by Nancy Bush
Jesse Danner had her in such a state of confusion that she’d left behind her best means of protection!
“Damn,” she swore softly, shifting uncomfortably against the lush squabs of Agatha’s carriage. Now, here she was, on her way to Tyrone McNamara’s. Good heavens, how could she have accepted his invitation.
It was all because of Jesse, she thought darkly. Her head had been filled with such anger and frustration that she’d scarcely paid attention to Tyrone. She’d said yes to his request for her to come to dinner with all the attention she would have shown a pesky fly she simply wanted to get rid of.
She glanced outside the darkened window. The flickering light from the lantern kept pace eerily with the carriage. She could ask to turn back. So she would be late to dinner. So what? She didn’t owe Tyrone anything, even punctuality.
The carriage jarred and squeaked as it turned off the street onto a smaller lane.
“Oh, blast.”
Kelsey settled back on the squabs, snorting in disgust at her own foolishness. No, they were already heading down the drive to Tyrone’s townhouse overlooking the city. Pride wouldn’t let her turn tail and run when he’d probably already seen her carriage approaching.
Besides, Tyrone wasn’t half as dangerous as Jesse was. She could survive the evening ahead.
Tyrone was waiting on the steps, elegant in a gray suit that showed off his dark good looks. Tyrone possessed Jesse’s coloring: black hair, blue eyes, a swarthy complexion. But he didn’t have Jesse’s compact physique and broad shoulders. Because he was thin to the point of gangly, Tyrone appeared taller than Jesse, but appearances were deceptive. Kelsey suspected that were they standing side by side, Jesse might actually have an inch or two on him. Jesse certainly was more handsome, but then, Kelsey had scarcely met a man who could compare to him on either looks or charm. What they shared in equal measure was the lack of conscience that was both appalling and disgusting.
Kelsey planned to make Tyrone aware that this was their one and only evening together. She’d accepted his invitation because she’d been distracted by Jesse, and – she could admit now – couldn’t bear the thought of suffering through another evening with Jesse slobbering all over Charlotte’s hand and entertaining Agatha with his dry humor and simmering sensuality. Oh, yes, Kelsey had seen the way Lady Chamberlain reacted to him too. Though she nearly managed to hide it under all that starch, the older woman’s lips twitched and her eyes twinkled whenever Jesse’s devilish charm was directed solely at her. Kelsey could swear that now Agatha took extra special care with her delicately coiffed white hair. And she’d been wearing her special diamond brooches and stick pins, and her most elegant dresses of the finest silk. Though her manner was just as proper as ever, and Jesse himself might be unaware of her extra preparations, Kelsey knew. Lord, yes. Lady Agatha Chamberlain, protesting that she wasn’t quite certain Jesse was right for Charlotte, had nevertheless been completely captivated by him as well!
Kelsey groaned low in her throat as if in physical pain. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, wanting to scream and rant and rage. Only she knew the black heart that beat beneath Jesse’s broad chest, and while Charlotte fussed and fluttered over him, and Agatha opened her home to him, Kelsey plotted revenge. Delicious, delicious revenge!
The carriage jolted to a stop and Tyrone swept down the steps. He opened the door and took Kelsey’s black-gloved hand in his own, leaning down to kiss her fingers.
Kelsey eyed his dark head ironically. What did he think the evening ahead would bring?
“I was afraid you’d changed your mind,” he admitted with unaccustomed honesty, gazing into her eyes. “My Lord, but you look lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“Come on inside. The night’s cool, isn’t it? I’ll get you a sherry and warm those cold hands.”
Cold hands? Kelsey was feeling rather warm. The night was shadowed and still, cool, yes, but then, it was June and summer’s heat hadn’t reached the northwest yet. And Tyrone couldn’t feel whether her fingers were cold or warm through her gloves. He was just being over eager, Kelsey decided uneasily.
He led her into an intimate study decorated in dark stained oak and mahogany. The fireplace with black-veined marble and an intimate fire chased away the cool night air that swirled inside as Tyrone and Kelsey entered.
“Where are the servants?” Kelsey asked, tugging off her gloves. The room was hot. Beastly. Cold hands indeed. The man was attempting to bake her in this stuffy oven.
