by Nancy Bush
For all his indiscretions, Jesse had spent the better part of his manhood in a, if not nobler, certainly more acceptable pursuit – amassing money. Property, real estate, land development – he had a knack for acquiring and selling huge parcels of God’s green earth and making fortunes in the process. His brothers, Tremaine and Harrison, had chosen fields of medicine; Tremaine was a medical doctor, Harrison a horse doctor. His sister, Lexie, had been bound and determined to become a horse doctor too, and had succeeded, even in this man’s world. Noble professions every one. The healing arts. The kind of work any man or woman could be proud of.
Jesse had no such leanings. He’d earned his first parcel of land by winning it from a drunken miner who’d thought it contained gold. The miner, after discovering it was useless, had used it as collateral, and that “useless” piece was now a part of the city. It had been swallowed up as Portland stretched its arms in all directions. Jesse had sold the land and bought more, subsequently sold it, and bought more, and so on and so on …
Then in ’92 he’d met Lila Gray – the most daring, sensual woman he’d ever had the misfortune to meet, and that was saying a lot. He should have known she was married; she was so careful about her past. He’d accepted her half truths and omissions only because he was careful about his past as well. But he’d made one colossal mistake: He’d told her about his property. After Montana beat and nearly killed him, then left him for dead, the lovely Lila mourned him by telling her husband about Jesse’s park block. Illegally, and with the help of his many friends in the corrupt political hierarchy of Portland, Montana managed to have the deeds switched to his name. While Jesse was recuperating in San Francisco, Montana acquired the piece of property that Nell had helped Jesse buy under his nose, along with the rest of Jesse’s real estate holdings as well.
And Jesse Danner was left flat broke. But alive.
Jesse burned for revenge. It was all that kept him going. It consumed him. Zeke, though he also wanted his pound of flesh, was more respectful and fearful of Montana Gray’s power. But Jesse felt no such fear. He felt nothing, in fact, but a deep-seated need for vengeance. It fueled his recovery and gave meaning to his life, and before he left this world for the next, Jesse had but one goal: the ruination of Montana and Lila Gray.
He half smiled. No, he didn’t suffer from noble callings, though he did possess the single-minded determination that seemed to be another Danner curse. To earn back his fortune Jesse had started again, working as a laborer down on the wharfs in San Francisco. He’d scratched up enough money to buy a bit of property, and Zeke, his friend and savior, had given him the little money he’d saved over his years of working as a shipping clerk.
Financial recovery took years. Years where Jesse had to snuff his impatience and toil long hours for a miserable few cents. But his talent for real estate never deserted him, and once the first purchase was made, his fortune spiraled quickly.
So now the time was at hand to deal the final blow. Jesse possessed enough money. He just needed clout. He could wait a few years and build up his reputation, but then the surprise would be gone. Lila would remember him even if Montana didn’t. Jesse wanted to resolve the whole damn mess in a matter of weeks.
But he couldn’t use Charlotte Chamberlain, no matter what Zeke said. It wasn’t in him. He’d kept up the pretense the last few weeks only to annoy that stubborn, willful, and coldhearted Orchid Simpson. And now he was what? Planning to rescue her?
“I must be out of my mind,” he muttered furiously.
“Sir?”
“Drop me off here,” Jesse told the man, scarcely waiting until the carriage slowed at the end of Tyrone McNamara’s long drive before he leapt to the immaculate lawns. He strode with ground-devouring strides, fueled by a self-directed anger, up the scrupulously tended drive to the front door.
He didn’t knock. The door hadn’t been latched properly and had swung open about a quarter of the way. Standing undecided in the foyer, he heard Orchid Simpson’s lush and threatening voice.
“… I’ll make certain you pay dearly!”
No gentleman himself, Jesse strode in the direction of that voice and swung open the doors to the den without invitation.
The sight that beheld his eyes stopped him short. A half-naked Tyrone McNamara held the struggling Orchid Simpson in the bonds of his arms. They were both facing the door. Orchid’s fingers were prying savagely against Tyrone grip. Her face was flushed with fury. Her eyes wide and smoldering, both with anger and fear. She was gasping and her breasts were heaving. Tyrone was swearing viciously.
