Jesse's Renegade (#3 of the Danner Quartet)

by Nancy Bush

  His gaze darkened. “I no more want to sleep with you than you do me. But the marriage lasts until I say otherwise.”

  “Why?” Kelsey demanded, shocked.

  “Because divorce isn’t good for respectability. Surely, you know that. Believe me, there’s no other reason I would want to stay shackled to you, Miss Simpson. So it’s on my terms. All my terms. Do we have an agreement?”

  He crossed the floor in that predatory way that Kelsey was coming to know. She stiffened, prepared for anything, but all he did was hold out his hand, meaning to seal the bargain. Seal her fate.

  Kelsey stared down at his hand as if it were a poisonous snake. Fighting back a shudder, she slipped her palm into the hard warmth of his fingers and met his beautifully seductive eyes.

  “It will be an annulment, Mr. Danner,” she stated clearly. “And yes, we have a bargain.”

  Chapter Five

  Kelsey sat in front of the mirror on her dressing table, her arms braced across the lace doily that covered the sculpted oak vanity as if she were preparing for an earthquake. She stared at her reflection. What had she done?

  It was one thing to come up with a plan as harebrained and dangerous as the one she’d manufactured, quite another to play it out. Jesse’s handshake had left her trembling with uncertainty. Oh, Lord! She pressed her palms to her hot cheeks. What had she done?

  Pulling herself together, Kelsey walked as if in a trance to her closet. It was Friday. She’d heard the noon bells at the funny little church in the square about a half mile uphill. She would be late. There wasn’t any way she could be at Ezekiel Drummond’s office by one o’clock.

  Maybe Jesse wouldn’t wait.

  Emitting a sound somewhere between a cry of despair and a snort of disgust, Kelsey pulled out the dark brown dress she saved for occasions she truly loathed. She didn’t own a white gown and she wouldn’t have worn one if she did. The brown dress was silk and rustled against her petticoats when she yanked it over her head. A series of dull black buttons marched upward from the tips of her black button shoes to the top of the bodice.

  She examined her reflection, noticing with pleasure the heavy brown hairnet that covered the natural red highlights in her hair. “You look like a brown mouse,” she told herself with a smile.

  Frowning, her gaze moved to the one aspect of the dress that made it tolerable in any fashion sense at all: the square cut neckline. Demure, it nevertheless opened her throat to view by all and sundry, cutting low enough to hint at the tops of her breasts. The unbleached lace surrounding it was an inch thick and helped hide her bosom, but Kelsey, who once dreamed of being a princess in beautiful gowns, now couldn’t tolerate any article of clothing that reminded her of her youth.

  A necklace would only emphasize the neckline, she decided, leaving her skin bare. With unusual distress, she examined her reflection critically. She was pretty; she knew that. But she’d tried hard for so many years to squelch her identity and personality that she’d almost forgotten what she’d once been like.

  Now she remembered. She’d been impulsive, active, determined, and stubborn. A proper little hellion. As free as the wailing wind except everyone had tried to mold her, to force her, or coerce her into doing what they wanted. When she’d left Rock Springs she’d vowed to live her own life the way she saw fit.

  How could she have ever planned to marry Jesse Danner?

  Pacing around the room, Kelsey clenched and unclenched her fists. She wouldn’t go through with it. She would leave Portland. Leave Charlotte and Agatha. If she married Jesse she would be persona non grata around here anyway, so why compound the mistake?

  Because he’ll marry Charlotte and make her life a living hell.

  “Miserable cur,” Kelsey muttered furiously.

  Grabbing her small valise, she tossed in undergarments and clothes indiscriminately, cramming the case so full she had to bounce up and down on it to get the latch closed. She didn’t bother with a hat, but she threw a black cloak over her shoulders. Glancing around the room, her throat ached with despair. She would have to leave her rifle for now, along with most of her other belongings; she could send for them later.

  Sighing, Kelsey closed her eyes. She didn’t know what Jesse had planned, nor did she know whether she’d really see this wedding through. All she knew was that she was leaving Chamberlain Manor for good.

