My Heart's Desire

by Jo Goodman

  Rennie's eyes widened at the heap of food. She held up both hands, shaking her head. "I couldn't possibly eat that much."

  "I don't expect you could," Mrs. Cavanaugh said briskly. "That's why there's tea in the pot and two warm muffins in the oven. This is for Mr. Sullivan."

  Rennie had no difficulty reading the cook's emphatic nod and smile. Both clearly said, "So there." Dumbfounded, she watched Mrs. Cavanaugh march out of the kitchen.

  * * *

  Jarret slid the Chronicle aside when Mrs. Cavanaugh entered the dining room. His reaction was similar to Rennie's when he saw the portions prepared for him. "I think you've overestimated my appetite just a bit," he told her.

  "Sure, and go on with you," she said, setting down the tray. "Can't imagine a man like you not needin' something after the night you had."

  Jarret opened his napkin and laid it across his lap. Under Mrs. Cavanaugh's watchful eye he tucked into the food she set before him.

  "Exactly what sort of night was it?" Rennie asked from the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed hotly, and her hands were balled into fists at her side. "What have you told Mrs. Cavanaugh?"

  Jarret rose briefly, indicated the chair at the corner to his right, and continued eating. Glancing worriedly between Jarret and Rennie, Mrs. Cavanaugh eased herself out of the room. Rennie thrust white-knuckled fists into the pockets of her dove gray day dress.

  "She was going to send her husband for the police," Rennie said. Her voice did not sound completely her own. It was brittle with the strength of her anger. She was hardly aware that her feelings were oddly misplaced, not directed at Mrs. Cavanaugh at all, but at Jarret.

  "Perhaps she has," Jarret said carelessly. His eyes wandered to the folded newspaper beside his plate. He began to read a crisply told account of a murder in the Bowery.

  Rennie approached the table. "Stop that. You know very well you're only pretending to read to avoid my questions."

  Preoccupied, it was a moment before Jarret looked up. "I'm sorry. You were saying..."

  "You're doing this on purpose," she said, her eyes accusing. "No one can be this aggravating except by design."

  Jarret considered that. "Really? I find it works as a general guiding principle."

  Rennie kicked out the chair beside him and sat down heavily. Her hands came out of her pockets and gripped the gracefully curved armrests. There was some small part of her that recognized she was not fighting him as much as she was fighting the urge to laugh. Conflicting emotion did not set well with Rennie. She liked having things clearly delineated, ordered and catalogued. Amusement and anger did not belong in the same file.

  "What did you tell Mrs. Cavanaugh?" she asked again.

  "The truth." Jarret offered her a strip of crisp bacon. "Get yourself a plate and join me."

  Rennie took the bacon but shook her head at his suggestion. "What sort of truth?" she asked.

  "Are there different sorts? That's a rather ponderous, philosophical question, isn't it?" He raised his mug of coffee, held it between his palms, and gave a good account of himself as a man in deep contemplation.

  Rennie quelled the urge to tip hot coffee all over his chest. "I'm losing patience with you, Mr. Sullivan."

  He nodded. "Then, we're on equal footing." He sipped his coffee, placed the mug down, and speared some eggs. "I told Mrs. Cavanaugh exactly what happened here last night, no more, no less. Interestingly enough, shortly after three this morning she and her husband were awakened by dogs barking all over the neighborhood. Her experience only reinforced what I was telling her. She understands perfectly why I was forced to... to..." He paused. A glimmer of a smile came and went across his face. "To truss you like a Christmas goose, I believe is what she said."

  Rennie snapped off a piece of bacon with her teeth and glared hard at Jarret. "You must have enjoyed hearing that."

  "It was an interesting point. I had likened the experience to calf roping, you see, so I appreciated hearing Mrs. Cavanaugh's perspective."

  She was thankful she had already swallowed because surely she would have choked. "I want to see Hollis today," she said in flat, no-nonsense accents. "Can that be arranged?"

  "I said I would do it, didn't I?"

  "I hardly know you well enough to say if you're a man of your word."

