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

by Nancy Bush

  She knew now that he was no rapist. He could win it all on charm and sexuality. Look at Lila Gray. She clearly didn’t have any qualms about wanting Jesse, no matter how unsavory his past was.

  I have got to get out of this marriage soon.

  “Lady Agatha Chamberlain!” Lacey Duprey’s voice rang loudly and triumphantly over the heads of her guest.

  Kelsey jerked around, astonished. It was indeed Agatha, who was being shown into the main salon. Charlotte wasn’t with her. Another astounding discovery.

  What in heaven’s name was she doing here?

  Kelsey’s gaze clung yearningly to her, and as if feeling its weight, Agatha caught her eye—and smiled conspiratorially.

  Filled with delight, Kelsey weaved through the crowd toward her, clasping Agatha’s dry hands within the shelter of her own.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Kelsey whispered in her ear.

  “No more than I can,” Agatha said. “But I wanted to see you, dear.”

  “You did?”

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my advanced years, it’s that friendships are too precious to throw away.”

  “Oh, Agatha!” Kelsey blinked away unexpected tears.

  Patting her head, Agatha said more for Lacey Duprés’s benefit, since that curious dowager was avidly eavesdropping on their conversation, “I truly am in the mood for some entertainment. Madame Duprés, is there any chance you might be serving tea?”

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Eight blocks away Montana Gray gazed coldly at his wife. Not with hatred, Lila thought, alarmed that her husband had sought out her company. Montana didn’t feel emotions like hatred and jealousy and love. He didn’t feel anything as far as she could tell, which was both a blessing and an annoyance. It was a blessing because his punishments were meted without the heat of passion, and Lila reckoned that was the only reason she was still alive. It was an annoyance because she was a passionate person herself, and every once in a while she would have liked a rousing good fight, or some wild, erotic lovemaking. Oh, he would beat her if she asked him. Once in a while he’d really whip her. Like that time over Jesse. But more often than not, he treated her with total disinterest.

  “What do you want?” she demanded cautiously, glancing over her shoulder in her vanity mirror. She’d just gotten back from a ride in Gerrard Knight’s carriage, and she hoped the effects didn’t show. Land sakes, the man was a total wastrel as a lover. All he’d done was cry about how much money he owed Montana, as if she might somehow help him out of his troubles!

  “You lied to me.”

  Lila didn’t move. “I did no such thing.”

  “Mr. Danner is a wealthy as I am. Maybe wealthier. You said he was broke.”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know that?” she demanded impatiently. “I am not his mistress!”

  “But you were.” Montana didn’t betray any emotion, not by the flickering of an eyelash. Since this was old news, Lila couldn’t see how it would harm her, but just to be on the safe side she kept silent, watching him warily. “And you will be again.”

  Her breath caught. “You want me to become his mistress?”

  “I want his money. I want his life in my hands.” He held his thick palms as if he were begging.

  Lila understood. Jesse was a living reminder that even the powerful, invulnerable Montana Gray could make a mistake. It was only a matter of time before Montana would order him put to death.

  “Give me a few weeks,” Lila said huskily, a delicious thrill shooting up her spine.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  What had seemed like a lonely, miserable future for Kelsey suddenly opened into a vista of lovely dreams. She sat beside Agatha on Madame Duprés’s pink-and-green flowered divan and shared a pot of reasonably good jasmine tea.

  “Justice is acting like an absolute tyrant,” Agatha said with a smile. “He threw Smithers off him last week and yesterday he nearly unseated Merriweather. I actually think the dreadful beast misses you.”

  “I miss him too. I haven’t ridden since I left Chamberlain Manor.”

  Agatha cocked a brow at Kelsey’s wistful tone. “When do you expect to extricate yourself from this marriage?”

  Kelsey drew a long breath. “Do you mean you’d like me to come back?” she dared to ask.

  “Of course. Justice isn’t the only one who misses you.”

  A lump filled Kelsey’s throat, and she ducked her head to hide the emotions that crossed her mobile face. She’d been a Judas and yet Agatha was willing to take her back. “And Charlotte?” she murmured. “What will she say?”

