Irish Meadows (8 page)

His mouth dropped open. “Why on earth would you need to go to college? You have a bright young man interested in a future with you. Surely you wouldn't throw away such a fine opportunity.”

Brianna shot to her feet and paced to the large hearth. “There's plenty of time for marriage, after I finish college. Henry could still court me if he wishes.”

Her father slapped a palm on the desktop. “Court you long distance for two or three years? I've never heard of anything so ridiculous.”

Under the glare of her father's indignation, Brianna wanted to crumple. But she would not give him the satisfaction—not this time. “It might sound ridiculous to you, but not to me. I want to live in the city, see more of the world than this island. Expand my mind—”

“No woman needs to expand her mind.”

Brianna shoved her resentment aside and grappled for a compelling argument. “What about Aunt Fiona? Your own sister went to college and now teaches at one.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fiona always went against the grain. She made poor choices, and now she's a bitter old maid living
alone with her birds. Not the type of life you should aspire to. You need to focus on becoming a suitable wife to Henry. Learn wifely duties from your mother, as Colleen is doing.”

A harsh laugh escaped Brianna before she could check it. “Is that what Colleen is doing?”

Her father took an intimidating step toward her. “I'll thank you to show your sister more respect, young lady. Colleen is the epitome of beauty and grace. You'd do well to try and be more like her.”

Brianna bit down hard on her quivering lip. There it was—out in the open. Her father's blatant preference for his oldest daughter. The beautiful one who could do no wrong. Words of reply stuck in her throat, held prisoner by the lump of emotion she could not dislodge.

“We'll have no more talk of this nonsense. I've told Henry he may court you, and you
will
accept his suit. Now I bid you good night.” He resumed his seat at the desk and turned his attention to the papers on his blotter, dismissing her like always.

A tidal wave of hurt threatened to crush her. Before her tears could betray her, Brianna fled the study—her dreams as battered as her aching feet.

G
IL
LED
THE
EBONY
STALLION
into the barn. He'd given Morgan's Promise a good workout this morning and hoped his owner would be pleased with the horse's progress. One of the wealthiest men in the country, Mr. Morgan paid Irish Meadows well for their services. He intended to race Morgan's Promise in the states that still allowed the sport, and he expected his animal to be ready.

“Here you go, boy. You deserve a treat after your hard work.” Gil pulled a small apple from his pocket and held it out to the stallion. Velvet lips tickled Gil's palm as Morgan took the offering. Gil stepped out, closed the stall door, and bent to retrieve a bucket of water to refill the trough. A sense of peace washed over him as he watched the magnificent creature slake its thirst.

This was where Gil belonged, working with animals that held no judgment, that loved him unconditionally despite his impoverished parents and his orphan status. Animals loved you for who you really were, not for the money you had or the social circles you graced.

Gil moved down the corridor to check on Georgina. The gentle mare was due to give birth any day now. Gil loved the spring, when new life filled the stables. Georgina's head hung over the door as though she expected his visit. She neighed and tossed her head, eager for his greeting. Georgina held a special place in Gil's heart. He and Bree had helped bring her into the world four years ago. With her gentle spirit, the lovely lady had captured both their affections.

Gil entered the stall, running his hands over Georgina's swollen side. “How's my girl? Any sign of that baby yet?”

Big hopes were pinned on this foal. Mr. O'Leary had paired Georgina with one of the best racehorses around in hopes of breeding the next Kentucky Derby winner. Gil patted Georgina's rump and sighed. Over the years, he'd learned the folly of attaching such importance to one horse. Mother Nature often had a way of thwarting expectations.

He checked Georgina's feed and water and let himself out of the stall. As he latched the door, the stomp of angry footsteps echoed through the barn. Footsteps that sounded decidedly feminine. Gil rounded the corner to the main aisle but couldn't see anyone in the corridor. Puzzled, he pushed outside into the bright morning sun and shaded his eyes against the glare to see if Brianna had taken Sophie out for a ride. But except for Joe exercising Starlight, the track was empty.

As Gil turned to head back, the determined figure of Brianna emerged from the double doors. Clad in her usual riding attire, her cinnamon-streaked hair coiled up on her head, she led a horse down the path toward the opening in the fence. His momentary pleasure at seeing her turned to apprehension the minute he recognized which horse she'd taken.

“What do you think you're doing?” He fought to keep the anger out of his voice as he jogged toward her.

Hot eyes pinned him to the spot. If he'd been a piece of hay, he'd have ignited where he stood. “I'm going for a ride.”