  All vestige of humor left him. The brilliant sapphire eyes darkened and grew cold. The lines of his face became more defined, the set of his features gravely serious. The only movement was a faint working of his jaw. "I think you're lying, Miss Dennehy. The one thing you know for sure about me is I'm a man of my word." He looked at her for a moment longer, spearing her with his glance; then he said quietly, "Now, if you'll excuse me."

  When he didn't move, but began to eat again, Rennie realized she had been dismissed. Her mouth parted, closed. She was too stunned to respond. Jerking upright, she pushed her chair away from the table and sought the refuge of her own room.

  Rennie couldn't concentrate on the book she had chosen to read. Her thoughts invariably swung back to Jarret's comment in the dining room. His tone had almost been threatening, as if he dared her to take exception to what he said. Alone in her room, curled like a young child in the large, comfortable armchair, Rennie felt now that she hadn't accepted the challenge inherent in Jarret's voice, but run away from it.

  How was she supposed to know he was the sort of man who could be counted on to keep promises? Based on what facts? He'd never made any commitment to her. The man was a bounty hunter. If that didn't indicate someone with a mile-wide streak of independence and no conscience, she didn't know what did. So what if he was temporarily a federal deputy? He probably hadn't even taken an oath. He wasn't bound by any promises that she could see.

  He owed her sister the benefit of his protection, not...

  Rennie closed the book slowly. In less than twenty-four hours of making her acquaintance, Jarret Sullivan had stopped her wedding, dogged her footsteps from the courthouse to her home, chased her across three Manhattan blocks in the middle of the night, and tied her to his bed.

  Putting down the book, Rennie stood. She smoothed the folds of her gown over her hips, secured an errant tendril of hair behind her ear, and went back downstairs to make her peace with Jarret.

  He was in the front parlor, slouched in a wide chair, one leg resting negligently over the arm, the other hooked across a footstool. When he saw Rennie he straightened, stood.

  She motioned him to sit down again. "You looked as if you were deep in thought," she said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

  Since he'd been thinking of her and the bent of his thoughts had been disturbing, it seemed to Jarret that it didn't matter what her intention was. He ran his fingers through the crown of his dark blond hair as he sat down. "Mr. Cavanaugh has already been sent 'round to fetch your fiancé."

  Rennie's slender hand traced the curved back of the sofa as she passed behind it. "I didn't come here about that, but thank you. I appreciate the opportunity to speak to Hollis." She rounded the corner of the sofa, hesitated, and then sat down. When she looked at Jarret she realized he was not watching her expectantly as she might have hoped, but suspiciously. She felt a flash of irritation. "Actually, I came to release you from your promise."

  One of his brows lifted. "Oh?"

  "Yes," she went on hurriedly. "Your promise to protect me. That's it, isn't it? Why I'm supposed to know you're a man of your word, I mean. You've sworn to protect me, and you have... you are." She waited, thinking he might say something. His handsome features remained impassive. "It's admirable, really. I should have seen that earlier. Instead I've been caught up in the interference of it all. I've been thinking that we should talk about this calmly and entertain the notion of compromise. To that end, I'm prepared to release you from your promise."

  "I see."

  She smiled encouragingly. "You do? Well, that's a start."

  He shook his head. "No. It's an end. It's not a promise I made to you, Miss Dennehy, but one I made first to Eth
an, then your father, then your sister. It's a sworn duty I took when I was made Ethan's deputy. I'm not going anywhere."

  "But I don't want you around here!"

  "I know," he said quietly. "Have you asked yourself why?"

  She stiffened as she heard the challenge return to his voice, gentle this time, probing. "I... you..."

  "Yes?"

  Rennie stood, agitated now. On the surface his words were quite clear, easily understood, yet there was an undercurrent between them that hinted of something not so simply defined. Her eyes widened slightly, caught and held by his as he rose from the chair and approached her. Rennie suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Her heart was beating too loudly; her fingers twisted the fabric of her gown. She wanted to take a step back. Instead, she held her ground.

  When Jarret's face was above her, his chest just a hard heartbeat from hers, he stopped. "I could tell you why you don't like it," he said. "But you wouldn't believe me. I could show you, but the promise I made, the one you think you don't understand, won't let me."