  With a heavy heart she checked her derringer to make sure it was loaded. Picking up her black reticule, she dumped out her compact and perfume and any other feminine articles, replacing them with the gun, extra bullets, and the bank draft for twenty thousand dollars. A life savings. Her life savings. Her inheritance.

  She was buying happiness, she thought with a painful twist of her heart. Charlotte’s happiness.

  What was she buying for herself?

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  The sun was shining beatifically as Kelsey paid the cabbie on the street outside Ezekiel Drummond’s office building. The city smelled of dust and horse manure and the dank scent rolling off the Willamette. Picking up her valise, Kelsey gazed up at the brick building that housed Drummond and Company. She’d never run from a fight yet. Gripping the handle of her case with slippery fingers, she strode deliberately through the revolving doors and straight up the stairs.

  Outside Zeke’s office her footsteps slowed, but the pace was picked up by her erratic breathing. She felt suffocated. Near swooning. The exertion of climbing those steps was only half of it; she was terrified!

  The office door was cracked about a foot. Kelsey stayed to one side of the pebbled window, gathering courage and strength. She could hear male voices: Zeke’s and Jesse’s. Though she hadn’t planned on eavesdropping, the opportunity presented itself and Kelsey listened with straining ears.

  “She’s an hour late already,” Zeke’s anxious voice rang clearly. “She’s backed out. She never meant to go through with it.”

  “She hasn’t backed out.”

  Jesse’s flat assessment raised Kelsey ire. Heat flushed her face. He was so bloody sure of himself!

  “She was playing some kind of game. A trick, to steer you away from Charlotte.”

  “She’s not stupid. She’s aware that if she doesn’t show, I’ll resume my earlier plan. She’ll be here when she finally screws her courage up.”

  “You think she’s scared?” Zeke sounded surprised.

  “I think men in general frighten that poor little mouse.”

  Poor little mouse be damned! Kelsey stalked to the door and flung it open wider. Her gray eyes flashed with indignation. She was so angry she could hardly scare up any spit to tell Mr. Jesse Danner what she thought of him.

  But then she saw that his gaze was centered on the door through which she’d entered. His eyes were full of laughter. His mouth was curved – oh so seductively, his teeth white. He’d been expecting her, the horrible beast. He’d known she was listening.

  “Miss Simpson, you’re here!” Zeke declared.

  It occurred to Kelsey that Mr. Ezekiel Drummond was far too involved in Jesse Danner’s plot to gain respectability, but she was incapable of seeing anything except Jesse’s damnably handsome and amused face. He was laughing at her.

  Kelsey straightened her spine. She would go through with this bloody wedding, by God, for the sheer pleasure of seeing the look on his face afterward!

  “I’m sorry. I was delayed. I hope it won’t make a difference.”

  She injected just the right amount of concern that Jesse’s expression change from enjoyment to suspicion. He was calculating just what was going through her mind. Kelsey shot him a look of pure innocence that deepened his suspicious frown.

  Score one for the Garretts, she thought with uncharacteristic family pride.

  “It won’t make any difference.” Jesse was abrupt. “We’ll be man and wife by this afternoon one way or another.”

  “Did you bring the bank draft?” Zeke asked.

  Kelsey pulled the offending envelope from her reticule, holding it bet
ween two fingers as if the touch of it sickened her. She extended it toward Jesse who, after a noticeable pause, yanked it from her palm, folded it, and shoved it into an inner coat pocket without looking at it.

  He looked undeniably handsome, Kelsey thought unwillingly as he escorted her downstairs to a buggy parked behind the building. His suit was black and gorgeous. The breeze teased his hair, ruffling it across the back of his neck, tossing it in front of his eyes. He’d shaved, and something about the smoothness of his cheek and chin drew Kelsey’s gaze. The snowy white shirt surrounding his sun-darkened flesh was a pleasing contrast, and she inwardly grimaced when she contrasted her own choice of clothing. Oh, well. This marriage was a sham, and there was no need to worry over silly details that wouldn’t matter at all as soon as the deed was accomplished.

  The day’s brilliant sunlight fell over the dusty buggy in unrelenting glory, heightening the vehicle’s shabbiness. Jesse scarcely had a cent to his name, Kelsey realized with a stab of something like guilt as he wiped off the seat for her. The carriage he’d used when he’d rescued her from Tyrone had undoubtedly been a hired one.

