York, the Renegade

by Iris Johansen

  “Very sticky, I would say,” Deuce said dryly. He set his cup and saucer down on the counter. “I believe I suddenly remember duties elsewhere. I’ll see you both later.”

  “No, Deuce, it’s—” Sierra stopped. It was no use trying to keep Deuce as a bulwark against the confrontation to come. It would only be a cowardly postponement.

  Deuce paused at the door to meet her gaze. “A very dangerous gamble, Sierra,” he said. His glance suddenly flicked to York. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Rafe called this morning.”

  “Does he want me to call him back?”

  “No, he just told me to give you a message. He said he’d thought about your problem and worked out a solution. He was sending it by helicopter.” He glanced at his watch. “At ten this morning. That’s about thirty minutes from now. Do you want me to drive down and pick it up?”

  York shook his head. “I’ll do it myself. You’d better go down to the office and see if there’s anything important I should attend to.”

  “Right.”

  York turned to face Sierra as soon as he heard the front door close behind Deuce. “We have to talk.”

  “Why?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “I’m not obtuse. I know what you want to say.”

  “Do you?” He met her gaze at last and she was startled by the torment she saw there. “I don’t want to say it. Can’t you see that? All I want to do is pick you up and carry you back upstairs. I want to lock the door and keep you in bed for the next week.”

  “But that’s not what you’re going to do, is it?” she asked dully. “You’re going to tell me I have to go away.”

  “I can’t do that either. I’d go crazy wondering what was happening to you.” He shook his head wearily. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m the one who should go away. I could leave Deuce here to watch over you.”

  “No!” She set her cup down almost angrily. “This is your home. I won’t run you out of it. I’ll be the one—”

  “Dammit, Sierra, don’t you realize the situation has changed now? How can I let you leave after last night?” His eyes darkened. “I went crazy. I didn’t think of anything but loving you. I didn’t protect you. You could be carrying my child.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “I could, couldn’t I?” she whispered. She hadn’t thought of that. She felt a surge of heady joy rise within her. She might not be able to have York, but there was a possibility she could have this child. “I’ve always wanted a baby.”

  “Sierra …” York’s eyes were suddenly glowing with tenderness. “What am I going to do with you? Don’t you know that’s not the reaction a woman is supposed to have at the possibility of an illegitimate child?”

  “Isn’t it?” She smiled shakily. “But that’s how I feel. Don’t worry, York. No responsibility, no paternity suit, no ties. Last night was all my doing, and if there’s a child, that will be mine, too.”

  “The hell it will.” His mouth tightened grimly. “If you remember, I participated very actively in the procedure. It will be my baby. What kind of irresponsible idiot do you think I am?” He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “What am I saying? There may not even be a baby, but it’s a possibility we have to take into consideration. There’s one thing for sure, I’m not going to be able to stay around here until we know one way or the other.” He slowly reached out and touched her neck. She shivered and swayed toward him. “I’m aching. I want to take off your clothes and sit down on one of these kitchen chairs and have you around me so sweet and tight …” A shudder ran through him and he dropped his hands. “I won’t use you like that. We’ll have to work something out.” He turned away. “Think about it while I’m gone.”

  “You know there’s only one way of settling this,” she said sadly. “I thought I had the solution last night, but I was wrong. Now there’s only one way out.”

  “No.” His tone was as sharp as the glance he threw over his shoulder. “You’re not going away. We don’t even know if you’re well enough to withstand the rigors of pregnancy. I can’t let you go.” His eyes were glinting fiercely. “And so help me, if you try to run away, I’ll find you no matter where you hide.” He strode out of the kitchen, and a few moments later she heard the front door slam.

  Rafe’s “solution” was in the passenger seat of the Jeep when York roared into the driveway. From where she was sitting on the porch swing Sierra caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman in her early fifties with blazing red hair, and York’s dark set expression. She had to wait until York parked the Jeep and brought the woman around to the front porch to have her curiosity satisfied. The red hair was braided in a coronet that crowned a round face distinguished by a beaming smile and twinkling blue eyes. Her figure was also gently rounded and garbed in a simple dark blue dress.

