“It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yes, so it is, but Rohan deserves to be awakened. He should have given me my gift on speculation. He should have given me my gift because he knew I wouldn’t let you down again.”
The floor was icy beneath his bare feet. He grabbed his dressing gown and pulled it on. He fastened the belt tightly. “I want my gift now. What room are he and Susannah in?”
“The Blue Damson Room. Phillip, wait for me!”
Three minutes later, after a sharp knock on the door of the Blue Damson Room, Rohan awoke to see a candle shining toward him and Susannah. Something was wrong. Oh, God, what had happened? Wait, it was Phillip. What was going on? Sabrina was standing right behind him.
“Phillip, what’s going on? What are you and Sabrina doing in our bedchamber in the middle of the night? Susannah, no, love, it’s all right. It’s just Phillip and Sabrina. Doubtless they’ll tell us why they’re here at this particular moment in time.”
“I want my gift, Rohan. You said you brought me a gift.”
“Oh, that,” Rohan said and yawned. He straightened in the bed and scratched his belly. “Susannah, Phillip wakes us up in the middle of the night to get his gift. Should we give it to him?”
Susannah looked at him, then at Sabrina. “He pleased you?”
“Oh yes, please give him his gift now.”
“If I haven’t squashed her,” Rohan said. “Where is she?”
“It’s true,” Phillip nearly shouted, running to the bed. “You brought me a racing kitten! I’ve wanted a racing cat since I was a little boy, but the Harker brothers never deemed me worthy of one. They always said I wasn’t responsible enough, that a true racer always needed commitment, just what they always said about you, Rohan, and they finally gave you Gilly’s son. Now I’ve got my own racing kitten to train and to teach.” He quickly set the candle down on the night stand, turned and hauled Sabrina up against him. He picked her up and whirled her around. “A racing kitten, Sabrina. Finally!”
“Let me find her, Phillip. Ah, here she is.” Susannah pulled a boneless kitten, still asleep, from beneath the covers. “She’s just nine weeks old. The Harker brothers say she’s ready to begin training. They’ve sent instructions. I wrote them down for you. You’re to swear to keep them confidential. You know how the Harker brothers are. Now, here she is.”
Phillip reverently took the tiny kitten from Susannah’s hands. It was black and white, soft as Sabrina’s skin just behind her knees. It opened its eyes and looked up at him, gold eyes unblinking. Phillip gently rubbed his finger beneath the kitten’s chin. “She’s wonderful. What shall we name her, Sabrina?”
Sabrina took the kitten and cuddled her against her breast. “Nothing sentimental. A racing cat doesn’t want to sound sentimental, no one would take her seriously. Let’s give her a grand name, one that calls forth great feats. Let’s name her Olympia.”
“Oh yes,” Phillip said, taking the kitten back. He kissed the small face, smoothed back the whiskers. “Olympia. That has a ring to it, doesn’t it? I’m already thinking of great feats. When we visit your grandfather in a couple of weeks, we’ll take Olympia with us. Your grandfather has an interest in racing cats. He knew all about the Mountvale trainers, about the cat races at the McCaultry Racetrack.”
Phillip, his wife, and his new racing kitten left the Blue Damson Room, Phillip whistling softly to the kitten.
Sabrina turned in the doorway. Both Rohan and Susannah were smiling toward her. “Thank you both. You’ve made him very happy.”
“It’s not even close, Sabrina,” Rohan said. “You’re at his center now. No, not even close.”
“Do you think, then, that he might carry me around and whistle to me?”
Sabrina left them laughing. Life was wonderful. Just wonderful.
Phillip said as he and Sabrina settled back into their bed, “I have both a wife and a racing kitten to train to become one of the top racing cats in all of England. I doubt building a dozen crenelated towers can get better than this.”
Sabrina rubbed her palm over his belly. “I wonder,” she said between nipping bits, “which you prefer, me or Olympia?”
“There’s no contest. Er, how fast do you think you can run, Sabrina?”
She fell asleep with laughter still in her heart, her head on Phillip’s shoulder, her nose nearly touching Olympia’s small outstretched paw, the kitten sprawled on his chest.
Epilogue
McCaultry Racetrack
N ear Eastbourne, two and a half years later
The crowd was shrieking. There were six racers, but only Gilly from Mountvale Mews and Olympia from Dinwitty stables were now in contention. Gilly was running his paws off to reach Jamie, who stood at the finish line, singing Gilly’s favorite limerick. Just behind Gilly, on the inside, ran Olympia, her long legs eating up the ground, her eyes focused on the Dinwitty strategy, namely, Cook from Dinwitty Manor, who was just standing at the finish line, beside the singing Jamie, her arms crossed over her massive bosom, calling out in a piercing voice that nearly drowned out Jamie, “Here, my sweetie. Here, my little kitty. Here’s your favorite—steak and smoked oyster pie. Just think of all those kidneys, diced up real nice and small, and the steak, in long thin strips, just as you like it, and the smoked oysters, that will have your tongue singing. Come to Cook, Olympia. That’s my darling, come to Cook.”
Then Cook pulled a packet out of her bosom, unwrapped it, and held up a long strip of steak. The odor wafted down the track. Olympia jumped a foot in the air, kicked dirt in Gilly’s face, and within seconds was across the finish line, the clear winner, bounding toward Cook and that strip of steak.