Fear Familiar Bundle (88 page)

"Who? Kent?"

"No, Limerick. If he sees you and recognizes you, he'll call out."

"Not to me," Catherine said. "He's your horse, Patrick. Not mine. I may hold the papers on him, but he's your horse." She turned away to climb the rocks before he could say anything else. She'd spoken the truth. Right or wrong, if they got Limerick back, she was going to return him to Patrick. If he was able to race, maybe they could work out arrangements where Patrick would race him and then allow her to stand him at stud. If he couldn't race…She couldn't think about that now.

Near the top of the rock she found a ledge to hide behind. Crouched down as far as possible, she peered over the top. Far below, in a small paddock, was a big gray horse. Nostrils flaring, he was sniffing the air. He tossed his head, mane flowing in an unkempt tangle.

Catherine's practiced eye ran over him. At such a distance she couldn't be certain, but his legs looked clean, his spirit undaunted. He pranced around the small enclosure, obviously aware of something. Catherine ducked lower.

As she inched back up for another look, the door of the small hut beside the paddock opened. She caught only a glimpse of broad shoulders, lean hips and long legs. The man called out, threw something at the horse and stepped back into the shadow of the door.

"Patrick!" Catherine called his name as she hurried down. "There's someone in the hut. A man."

"Ridgeway?" Patrick looked hopeful.

"I couldn't be certain, but he's there. A big man, like you. Maybe heavier. I couldn't see his face, but it might be Kent. What are we going to do?"

"You're going to hold the ponies here." Patrick gave her the reins. "I'm going to go down there and kill whoever has Limerick."

He spoke so softly that Catherine thought at first that she'd misunderstood. "What?"

"He's a dead man. He just hasn't crawled properly into his coffin."

"Patrick!" But he was gone, striding off over the rocks without even a pebble for a weapon. As she watched his strong back disappear, she felt a moment's pity for the other man. Patrick could kill him. The question was, would he?

As soon as he was out of sight, she tethered the horses to a bit of gorse. The Connemaras were so calm, so absolutely sensible, that they stood without objection. Catherine hurried down the slope after Patrick, cursing softly to herself as she slipped among the rocks. She'd lost sight of Patrick, and she'd begun to feel that if she didn't catch up to him she might lose him completely, forever.

Working her way down as quickly as possible, Catherine concentrated on her footing. When she was close to the bottom, she looked up. Patrick was still not visible. But Limerick was watching her.

The stallion stood at the stone wall, dark eyes eagerly following each move she made. He didn't make a sound. Catherine ducked behind the largest rock she saw, hoping that whoever was in the cottage was less vigilant than the horse. The one thing she didn't want to do was alert the horsenappers that they had company.

She caught a glimpse of quick movement behind the small hut, and to her relief, Patrick ran from one rock to another. He was circling closer to Limerick, but on the off side. While she watched, Patrick disappeared behind the small lean-to that served as a barn. Sensing something, Limerick whirled and sniffed the air in Patrick's direction.

An earsplitting whinny tore the air, and Limerick charged toward Patrick.

Catherine's heart stopped. The stallion aimed directly at the fence and without a pause sailed over. Shaking his head and bucking, Limerick tore across the uneven, rocky ground toward the place where Patrick hid.

"Hey!" The door of the hut flew open. There was a scramble inside, and then the man reappeared with a rifle. As he stepped into the daylight, Catherine felt a scream trapped in her throat. The man she was looking at was Patrick Shaw!

In slow motion he lifted the rifle to his shoulder and sighted down it at the galloping stallion. "To hell with you, you sneaky devil!"

His words had a curiously flat intonation. Catherine started forward, her body moving even though her brain had yet to give the command. By three strides she was in a dead run, and on the seventh, she launched herself at the man. Everything she had, she put into the jump. Stretching and flying, she reached toward him as she watched in slow motion as his finger pulled the trigger. Her body struck his as the shot rang out. The rifle bucked in his hand and the barrel flew up. His fist came down, brutally striking her shoulder as he turned to defend himself. And somewhere in the distance there was the scream of an injured horse.

Catherine felt the man's balance give. He started to fall, and she went with him. Together they tumbled to the hard earth, the rifle beside them. Before she could scramble away from him she felt his hands at her throat. Rolling, cursing, she fought.

