Marriage At A Price. Miranda Lee
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your money going down the gurgler,’ she pointed out tartly, whereupon Jack dropped his binoculars and started shouting advice as well.
They both fell deathly silent, however, when the field swung into the straight and a still trailing Big Brutus was pulled out into the centre of the track to make his run. His long legs lengthened stride and he began to gobble up his opposition. With a furlong to go, he swept past the tiring front runners.
‘The ugly old brute is going to win,’ Jack said with awe in his voice. ‘Lois was right!’
The reality of his words snapped Courtney out of her own frozen state of shock, and she started jumping up and down. ‘Go, boy, go!’ she chanted like a demented rock groupie. ‘Go! Go! Go!’
Big Brutus went all right, leading the field by ten lengths, stretching out his neck at the winning post as all really good racehorses do. An ecstatic Courtney threw her arms around Jack. ‘He won!’ she cried. ‘He won!’
‘He sure did,’ Jack said, grinning and making no attempt to disengage her.
‘You must have won a good bit,’ she said, so pleased for him.
‘More than a good bit. The bookie is going to be the one heading for the dole queue after he pays me out, I can assure you.’
‘Fantastic! Lois, did you hear that? Jack won a stack on Big Brutus.’
Lois didn’t hear a thing. She was too busy hugging everyone within hugging distance. It suddenly crossed Courtney’s mind that Katrina was probably watching all this hoo-ha from somewhere in the crowded stand. With that thought in mind, she launched herself up on tiptoe and kissed Jack full on the mouth.
For a second or two, she thought he was going to spoil everything and push her way.
But he didn’t do any such thing. He did just the opposite. He yanked her hard against him and kissed her back, kissed her with an incredibly explosive passion, kissed her till everything in her head was scattered to the four winds and there was nothing but his lips grinding against hers, his tongue deep in her mouth, and his hands burning hot through her clothes.
And then…then he pushed her away.
She gasped and stared up at him with startled eyes. He laughed softly, gathering her close again. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t resist.
Amazing…
‘Be careful what you start wanting, Courtney Cross,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Or you just might get it.’
Lois’s tapping Jack on the shoulder had him drawing back once more.
‘Hate to interrupt, folks,’ she said, giving a flushed Courtney a raised-eye glance. ‘But it’s time to go lead Big Brutus in. Would you like to do the honours, Courtney?’
Courtney snapped out of her highly uncharacteristic fluster to congratulate Lois on her brilliant training of Big Brutus, grateful for the opportunity to turn her mind from Jack’s kiss. She’d been dangerously turned on there for a while. And he’d known it.
Courtney never liked a man to think he had her at a disadvantage. She liked to call the shots in every aspect of her life. And that included her sex life.
‘You do realise you’re leading in a Melbourne Cup contender,’ Lois remarked happily as the three of them made their way downstairs.
The Melbourne Cup! Courtney had to admire Lois’s optimism. Admittedly, after today, she respected the woman’s judgement a good deal more. But Australia’s premier staying race over two miles was a big step up from today’s mediocre-class handicap.
‘You’ve actually entered him?’ Courtney asked, knowing that was not a cheap exercise in itself.
‘Your mother did.’
‘My God, wasn’t that just like her?’
‘Your mother knew what she was doing, Courtney. The horse has got a good chance. It’s a handicap race, remember? Big Brutus will get in with a very light weight. Of course, he’ll have to win one of the qualifying lead-up races to ensure him of a start. But he’ll do that easily, after today.’
‘Lord, don’t say things like that in front of Jack!’ Courtney exclaimed. ‘Or he’ll make Big Brutus favourite next time! He might even be tempted to take some of those ridiculous odds they give Melbourne Cup entries months in advance.’
It was three months till the big race itself took place, on the first Tuesday in November. A veritable lifetime in horse racing. A million things could happen to stop them even taking their place at the start!
And then there was the race itself. Twenty top stayers from all over the world vying for the biggest prize money on the Australian racing calendar, every owner trying, every jockey riding more recklessly and ruthlessly than usual.
‘Tell Jack not to waste his winnings, Lois,’ Courtney advised firmly. ‘Tell him to wait and see how things pan out.’
‘As long as Jack’s paying Big Brutus’s training fees,’ Lois said, ‘I’ll be telling him the truth as I see it. Big Brutus has a good chance in the Cup, Jack. Make no mistake about that. And I’ll get him to the post. Make no mistake about that, either. Your money could do worse than to ride round on such a noble animal’s back.’
Courtney rolled her eyes at Jack, who tactfully smothered his laughter.
They’d barely made it downstairs and out onto the grass when a tall, balding chap with a microphone grabbed Lois for an on-the-spot television interview.
Courtney hurried over to lead Big Brutus back into the number one gate, patting his sweaty neck and telling him what a good horse he was before remembering to congratulate the jockey on his brilliantly patient ride.
‘Just followed instructions,’ the jockey said. ‘Frankly, you could have knocked me over with a feather when he took off like he did. Never done that before. Still, now that he’s hit his straps, I think the big boy will go on to better things. I’d be very happy to have the ride on him again, no matter what race he starts in.’
‘What was the jockey saying to you?’ Jack asked on her eventually returning to his side.
‘He wants to ride Big Brutus, no matter what race he’s entered in.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I think you kiss very well.’ Couldn’t leave him thinking he’d really rattled her.
He shook his head, laughing. ‘You’re incorrigible, do you know that?’
‘Agnes tells me as much, practically every day.’
‘Who’s Agnes?’
‘She’s the housekeeper at Crosswinds. She’s also the woman who delivered me. Mum hired her when she was pregnant because of Agnes’s midwifery skills. She didn’t want any man attending to her, you see. Agnes helped raise me, too. But she gave up when I was around seven. They say that’s the age of reason. Agnes claims seven was the age of my becoming unreasonable.’
‘Perceptive woman, this Agnes.’
‘Really!’
‘Well, you do suffer from a serious lack of discipline and self-control. One day someone is going to have to take you in hand.’
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