Page 24 of Winner Takes All

Her eyes flashed, and her mouth fell open, stunned. The joy that had pulsed from her only heartbeats before extinguished in a flash, and he recognized the disbelieving and anguished look that gripped her beautiful face. Because he felt the same pain in his own gut.

It was the agony of a dream vanishing like smoke.

Frankie stared at him, her body numb and her heart bleeding. He’d shattered it like glass, and the shards had cut through her with breathtaking pain. She turned her back to him to hide her tears. Through the blurriness, she watched as Sam slowed Midnight to a canter and rode the colt in victory up and down the front stretch to the wild cheering of the crowd. Midnight pranced proudly, tossing his head and snorting at the turf—the conquering hero who knew he’d won. He knew he was the best horse to run that day. The crowd knew it, too, all of them on their feet and cheering, including the other owners.

They all surely thought her tears came from happiness.

“Francesca.” Pain filled his voice as he stepped up behind her. Even though she didn’t look at him, she could feel the desolation in him and the loss they shared. “We were never meant to be together.”

She didn’t believe that—refusedto believe it! She’d wanted a life with him for so long…How could she let go of that dream now, when it was almost within her grasp? Or let go ofhim, now that she knew how wonderful it was to be loved by him, how amazing to be a true part of his life?

“Papa said I’d be free to marry whomever I wanted, and I want to marry you,” she whispered. “He’s a man of his word.”

“He didn’t mean a penniless groom.”

“No!” She wheeled on him. “We’ll have the prize money and my dowry. It will be enough to pay off your debts, save the farm, keep the horses…”

The words died on her lips as she finally realized what he’d already understood. The prize money was only a temporary solution to free him from the most pressing of his debts, but there would be no dowry to provide for them long term, nothing to sustain them once the prize money was gone. Yes, her father was a man of his word, and he would let her marry whomever she wanted, including a horse trainer, whether he liked it or not. But he would never give her a dowry if she married anyone but the man he picked for her, and he wouldn’t pick Jackson Shaw.

“This is why I love you,” he said quietly, lowering his head to speak into her ear. He took her upper arms in his hands. Anyone watching would simply assume he was congratulating her on Midnight’s victory. They never would have spotted that her world had just been ripped apart.Dear God, how would she ever put it back together? How would she ever go on without him? “Because you never lose hope, because you always want to make the best happen. For everyone.” His voice cracked. “But this time, you can’t.”

“No,” she whispered, blinking rapidly as a second tear followed the first down her cheek. The agony was excruciating! “I won’t lose you.”

“You were meant for a better life than I’ll ever be able to give you.” He dropped his hands away from her and stepped back. “Make me happy by living the best life you can, free to live as you—”

The rest of his goodbye was lost beneath the sounds of hooves and fresh cheers as Midnight cantered back to her. The crowd surged forward and engulfed them. The gentlemen shouted offers to buy Midnight; the women cheered in admiration. They pressed in around her and pushed between her and Jack, whose eyes never left her even as he stepped back and disappeared into the crowd.

With a desperate cry from the back of her throat, she reached for him, only to grasp empty air. He was gone.

No—she couldn’t do it. She simplywouldn’tlive without him again!

“He’s not mine,” she announced hoarsely, but her voice was lost beneath the noise of the swarming crowd who continued to press in, to shout at her to gain her attention, to smother her—“The horse isn’t mine,” she tried again, more boldly. Then, clinging to one last hope, she cried out at the top of her lungs, “Midnight is not my horse!”

Those people around her went immediately still, their stares turning curious. Whispers began to replace the cheers and shouts as the crowd fell quiet.

“Midnight isn’t my horse,” she repeated the lie, desperate to make everyone believe her. “He’s owned by Jackson Shaw. Trained by him, too. The prize money belongs to him.”

The whispers turned into full-fledged exclamations of surprise, accusations of cheating, and calls for the officials. The crowd all turned toward Shaw for answers, and they parted just enough for Frankie to see him. A grim expression darkened his face. Like the others, he waited for her to continue, wondering what she would say next in explanation.

But then, so did she. Yet the only way was forward, into the lie that might just save them.

“Mr. Shaw bought Midnight from me as a foal. He purchased Midnight based only on the records of his dam and sire because he knows not just the best techniques for training a horse but also the importance of bloodlines.”

The crowed exchanged uncertain glances while Shaw coolly raised a brow at that whopper of a lie.Shewas the one who had bred and raised the colt, who had spent weeks researching the bloodlines and finding the right matches, all the way back to the Byerley Turk, the first of the great three stallions. But none of that mattered compared to finding a way to be with Shaw. And this was the only plan she had…wild, outrageous,desperate.

“He’s been training Midnight for the race, too, right alongside his colt Ghost, a fabulous horse in his own right. You all saw how the two battled it out today.”

The men in the crowd grudgingly nodded. Yet they weren’t quite won over.

“Mr. Shaw had a hand in the colt’s rearing, too, by giving specific instructions to my father’s grooms for how to raise and handle him until he was ready to race. And I’m sure,” she said, her mind whirling to find a way to interest the crowd in Shaw’s training services, “he could do the same for all of your stables, too, whether horses for racing or for giving your wives and daughters slow trots through Hyde Park.”

Both of his brows nearly shot off his head at that. But the crowd around him chuckled as they warmed up to the idea of hiring England’s best horseman to direct their own stables and train their horses. More whispers and quiet conversations rose among the crowd, but all of them now saw Shaw in a new light. Before, England had seen him as little more than a glorified groom. Now, they looked at him with the admiration and respect he deserved as the winner of the Derby.

But the man himself said nothing and patiently waited to see where in the world she was leading him.

“I pretended to own Midnight,” she explained, “so that the black colt could run a strong race against Mr. Shaw’s gray and show the world that he’d trained not just one champion but two—and today’s champion is one that he trained under a whole new system. A system that could work for your horses as well as it did for my father’s, and you all know how seriously my father takes his horses.” A deep breath burned in her lungs as she added, “So if you want to buy Midnight, then please direct your offers to Mr. Shaw, not to me.”

The fickle crowd ignored her now to surge around Shaw, pressing in and calling to get his attention. New offers for both colts were shouted out, each offer higher than the last in an attempt to outbid each other in the impromptu auction that had sprung up.