"What a devil," he grunted, grabbing her hair and thumping her head against the rocky ground. "A bit of spirit is a good thing in man and beast, but you're taking this too far."

Catherine saw him, then. Her first clear look at his face stopped her cold. "Patrick?" But she knew it wasn't.

As soon as she quit struggling, the man stopped pounding at her. His blue eyes assessed her and he released his hold a little, allowing her some room to breathe.

They were staring at each other when there was the cock of a gun. The barrel of the rifle swung directly against the man's head. Catherine's gaze followed the barrel up to see Patrick's finger curled around the trigger. The look on his face was cold fury.

"Welcome home, Colin." Patrick stood over his brother, gun ready to discharge. "Now let Catherine up and go stand against the wall."

When Colin didn't move, Patrick kicked his leg savagely. "You don't have your mates here now to blow up innocent people or terrorize me. You've managed to beat up a woman and shoot a horse. That's quite a record, even for Cuchulain." He spoke the last with bitterness.

Catherine gasped as Colin lifted his weight off her. Still stunned, she pulled her feet under her and stood. "Shot a horse." The phrase echoed in her ears. "Limerick!" It was half question and half cry. She started to run toward where the horse had jumped out of sight, but Patrick pulled her to him. "Don't!"

"Limerick!" Catherine surged against Patrick's grip, but he held her.

"Don't, Catherine!" The sharp tone of his voice stopped her. Very slowly, she turned back to face Colin.

With a sudden scream, she threw herself at him, her fists pounding his face and chest. "I'll kill you myself," she screamed. "Give me the gun! You've killed Limerick!"

Patrick grasped Catherine's arm and pulled her away. The entire time he kept the gun pointed at his brother. Their gazes were steady, each unwilling to look away.

Finally Colin spoke. "So, you're still so sure I'm guilty of everything that ever went wrong in your life, aren't you? It must be nice to have someone to blame."

Patrick's gaze didn't waver. "I know, Colin. You did what you had to do. Isn't that the way you phrased it? Doing what
you
had to do, regardless of the damage to other people. Colin the patriot, the hero, the man who put country first. It sounds wonderful, unless you see the firsthand results of that behavior. I saw what happened to Ma after Lucy died. And Da'. I saw him wither and shrink, selling first one dream and then another to bail you out of trouble."

Colin shook his head. "Forget the past, Patrick, and listen to this. There's someone in the rocks behind the house." There was a low urgency to his voice. "He was aiming at the horse. That's who I was shooting at. Forget the past and believe me."

"I'm not eight years old anymore. You can't play that game with me, Colin." Patrick shook his head. "I see it all now. It always took me a while to catch on to you. Cuchulain! You were the beggar on the road. Another of your little games. What were you doing? Traveling in disguise? Well done. I honestly thought you were an old man. And I gave you the idea of resurrecting this whole Cuchulain business." Patrick's voice was self-condemning. "Didn't I always play right into your hands?"

"It was innocent, Patrick. I swear to you, that part of it was innocent. But that isn't the issue now. You have to listen to me."

"I'm not one of the suckers you can pull into your tales and rebellions. You meant to kill that horse and ruin me. Did you come home just to finish off what little I had left?"

"Don't be a dolt. I'd never shoot a horse, and especially not that one. I was aiming at the man." Colin pointed vehemently at the rocks that towered above them. "He's up there, you bleedin' idiot. He's been tailing me and the horse. He was at the place where you'd hidden the animal. That's why I took Limerick in the first place. To protect him and to protect you."

"I'm going to kill you, Colin. For the past, and for Limerick." Patrick lifted the barrel of the rifle and aimed it at his brother's heart.

"Stop it!" Catherine touched Patrick's arm. She angrily dashed the tears off her cheeks. Limerick was dead. A magnificent animal had suffered and died in a feud between brothers. But that was enough. "Stop it now, Patrick. You can kill Colin, but you won't be able to live with yourself if you do. Besides, it won't bring Limerick back."

"I'd like to try." Patrick's aim never wavered.