  Sierra rose slowly as they walked up the porch steps, her gaze fixed inquiringly on York’s face.

  “Sierra, I’d like you to meet Kathleen Daley,” he said. “She’s come to Hell’s Bluff to act as a chaperon for us. Rafe was kind enough to deprive himself of her services to help us out in our time of need.” There was a thin thread of irony in his tone and Sierra quickly smothered a smile. “A favor I’ll have to be sure to return in kind.”

  Kathleen stepped forward eagerly with her hand outstretched. “What a pleasure, Miss Sierra.” A slight lilting brogue faintly flavored her words. “Don’t you worry. Now that I’m here, no one will dare raise an eyebrow to your staying here with Mr. York, or I’ll be taking a tomahawk to them.”

  “Thank you.” Sierra frowned in puzzlement as her hand was pumped briskly up and down. “That’s very kind of you, but—”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Kathleen said cheerfully. “I know Mr. York would never have hinted to Mr. Rafe how much he needed me if it hadn’t been important.” She gazed at York fondly. “He’s always been such a generous boy.” York was actually blushing, Sierra noticed with amusement.

  Exasperation as well as embarrassment caused York’s voice to roughen. “Kath, dammit, you make me sound—” He broke off as he met Kathleen’s affectionate gaze. Then he smiled and Sierra felt her own heart melt at the rare warmth that was now lighting his face. “We always, need you, Kath. You and Bridget keep the family running on an even keel.”

  Oh, Lord, Sierra thought. How was she ever going to get over loving him when he said things like that? Kindness and gentleness and beauty. Lover and warrior, father and brother. He was so many things, and all of them bright and wonderful.

  She could see that Kathleen felt it too. There was a slight tinge of pink in the housekeeper’s face as it softened even more. “I won’t disappoint you, Mr. York: I never have, have I?”

  He shook his head. “No, you never have, Kath. Now why don’t you go upstairs and rest? I’ll bring your suitcase right up.”

  Kathleen shook her head so hard, the coronet of braids quivered. “I’m not the least bit tired. As soon as I change my clothes, I’ll come down and start cooking you a nice roast for lunch.”

  York’s eyes widened in alarm. “No need for that. I wouldn’t think of imposing on you, Kath. I’ll just keep having the meals sent up from the dining hall. It’s enough that you came when I needed you.”

  “Nonsense. Acting as a chaperon is no job at all. I might as well keep myself busy while I’m here. Maybe I’ll make a tapioca pudding too. You’ve always liked my puddings.”

  York was turning a little pale. “Yes, I always did.” He cast Sierra a desperate glance. “But Sierra can’t stand pudding, can you, Sierra?”

  “What?” He was glaring at her with such men ace, she was having difficulty keeping a straight face. “Oh, no, I can’t say I really care for them.”

  Kathleen nodded. “No puddings. I’ll just have to make one for Mr. York some other time. I’ll make gingerbread instead. Do you like gingerbread, Miss Sierra?”

  “Just Sierra,” she corrected Kathleen. “And I like gingerbread very much.”

  Kathleen gazed at her for a th
oughtful moment. “No, I think it’s definitely Miss Sierra.” She smiled mysteriously. “It’s truly going to be a fine spring, isn’t it?” She didn’t wait for an answer but bustled into the house, humming softly beneath her breath.

  After the door had closed behind her Sierra turned to York. “How’s the gingerbread?”

  “Almost as bad as the tapioca. You should have blacklisted it along with the pudding.”

  She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have been plausible. Gingerbread is so … homey. Besides, I couldn’t imagine anyone making gingerbread inedible.”

  “You’ll see. I’ll call Deuce and tell him to stop by the dispensary and bring home some antacid pills.”

  “She can’t be that bad a cook,” Sierra said. “I like her.”