  Agatha patted her hands. “Don’t worry, my dear. You always have a home with us, Orchid. Excuse an old woman’s forgetful mind, Kelsey,” she corrected herself in self-annoyance. “But I don’t truly expect to see you on my doorstep with your bags in hand.”

  “You don’t?”

  “You’re married to a very handsome, complicated man, and I suspect,” she added on a long sigh, “a somewhat dangerous one. But somehow—”

  “I’ve already told you about Jesse’s unsavory past—”

  “Don’t interrupt, dear,” Agatha said, committing the sin herself. “It only makes the man more romantic. I also suspect you’ve felt tugs on your heartstrings yourself.”

  Kelsey shook her head vigorously. “Jesse Danner means less than nothing to me. He’s a vengeful, arrogant, seductive scoundrel. If I’ve learned anything at all, it’s that no man—not even the good ones—can be trusted to be faithful, loving and true.” She laughed shortly. “And Jesse Danner can’t even brush good!”

  Twenty paces directly behind Kelsey and Agatha, to the left of the musicians, the man in the brown suit pretended to be absorbed in the painting hung at the north end of the salon. It was a mediocre representation of a field of daffodils, done by a local, and soon to be entirely forgotten, artist.

  At least that was Victor Flynne’s opinion.

  Kelsey’s soft laughter floated to his ears. He’d eavesdropped with consuming interest on her conversation with Lady Agatha Chamberlain. Lady Chamberlain had called her Kelsey, and that made no sense to him at all.

  He knew exactly who the lovely red-haired beauty was: Jesse Danner’s new bride. And, by his own association with the Danner family as a whole, and Tremaine Danner in particular, Victor Flynne knew nearly everything there was to know about Jesse Danner.

  The assignment had fallen into his lap. Ezekiel Drummond had paid him a call. Of course Drummond, and everyone else in Portland, thought his name was Victor Flannigan. Tremaine Danner had seen to that!

  Drummond wanted information on the Danner family of Rock Springs. When Victor had heard the request, the blood had rushed from his head and he’d had to excuse himself and break open a stick of smelling salts in the back room. It was true what they said about dying men, he reflected now. His past, in all its lurid detail, had flashed before his eyes. Tremaine had finally caught up with him, he thought. Over ten years had passed since he’d run afoul of the famous Danner temper by trying to capitalize on a passion-filled scandal the entire family had been hiding. Victor had exposed their secret, but instead of being handsomely rewarded, he’d unfortunately been singled out by Tremaine Danner, Jesse Danner’s eldest brother, and literally run out of town on a rail.

  Tremaine had wanted blood. Since Victor had been the one to stir up the sleeping tiger, Tremaine had determined that Victor would be the one to pay.

  Victor had been forced to flee Portland in the middle of the night, had altered his name, and had set up business in Seattle. But his ties were in Portland. He knew the city’s officials. He knew who wielded power. Victor Flynne Investigations had grown fat with success in Portland. He wanted that back.

  Three years ago he’d returned—and nearly tucked his tail between his legs and scurried away again when he’d learned Samuel Danner, the youngest Danner brother, was an up-and-coming young Portland attorney. But Samuel didn’t know Victor Flannigan was Victor Flynne. And Victor
now suspected that the name Victor Flynne might not mean anything to him anyway. Samuel had been a kid during Victor’s blackmail attempts on the Danner family; they’d probably kept it from him.

  Still, having a Danner residing in Victor’s fair city hadn’t sat well. Besides, the few times Victor had seen Samuel, he’d reminded him so much of Tremaine Danner that Victor had been filled with rage and injustice and a certain amount of gut-shaking fear. So Victor had decided to make Samuel’s life hell — tit for tat — and he’d chosen Samuel’s wife, Mary, as the means.

  He’d decided to scare the silly girl senseless first, and so thinking, had sent one of his men to frighten her when she was alone. One cold afternoon Mary McKechnie Danner had very congenially taken out her carriage by herself. Victor’s man had intercepted her. But then something had gone awry.