  Rennie's shake of her head was barely perceptible. Her eyes never left his. Her voice was a whisper. "You're speaking in riddles."

  "I don't think so." His head lowered a fraction. He was close enough to feel Rennie's breath catch. For the briefest moment his eyes dropped to her mouth.

  Then he abruptly stepped away. "You have company, Miss Dennehy," he said pleasantly, as if the husky menace in his voice had never been. "Your fiancé's come calling."

  Rennie felt as if she'd been tumbling down a deep, dark well, only to be snatched up by the same person who had pushed her over the ledge. "You are a son of a bitch, Mr. Sullivan."

  Jarret's slight smile was his only acknowledgment.

  Brushing past him, Rennie gathered the pieces of her shattered self-confidence and went to meet Hollis in the entrance hall. How was it Jarret had heard his arrival when she hadn't heard anything above the slamming of her own heart?

  Hollis was giving Mr. Cavanaugh his coat. The older man slipped away as Rennie extended her arms to her fiancé.

  "Rennie!" Drawing her in his embrace, Hollis held her tightly. "God, I was glad to hear from you! I read the papers this morning... I didn't know what to think. I was certain there'd be some mention of Nate Houston and our aborted wedding."

  Rennie drew back; her feathered brows were fiercely knit. "You read the paper to see if our wedding fiasco was mentioned?" she asked, appalled. "It's after ten! Didn't it occur to you to come here on your own? To see if I was all right, to find out for yourself what was going on?"

  Hollis's hands rested on Rennie's shoulders. His palms slid down her arms until he cupped her wrists. He gave her a small, patronizing shake. "Rennie, Rennie. What's happened? You're acting completely out of character." He tried to lead her into the parlor, but she pulled out of his light grasp. He saw her wince and looked down at her wrists. The bruising just below the cuffs of her gown was clearly visible. "Did I just do that?" he asked.

  Tears sprang immediately to Rennie's widely spaced emerald eyes. Hollis's figure shimmered in front of her. That he could demonstrate such concern and fear of his own strength moved Rennie deeply. After a moment she allowed herself to be enfolded against his wide chest and powerful shoulders. This bear of a man, with his husky frame and broad, appealing face, could be fierce and threatening when he was challenged, but he would never hurt her.

  Hollis patted her lightly on the back of the head, satisfied that his world had been righted again. He urged her gently into the parlor, eased her onto the sofa, and poured her a small glass of sherry.

  "It's too early for that," she said, when he handed the glass to her.

  "Nonsense. It will calm your nerves."

  He sat down beside her, aware that Rennie's misty eyes were darting around the room. "Are you looking for something?" he asked.

  Rennie laughed weakly, mostly out of relief that Jarret Sullivan wasn't lurking somewhere in the parlor. "No, it's nothing. May I borrow your handkerchief?"

  It was a source of some annoyance to Hollis that Rennie never seemed to have her own. Under the circumstances he thought it better not to hint at it again. "Certainly," he said, passing it along. She wiped her eyes and tucked it under the cuff of her sleeve. Hollis knew he would never see it again. "Tell me what's going on. Mr. Cavanaugh said only that you wanted to see me. I couldn't even get him to tell me how you were."

  "I'm fine, Hollis." She sipped her sherry. "Perhaps a little confused. More than a little actually. I don't know what happened yesterday. Why did you agree to call off the wedding?"

  Hollis looked properly affronted. His brows, the same dark chocolate shade as his eyes, rose imperiously. "Who told you I agreed? It took the point of a gun to make me see that Houston meant to stop the ceremony." He lifted Rennie's hand to the back of his head. The lump was still very much in evidence. "I suppose I'm fortunate that's all he did to me. The man had murder on his mind."

  "He clubbed you with his gun?" she asked.

  "You don't think our wedding could have been called off for less, do you?"

  "I didn't know what to think. No one told me anything. I fainted at the church. Twice. I know, I can hardly believe it myself."

  "You shouldn't have had to face Nate Houston without me," Hollis said.