  He held his hand, offering help, but when Kelsey glanced at him uncertainly, his cool, sharp appraisal reminded her who he was and what his morals were.

  She gathered her skirts and brushed past his hand, climbing onto the seat and staring forward, her jaw set.

  The place Jesse had chosen for the wedding was a tiny chapel perched on the edge of Portland’s teeming, seedy, and notoriously wicked waterfront. Out of her peripheral vision Kelsey saw Jesse turn her way as he pulled the buggy up to the curb. He was waiting for her reaction.

  She stared at the chapel appraisingly. It was a sorry sight. The doors were opened invitingly, but grizzled, lice-ridden human specimens lay about the place, asleep or in stupors. Portland’s loose drinking laws had turned every corner into a tavern – the building next to the chapel being no exception. Off-key singing – a raucous tale of a young maiden stowaway found by the lusty crew – was the processional music as Jesse mockingly gestured that she enter the chapel ahead of him.

  Having grown up in Rock Springs, and being well acquainted with its Half Moon Saloon (Jace owned the damned thing, whores and all, for God’s sake!) there was little in the way of decadence and depravity that could shock Kelsey.

  As she swept past Jesse into the chapel she decided to get a bit of her own back. She shot him a look from beneath her lashes. “Is there any chance the minister will be sober?” she asked softly.

  Her candor surprised him. He jerked slightly. “No.”

  “Well, just as long as this marriage is legal and binding. Charlotte must think you’re actually wedded to me.”

  “We will be. Trust me.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. Kelsey, for reasons she couldn’t explain – and which infuriated her enormously later – was temporarily mesmerized. That gaze dropped to her mouth, hung there explosively for a heartbeat, then sank yet further, to the neckline of her gown. If it was a deliberate means to make her aware of her own femininity, her locked-up sexuality, it surely worked.

  Kelsey dragged her eyes away and blinked against the dimly lit interior.

  “Mr. Danner?” a booming voice called.

  “Reverend Cleaves,” Jesse greeted him, extending a hand.

  The minister was a short, spare man with a loud voice and an energetic way of moving that suggested he could single-handedly, cheerfully, rid the world of sin and sorrow if given half a chance.

  He pumped Jesse’s hand, then clasped one of Kelsey’s within both of his, gazing at her as if she were the luckiest woman alive.

  “I have two witnesses,” he told them. “Mrs. Reynolds plays the organ, if you’d like some accompaniment.”

  “No,” Jesse answered flatly.

  “Yes,” Kelsey said at the same time.

  She challenged him with a look that said, Why not? This is my wedding too.

  “Tell Mrs. Reynolds thank you,” Jesse capitulated.

  They were ushered into a small chamber with two tiers of candles in gleaming brass stands. How the stands had escaped being pilfered for cheap wine was anyone’s guess. Reverend Cleaves draped a white satin shawl over his black suit, took a Bible lovingly from the plump, smiling woman on his right, then gestured Kelsey and Jesse to come forward.

  Curiously, it was Jesse who hesitated. The look he sent to the reverend down that short aisle was one of a man caught in the throes of a powerful dilemma.

  “Orchid,” he murmured uneasily under his breath.

  “Have you changed your mind?” she asked softly.

  For an answer he clasped her hand, placing it on his arm, tucking her close. But his stiff actions spoke more of a man facing a firing squad than one about to be married. He didn’t look at her, just stood there, a muscle jerking in his jaw.

  Kelsey glanced at his finely sculpted face, focusing on the nose that had been so drastically changed. She remembered the last time she’d almost been a bride. With Harrison, Jesse’s older brother. She’d been left at the altar that time through circumstances beyond Harrison’s control. She’d be damned if she’d be left at the altar again, especially by another Danner.

  “I’ll give you time to think it over,” she said coolly. Walking straight down the aisle ahead of him, she smiled at the concerned reverend. “Could I have a few moments alone with you? There’s something I need to talk about before Jesse and I are married.”

  “A confession, my dear?” he asked kindly.