“Well, they’ve retired,” Tyrone explained as he lifted the lid off the crystal decanter.
“All of them?”
“Sit down. Please.” He gestured to one of the buttoned, highly glossed, wine-red leather wing chairs. Kelsey hesitated, then slowly sank into the cushions, swallowed within the chair’s enormous arms.
Tyrone brought her a sherry, then stood in front of her, looming over her.
“All of the servants?” Kelsey asked again, feeling faintly alarmed. “What about dinner? Are we serving ourselves?”
He grinned. “I confess, I’m going to serve you. The meal’s prepared and waiting for us in the dining room.”
“Maybe we should eat it before it gets cold,” Kelsey suggested. It hurt her neck to look up at him, so she concentrated on the chain that hung from the watch pocket of his vest.
“Not yet. I’d rather risk a ruined meal than a ruined chance to be alone with you.”
“Mr. McNamara, you’ve evidently misunderstood my reasons for accepting your invitation.”
“Which are?”
“Boredom, mainly. I needed to get out of the house. But I can see coming here was a mistake.” She attempted to rise from the chair, but his hands clasped her wrists and he very gently pushed her back down.
“Orchid, my love, we’ve got all night. Let’s take it slowly. Dinner is warming. There’s no need to rush. Have a drink.” He picked up his own glass which he placed on the mantle and beckoned her to follow suit.
Kelsey regarded him steadily, her heart beating hard. No servants. No derringer. It was going to be a long night and she needed her wits about her.
She lifted the glass of sherry to her mouth and pretended to swallow.
¤ ¤ ¤
“Where’s the usually skulking Miss Simpson?” Jesse asked casually, glancing around the drawing room. He and Charlotte and Agatha were the only occupants, which was highly unusual.
“She doesn’t skulk,” Charlotte admonished, choking back a laugh and appealing to Agatha for forgiveness at laughing at Orchid. She’d forgiven Orchid for being so dreadful about Jesse in the beginning, and she felt like a bit of a traitor enjoying a joke at her expense.
“She most certainly does. Hardly says a word, just sits around and darts me dirty looks.”
“I’m certain you’re imagining that, Mr. Danner,” Agatha said with a shake of her head. “Orchid’s only looking out for Charlotte’s best interests. I’m afraid she mistrusts every man who looks either her way or Charlotte’s, but she’s accepted you now.”
Jesse smiled, and the look he sent Agatha Chamberlain was of a man who knew when he was being conned. He liked Agatha. He liked her proper accent and fussy ways and the unconventional streak of toughness and acceptance that seemed so out of place in such a dithery-looking old lady. Lady Chamberlain was as sharp as Orchid Simpson’s lashing tongue, he’d learned to his delight. She made the evenings with Charlotte nearly bearable.
Nearly.
It wasn’t that Charlotte wasn’t a sweet kid. She was. Adorable, flighty, breathless, naïve; she was all that and more.
She just wasn’t for him.
“I’m surprised Miss Simpson isn’t here watching me like a hawk,” Jesse pressed further. He really did want to know what had become of her.
“Actually Orchid’s accepted an invitation to dinner,” Agatha explained, frowning slightly. “Tyrone McNamara. Do you know the gentleman?”
Gentleman? Jesse stared at her incredulously. Tyrone
McNamara was a gambler, an unconscionable rake, and in Jesse’s opinion, a filthy worm. And if he thought that, given his own reputation, what in God’s name was a prudish spinster like Orchid Simpson doing with him? Or, more aptly, what was Tyrone doing with her?
“He’s called for Orchid time and time again,” Charlotte said on a plaintive note. “My stars, the man has no pride. Orchid’s been perfectly beastly to him, and he still won’t give up. She finally accepted, though the Lord in heaven only knows why. She absolutely detests the man,” she added confidently.
“Then why… ?”
Charlotte shrugged prettily, her rapt gaze lovingly searching his face. Jesse felt uncomfortable. Her adoration was something he hadn’t quite counted on. True, he’d set about courting her with the express purpose of marriage in mind, but the reality of this lovestruck child was more than he could bear.
He didn’t want to hurt her.
“Charlotte, I hope you won’t mind, but there’s some business I need to take care of that can’t wait.”
