Jade did not move when he finally rolled away from her. The air against her exposed skin was cold. She shivered. Thankful for the darkness, she kept her eyes closed, unwilling to look at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. She heard him get up, listened to the sound of his footsteps as he left her there with her dress up about her waist, the bodice rent and torn.
He was moving about in the dressing room, stripping clothing off of hangers, slamming doors. Finally, she heard the outer door close behind him and his footsteps recede down the hallway.
Jade levered herself up and sat dazed, trying to see through the darkness. She did not hear him anymore. He was indeed gone. Reaching out, she used the footboard of the bed to pull herself up. Her skirt fell into place around her ankles. Sticky moisture clung to her thighs; she wanted it off. Like a sleepwalker, she felt her way into the dressing room. There was a small lamp on the washstand inside, and she soon found matches in a small case beside it. She lit the lamp and turned the wick down low. Only then, in the weak lamplight, did she dare to look at herself in the mirror. As if they were chiding her, the emeralds winked back at her. She’d been a fool to think her love would win him over.
Her hair stood out like a madwoman’s about her head and shoulders, the unruly curls protesting Jason’s careless treatment. She found a washcloth and poured tepid water out of the pitcher into a matching washbowl. Jade pressed the rag against her flushed face, her neck, then stripped away her dress and threw it into the corner. She untied the pantaloons and let them fall. Before she took off her stockings she washed herself, gingerly applying the wash cloth to her thighs and the tender, throbbing area between them. She rinsed the cloth in the bowl and could not help but notice that the water was soon tinged pink from her virgin’s blood.
Her valise was still downstairs, but her other things were nowhere in sight. She pulled a man’s silk gown from the closet and wrapped herself in it. The silk was smooth and cool against her overheated skin. Her fingers trembled as she took off the earrings and necklace Jason had given her. With a last glimpse in the mirror, she noted the disbelief in the dull eyes that stared back at her. There was nothing she could do tonight. It was well past midnight. Tomorrow would be soon enough for her to confront the furious stranger she had married.
J.T. LAY IN BED IN a darkened room down the hall, his eyes covered by the crook of his arm. He couldn’t get Jade out of his mind.
He would not blame her if she had left, but he had not heard her go. Nor did he expect it of her tonight—it was too late for her to set out alone.
Since sleep was impossible, he spent an hour listening intently to be certain she did not try anything as stupid as leaving in the dark. Finally, when the house was so still that all he could hear was his own heartbeat, he worried that she might somehow have eluded him after all. He rose, naked, and crept down the hall.
At the door to the master suite, he paused and listened, but heard nothing. He pushed the door open and silently stepped inside. As he drew near the bed, he could barely make out Jade’s silhouette beneath the bedclothes. She was curled on her side, her legs drawn up protectively, and much to his chagrin, she was sleeping.
Well, why not? He shrugged. She had everything she wanted. She had gotten him to marry her without having to crook her little finger. Now, because of his unbridled lust, their marriage had even been consummated. She had every reason to sleep peacefully.
He grew hard just looking at her. Pushing aside any regret he was just beginning to feel for using her so callously, J.T. thought about her lost innocence. She had offered no resistance when he took her, which only led him to conclude that she was willing to submit in order to further entrap him.
The longer he watched her sleep—stood listening to her soft, even breathing, and breathed deeply of the orange blossom scent in the room—the more determined he became to hold Jade to her marriage vows. Why should he let her go now? After all, she had tricked him into this marriage. To release her from this bond would be far too easy on her. Theirs might be a loveless union, but at least he could make it convenient for himself. Marriage meant he could have Jade anytime he wanted her. Jason smiled a joyless, cynical smile.
The longer he stood and stared down at her lying there in his bed, the more he knew that there would be no divorce. No annulment.
Chapter Fourteen
It is easy to know men’s faces . . .
But not their hearts.
J.T. HAD NOT SLEPT all night. His eyes itched, his head ached. Seated on the side of the bed, he pulled on his boots and reached for his hat. He ran his hand along its crown before he put it on, and then walked over to the chair where he had tossed his saddlebags the night before.
The sun was up, but the day was gray and overcast, adding to the heaviness in his heart. He gave the room one last glance to be certain he had all of the things he would take with him to Monterey. Last night he had grabbed his pants, vest, and a clean shirt, and then shoved his razor, leather strop, and shaving soap into the saddlebag before he left the master suite. For a tense moment he thought he might have to go back, until he remembered that his duster was downstairs in the hall closet. He wanted to leave before Jade woke up.
The kitchen was cold and damp. He lit a fire in the stove and set some coffee on to boil before he went out to feed El Sol. When he returned from the stables, the coffee was ready. As he poured himself a steaming cupful, he heard a knock at the front door.
Coffee cup in hand, he went to answer it. Matt Van Buren stood on the doorstep. The man started to say hello, but stopped and stared at Jason intently.
“You look like hell. What’s wrong?” Matt asked.
“Come in.”