  “And I love her.” He smiled. “When we were kids, it was always Kathleen who played games and covered for us when we were in trouble. We’re all crazy about Kathleen.” Then he made a face. “But I swear the Spanish Inquisition could have used her. One bite of her gingerbread and a victim would have confessed anything to avoid another one.”

  Sierra laughed. “I gather we’re all on a diet.”

  He started to nod, then stopped. “Not you. You need good square meals. I’ll have Deuce smuggle you in something.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I won’t be here that long. Kathleen’s arrival doesn’t really change anything, York.”

  “Oh, yes, it does.” His voice was determined. “I’m not at all sure Rafe’s intentions were benevolent, but for once his prank is going to pay dividends. As a chaperon, Kathleen is totally formidable. There’s no question I’ll be allowed within a mile of your bed while she’s on the premises. If you’ll agree to remain here until we know whether or not there’s going to be a child, I’ll stay too. Please, Sierra, it means a hell of a lot to me.”

  He was so dear, she thought as emotion tightened her throat. She didn’t want to leave him. Perhaps, if she gave it a little more time, there might still be hope of him accepting what they could have together. “All right,” she said. “I’ll stay.”

  His breath released in a little burst of relief. He reached out to caress the soft hair at her temple. “Thank you. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible.”

  When she tried to smile, she found her lips were trembling. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to avoid Kathleen’s cooking?”

  His fingertips followed one pointed strand to her cheekbone. “Oh, yes, I’m very sure.” His eyes were suspiciously bright. “Seeing you would be much more dangerous than Kath’s worst effort. A bellyache doesn’t have a patch on a heartache. Take it from one who knows.” His hand fell away from her cheek. “I’d better get out of here. I’m beginning to feel my willpower sliding into a bottomless pit. I’m going down to the office. Tell Kath I’ll be back for supper.”

  She followed him to the edge of the porch. He glanced back at her as he went down the stairs. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice was rough with feeling. “Can’t you see I’m doing what’s best for you? Isn’t it better I leave you now than later?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She could only look at him and love him and try to still the hurt.

  His own eyes were dark with pain. Then, with a muttered curse, he tore his gaze away and strode around the house to the Jeep.

  Nine

  Four nights later a shrill sound broke the stillness inside the house. It was so piercing it startled Sierra from the depths of sleep. She sat bolt upright and fumbled for the switch on the lamp beside her bed. The terrifying noise was cut off abruptly, then she heard voices in the corridor.

  She jumped out of bed, grabbed her robe, and threw open the bedroom door. York was already barreling down the stairs, his shirttail out and his hair still mussed from sleep.

  Deuce garbed only in a wine-colored brocade robe, was standing in the doorway of his room. “Where’s the trouble, York?” he asked.

  “Shamrock,” York called over his shoulder. “Call the heliport and tell them to have the copter ready for me when I get there.”

  “Right.”

  Kathleen joined Deuce in the hall as the front door slammed behind York. Her red hair was tumbling wildly about her shoulders. “Mr. Rafe?” She clutched the collar of her flowered cotton duster nervously. “What kind of trouble?”

  “We don’t know yet. York will call us as soon as he gets to the ranch.” Deuce was halfway down the stairs on his way to the study.

  Sierra shook her head dazedly. “What’s happening?”

  “The alarm went off.” Kathleen licked her lips nervously. “It means trouble.”

  “What alarm?”

  “The Delaney properties are linked by a special security system. When there’s a problem at the ranch, Delaney Tower, Killara, or Hell’s Bluff an alarm goes off automatically at the other places.”

  “Perhaps it’s a false alarm,” Sierra said. Kathleen was so frightened, she was beginning to be frightened herself. “I’ve heard that happens sometimes.”

  Kathleen shook her head. “No, the alarm goes off first at the trouble spot. There’s a five-minute grace period for it to be canceled before the alarm rings at the other places. Mr. Rafe didn’t cancel it, and that means it’s no false alarm. He needs help. There’s some danger at Shamrock.”