They both froze at his entrance.
“Jesse!” she cried out, shocked.
Jesse? He was momentarily diverted by the sound of his name on her tongue, then he was stopped cold by the extravagance of her unbound hair. It hung in a long, loose curtain nearly to her waist, purplish – red and brown strands flung gloriously about her shoulders, cascading like silk.
Something passed across his mind. A vision. A memory. Just outside his grasp.
“Who the hell are you?” Tyrone snarled, snapping Jesse to the present.
“I came to escort Miss Simpson home.”
“I don’t need an escort!” the furious beauty spat out at him, and Jesse gazed at her in amazement. Did she actually enjoy McNamara’s less-than-loving embrace? Lila Gray had certainly enjoyed dominant lovemaking, more than Jesse could really stomach. Was Orchid that kind of woman?
But no. He was disabused of that notion of moment later when Orchid Simpson wriggled violently, desperately trying to bite one of McNamara’s arms. The humor of the situation appealed to him. “Careful, McNamara, she’s deadly with her teeth,” he drawled in spite of her desperate struggles.
She shot him a glare of such undiluted fury that Jesse nearly doubled over with laughter.
“Unhand me, or I’ll break your arms!” she let forth through her teeth.
“Get the hell out of my house!” Tyrone demanded.
Ignoring them both, Jesse crossed to the liquor cabinet, bypassing the open bottle of sherry for some of McNamara’s best brandy. He poured a healthy glassful.
Behind him, the struggle abruptly ceased. Jesse glanced over his shoulder, his glass in hand. “Are you ready to be escorted now?” he asked blandly as Orchid stared him down, her gray eyes smoky with emotion – the primary one being disgust. Tyrone looked on, completely nonplussed.
“I say, there,” he sputtered. “Put that brandy down. I’ll have you thrown out on your ear!”
“No, he won’t.” Orchid spoke to Jesse in an icy tone. “Tyrone specifically gave the servants the night off. Unless he plans to toss you out himself, you’re safe, Mr. Danner.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Jesse swallowed a large gulp of brandy, thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Mr. Danner?” Tyrone glared, reluctantly letting his arms fall from his captive. “You’re not Samuel Danner,” he declared as Kelsey jerked away from him.
“He’s Jesse Danner,” she clarified when the space of the room divided her equally from both Jesse and Tyrone. “Samuel Danner’s brother.”
Jesse didn’t like the way she said that, nor did he like the fact that she’d purposely linked him to Samuel. He needed time, and he didn’t want her spoiling his plan. Add to that, she was too superior by far, and he wished he knew some way to set the lady down a bit. He also didn’t like her knowing so much about him when he still knew next to nothing about her.
Tyrone leveled his gaze on Jesse. “You’ve entered my home without an invitation. If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to send for the authorities. Your actions are nothing less than criminal.”
“Whose actions are criminal?” Jesse lifted his brows, deliberately letting his gaze examine Tyrone’s half-dressed state. “Miss Simpson could probably cite you as well.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she bit out.
As if the matter were decided, she suddenly wrapped her silken swath of hair into a bun and held it with one hand.
Since she had no hairnet, however, she was forced to let it fall down her back in the loosely twisted rope. Jesse was intrigued by its beauty and wine red richness. Why did she hide it?
“I’m ready to leave,” she said abruptly.
Jesse set down his snifter. He was hard-pressed to keep up with her quick, angry strides and only just reached the front door as she did. Tyrone was still sputtering but neither of them paid much attention to him. Instead, Orchid practically ripped the door from Jesse’s hands.
“I don’t appreciate your interference,” she told him in a low voice.
“Really.” He was growing annoyed by her obstinance. Jesus, the woman was bossy!
“You may think this little incident has endeared you to me, but that’s not the case. I could have managed perfectly well on my own. Your timing was – opportune – but unnecessary. If you plan to keep pursuing Charlotte, I would prefer you keep out of my affairs.”