Matt followed Jason back to the kitchen. Still silent, Jason sat at the worktable in the middle of the room. Matt looked through the cupboards, found a cup, and poured himself some coffee. “Well?”
Jason shook his head. “I’d rather not talk about it, Matt. Not now.”
“Is Jade all right?”
“She’s asleep.”
Matt did not push for further explanation. Instead, he reached inside his coat and withdrew a bulky envelope. “Here’s the cash you wanted for the trip to Monterey.”
Jason’s tone was grim. “Thanks.”
“Jason, look, I know it’s none of my business but—”
J.T. couldn’t put what had happened into words. Even if he tried, he didn’t want to hear Matt say, “I told you so.”
“You’re right,” he said, pinning Matt with a chilling stare. “It isn’t any of your business.”
JADE SAT UP IN bed and pushed her hair away from her face. She pulled the edges of the silken robe together, threw back the covers, and stood, amazed to discover her legs were still able to support her. She had expected to feel worse.
Pausing to listen for some indication that Jason was up and about, she walked to the door and opened it as silently as possible. Jade walked down the hall, carefully opening and closing doors, but in each room all she saw was furniture draped with holland covers. The house was cold and damp; not a single fire was lit in any of the fireplaces. Although the rooms were huge and well appointed, there was a feeling of lifelessness about the place.
Near the end of the long hall she came to a door that was already open. Screwing up her courage, she glanced inside. The curtains were open, the bed unmade. Tentatively, she stepped over the threshold and peered around.
Jason was gone.
Relieved, she decided to slip downstairs. Before she faced him, she needed a strong cup of coffee.
Jade was halfway down the staircase when she heard Jason’s voice echoing in the foyer below. She recognized Matt Van Buren’s hushed tones, and wondered if Jason had already taken steps to end their marriage.
Tempted to run back to the safety of the suite, Jade paused in the middle of the staircase and h
eld her breath. Suddenly aware of her presence, Jason spun around and stared up at her.
Her heart contracted at the sight of him, but the first thing she noticed was that his stunning blue eyes were still shadowed with distrust and anger. She would have given anything at that moment to see him look at her the way he had before last night.
J.T. stared up at Jade and cursed himself because he wanted her more than ever. She looked warm and kissable—the way a woman should look in the morning. Her hair, a wild cape about her shoulders, demanded to be touched. Her lips were full, the lower one slightly bruised and pouting. The fact that he had done her that slight harm did little to ease his already strained composure. She had on the peacock blue silk robe he had seen hanging in his father’s closet. He watched her nervously push back the sleeves that hung to her fingertips. Her bare toes peeked out from beneath the hem. J.T. didn’t have to open the robe to know she wore nothing underneath, for the silk caressed every inch of her.
Matt cleared his throat and tried to slip away, but Jason stopped him. “I’m leaving for Monterey,” he said abruptly, his eyes on Jade. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve bought the horses I want.” His narrowed gaze preceded the ultimatum he then issued to her. “I’ll expect you to be here when I get back.”
Without waiting for her response, he turned to Matt. “See that my wife has whatever she wants. She earned it last night.” With that, he left them both to stare after him.
Jade was too humiliated to move as she held the robe closed at her throat. Matt coughed again uncomfortably and waited until they heard the back door slam, then walked to the bottom of the stairs and said, “There’s hot coffee in the kitchen. It looks like you need a cup.”
Attempting to smile, Jade felt her lips tremble and cursed her own weakness. “That would be fine,” she said as she made her way down the stairs.
The kitchen, at least, was warm and welcoming. When she was finally seated at the same table where she and Jason had shared lunch that first day, Matt stoked the fire in the stove, served her a cup of coffee, and then refilled his own.
“Now, maybe you should tell me what’s going on,” he said quietly.
Jade looked at the man seated across from her. His open expression told her that he, unlike Jason, was willing to listen. In many ways he reminded her of a schoolboy, with his unlined face, sandy hair, and thick spectacles. The way he wore his high, round collar added to his scholarly demeanor. He certainly lacked the aura of masculinity that Jason exuded.
She did not know this man at all, but he was her husband’s attorney. She had to talk to someone.
She started slowly, and over the next hour told Matt about her arrival in San Francisco, the details as she knew them about her father’s murder, and Babs’s plan for her to marry someone with money. As she explained how she had met Jason, how she was deserted by Babs at his front door, Jade could not help but realize how calculated it all sounded, even to her own ears. She went on to tell him that she had had no intention of marrying Jason at all. She told him of her attraction to J.T., the circumstances that led him to propose—which Matt said he already knew—and of how she had decided, even before the wedding, to turn her adobe and the Chinese collection over to the bank.
“I would have given over the adobe to pay the debts before the ceremony, but we had only one day to make all the preparations and there was simply no time,” she finished.
She leaned back in her chair and toyed with the handle of her cup, then said, “Matt, I looked forward to a new life with Jason. I was even growing excited about moving to New Mexico. Then, last night after the ceremony, Babs confessed that she was the one who sent the Chronicle reporter here to interview Jason. She knew the man would find out we had been together and that the scandal would push Jason into marriage. I don’t know how much of it Jason heard, but he most certainly didn’t hear my shock and objection. I was on the way to tell him what Babs had said, when he burst into the room and confronted me.
