The Pleasures of Spring (25 page)

Dougal had become keen on their hikes around the estate, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that he
was moving more easily and leaning on his cane less frequently.

‘Here, time you earned your keep,’ he told her. Pointing his cane at a small white bucket of warm milk, he instructed her to carry it out to the paddock. Mystified, Roz obeyed.

The paddock, a small field close to the house, contained a gangly, knock-kneed foal. ‘Oh, he’s adorable.’

Dougal grunted. ‘That’s Harmony. His mother, Serenade, died last week, so he has to be hand-fed. That’s your job from now on.’

This poor little thing was an orphan. Roz carefully carried the bucket of milk into the field and braced herself in case Harmony tried to knock her over. But he extended a curious nose and stood back. She moved towards him and he backed away.

‘Hey, hey, easy,’ she murmured. ‘I’m going to give you some nice milk. Here, try a bit.’ She made her voice as soothing as possible and he took two cautious steps towards her. ‘Lovely warm milk, you’ll like it. Try a little.’ One more step and the foal buried his face in the bucket.

It was better than being awarded a medal. She continued to mutter nonsense to him as he drank greedily, and he rewarded her by occasionally raising his head to sniff at her. His mouth was milky and dripped on her, but she didn’t mind.

When the bucket was empty, Harmony let her pet him and pull his ears gently.

‘You’ve a nice touch with horses,’ Dougal grunted approvingly. ‘When he’s old enough, you can put Harmony into training.’

‘How long will that be?’ she asked.

‘He’s got the breeding for a steeplechaser, but I think we may keep him as a hunter,’ he said, ‘so when he’s three.’

He thought she was going to be around in three years’ time. Something inside Roz warmed at that. She ignored the feeling, it was too dangerous.

‘So what’s the difference in training a racehorse?’ she asked. It was time to get down to work.

Although it was a while since Andy had worked in Dublin, the concierge at the Shelbourne greeted him like an old friend. ‘I’ll have your bag taken up to your room, sir. Mr and Mrs Winter are expecting you. They’re in the Horseshoe Bar.’

There was something about Dublin that was cool and laid back. Jack and Abbie were able to sit at the bar without being plagued by fans. Everyone knew who he was but Dubliners would never be vulgar enough to interrupt his conversation with requests for autographs or photographs. It was the one city in the world where Jack could relax.

Although he didn’t look particularly relaxed at the moment.

Jack was glaring at his Oris diver’s watch, while Abbie laid her hand reassuringly on his thigh. His expression brightened considerably when he spotted Andy heading towards them.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Great to see you again.’

‘You, too. Niall said that you needed me. What’s up?’
Although he had spoken to Reilly about Jack’s concerns on the journey, it was always better to get the client’s story direct.

‘Show him.’ Jack nodded to Abbie.

She shook her head at his peremptory tone and gave him a look that was openly challenging.

Andy was tempted to laugh. Abbie was a brat if he ever saw one and he was willing to bet that the film star had his hands full keeping her in line.

‘Jack is being an idiot. I’ve told him that it’s probably a teenage fan, but he won’t –’

Jack snatched the crumpled note from her hand and promptly received another glare. ‘Look at this.’

Andy skimmed through the note. The paper was cheap and the writing was large and curved. Female, definitely, and from the text-speak phrasing, probably young. Still, it couldn’t be ignored.

‘What do you need me to do?’

Jack raked his fingers through his hair. ‘There’s been a technical glitch on my last movie. I need to do some voiceover work in the studio for a few days.’

‘I’m not staying in my room while he’s working,’ Abbie snapped. The stubborn set of her jaw reminded Andy of someone else. He had been away from Roz for a few hours, but already he was missing her.

‘So you can see my problem.’ Jack gave Abbie a pleading look which would have earned him another Oscar.

Her mouth twitched before breaking into a smile. ‘Stop that. Okay. Andy can babysit me for a few days, but I hope he likes shopping.’

‘I love it,’ Andy replied with as much sincerity as he could muster.

The following day, Andy was bitterly regretting the enthusiasm he had shown the evening before. Abbie Marshall was nothing like Roz. Whereas the sarky redhead could scan a store in under a minute, Abbie insisted on examining every piece, piling stuff over her arm and spending an age in the dressing room.

‘I used to hate shopping,’ she called to him through the curtain as she tried on yet another outfit. ‘My sister could have made a career out of it, but vintage stuff is my one weakness. It’s great that you’re here. Jack hates doing this kind of stuff.’

Andy sighed. His instinct told him that the most dangerous thing in the shop was a 1920s fur stole, complete with tiny claws. If Abbie asked him if her butt looked big in that he would say yes – anything to get out of here.

He stood up when she emerged from the dressing room and headed for the till. Thank god the torture was over. ‘Where to next?’ he asked.

‘A gift for Jack, and then we’re done.’

Abbie’s gift for Jack proved to be lingerie. A friend in New York had tipped her off about a new Irish range called ‘Embrace’ and Abbie looked as if she was going to purchase their entire stock.