  Rennie frowned. "That's the third time you mentioned Houston. He's not here. At least not that anyone knows for certain. It was Mr. Sullivan who knocked you out. Papa paid him ten thousand dollars to stop our marriage."

  "Ten thousand!" Hollis's face flushed with ruddy color. "What do you mean the man wasn't Nate Houston. That's who he said he was."

  Rennie sighed. Quite a lot was becoming clear to her. Jarret had intimidated Hollis, a man who was not easily threatened, not by wearing a gun, but by wearing the reputation of another man. She finished her drink and placed the glass on a doily on the end table. "His name is Mr. Jarret Sullivan. He's a deputy to Ethan Stone. You know, the marshal who saved Michael's life?"

  "Who fathered Michael's baby," he said.

  Rennie chose to ignore his self-righteous and rather priggish tone. "Mr. Sullivan traveled east with Marshal Stone to find Houston and Dee Kelly. His plans were altered slightly when Papa informed him Michael had a twin. He got the job of protecting me by default."

  "That should be my job."

  "My sentiments exactly. And it would have been if not for Jay Mac's interference."

  Hollis shook his head. "I don't understand your father. He receives my work very well, values my judgment and my contributions, treats me as he might a son. Why in the world wouldn't he want me to marry his daughter?"

  "He's got it into his mind that you're not right for me," Rennie said. She was not going to insult Hollis with an accusation that he was after her money. "And you know Jay Mac. He's not likely to change his mind any time soon. We can wait him out or plunge ahead on our own." She looked at Hollis expectantly.

  "Plunge ahead," he said without hesitation. His response coaxed forward one of Rennie's rare and beautiful smiles. It softened her taut and anxious features. It also disappeared at his next words. "In due time."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Rennie, be serious. From what I can tell your family's not even around."

  "Michael and Mary Francis are still in town. Papa's taken everyone else to the country."

  "And that's how you want to marry? Behind his back, as if we were undertaking a crime?"

  "No, but..."

  "Then there are my parents to think of. You know I'd have been here before if it weren't for them. Mother's taken to her bed with a migraine and Father's nearly apoplectic. They were very embarrassed by yesterday's uproar, to say nothing of frightened."

  Rennie bowed her head, humiliatingly aware of the extent of her own selfishness. "I'm sorry, Hollis, it's just that I..."

  "I know," he said earnestly. "I want to be married, too. My feelings for you haven't changed. You believe that, don't you?"

  She searched
his face. There was no denying he was an attractive man, but Rennie was looking for something beyond the handsome cut of his features. She wanted steadiness and reliability. It didn't matter that he didn't stop her heart. She wasn't marrying for love, and she suspected that Hollis wasn't either. "I believe you," she said softly.

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Rennie turned so that his lips touched hers. She closed her eyes as Hollis accepted her mouth. He increased the pressure in slow increments, easing his lips over hers. One of his hands slid to the small of her back, supporting her as her arms came around his neck. Her mouth opened under his. She felt his mustache and side-whiskers abrade her skin. It was not unpleasant.

  "Forgive me."

  Rennie thought at first it was Hollis who was apologizing. Then her mind registered the tone and nuance of that voice. Although Hollis pulled away immediately, Rennie was purposely slow to let her arms fall from his neck. She glanced over her shoulder to the open doorway. "Hollis, this is Mr. Sullivan. Don't let his lazy smile bemuse you. That he's here at this moment proves he has the timing of a Swiss watch."

  Jarret sauntered into the room and held out his hand to Hollis. "Mr. Banks. Good to see you again. You look none the worse for your encounter with Nate Houston."

  Hollis saw no humor in the observation. He remained seated and ignored Jarret's hand. "You should have told me who you were."

  Jarret's brows rose slightly. "I thought I did. In fact, it seemed to me..." He trailed off as Rennie's eyes became more anxious. What was fair? he wondered. Should he give Rennie every detail of his conversation with her fiancé, or should he allow Hollis to shade the encounter with his own particular version of the truth? Hollis had wanted to believe Jarret was Nate Houston to make his surrender less distasteful to Rennie.

  "Yes?" Rennie asked, prompting him to continue.

  "Nothing."