“He thinks I only married him for his money.” She leaned forward, desperate to have this man believe her. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“I’ll help in any way I can,” he said.
“I never expected you to believe me.”
“To be honest, neither did I. I even warned Jason away from you when he said he was going to propose. But I know Babs Barrett, and I know all about her hare-brained schemes. Besides, I’m a fairly good judge of character. It’s my job to know when someone is telling the truth. Now, what can I do?”
“I would like for you to deliver the deed to the Page adobe to Arnold Arvin at the Hibernia Bank. I’m hoping the land will help pay off some of my father’s debt. Tell him,” she added, drawing a shuddering breath, “tell him that I have decided against taking the collection back. They can keep that, too.” She thought of the jade pieces, the paintings, the everyday implements that were decorative in and of themselves. Each item had been painstakingly categorized and dated by her grandfather. He had held each of them lovingly in his hands; they were as much a part of Philo Page as they were of China. But the collection meant nothing to her now that it had cost her happiness and brought Jason’s distrust. “If that is not enough, please let me know, and I will find a way to get the rest of the money.”
When she leaned her forehead on her hands, her hair fell forward like a curtain about her face. She tried to shut out the pain, tried to pull into the center of herself and know that this day would pass, but her mind was still reeling from all that had happened in the last few hours.
“Where is the title to your grandfather’s home?” Matt asked softly.
She wiped her eyes on the wide sleeve. “Upstairs with my things.”
“It’s very likely the land itself is worth a small fortune.”
“What makes you think so?” Why, she wondered, was she so very knowledgeable about things that were worthless and so lacking when it came to the practical side of life?
Matt carefully explained. “There’s very little land around here that hasn’t been bought up by the railroad or isn’t still part of an original land grant. Whenever a piece of property opens up, no matter how small, it is usually sold for an exorbitant sum. The city is spreading faster than a wildfire.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment before he asked, “If you had this Chinese collection, what would you do with it?”
She shrugged, and the robe started to slip off one shoulder. Coloring, she grabbed it and pulled it back into place. “Grandfather’s dream was to house it in a museum, a place people could go to see the collection and learn about Chinese culture.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I would found one in his name.”
Matt drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he stared at the brick wall behind them. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.
“What?” she asked, feeling a small stirring of hope.
“Did you ever stop to think of how a museum operates?”
She shook her head.
“They are funded by wealthy patrons, people willing to donate money to a museum foundation.”
“Mr. Van Buren, I don’t think the good people of San Francisco would be willing to lend me anything. Not now.”
“The name’s Matt. And I think you might be wrong. You’re a wealthy woman now—”
She snapped to life, her tone angry. “I won’t take a nickel of Jason’s money. Not one cent.”
“You might not have to, at least no more than a loan.”
“No!”
He ignored her protest. “As the wife of one of the wealthiest men of San Francisco, you will, despite what you think, be quite a curiosity to the society crowd. Money sometimes erases all manner of scandal, especially here. If you were to sponsor a certain worthwhile cause, such as saving this collection of rare Chinese art—’’
“The pieces are not all that rare,” s
he interrupted. “They’re merely representative of Chinese culture and history.”
“That’s beside the point. You know as well as I do the lengths San Franciscans will go to just to prove they have as much culture as Easterners or Europeans. Why do so many of the city’s debutantes find it necessary to travel to Europe to marry titled men? Why rush to establish the opera, the theater? Why is it the first thing a new-made millionaire invests in is art? These newly rich haven’t been raised with culture, so they buy it. All you need to do is host one afternoon tea or a soiree, and display the pieces. Educate them, tell your guests—who will be among the crème de la crème of the city—that you are willing to donate all of the pieces to a museum when there is a place to house them. You’ll need to raise enough money to hire a curator, too, assuming you don’t want to care for them yourself.”
Jade was astounded. The plan was so very simple, she wondered why she had not thought of it herself, until she realized she had been out of touch with San Francisco society for so long it would never have occurred to her that there might be the slightest interest in the collection. She felt a glimmer of excitement.
“What do you think?” Matt asked.
Forgetting the bruise, she toyed with her bottom lip and then winced. “I can’t let myself get excited until you go to the bank and find out exactly what I have in assets. And I meant what I said. I won’t use any of Jason’s money.”
“Not even on loan?”
“Not even then.”
Matt shook his head. “I know he loves you, Jade,” he said honestly.
“Loved,” she corrected.
“Loves. Give him time to cool off. Try to reason with him again. He’ll get over it.”
She looked at him, her eyes full of pain. “I don’t think so. Too much has happened.”
“Give it time.” He reached into his pocket again and withdrew some cash. “I’m leaving this with you. From what I can see, this place needs some staples and you should look into hiring some help, even if it’s temporary.”
Jade Page 23