He was almost relieved when his phone buzzed.

‘Where are you?’ Niall asked.

‘I’m trapped in BT’s lingerie department. Please send someone to shoot me.’

‘Maybe next week – I have a job coming up in Afghanistan. But that’s not why I called. Can you talk?’

Andy moved to a quiet corner, where he could observe the dressing rooms. ‘Okay, go ahead.’

‘Interpol have a lead on Hall, but they want to bring Roz in first.’

His heart plummeted. He had known this was coming, known that this thing with Roz couldn’t last, but he had to force himself to ask the question, ‘When?’

‘ASAP. I’ll send someone to Lough Darra to fetch her.’

‘No. She’s safe where she is for now. I’ll do it when I finish here.’

‘If you’re sure.’

There was a question in Niall’s tone but Andy ignored it. How could he explain to Niall when he didn’t understand it himself? This thing with Roz was getting out of control. Over the past week he had caught a glimpse of another life. One he could have had with her if things were different.

‘Fine. I’ll delay things for a few days.’

‘Thanks, boss.’ Andy disconnected the call. He had to face reality. He wasn’t the kind who settled down and she was going into protective custody. It was never meant to be. Their short time together had been nothing more than a hiatus, a time out of real life. He had known from the start that a future with Roz wasn’t on the cards. So why did he feel like someone had torn his heart out?

‘You look like someone broke your favourite toy.’ Abbie stood before him, smiling and carrying more shopping bags. ‘Come on, we can drop these back to the hotel and I’ll buy you dinner.’

Abbie insisted on taking the long way back to the hotel. They passed Trinity College and strolled along the damp streets, passing rows of elegant Georgian buildings on the way back to the Shelbourne. After they freshened up, Abbie insisted she wanted sushi and they braved the rain again.

It should have been a pleasurable evening. How many guys could boast that they had dinner with the wife of a Hollywood A-lister? But although he was on full alert and kept his attention focussed on Abbie, his thoughts strayed back to Roz. How was he going to tell her that she was going back to Paris?

Abbie sat back in her chair. ‘So tell me about the woman?’

‘What woman?’ Andy sat back, startled.

Abbie waved at a waiter and laced her fingers together, the picture of innocence.

‘The one who’s putting the frown on that handsome face.’ She laughed. ‘The last time I met you, you checked out every woman we met, but you haven’t looked at a woman here all evening.’

Andy stalled for time. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

She shook her head. ‘And I thought Jack was secretive. What is it with you Irish guys?’

The waiter’s interruption was welcome. ‘I’ll have a Black Bush, no ice.’ Abbie said. ‘What will you have, Andy?’

‘Nothing. I’m on the job.’

She widened her eyes in mock horror. ‘You can’t let me drink alone. Who’s the client here?’

‘Bitch.’ He laughed, knowing that his insult wouldn’t faze her in the least. ‘But I’m still not having any. Coffee please.’

‘I am so telling Jack you called me that,’ she warned him.

‘Yeah, yeah.’

The waiter returned almost immediately with the coffee and Abbie’s whiskey. Andy raised his cup and clinked it against her glass.

Abbie sipped her drink but, being a typical reporter, she didn’t let him off the hook. ‘Well, are you going to talk to me, or do I have to use the thumbscrews?’

‘You brought thumbscrews?’ He smiled. ‘How did you get them through customs?’

Abbie waggled her glass and the amber liquid swirled. ‘You know, I like this stuff, but not so much that it would distract me, so spill.’

What could he tell her about his relationship with Roz? Hell, he didn’t understand it himself. They were polar opposites who should never have clicked, but they had and now he didn’t know what to do about it. Andy took a sip of coffee. ‘I met a girl, but it’s hopeless. She’s a client and she’s going into protective custody as soon as I get back home.’

‘She’s staying with you?’ Abbie perked up at the thought of Andy McTavish bringing a girl home to meet his family.

‘She’s pretending to be my fiancée. It was supposed to be a cover story, but my parents adore her. She’s helping my father with the estate and my mother is teaching her to paint.’

He remembered his mother’s face flushed with pleasure when she and Roz returned from their shopping excursion, giggling like a pair of teenagers. ‘I have to hand her over to Interpol on Saturday and I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.’

Damn, he sounded worse than a lovelorn lad. He was grateful Abbie didn’t laugh at him.

‘Do you love her?’ she asked.

Love? Andy McTavish didn’t do love. He did flirting, seduction and sex, and he was pretty good at it. But love? ‘Roz and I have the worst timing in the world. Next week she’ll have a new home and a new identity and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.’

Abbie reached across to squeeze his hand in sympathy. To his left, a camera flashed and Andy came to attention. Damn, someone had papped them. God knows where the shot would appear. He rose to his feet but Abbie placed a hand on his arm.

‘It’s okay. Let him go. I’m used to it by now.’

They strolled back to the hotel where Andy escorted her to the penthouse and insisted on checking each room before he left.

