mayo for horses. No, she was going to Kildare and then Wicklow Stables. The simplest thing would be to drive and take the ferry across to England, she thought. She picked up the notes from the desk drawer, looking at them once more. Kent? Allan? Who? The possibilities were endless. It was even conceivable that Patrick still had the stallion and was using all of this as a ruse to throw her off his trail. He, too, could benefit. If she lost Limerick, then there was a very good chance she'd lose Beltene. The farm would go back on the market, not to mention that it would be cursed with a reputation for bad luck. Patrick might be able to get it back.