“Tonight?” she cried.
“There’s someone I have to meet at the club,” Jesse lied easily.
“Who?” Charlotte demanded, growing piqued.
“Child, leave the man alone,” Agatha inserted quickly, shooting Charlotte a quelling frown. In her part of the world, women did not question a man’s comings and goings. It was not the done thing. Besides, Agatha had a pretty good idea what was actually traversing Mr. Jesse Danner’s mind, and she was curious to see how the evening ended for both him – and Orchid.
“But Grandmama!”
“Charlotte, say good-bye for tonight. Good-bye, Mr. Danner,” she said to Jesse herself, her eyes sharp and dancing.
“Good-bye, Lady Chamberlain. Charlotte.”
Jesse reflected on Agatha’s astute mind. It occurred to him that she was somehow playing as much of a game as he was, and that thought left him curiously uncomfortable.
As soon as he left Chamberlain Manor he forgot both Agatha and Charlotte, however. Glancing down the curving drive, he signaled Drake, the man he’d recently hired on as his driver. Immediately the clop, clop of the carriage horses’ hooves sounded against the cobblestones. Impatient, Jesse jumped up on the seat beside Drake, surprising the rather fastidious man to the point of gasping.
“Sir, wouldn’t you rather ride inside?”
“I’d rather have a fast horse,” Jesse answered flatly. “You know where Tyrone McNamara lives?”
“Would that be the McNamaras off Ainsley Drive, sir?”
Jesse nodded. “Get me there in a hurry.”
Drake cracked the whip, and the carriage horses jumped into a trot.
“And Drake, don’t call me sir,” Jesse said for the uncountable time. “Jesse’ll be fine.”
“Yes, sir.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Kelsey couldn’t decide whether to be amused or furious. If Tyrone was telling the truth – and she had every reason to believe he was – then their dinner had been drying up in a chafing dish for over an hour and a half. Not that she was the least bit hungry, but she was both annoyed and exasperated that Tyrone felt his charms were so lethal that any woman would be more than willing to forgo a meal just to spend time alone with him.
The silly ass.
She decided being amused would work more to her advantage than relying on the growing anger and dread that was working its way from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head at the realization that Tyrone intended to keep her captive until she capitulated in some way.
“It’s horribly hot, don’t you think?” she told him. “Could you open a window?”
“I was thinking of shedding my jacket,” he answered, accomplishing the deed as if she’d asked him to start undressing.
With a studied manner that made Kelsey wonder if he practiced in front of a mirror, he undid his tie and began working the buttons through their confining holes.
She watched him peel off his vest and finish unbuttoning his shirt. Before he could add his shirt to the growing pile of discarded clothing on the chair, Kelsey put in quickly, “I’d rather you kept a few items on, if you don’t mind. Besides, I’m too warm and I plan to open a window whether you keep your clothes on or not.”
She darted from the chair before the last word was uttered, using Tyrone’s moment of indecision to escape the trap where he’d kept her. He’d plied her with sherry which she’d refused to drink and sweet-talked and cajoled and insinuated until Kelsey had been hard pressed not to leap up and scratch his eyes out.
Men!
“Orchid.” He whipped around, one hand grasping her arm before she could squeeze past him. Beneath his unbuttoned shirt his chest was covered with a dusting of black hair that for some reason turned Kelsey’s stomach. Maybe there was something wrong with her, she reasoned. She no more wanted to touch this man’s hairy skin than she wanted to return to Jace and Emerald.
“Release me or bear the consequences,” she warned him coldly.
“What consequences?” Tyrone grinned lasciviously. “No derringer tonight, my love. I checked your reticule. I can only assume that’s some kind of surrender.”
“You are sorely mistaken, Mr. McNamara. I would think with your purported success with women that you’d realize how totally unwilling and uninterested I am. Do you seriously believe I have any desire to have you touch me?” She twisted her arm until her skin burned from his hard grasp.
The smile on her face kept her words from cutting to the bone. Still, their effect was stinging; Tyrone’s expression changed from predatory to downright mean.
“I made a mistake coming here,” Kelsey told him. “If you won’t take me home, I’ll walk. I’m not completely helpless, even without a gun.”