“And if I don’t plan on pursuing Charlotte?”
“Then, if there’s any justice in this world, I’ll never have to set eyes on you again, Mr. Danner.”
She swept queenlike out the door. Jesse shook his head and behind him Tyrone gave a bark of laughter.
“Someone’s going to have to tie her down to bed her,” he complained. “She’s a vicious thing.” There were marks across his cheek and chest.
Jesse had no sympathy for the man. “Maybe she has reason to be,” he said, though he’d be damned if he’d let Orchid Simpson know he felt the least bit empathetic toward her. Secretly, he sided with Tyrone. The woman was just plain mean-tempered. By God, though he’d planned to discontinue his courtship of Charlotte, now he reversed that decision. He’d charm the drawers off that woman if he had to, just to infuriate Orchid Simpson.
He climbed into the carriage behind her, seating himself directly across from her. Drake snapped the reins and the carriage lurched down the drive. Jesse’s knees touched hers briefly, and she jerked back as if she’d been burned.
In the darkness he couldn’t see her expression, but those eyes were leveled on his and he knew they were blazing.
“I don’t like you much either,” he told her conversationally. “But whether you can admit it or not, you’re damned lucky I showed up when I did. Tyrone wasn’t about to give up. He would have had you on the floor in another few minutes and there would have been nothing you could do about it.”
“I’m not helpless.”
Ice dripped from every word. “Not helpless. Ungrateful. You’ve got so much stupid pride, you can’t even say thank you. Your manners are atrocious.”
“I doubt very much that I’ve been saved by the likes of you,” she said sarcastically. “I’ve merely exchanged one intolerable situation for another.”
Jesse marveled at her wicked tongue. “You’re not that much of a prize, Miss Simpson,” he uttered softly, dangerously.
“Neither, Mr. Danner, are you.”
Chapter Four
Charlotte fluttered nervously around Kelsey all day, as if somehow sensing it was Jesse who’d come to Kelsey’s rescue the night before, Jesse who’d dragged her away from that wretched and lascivious Tyrone McNamara. Charlotte’s clairvoyance was nerve-racking to the extreme, and Kelsey desperately tried to ignore her as she went about her business.
She couldn’t ignore her mixed feelings about the events of the night before, however. She was furious with Jesse, and herself, and Tyrone. Tyrone actually had money riding on her? He’d stooped to placing a bet on whether he could bed her? With whom, Gerrard Knight? The humiliation was almost past bearing!
It was enough to make one renounce the whole male species. Kelsey was already on the verge; one more tiny push and she’d be over the edge.
And Jesse, the way he’d acted upon finding her at the mercy of Tyrone was almost criminal. He’d been fighting back laughter, the miserable bastard! Still, he had saved her from a questionable fate. Recalling those moments in McNamara’s power turned her skin cold and clammy. She’d been so close to true peril. It was divine providence that Jesse had intervened. Her mind shied away from thinking about the probable consequences if he hadn’t saved her.
But did he have to be so horrifyingly, disgustingly smug and self-impressed? Oh, how she wished she could have handled the situation by herself.
Hearing her own thoughts, Kelsey made a sound of disgust. How utterly stupid and prideful. Jesse had been right about that. She was a victim of her own pride and always had been.
Kelsey spent the rest of the day tight-lipped and irritable. In the afternoon she helped Agatha respond to all her mail, and in the early evening, needing to get away from Charlotte’s cloying presence, she secretly pulled on her old breeches beneath her gown – the ones she’d stolen years before from her brother – then saddled Justice and gave the beautiful beast his head as they raced across the sweeping fields beyond Chamberlain Manor. Only when Justice was lathered and spent and slowed of his own free will did Kelsey rein him in. Then she walked him until he cooled off and brushed his satiny coat and fussed over him long past the dinner hour.