“Not on that horse, you're not.” At the best of times, Major Selection was hard to handle, but according to Sam, since the horse had injured his back hoof two months ago, he was more unreliable than ever. It took a strong hand to keep him in line, and like it or not, Brianna didn't have the physical strength to handle him.

Ignoring Gil, she flung herself into the saddle and gave the horse a vicious kick. Alarm leapt through Gil's veins. Bree had never acted in such a reckless manner with an animal.

“Brianna, stop!” He made a wild dash to catch the bridle, but she jerked Major's head away from his grasp.

Two more kicks and the horse sprinted off to the right. Instead of leading the animal onto the track, Brianna veered around the fence and bolted toward the open pasture beyond the barn.

Alarm escalated to panic, choking the breath from him. Was she trying to kill herself? It was hard enough to control the animal on a groomed track. Heaven only knew what the beast would do in open fields—especially if his back foot turned on the uneven ground.

Gil charged over to Joe, who'd pulled Starlight to the side of the track. “Joe, give me the reins. Quick!”

Surprised brows tented over his eyes, but Joe hopped off and held out the leather strap.

“Tell Sam that Bree's gone out on Major. I'm going after her.” Gil swung easily into the saddle and jabbed the horse's side, a prickle of remorse setting in at his rough treatment.

He only hoped Starlight had enough speed to catch Major.

Leaning straight out over his neck, Gil urged the horse to give it his all. As one, they flew over the grassy surface and crested a hill. In the distance, Gil made out the black speck of Major with—thank God—Bree still on his back.

He pushed Starlight hard, promising him every manner of reward if he managed to catch the other horse. Gradually they gained ground until Gil came within shouting distance.

“Brianna, slow down! That horse is injured.” He hoped her concern for the animal would make her ease up.

Her head whipped around. She peered over her shoulder, her hair streaming out behind her, but instead of stopping, she forged onward.

Gil's stomach clenched in dread.
Please, Lord, make
her stop before someone gets hurt.

Why did Gil have to follow her?

Brianna wanted to swipe the angry tears from her eyes but didn't dare take her hands off the reins. She gripped them so tightly she felt grooves forming on her palms. Why hadn't she taken the time to put on her gloves? She'd wanted so badly to be alone, to live life on the edge for a few moments, with no one telling her what she could and couldn't do, that she hadn't taken the proper precautions.

Her vision blurred until she had no real sense of where Major was headed. She held on for dear life, clinging like a bur to his mane as he took the lead.

Shouts from Gil barely registered in her consciousness as the ground flew by. A branch whipped her cheek, the sting making her aware of how close to the wooded property line they'd come. Summoning her strength, she yanked the reins as hard as she could to slow Major down. If he veered into the trees, he could trip on a tree root and break a leg. Daddy would never forgive her if she ruined one of his client's thoroughbreds.

She gave thanks to God as Major slowed to a more normal pace, while inwardly steeling herself for Gil's fury when he caught up with her.

A flash of movement from the trees claimed her attention. Seconds later, a hare darted into their path. Major gave a startled trumpet as he skidded to a halt. Fear slicked Brianna's palms with sweat. She clamped her knees hard into the horse's side and
clutched the reins in a desperate attempt to stay in the saddle. But the momentum proved too much.

A scream ripped from her throat as the thrust hurtled her over Major's head and into the air.

Brianna had only a moment to brace herself for the impact as she plummeted headfirst toward the ground below.

B
RIANNA
!”

Gil's heart stopped pumping at the sight of Brianna's slim figure flying through the air. With a sickening thud, she landed in a crumpled heap on the hard ground. He jerked his mount to a treacherous sudden stop and threw himself out of the saddle. In seconds, he raced across the grass, reaching her just as the spooked stallion reared up in alarming menace over her inert body.

“Easy, boy. Easy.” Gil attempted to keep his voice calm, despite the anxiety clutching his chest. He had to keep the animal from bludgeoning Brianna to death with its hooves.

Gil gave a desperate leap and managed to grab the reins. He yanked the skittish horse away from Brianna to a nearby tree, where he quickly tied the reins around the trunk. His pulse pounding in his ears, he dashed back to Brianna's still form, lying facedown on the grass, hair splayed out around her.

Please
, God, let her be all right.
The frantic prayer repeated over and over in his mind as he dropped to the ground beside
her and placed a finger on her neck. The faint pulse he found there eased his tension a fraction, but thoughts of broken limbs, punctured lungs, and paralysis haunted his imagination.

What had possessed her to take such a foolish risk?

