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As Remington and Laura entered the
paddock beside the stable the next morning, they were surprised
to find three horses saddled and waiting for riders. The groom
was nowhere to be found, however, and they approached the horses.
Two of the animals appeared to meet's Remington's request for
gentle mounts, the third, however, was a magnificent black stallion.
Ignoring Laura's attempt to draw him away, Remington ran his hand
down the stallion's sleek neck. "You're a beauty, you are,"
he said, then whispered softly, grabbing the bridle as the horse
shied away. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Laura watched in amazed silence as her husband somehow managed
to gain the trust of the high spirited animal. "He IS beautiful,"
she was forced to agree. "But I doubt that Robby saddled
him for you to ride," she told him as he inspected the horse's
legs.
Remington sighed, rising. "I know. But he's a fine piece
of horse flesh. Wouldn't mind having a chance to ride him."
"I wouldn't, if I were you, Cousin," Quinn said from
the stable doorway. "Caliban doesn't take to strange riders
very well." He approached them slowly, his eyes on Remington's.
Rubbing Caliban's mane, Remington said, "Is that so?"
"Oh, he may seem docile enough now, but once in the saddle
. . ." he warned.
Laura frowned as she recognized the look on her husband's face
as he assesed his cousin carefully. "Don't think I could
handle him, eh, Quinn?" he asked, putting words to Quinn's
unspoken challenge.
Quinn smiled, then shrugged. "If you want to break your neck,
it's no fault of mine. Go ahead. Try to ride him." He slapped
his leather riding gloves against his leg before stepping back.
"Be my guest."
Laura made a last ditch effort to stop what she felt would be
certain disaster. "Remington, I don't think that you should
. . . "
"Nonsense, Laura," he assured her, covering the hand
she placed on his arm with his own. "I know what I'm doing."
He lifted her hand to his lips, then turned back toward the horse
as Laura moved to join Quinn.
Remington smoothed the horse's neck, all the while murmuring soft,
quiet sounds to the horse. He pulled himself up into the saddle,
and Caliban side stepped once before standing quietly. Quinn's
eyes held a touch of admiration, and he smiled. "Sitting
a horse is one thing, Cousin. Now, riding him, that's another
thing entirely."
Fully aware of what Quinn was trying to do, Remington nodded and
turned Caliban into a trot around the paddock fence. As he pulled
up, he leaned forward to pat the horse's neck. "He's a jumper,
isn't he?"
"Best in the county," Quinn bragged, then added, "with
the right man in his saddle." Before Laura could stop him,
Remington had turned the horse toward the nearest fence and sent
him flying over it. She took a breath as he cleared the fence.
"He's got courage, I'll give him that," Quinn commented.
"I'm not sure if it's courage or foolhardiness," Laura
replied, watching as he approached another jump. As Remington
pulled back on the reins after clearing it, something happened,
and he lost his balance, falling onto the ground. "Ohmigod!"
Laura said, running toward the spot where Remington still lay,
aware that Quinn was close behind. As she knelt beside Remington,
his eyes opened. "Are you all right?" she asked,
"I think so," he told her. But as she helped him sit
up, he winced, putting a hand to his right side. "Ooh."
Quinn knelt on the other side. "Let me have a look at that."
He examined the injured area. "I'd have a doctor take a look
at those ribs. You might have broken one."
"Where's the horse?" Remington asked.
"Back at the stable." He placed an arm around Remington,
helping him to his feet. "You handled him rather nicely,"
he admitted.
"Right up till he threw him," Laura pointed out as the
three of them neared the stable again. This time, Robby came out,
and seeing Remington's arm across Quinn's shoulder, the groom
was concerned.
"What happened, your Lordship?"
"Took a bit of a tumble," he explained, realizing that
he still held the rein in his hand.
"What's that?" Laura asked.
"The rein. One of them, anyway," he said, examining
the end where it was supposed to be connected to the bridle. "It's
been cut," he told her.
