Page 23 of Winner Takes All

“Shaw’s behind in payments, of course, and has more loans out to his creditors than he has income coming in. So far they’ve all trusted in his skills and given him credit, but he can’t sustain it much longer. He needs to win on the nose and claim the prize purse. Otherwise, he’ll have to sell his horses and let the farm go to his creditors.”

She stared at Jonas, trying to comprehend through a wash of cold dread what he was telling her. “But how—how can that—”

The start signal came. On a high platform beside the track, the official dropped his flag, and the dozen horses leapt forward with great, powerful thrusts of their hind legs. A deafening cheer roared from the crowd.

Alarm flashed through her. Holding her breath, she rushed to the front of the box and gripped the wooden railing so hard that her fingertips turned white. Shaw couldn’t have done what she suspected— It was may the best horse win, they’d agreed! But as the seconds ticked off and the horses’ long strides ate up the turf beneath their thundering hooves, their two horses pulled away from the rest of the field with Ghost always half a length behind Midnight, and she knew…God help her,she knew—

Shaw had told his jockey to lose.

Chapter Eight

Shaw stood shoulder to shoulder with Paddy at the rail. Neither man said anything as they watched the field of horses sweep into the first turn. A spry chestnut filly owned by the Duke of Portland made a move on the inside, only for Ghost to box her in behind Midnight. By the time they reached the back stretch, the chestnut had faded and joined the rest of the field to battle for third place.

This was a two-horse race, and he knew which colt would win.

Today couldn’t end any other way. He’d never be so selfish as to destroy Frankie’s chance to choose the life she wanted. He loved her. He would sacrifice everything for her happiness, including his own dream.

As the horses turned into the second corner, the crowd jumped to its feet to watch the two horses battle it out. Benny was a good jockey, and as they rounded into the backstretch, he let the gray move ahead by less than a length, just to keep pressing the black colt into giving its best effort. Just to prove to both himself and Shaw that Ghost was capable of winning.

“What did you do?” An angry voice seethed from beside him. Even angrier fingers clenched into his arm so hard that he wondered if she meant to draw blood beneath her nails.

“Go back to the owner’s box,” he ordered emotionlessly, as if he were still in charge, as if it were any other morning and they were simply putting the horses through their paces.

“The devil I will! Signal to him—tell Benny to let Ghost have his head.”

He didn’t pretend that he didn’t know what she meant. Or why. He would never insult her intelligence. Instead, he remained still as the horses thundered out of the backstretch and into the far turn.

“I know, Jack—Iknowabout the farm and why you need the prize money.” Her voice strangled in her throat on the desperate plea. “Let Ghost win.”

“No.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched the horses pass the mile marker and enter the last half mile of the race. But he also saw her stricken expression, her blue eyes and pink lips in stark contrast to the pallor gripping her beautiful face. Around them, thousands of people in the crowd cheered at the tops of their lungs, the men waving their hats in the air and the women jumping up and down with excitement.

“For God’s sake,” she cried out, “why not?”

Finally, he looked down at her, and for a breathless moment, time froze. There was no race, no farm to worry over, no viscount father to appease—there was only Francesca, with the light breeze stirring the dark tendrils of her hair against her neck and cheeks, only the brightness of her eyes that shone with as much energy as the horses flying toward them on the track. Wild. Untamed. Free.

He would give his life to keep her that way.

“Because I love you,” he said quietly beneath the thunder of hooves and the roar of the crowd. “Enough to set you free.”

Her eyes widened, and she met his gaze with tears shining like diamonds in their sapphire depths.

“I don’t want to be free.” Her hand slid down his arm to clasp his hand, her fingers entwining with his. “I want you.”

“You can’t have me,” he rasped out hoarsely.

Yet he surrendered with a sag of his shoulders as the horses turned the last corner and started into the front stretch. He leaned over the railing and waved his arm in the air to signal to Benny to give Ghost his head and run full out, to make an honest race of it.

The horses rushed past with a cloud of turf flying from their hooves as they pounded toward the finish line. Both jockeys rode low in their saddles and urged on their mounts with shouts and slaps of their crops. They raced neck and neck, a gray and black blur of speed and power that surged past the grandstand and sprinted past the finishing post. Shaw held his breath, waiting for the race official to signal—

A cheer went up from the crowd as a tear slipped down Frankie’s cheek. The sight broke Shaw’s heart.

Midnight had won by less than half a length.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Your farm, the horses…I’m so—” She abruptly cut herself off, and hope lit her face. “No, I’m not.” She clutched his hand tightly, as if never wanting to let go. “I’mnotsorry, do you understand? Because I want to marry you. That’s who I’m picking with this win. I’m pickingyou.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Marry me, Jack.”

The hope on her face burned into him like a firebrand, and he flinched, the pain unbearable. Needing to cauterize the wound she’d unwittingly sliced into his heart, he choked out, “No, I won’t.”