  “She just didn’t scare right,” the man told him later. “Wasn’t afraid at all! I had to fight ‘er for the reins and then she fell and was crushed under the rims.”

  Icy fear had speared Victor’s heart. If the truth ever came out, he knew Samuel Danner would never let him live. The Danners were just made that way. All of them.

  But luckily Samuel Danner had no idea that Victor was involved. He believed, as did everyone else, that his wife’s death had been an accident, and gradually Victor got over his fear. He gave up his fight against the Danners and concentrated instead on his plummy life. The people that counted in Portland came to him, sometimes for matters within the law, sometimes not. And Victor, who knew more secrets than anyone rightly should, kept files on everyone, even those who considered him a friend, because one never knew when one might need some extra persuasion.

  Lacey Duprés was a case in point. Victor had done work for her. She was determined to break into Portland society, no matter whom she had to trample over. Because it was his nature, Victor had conducted his own investigation on the disgusting old dowager even while he helped her learn secrets about others. He’d followed the threads of Lacey’s past and now he knew more about her than she probably knew herself. He half suspected she’d killed that husband of hers after coercing him to leave his money and property to her. She told a soul-stirring story of his dying in the war to anyone who would listen, but Victor, who had a sense of such things, could picture her slowly poisoning the poor fool, then bringing him back to health, just enough to win his gratitude. There were rumors to that effect, disgruntled relatives who’d been left out in the cold when the Duprés money found its way to Lacey’s purse.

  Yes, Lacey Duprés could be blackmailed, if the need arose. And she was smart enough to know it. She kept Victor nailed to her side. She’d targeted Portland as her city because she’d been spurned long ago by a wealthy, respected patriarch of one of the city’s most powerful families. Victor knew the whole story, though Lacey wasn’t aware he did. Another means of blackmail.

  Victor strolled through the crowds to find his hostess now. She, too, was eyeing the mysterious Kelsey and Lady Chamberlain. Since Lady Chamberlain was a personal friend of Lacey’s ex-lover, Victor could practically see the gears clicking in Lacey’s unscrupulous little mind.

  “The woman with Lady Chamberlain,” Victor said without preamble.

  Lacey jerked to attention, nearly forgetting that she was supposed to be half crippled and practically lifting the cane off the floor. She quickly leaned her bulk against it again. “Yes?” she asked cautiously.

  “Jesse Danner’s wife. I overheard Lady Chamberlain address her as ‘Kelsey,’”

  “Kelsey?” Lacey narrowed her eyes. “Her name’s Orchid Simpson Danner.”

  “Jesse Danner’s from a small town called Rock Springs. His brother is Samuel Danner. I’ve had more than my share of dealing with the family, and their closest neighbors, the Garretts. Jason Garrett is head of the Garrett family. His only sister’s name is Kelsey.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Lacey demanded.

  “If your bid for acceptance into Lady Chamberlain’s circles of friends, fails, well…” Victor flicked imaginary dust off his lapel. “There are other routes of entry. I can help you buy your way in through a back door.”

  “And what would you require in return?” Lacey asked wryly.

  “The terms are negotiable. I owe Tremaine Danner a debt, and I’m willing to pay it through any of the Danner’s—Samuel, Jesse, or Jesse’s wife. What I need from you, Lacey, is to be ready to jump when I tell you to,” he added in a silky whisper.

  “Vile snake,” she harrumphed when he was out of earshot.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  Kelsey returned home in lighter spirits; in fact she was whistling as she crossed the foyer. The sweet sound filtered into the den, where Zeke sat in one of the leather wing chairs and Jesse stood by the window, his face shadowed in the growing twilight.

  Jesse glanced around. The lilting melody sharply reminded him that he was married to a paradox. Kelsey could be sweet and gentle and thoroughly entertaining when she felt like it; he’d witnessed the transformation. But with him she was a barbed-wire fence. He couldn’t get close. She wouldn’t let him, and invariably, her good mood faded whenever her husband entered the room.

  Now, listening to her light footsteps hurry up the stairs, he felt a powerful frustration. “Are we ready, then?” he growled at Zeke.