Quinn frowned, examining the leather himself. "You're right.
Robby, get Caliban's bridle, will you?"
"Aye, Mr. Quinn."
Quinn saw Laura and Remington glance his direction. "I had
nothing to do with this," he insisted. "It wouldn't
do my any good to kill you. Not now that you've signed those papers.
The Manor's yours," he said. "Ah, thank you," he
told Robby as the groom returned, carrying the bridle. "Both
reins were cut. Obviously, Cousin, someone wants you out of the
picture."
********************************************************************
Back at the house, Margaret insisted on calling the local doctor
to have a look at Remington's injuries, then took Quinn to task
for allowing him to ride Caliban in the first place.
"That creature's dangerous," she told him.
"Don't blame Quinn, Aunt," Remington said tiredly as
he lay on the bed in his and Laura's suite. "I wanted to
ride him. It was my decision."
"Feel free to ride him anytime, Cousin," Quinn offered.
"I think you're capable of handling him."
Remington nodded. "Thank you."
Margaret saw Laura's expression and turned Quinn toward the door.
"We'll go down and wait for Dr. Reardon."
Once they were gone, Laura busied herself with fluffing pillows,
straightening the covers, all under Remington's watchful gaze.
"Go on," he said. "I know you're dying to say something.
After all this time, I can tell when you're angry."
"What ever possessed you to do something so foolish? Just
so you could prove that you can be a stupidly macho as Quinn?!"
"We can't all be perfect, Laura," he reminded her, placing
a hand to his side as he grinned at her. "Besides, you know
how I am about challenges. If I'd let that one slide, I would
never have gained Quinn's respect."
"So you had to go almost get yourself killed to earn it?"
"I wouldn't have gotten hurt at all if that rein hadn't been
cut," he told her. "You saw me out there."
"I saw you fall, too," she reminded him. "I was
afraid that . . . "
Remington held out his right hand. "Come here," he said
gently, pulling her to sit on the bed at his side. "It was
just a little tumble, Laura. I'll live."
"But with all the other attempts, the gunshots in Dublin,
that vase yesterday- and then Mary's death, I don't think you
should take any chances. Quinn's right about one thing: someone
wants you out of the way." There was a tap on the door, and
Laura went to open it.
"Mrs. Steele? I'm Dr. Reardon. Miss Margaret said I should
come right up."
"Yes. Please. Come in." She opened the door farther
to allow the white haired elderly man enter the room. "Dr.
Reardon," she said, leading him to the bed. "Remington
Steele."
"Your Lordship." He sat down in the chair beside the
bed, missing Laura's grimace and Remington's smile. Opening his
black bag, the doctor did as thorough an exam as possible. "Your
aunt informs me that you didn't want to go to hospital,"
he said.
"I'm sure the ribs are just bruised," Remington assured
him. "It's not as if it's the first time it's happened, right
Laura?" he asked, wincing as the doctor probed his chest.
"Once or twice," she agreed.
"If it's any consolation, your Lordship, I agree with you.
I can't see any signs of lung puncture- no internal injuries.
I'll wrap your chest in a bandage and give you something for pain
if you need it." He helped Remington to sit up, and then
began unrolling an elastic bandage around his chest. "How
did you come to be riding Mr. O'Riley's horse, if you don't mind
my asking? Everyone in the county knows that he's the only one
who can sit that beast."
"Luck," Remington said.
"Stupidity," Laura said at the same time. The doctor
looked from one to the other and smiled slightly. "Tell me,
Doctor, do you happen to have anything to cure runaway testosterone?"
The doctor hid his widened smile. "Sorry, your Ladyship,
but I'm afraid I can't be of any help to you there." He took
out a bottle of pills and handed them to her. "But if he
needs something for the pain- give him one every four hours."
He looked at Remington. "And I wouldn't be going riding for
a few days. If that rib IS cracked, then you could do far more
damage to yourself."