"If it will help your feelings, kill me. But you'd better be fast. I'm telling you, there's someone with a gun, and if you don't watch your back, he's going to catch you by surprise."

Catherine caught either a tone of sincerity or desperation in his voice. She looked behind Patrick, scanning the horizon for any sign of a person. Behind the small barn that was connected to the paddock, Catherine saw something move. It was a shift of shadow on shadow.

"Patrick…there's something there," she said softly.

"Damn you!" Patrick turned from his brother in time to see Kent Ridgeway striding out from behind some rocks and headed toward them. He carried a rifle with a scope in his hand.

"Hello, Catherine, Patrick. And this must be Cuchulain, though I see more of a resemblance to the Shaw family, so you must actually be Colin, the rebel. It would seem you've done a very nasty job for me. My thanks." His smile stretched even further. "I never realized that Colin Shaw would be helping the British. But you see, if Limerick had raced, I would have lost a great deal of money. Even worse, Catherine Nelson would have owned the stallion that might well have put me out of business. It's always a shame to destroy an animal as splendid as Limerick, but then it's even worse to see yourself ruined."

Catherine took in the gun and his expression. She knew he'd come to shoot Limerick. He'd intended to hide in the rocks and kill him. A sniper. A miserable sniper.

Patrick's face remained blank, but Colin's darkened. His intense blue gaze shifted from his brother to the man who stood so casually cradling an expensive rifle in his arms. No matter how casual the pose, Kent's finger was on the trigger and the barrel was only inches from Patrick's chest.

"You're from Wicklow, aren't you?" Colin asked. His voice was deceptively soft. "When I heard about the troubles at Beltene and that Patrick had been forced to sell, your name came up again and again. Does Miss Nelson know that you tried to buy Beltene out from under her?" He smiled at the shocked expression on Catherine's face. "I see I hit a nerve with the lady." He looked at Patrick. "I came home to check on my little brother, not to make trouble."

"Running the risk of capture, I might add." Ridgeway grinned. "So you're the brother, the rebel who fled. If Patrick doesn't kill you, I suppose I'll have to turn you in to the authorities. Catherine, you can take partial credit. That would endear you to the crown, you know." Kent shifted slightly. The rifle he held was only inches from Patrick's chest. "You'd better put your weapon down now, Shaw. I wouldn't want some misguided sense of family to force me to kill you or your brother."

The true horror of what had happened was breaking over Catherine. Colin had been aiming at someone— at Ridgeway. If she hadn't ploughed into him, he wouldn't have hit Limerick. It was her action that resulted in Limerick's death.

Without thinking, Catherine bent down. She swept up a handful of rocks and dirt. "You bloody bastard!" She threw as hard as she could, aiming accurately for Kent's eyes.

He lowered the rifle for a second as he threw back his head and tried to clear his vision. Patrick and Colin moved as one. Patrick hit Kent at the knees while his brother caught him from the other direction at the shoulders. The trainer went down with a knock hard enough to force the air from his lungs.

Catherine picked up Kent's rifle. Aiming it at his head she stood over him. Once he'd caught his breath, she lifted her foot. "I'd grind your face beneath the heel of my boot," she said, her voice shaking with fury.

"It doesn't matter." Kent was still struggling for breath, but he was undaunted. "Limerick will never race. I've won, and there's nothing you can do about it now."

"Catherine!"

She felt Patrick's hands on her, dragging her back and away. Her finger was on the trigger and the desire to pull it was almost irresistible.

"You can't kill him." With a quick motion, he took the rifle and threw it to Colin. "Watch him, will you? Catherine and I need to take care of something."

She realized what he intended and she balked. "Patrick, I can't. I just can't." She had no desire to see what her interference had done to Limerick. It was enough that he was dead.

Patrick stepped away from her, watching the play of emotions on her face. "You can, Catherine. Trust me, you can."

Catherine's breath caught on a sob as she walked beside Patrick. The place where Limerick had fallen was hidden by a dip in the ground and the barn. Patrick took her arm and gently pressed it, moving her forward.

"Catherine, it's not as bad as— "

"I'll kill Kent myself. I will." She choked on a sob.

"Catherine, please."

They turned the corner and she stopped. Limerick was on his side, his gray coat covered in blood and mud.