“My dear, what you are is a stupid woman playing a stupid game. You knew I wanted you here. You came because you wanted it too.”
“If you put your stinking lips on mine, I may vomit,” Kelsey said, rearing back as Tyrone moved forward, clearly intent upon crushing her mouth beneath his.
He wrapped his hand in her hair, yanking her head back. Tears burned in Kelsey’s eyes. If he kept this up, she was going to kick him with all her strength, right where it counted the most.
“I’ve got money riding on you,” he snarled, close enough to her face to touch noses with her. He jerked her head hard, and Kelsey clenched her teeth against the moan of pain that filled her throat. “If you don’t unbutton that ugly dress right now, I’m going to rip it off. I’ve spent too much time thinking about what you’ve got hidden under there. I’ve tried to be patient, to treat you like a woman ought to be treated. But you don’t seem to understand.”
“Let go of my hair.”
He responded by ripping off her hairnet and pulling the auburn strands free until they fell in a shining ripple over her shoulders. For a moment Tyrone was mesmerized by that hair. It shimmered to her waist and firelight bounced off reddish-purple and dark mahogany strands. With a moan of pleasure he buried his hands in its lustrous silk.
And Orchid Simpson kneed him with all the strength of her lower body.
Tyrone feinted at the last second, some latent instinct protecting him. Kelsey tried to stumble past him, but he grabbed her arms with steel hands, yanking her back until her shoulders collided with his chest. They were both breathing hard, his hot breath fanning her nape.
“Damn you, you frigid bitch. You’re going to pay.”
“So will you, Mr. McNamara. I’ll make certain you pay dearly,” she ground out, though her heart was slamming into her ribs and she sought desperately for some means of escape.
The sounds of booted footsteps ringing across the foyer brought them both up short. Joy filled Kelsey’s breast. The servants. Rescue at last!
¤ ¤ ¤
The ride to McNamara’s was accomplished in haste but it nevertheless gave Jesse time for reflection – a rather painful reflection, to say the least. Orchid Simpson. He cared nothing for her. Zeke, through the services of an inve
stigator, had learned that she’d spoken nothing less than the truth when she’d said Jesse’s mother was dead. And though rationally Jesse knew Eliza’s death was not her fault, Orchid’s cruel insensitivity was enough to make Jesse hate her.
Clenching his fists, he fought down an unreasonable rage directed solely at the redoubtable Miss Simpson. He felt bitterly cheated, and the fact that there was no one to blame but himself – and maybe partially his father – didn’t make him feel any kinder toward her.
He couldn’t think of one reason to charge after her like some tarnished knight, yet he couldn’t stop himself. Maybe she was leading some kind of double life, pretending to be a spinster when in fact she was McNamara’s willing, wicked mistress.
No, it didn’t fit. Jesse knew women, and it didn’t fit.
He sighed, his mind circling back to the painful realization that Eliza was dead and changes had taken place in Rock Springs, a place he somehow expected to remain forever the same.
Jesse had left home tired of, and angered by, the moral restraints his father had imposed on him. Even after that wretched scandal when his mother’s first husband, Ramsey Gainsborough, had held the whole family hostage; even after the sick worry that Mother might die from the fall she took off the widow’s walk; even after Jesse had helped save them all – even after that, Joseph Danner hadn’t loosened the reins on his irrepressible third son.
And Jesse had rebelled.
He’d created scandal after scandal, caused a near sensation in three counties by seducing Alice McIntyre, the ultimate virgin, then disappearing from Rock Springs and everyone he loved without so much as a by-your-leave.
He’d known then, as he knew now, that no one in Rock Springs would have believed Alice wanted to be seduced, that she’d schemed to snare Jesse Danner for a husband. A lot like Emerald had.
Unfortunately, Jesse had been too willing and eager to recognize the trap. It had taken years, and a lot of other Alices and Emeralds and Lilas, before he’d learned to choose his partners carefully.
Jesse sighed. He had regrets; lots of them. But the freedom of doing exactly as he pleased had made up for them. Still, there were several women in Rock Springs, and the neighboring town of Malone as well, who would probably dearly love to castrate him. But he’d never raped anyone, and he’d certainly never murdered anyone.