Inch by tortuous inch, he rolled her onto her side, alarm spiking at her lack of response. Even a moan would have been better than such stillness. Dampness from the grass seeped through his pants as he searched for damage. The beginning of a bruise bloomed on her cheek along with several deep scratches. Blood trickled from her lip and nose. He cradled her head in his lap and smoothed the waves of hair away from her eyes.

“Bree. Can you hear me? Wake up, please.”

He ran swift hands over her arms and legs, as he would when checking a horse for injuries, relieved to find no broken bones. Still, she needed immediate medical attention.

As gently as possible, he lifted her limp form in his arms and somehow managed to mount Starlight with Bree in front of him. He cradled her against his chest, one arm wrapped tightly around her, the other guiding the horse. He'd send one of the hands out for Major as soon as he got back.

Halfway to the house, she began to stir, a low moan oozing from her throat.

“Shhh. I've got you,” he murmured into her hair. “Stay still until we get home.”

Her whimpers of pain caused answering spasms of helplessness to wash over him. “Hang on, honey. We're almost there.”

Sam ran to assist him the moment Gil reached the stable. “What happened?”

“Major spooked and threw her.” Gil handed Bree down to Sam while he dismounted.

“What the deuce was she doing riding him?”

“I have no idea.” Gil reached to take Brianna from him. “Put Starlight away for me. And have one of the hands go out to get Major. He's tied to a tree in the west pasture.”

“Right away. Let me know how she is.”

Gil nodded and set off at a brisk pace across the lawn toward the house. His arms strained with her dead weight as he pushed into the foyer. He headed straight for the parlor and laid her gently on the sofa.

Almost immediately, Mrs. Johnston appeared in the doorway. The housekeeper let out a gasp, her hand covering her mouth. “What happened to Miss Brianna?”

“A horse threw her. Put a call in to the doctor, then get a cloth and some ice.”

“Yes, sir.” The woman practically flew out the door.

Gil knew he should find Kathleen, but he didn't dare leave Bree alone for a minute—certain if he did, something terrible would happen. As long as he stayed with her, she'd be all right.

“Bree, can you hear me? Open your eyes.” He caressed her unmarred cheek with rough fingers, noting the velvet smoothness of her skin. The few freckles she so detested stood out in stark relief against the pallor of her complexion. Not even an eyelash flickered.

What if she'd suffered a brain injury?

Dear God, please let her wake up and talk to
me.

In that instant, he would have promised God anything to guarantee Brianna's well-being. Gil lowered his forehead to hers, tears burning behind his lids. He blinked hard to keep them at bay.

He stayed like that, breathing soft prayers in her ear for what seemed like an eternity, until at last her lashes fluttered, and her eyes blinked opened. She stared blankly at him for a few seconds, and then recognition slowly dawned in her eyes.

“Gil.”

He heaved a huge breath of relief. That one word was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.

Thank
You, Lord Jesus
.

“Take it easy, honey. Just lie still.”

“Head . . . hurts.” She raised a hand to her forehead.

Gil grabbed it and held it captive. “The doctor's on his way.”

Mrs. Johnston appeared with a bowl of water, ice, and a wet cloth. Gil wrapped some ice in the cloth and laid it on her forehead, glad to note the slight easing of pinched lines around her mouth.

Mrs. Johnston hovered by the sofa. “Dr. Shepherd will be here soon, Mr. Whelan. And Mrs. O'Leary is on her way down.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Johnston.”

Bree's frame tensed, and she grasped his arm with steely fingers.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” he asked her.

“Don't . . . tell . . . Daddy.” Each word took great effort to get out.

“Your father's not home. Don't worry about him right now.”

The tension seeped out of her, and she closed her eyes, seeming to fall back into unconsciousness.

Mrs. O'Leary rushed into the room, her skirts flying out behind her. “Gil, what happened? Is she all right?” She knelt on the floor beside the sofa and placed a hand on Bree's arm.

As much as he wanted to reassure her, Gil couldn't lie. “She was riding one of the stallions. He spooked and threw her.”

Instant tears moistened her blue eyes. “My poor baby.”

“The doctor should be here soon.”

“What was she doing on a stallion? Why wasn't she riding Sophie?”

“I don't know.” Guilt wound its way through Gil's system. Could he have tried harder to prevent her from going? “I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen. By the time I caught up, she'd been thrown.”

Several minutes later, Mrs. Johnston appeared in the doorway. “Dr. Shepherd is here.”

“Show him in, Alice.” Mrs. O'Leary pulled herself up tall and patted her hair into place. “Good morning, Doctor. Thank you for coming so quickly. Brianna's had a fall from a horse.”

The older man removed his hat and set it on the table by the chair, then stepped forward with his medical bag. Gil and Mrs. O'Leary moved aside to let him have access to Brianna, who lay immobile, the cloth still on her forehead.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he commanded as he focused his attention on his patient.