  Danger. There was danger, and York was walking right into it. Icy fear clawed at her. She had a sudden desire to rush after him and make him take her with him. She wanted to shelter him from that danger. She knew she couldn’t do that. It was too late. He would probably be boarding the helicopter any minute now. Deuce was right. York would surely call as soon as possible. Oh, Lord, she hoped he, would remember to call.

  She turned to Kathleen and gave her a quick hug. “Go back to bed. It’s still the middle of the night. York and Burke won’t let anything happen to Rafe. They look out for each other, remember?”

  Kathleen shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep now.”

  Sierra knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep either. “Then let’s go down to the study with Deuce and wait. I don’t think any of us are going to get any more rest until we get that call.”

  The phone call didn’t come until just after sunrise. Deuce leaped for the receiver with an alacrity that belied his usual sangfroid. He listened for a moment, then murmured a quiet good-bye. He turned immediately to Kathleen and Sierra who were tensely waiting. “It’s okay. It was a fire. Quite a bad one evidently, but no injuries. York will be back later this morning and let us know the details.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Kathleen murmured.

  Sierra wanted to echo the words. She felt limp with relief. “He’s all right?”

  “Everyone is all right,” Deuce said gently. “Now I suggest the three of us adjourn to our separate chambers and get some sleep.”

  Sierra stood up. “Yes.” She doubted if she’d sleep, but she couldn’t stay here. She felt too raw and vulnerable. The hours of fear and tension had stripped her of all protective barriers. Only the love and pain were left. She walked swiftly toward the door, wanting only to escape. “Good night. I mean, good morning.” She almost ran from the room.

  Kathleen looked up with a bright smile as Sierra entered the library. “You slept late this morning,” she said. “That’s real good, Miss Sierra. I was afraid you’d be too upset to rest properly after all that hullabaloo. I haven’t liked those circles beneath your eyes one bit.”

  “I guess I’ve been bothered by insomnia. It’s probably a reaction to all those vitamin pills I’ve been taking.”

  Sierra dropped into the brass-studded leather easy chair and watched idly as Kathleen whisked about the room with a feather duster. It was really amazing, Sierra thought. She always felt as if she were watching a segment of Ripley’s Believe It or Not! when she observed Kathleen clean house. No matter how assiduously Kathleen appeared to apply herself, the dirt remained untouched when she had finished. The phenomenon reminded Sierra of the character Pig Pen in
the Charlie Brown cartoon.

  “I’d probably sleep a good deal better,” she said, “if you’d let me help around the house.”

  Kathleen shook her head. “It wouldn’t be proper. Besides, you need all your strength. You hardly eat more than a bite or two at meals. It’s a good thing I came when I did or you’d have gone straight downhill.”

  Sierra glanced hurriedly away. “Yes, you came just in the nick of time. But I never eat much even when I’m well. Has York come back from Shamrock?”

  “No.” Kathleen ran the duster over the mantel clock. “But I’m sure he’ll be back any time now.” She wrinkled her nose. “Providing the three of them don’t get to palavering. They’re all so busy running their own share of the business, sometimes they get a little carried away when they do manage to get to see each other.”

  The three musketeers,” Sierra said flippantly. She doubted if York would be in any great hurry to get back. Since Kathleen had, arrived, he had tried to avoid her at every turn. There were times when she had even been grateful for his absence. The sexual and emotional tension when they were together was almost as unbearable as not seeing him at all.

  “Yes, thank the good Lord,” Kathleen said softly. “They were always close as boys, but it was different then. Now Mr. York can walk beside his brothers instead of trailing along behind.”

  “I can’t imagine York trailing behind anyone.”

  “Neither could he. That was why it was so difficult for everyone. He loved Killara and the family with everything that was in him, and he wanted to belong in the same way Mr. Rafe and Mr. Burke did. It took him a long time to come to terms with his illness and realize he couldn’t keep up with them.”

  “His childhood must have been a horror.” Sierra shivered. “Children don’t really understand death, but he still must have felt the stress surrounding him.”