She ate in her room and for some reason, the memory of Jesse’s dalliance with one Alice McIntyre entered her mind, refusing to be dislodged. Kelsey had been all of thirteen when the news had reached her tender ears, spreading as swiftly and ruthlessly as lightning, stabbing from place to place and electrifying the women in three counties. Gossip was evil, but oh so seductive, and Kelsey hadn’t been immune to the tale. She’d heard the rumors, and in her innocence Jesse’s seduction of Alice had seemed almost romantic. She’d placed herself in Alice’s shoes, imagining Jesse’s hard arms wrapped around her, his heart beating heavily against hers. His lips gently caressing her, words of love falling sweetly on her ears.
Hah!
Now when she recalled those anxious, yearning thoughts, she wanted to wince and squeeze her eyes closed. She could scarcely stand herself. What romantic idiocy! What had happened between Alice and Jesse was little more than the rutting of a stallion with a mare. And she was only one of Jesse’s conquests.
At least Alice’s father had possessed the good sense to try to shoot Jesse.
Being in Jesse’s embrace would be tragically similar to being in Tyrone’s, she determined, completely ignoring her own reaction to Jesse when he’d had the audacity to actually kiss her.
A faint knocking sounded on the door. “Come in,” Kelsey said a trifle impatiently.
Charlotte peeked inside, her blue eyes huge. “Are you angry with me, Orchid?”
“Of course not,” Kelsey hastily assured her. “I was just thinking of something else.”
“Don’t you mean someone else?” Charlotte asked as she walked into the middle of the room and eyed Kelsey’s dinner tray. The meal had scarcely been touched.
“What does that mean?”
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall, her unhappy gaze sweeping the floor. “I don’t mean to be so horrid, but, Orchid, I couldn’t sleep last night. Jesse practically ran out of here, saying he was going to his club. Then he came back with you!”
“He did not come back with me,” Kelsey corrected her charge.
“It was his carriage that dropped you off. I saw from my bedroom window,” she declared stubbornly.
“Well, then you also saw how delighted I was to be in his company,” Kelsey threw back.
She and Jesse had glared at each other while standing in the circular drive in front of the house. Jesse had hoped that since he’d saved her, she would back off and let him court Charlotte in peace. But Kelsey had calmly told him she had no such intentions; she planned to prepare for war. To her consternation, Jesse had simply shrugged and agreed. Kelsey had left without a good-bye, then had spent a good two hours in high fury, pacing the confines of her room like a caged predator.
“You do like him, though, don’t you?” Charlotte suggested, watching Kelsey closely.
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Charlotte, if y
ou’re going to ask me a question and then not pay the scantest heed to my answer, this conversation is a waste of time.”
“You really hate him?” she asked, perplexed. It was clear she couldn’t conceive of a woman being less than dazzled by Jesse Danner.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not being honest with you, you silly twit. He’s making you think he’s falling in love with you, but it’s all an act.” Kelsey’s voice was kind, but Charlotte reacted volcanically.
“You’re just jealous!”
Kelsey closed her eyes and counted to ten. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if I don’t say something, you’ll be hurt much worse later on. He as much as told me he’s seeing you because of your money. That’s all he wants, a healthy bank account.”
The color swept from Charlotte’s face. Her eyes were dangerously bright. “You’re making that up!” she accused. “Because… because…”
Kelsey waited, aching inside at the pain she’d inflicted. “Because you’re a dried-up spinster who can’t catch a man!” Charlotte gasped out through a storm of sudden tears. Then she raced from the room, her hands over her face, sobbing as if her heart would shatter into a thousand pieces.
Kelsey gazed after her unhappily. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry herself. Instead, she did neither. She’d given up tears long, long ago, and she’d never felt less like laughing. She sat motionless at her dressing table while silence pooled around her and darkness settled in the corners of the room, and she plotted the destruction of Jesse Danner.
¤ ¤ ¤
Jesse treated her as if she were part of the wallpaper. Neither Charlotte nor Agatha paid much attention to her at all. Charlotte, because she was still piqued; Agatha, because she was carefully concentrating on Jesse. To Kelsey’s enormous relief, Agatha actually seemed to be asking herself some questions about Jesse’s sincerity as well. Maybe things would work out.