"Thank you, doctor."
He picked up his bag, then shook his head. "Still can't understand
how you managed to ride that horse. Oh, well. Good day."
"Good day," Remington called out as Laura showed him
to the door. Her face was thoughtful as she returned to the bed.
"What?" he asked.
"Something Dr. Reardon said. About everyone in the county
knowing that Quinn was the only one who could ride Caliban. Robby
didn't saddle that horse for you, this morning, he saddled it
for Quinn. And if Quinn had gone riding - alone, and those reins
had broken . . . "
"He could have broken his neck," Remington said. "Laura,
what are you getting at?"
"YOU weren't the intended victim today. "
"Quinn? But who would want to kill Quinn?"
Laura frowned. "I can think of one person right off the bat,"
she told him. "Sheila."
"Sheila? She doesn't strike me as the type, Laura."
"Why not? She's got motive, means, and the opportunity. While
Quinn was asleep last night, she slipped out of the house and
to the stable, where she slashed the reins, knowing that he was
going to go riding this morning."
"And is she also behind the attempts on my life?"
"THAT, I don't know yet. I suppose she could have left the
house and gone into Dublin the other night to take those shots
at us. But it's all circumstancial, Remington. We need more to
go on than just supposition."
"Do you think Quinn knows that she might be trying to kill
him?"
"I doubt it. But I think, after the investiture this afternoon,
we need to have a long chat with your cousin." Remington
winced. "Do you want one of these pills?" she asked.
"No," he said. "I'd much rather have you here beside
me," he told her.
Laura smiled at him, lowering herself gingerly to lie at his side.
"There. How's that?"
"Just what the doctor ordered," Remington said, kissing
the top of her head. Another tap at the door. "You know,"
he said with a sigh, "you never did call Mildred, did you?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," Laura told him as she
got out of bed. "She should be here late this evening, or
early tomorrow," she assured him with a smile and went to
find out who was at the door. "Bridget," she said. "I
didn't know you were awake."
The girl nodded, smiling, but her smile didn't quite reach her
light blue eyes. "I woke this morning," she explained.
"Quinn told us about what happened. Is Remington all right?"
"Yes. Just some bruised ribs," Laura assured her. "Would
you like to see him?"
Remington smiled as he saw his young cousin. "Bridget. Sit
down. Sit down. How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I should be asking you that, cousin," she said in a
soft voice.
"Nonsense. I'll be right as rain in a couple of days."
"I'm glad."
Laura sat on the edge of the bed, facing Bridget. "Bridget,
how much do you remember about the last couple of days?"
Bridget looked down at her hands, shrugging. "Not very much,
I'm afraid. John tells me that I had another of my spells and
went off my head again. I want to apologize for that, as well.
Not much of a welcome for the new Lord and Lady Crayston."
Laura put a hand over Bridget's stilling her fidgeting. "We're
just concerned about YOU, Bridget," she said gently. "What's
the last thing you remember?"
"Being in the salon. With everyone else. Suddenly the room
felt terribly warm, and then- nothing."
"NOTHING?" Laura questioned.
"It's all a blank until I woke this morning and asked John
where Mary was." She swallowed heavily. "That's when
he told me about her accident. I'm on my way over to pay a call
on her parents now."
"Why don't we go with you?" Remington suggested, ignoring
Laura's disapproving frown as he saw Bridget's face brighten.
"We'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes," he told
her.
"Thank you, cousin. John's right. You're a dear. An absolute
dear." She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, then was gone.
Remington lifted a hand to his cheek. "Laura, remember something
you said about getting that girl some help?"
"Yes?" Laura asked, gathering her own clothing.
"I think we need to look into it. If THAT is the real Bridget
O'Riley, then I wouldn't mind her staying around for a bit."
Laura tossed a shirt at him. "Get dressed," she said.
"We've a condolence call to make, remember?"
To Be Continued ---