  “Of a sort,” she answered after a moment of hesitation.

  He beamed at her. Kelsey realized wryly that he thought he was going to hear her confess to some terrible wrongdoing. Well, maybe he was.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Jesse was hot and stifled and uncomfortable. This situation was fast getting beyond his control. The little chapel reeked of sour scents from the river and the streets that even the gently flickering beeswax candles couldn’t override. It was the middle of the day and it was too hot. He wanted to yank off his coat and tie and head straight to the corner bar and drink himself into a stupor.

  Hell, where was the woman? She’d grabbed the reverend and practically dragged the fellow from the room. Mrs. Reynolds was waiting patiently at the organ and the other woman, the one with the smile permanently engraved on her portly face, had opted to sit down on the front pew and rest her feet.

  It took all of Jesse’s concentration to remember why he was going through with this and what the rewards would be. Instinctually, he wanted to bolt from the room and let Orchid Simpson rot in this miserable little chapel with Reverend Cleaves, Mrs. Reynolds, the fat lady, and anyone else who cared to join in this ridiculous travesty.

  Deep in his gut he knew this was a mistake. And Orchid, the lovely witch, had engineered the situation to make him sweat. He was fast growing beyond mere sweating, however; he was cooking. His own anger and impatience had combined with the summer weather to lift his temper into dangerous territory.

  The door behind the altar opened and Orchid and the reverend returned. She stopped in front of the altar, glanced back, and lifted one fine brow. “Are you ready?” she asked him sardonically.

  With the control he’d mastered only in these past few years of his life, Jesse stowed his flickering rage to the farthest corners of his mind. “Yes,” he bit out, stalking down the aisle.

  This time she held out her palm, enjoining him to take it. He clasped it in his own. Her hand was cool; icy, really. He was hot and she was cold, and he wondered if that was a prophetic start to their life together.

  “Your – fiancée – suggested signing the papers after the wedding,” the reverend said in a befuddled manner. He seemed peculiarly at a loss. “In case either of you has a – change of heart.”

  “Fine.” Jesse almost admired her forethought. He was surprised she’d let things go this far.

  The ceremony began. Jesse was detached. He stared past the reverend to the green velvet drapes draw
n across the back of the church. The drapes hid the scarred, broken bricks that made up the back wall. A touch of elegance in squalor. He’d chosen this chapel deliberately, a macabre touch to frame this silly pomp and circumstance. But Orchid wasn’t the least bit shocked. She was more amused, and yes, nervous: He could practically hear her knees knocking together. But when he glanced her way, her gray gaze seemed to say, You needn’t have bothered, you silly ass. You can’t surprise me. You can’t even interest me.

  Holy Christ! She was going to be his wife if he didn’t do something drastic right now.

  “Do you, Jesse Danner, take this woman, Kelsey Garrett, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

  He didn’t hear it for a long, pregnant moment. He was concentrating too hard on what his answer would be. Do you take her? Do you? But then he heard it, heard it in the pit of his soul. Kelsey Garrett!

  He stared at her in blank incredulity.

  Amused and scornful gray eyes gazed back at him.

  “Kelsey?” his voice shook slightly.

  “Kelsey Orchid Garrett,” she qualified.

  “Oh, hell!”

  “Mr. Danner,” the reverend admonished with a shake of his head.

  Jesse’s jaw slackened, increasing the shining mirth in those silvery eyes. The rushing inside his head pounded like a Pacific storm. No, it was the sound of her laughter. Only she wasn’t laughing aloud. She was laughing inside! This was the other Orchid he’d only guessed at. The one with restless fire, and, it appeared, a macabre sense of humor.

  And she was enjoying every god-awful moment of his shock!

  “Kelsey Garrett.” He shook his head to clear it.

  She hated him because he was Jesse Danner, he realized in dawning wonder. Not because he’d tried to marry Charlotte. Because he was Jesse Danner from Rock Springs and she knew every blasted detail about his past.

  Well, he knew a thing or two about her too. She was a Garrett, for God’s sake. Jace Garrett’s younger sister. And that made her a liar, a schemer, and a grafter, and he’d had the dubious pleasure of witnessing some of those traits firsthand already.