Gil explained what he'd witnessed while Dr. Shepherd examined Bree's eyes, shining a tiny light into each one. Then he felt around her head, his ministrations rousing Brianna. Gil jerked each time she winced in pain.

At last, Dr. Shepherd rose, his expression grim. “She's a lucky young lady. She could have easily broken her neck or been paralyzed.” He turned his gaze to Bree. “You've escaped with only a concussion, though you'll probably feel like you've been kicked by that horse tomorrow.”

He picked up his bag and faced Mrs. O'Leary. “You'll need to make sure she doesn't fall into a deep sleep. For the next twenty-four hours, wake her every hour, make her stay awake long enough to take some sips of water or tea, and ensure she's coherent. If at any time she appears worse, or you can't wake her, send for me immediately.”

The relief on Mrs. O'Leary's face mirrored Gil's own. Though serious, a concussion wasn't life-threatening.

Once again the doctor addressed Brianna. “I'd advise you to keep off horses for at least a week. And after that, if you do have to ride, try to stick with the gentle ones.” He softened the chiding with a wink.

“Thank you so much for coming, Dr. Shepherd.” Mrs. O'Leary accompanied the man out of the parlor, leaving Gil alone with Bree. He pulled one of the footstools over to the sofa and sat down, his eyes almost level with her wary ones.

He watched her for a moment, trying to quell the urge to scold her further. “Mind telling me what that little adventure was about?”

She turned her face toward the back of the settee—but not before he saw tears forming. Words of chastisement died on his lips. She didn't need anyone to tell her how foolish she'd been. The regret on her face told him that much.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Bree, you can tell me anything. You know that, don't you?”

She didn't answer him, but ripples of her distress trembled under his hand. If he didn't expect Mrs. O'Leary back any moment, he'd have pulled her into his arms to comfort her. Instead, he settled on rubbing her shoulder in silence, hoping his presence helped. After several moments, when it became evident she wouldn't speak to him, he reluctantly rose. “You need to rest. We'll talk about it when you're feeling better.”

Why did it feel like she was mad at him?

After a long look at her back, he strode out of the room. In the entranceway, he met Mrs. O'Leary coming back from seeing the doctor out.

He gave her a quick nod. “If you need me for anything, I'll be in the barn.”

“Gilbert, wait.” She put a detaining hand on his arm, concern in her eyes. “What really happened out there?”

He shook his head. “I wish I knew. She was riding that horse like the devil himself was after her. I couldn't catch her in time . . .” He stopped, unable to go on with the guilt closing his throat.

She squeezed his arm, her features alight with sympathy. “It's not your fault. I just wonder what set her off, and why she would choose such a wild horse.”

“Give her time to feel better, Mrs. O. I'll get to the bottom of it—one way or another.”

Kathleen O'Leary gave a brief smile. “If anyone can, Gilbert, it's you.”

The next morning when she awoke, Brianna did indeed feel as though she'd been kicked by a dozen horses. Every muscle ached. Even breathing was an effort. A wicked pounding, like a blacksmith's anvil, besieged her temples. Because the brightness of the daylight hurt her eyes, she squeezed them shut again.

“I hope the pain reminds you of your foolishness.” The harsh voice of her father made Brianna groan. “You almost got yourself and that horse killed.”

She squinted one eye open. Which would he be more upset about, she wondered?

He stood at the foot of her bed, eyebrows pulled into a scowl, hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit pants. The tapping of his foot made the chain of his pocket watch dance against his vest buttons. It seemed safer to focus on that little movement than to confront his anger head on.

“What on earth were you thinking, girl?”

“I'm sorry, Daddy. Is Major all right?” Maybe he'd accept her apology and drop the whole thing.

“His injured foot took a beating, but he should be fine. What sort of insanity made you take him out in the first place?”

She closed her eyes again, willing him to hug her and tell her how worried he'd been. That he was glad she was all right. “I guess I wanted some excitement.” The glib answer rolled off her tongue, knowing she'd never tell him the real reason.

“Excitement?” He practically shouted the word. “You endangered an expensive animal for excitement?”

Brianna jerked under the covers, wincing at the throb of pain that rushed through her body, and forced her eyes open again.

Her father took a step toward the bed, his face a mottled red. “Of all the foolhardy, immature things to do.” He shook a finger at her. “Until you show better judgment, young lady, you are banned from the stables.”

Brianna's hand fisted in the blankets as she fought to contain
her rising anger. Banned from the stables? He might as well ban her from breathing.