In the elevator, his phone vibrated, announcing a message from Niall. Flights booked for Saturday from Belfast
and there was a check-in code. Someone would meet them with temporary ID for Roz.

He returned to his own room and switched on his laptop, wondering if Roz was online.

he typed.

The words flashed on screen but there was no response. Andy checked Yahoo Detector to see if Roz was online, but invisible. He found her almost immediately. She was still mad at him and his stupid remark about the necklace.

He pressed send.

Now, that little comment deserved a spanking when he got home. If they had time.

Andy was glad she believed that story, but he wanted to punch something. He was willing to bet that her deadbeat dad had forgotten to buy her Christmas presents in the first place.

Roz was typing.

Jesus. He had spent years in the field, sometimes eating MREs on Christmas day. But the lads always made an
effort and there would be a bit of cheer during the evenings.

He was definitely going to punch Peter Spring when he met him. Trying to turn the conversation to a more cheerful topic, Andy typed

<
You won’t believe this, but I’m a mummy! Dougal has given me a baby foal to take care of and he’s going to show me how to train it.>

Training a horse would take two or three years. Roz had days at most before she had to leave Lough Darra. Should he tell her now? Why ruin the rest of her time there?
Coward
. A little voice inside his head taunted him. He couldn’t lie to her. She had the right to know and there was no easy way to tell her.

There was a pause before she responded.

Andy closed his eyes, feeling like a first class bastard. He took a deep breath and opened them again. His fingers hesitated over the keyboard. He had to tell her.

The word flashed on the screen like a danger sign. Andy typed on. He couldn’t stop now.

Her status changed to offline. Andy checked Yahoo Detector again but she was definitely gone this time. Fuck. He tried his phone. He should call her. He punched in her number. It rang several times before the call was rejected. Maybe he should try the landline? No, he couldn’t do that, because then his mother would know that something was up, and he still had to tell them the bad news.

He raked a hand through his hair. The situation was spiralling into a clusterfuck.

‘You complete dickhead, McTavish.’

Andy paced the hotel room, feeling like a caged lion. He was stuck here. Niall would have his nuts if he left Dublin before this job was done. He had a duty to his client, but the thought of Roz alone in her room at Lough Darra made his heart ache.

And he knew what his heart was telling him. He had to take her to Paris but there was no reason that she had to stay there alone. He had leave due – tons of it, and more money than he knew what to do with. They could live in Paris or wherever Interpol wanted them to live, but he wasn’t losing her.

He couldn’t let her face this alone. He had to be with her.

Paris? Witness protection? No, no way. Even if she was willing to spend the rest of her life doing some dreary job in a French factory, deliberately never doing anything to
attract attention, it wouldn’t fix anything else. Her dad needed that half a million, and Frankie needed a retirement fund.

She knew what witness protection involved. The police had explained it to her when they had caught up with her in Geneva after her sister’s trial. Damn Andy and Niall for tracking her down.

Someone had seen Hall in the area where the antique dealer was killed and they knew he had been murdered with a knife commonly used by Navy SEALs. Hall was their number one suspect, but they needed a witness. A baker making his first batch of dough had seen her leaving the shop. Now they needed her to stand up in a courtroom and tell the judge what she had seen that night and she couldn’t do it. It was more than her life was worth.

It would mean moving to a strange town, getting a low-profile job and never contacting anyone she knew for the rest of her life. She was used to moving from place to place and not calling anywhere home, though a pang went through her at the thought of leaving Lough Darra.

For someone who thought she was rootless and fancy-free, she discovered she had too many people who were holding her in place. Her dad, Frankie, Poppy, Dougal. And Andy. Okay, she knew she was never going to have a happy ever after with him, but the thought of never seeing him again drove a jagged shaft into her heart. The hollow ache would never go away.

Life without Andy would be just that, hollow.

So witness protection was out. She would have to make sure there was enough money from the Shergar scam to provide for her future.

Roz turned out the light and lay in silence, listening to the noises of the house. She usually didn’t sleep well in strange places, but the odd creaking sounds of the house settling for the night were comforting.

For the next couple of days she busied herself with preparation for the Shergar job. Despite Andy telling her to lie low, the ball was her best chance to scam Tim O’Sullivan. He would be relaxed in the company of his rich horsey friends and he wouldn’t expect anyone to try to trick him. She had to look the part and sound as if she was part of the horsey set. This was the biggest hustle of her life. Her dad was depending on her, Frankie was depending on her. She couldn’t let them down.

She knew she had very little time to learn the horse business so she was determined to soak up everything she could. Dougal was a fountain of knowledge about racing, and she listened attentively. Among his ramblings about racing was the story of a Fairyhouse winner that had been trained on a dude ranch. She knew Nagsy would have to get some training if he was going to be convincing, and the fees for training a racehorse made her wince.

She added up the cost of buying Nagsy, transporting him to a suitable trainer, training fees, bribery, suitable documentation and all the other costs, and realized she was going to need seed money.

A lot of seed money.