  “The money’s been transferred into a new account. Montana can just reach his greedy hands in and take it. The park block now belongs to both of you.”

  “Nell’s park block.”

  Zeke nodded. “Nell’s park block,” he repeated softly.

  Jesse shot Zeke a knowing look. “Montana won’t be able to stand it. It won’t be long before his new ‘partner’ is booted out—permanently.”

  “Be careful, Jesse.”

  “Montana and Judge Barlowe and all their other ‘friends’ won’t be able to get away this time. The contracts are signed and I’ve got my copy sealed away.”

  “And if your body should turn up floating in the Willamette?”

  “Then you’ll be there to pull me out again. Stop worrying, Zeke. We’ve got nothing to lose. Nothing that matters.” Jesse’s face was harsh in the deepening shadows. “Montana’s had to put up a lot of his own money. He wants to break me, and he’s matched me dollar for dollar in the shipbuilding venture. He’s close to his limit.”

  “As you are,” Zeke pointed out. “You’ll be as broke as he is.”

  Jesse shrugged. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

  Zeke turned thoughtfully in the direction of the den’s double doors. He could still hear Kelsey’s gentle whistling. “What do you plan to do afterwards?”

  “Leave town. Disappear.” Jesse shrugged. “I don’t want anything more to do with Rock Springs or Portland.” Interpreting Zeke’s glance, he added, “Kelsey will have her annulment, so she’ll be happy. I’ll make certain she’s well provided for beforehand, just in case.”

  “Just in case?”

  “Just in case,” Jesse repeated deliberately, but he was determined that nothing would go wrong. Nothing.

  Kelsey’s whistling changed to out-and-out singing. Her voice was surprisingly clear and lovely, the sound drifting down the upstairs hall like a gentle waterfall.

  Nothing, Jesse reminded himself sternly, dismissing the tightening in his chest as a premature case of nerves.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rain poured in a deluge, gathering in the eaves and running off the roof in silvery sheets outside Jesse’s den window. Yesterday had been a beast, the air breathless and heavy with thick August heat. Jesse had expected a storm to break the oppressive blanket of air, but throughout the night and most of the day it had been the same: the air laced with a weighted expectancy, as if something would surely happen soon.

  Then without warning the rain had started, a pounding, saturated mass that swirled with the dust and blanketed the sky in shades of gray. It dampened Jesse’s mood. He’d been planning to leave again tonight. He couldn’t bear being in the ho
use with Kelsey, and though he knew his leaving would mean her opinion of him would ebb still further—did she truly believe he was spending each night with Lila?—it was better than being forced to think about her.

  He spent his nights at Briny’s, his days with either Zeke, Samuel, or Montana Gray. Tonight was the eve of Gray’s destruction, the culmination of Jesse’s dreams of vengeance.

  He should feel elated. Triumphant. Victorious.

  Instead, he felt restless, unsated, and uncertain for the first time that he’d chosen the right path. He hadn’t anticipated the complications of bringing Montana to ruination. He hadn’t anticipated his wife!

  Jesse strode impatiently across the foyer, his footsteps deadened by the horrendous torrent of rain slashing down outside the windows. The lights flickered and he paused to look up the sweeping staircase. Kelsey was talking to Irma; their female voices murmured faintly beneath the loud music of the rain.

  After tomorrow there would be no need for her to be his wife. She could leave. Disappear. Start over wherever she chose.

  Jesse climbed the stairs with purposeful strides and knocked on the door to Kelsey’s room.

  “Yes, Mr. Danner?” Irma asked, opening the door a crack.

  “I’d like to talk to my wife. Alone,” he told the skittery maid wryly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  She fled down the hall as if he’d ordered her put to death if she didn’t make haste. Shaking his head, Jesse entered Kelsey’s sitting room.

  She was standing in the center of the room wearing a blue-flowered dress, her small hands fisted against her hips, looking for all the world as if she’d like to murder him. “What do you want?”

  “We have some things to talk over.”

  “Well, you can jolly well talk them over with yourself. We have nothing else to say to each other.” With that she swept up a black cloak with a hood and thrust her arms inside the heavy folds.