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

by Nancy Bush

  Three hours later Kelsey, who’d dressed for Lacey’s affair with care, then worried herself sick that Jesse would forget she wanted to go and would make her stay home and honor her beastly promise to him, stood impatiently in the foyer, slapping a pair of white kid gloves against her mint-green gown.

  When she couldn’t abide waiting a moment longer, she made a sound of impatience and let herself out of the house, waving off Drake’s insistence that he drive her to Lacey Duprés’s social extravaganza.

  “It’s only a few blocks, Drake. I’ll walk,” she told him.

  “But madam, Mr. Danner doesn’t want you to go alone.”

  “Then you can accompany me,” she said on a sigh.

  She was lonely and depressed. Jesse had done it again, a chronic habit, and though she shouldn’t have expected anything more, the thought that he cared so little for her feelings was like a weight on her shoulders.

  She walked through the sycamores, oaks, and elms that towered over the prestigious city blocks with Drake at her side. On pleasant Sunday afternoons like this one, the sidewalks teemed with people and bicycles. Lost in thought, Kelsey paid scant attention to the clusters of men, women, and children, and she was oblivious to the fact that a pair of narrowed eyes watched her every move with scrupulous detail.

  Two blocks west, the white picket fence that surrounded Lacey’s private party stood out starkly against the green parkland grass and lush trees. A red, white, and blue beribboned bandstand stood at an angle to the umbrella-topped tables whose draping edges snapped in the breeze. Lacey’s guests grouped around the tables, lifting glasses of champagne and punch. Even from this distance Kelsey thought they looked bored.

  Kelsey drew a deep breath and stopped for a moment, willing herself to relax. Jesse’s worries for her safety must have taken their toll, she mused a bit sheepishly. She felt exposed and was glad Drake was standing stiffly by her side.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  “Damn.” Jesse swore softly, glancing from the sheaf of papers in his hand to Zeke’s office clock. “It’s after two.”

  “What’s wrong?” Zeke had been staring pensively at Pacific Shipbuilders Ltd.’s ledger of monetary transactions. Now, though he looked up and regarded his friend and partner, Zeke’s expression was still distracted.

  “Kelsey wanted to go to a party this afternoon. Madame Duprés’s outdoor concert. I forget to ask Samuel to take her, and now I’m late. Blast,” he muttered, dropping the papers on Zeke’s desk as he strode rapidly toward the door.

  “You don’t think it’s safe for her to go by herself?”

  “It wasn’t safe for Nell, and this pretty face I’ve got testifies to Montana’s yen for violence.”

  Zeke examined the yellowish bruises on Jesse’s bladed cheeks. “Be careful,” he advised.

  “You too.”

  Twenty minutes later Jesse threw open the front door to his house and strode to the center of the foyer. The place was a tomb. “Kelsey?” he called loudly.

  Irma appeared at the upper banister, looking frightened as a doe. “She left, Mr. Danner. Just a few minutes ago. With Drake.”

  “With Drake? You’re certain?” he snapped out.

  She nodded her head vigorously.

  Relief ran through him. At least she’d heeded his advice and hadn’t gone out alone. He would meet her there, he determined, taking the stairs two at a time and striding toward his bedroom. He had time to change and could still be there by half past three. Although attending one of Madame Lacey Duprés’s parties was the last way he wanted to spend his afternoon, the thought of meeting his wife filled him with anticipation.

  He dressed in record time and headed for the stables as the hallway grandfather’s clock bonged three times. At the door to the carriage house he stopped short. The carriage was still there.

  She and Drake had walked, he realized. If he hadn’t been late himself, he would have done the same. As it was, he took the buggy, snapping the reins impatiently on the back of the horse the groomsman had put to the harness.

  He circled the park blocks, arriving at the party from the north side. Tossing the reins to one of the stable boys, he strode past the roped-off area for carriages, buggies, and horses, and toward the white garden arch festooned and woven with red and pink petunias.

  “Your invitation, sir,” the attendant guarding the entryway intoned, holding out a white-gloved palm.

  “My wife has it. She’s already here. Excuse me.” Jesse brushed past him to the man’s choked indignation, searching the crowd for Kelsey. His gaze landed on Lila Gray, whose backless Delft-blue gown glittered with tiny blue beads. She saw him at the same moment, moving toward him like a bright wave, clasping his hands in hers as if they were long-lost lovers. Jesse stifled his irritation, wondering if she’d come with her husband.

  “Your face,” she said softly, her eyes studying him with disconcerting interest. Excitement flickered in those icy orbs, and Jesse felt his stomach turn to witness her undeniable reaction to violence.

  “Excuse me,” he said, jerking backward when her fingertips lightly brushed his cheek.

  “She’s not here,” Lila told him deliberately. “You bastard, you’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Jesse didn’t answer, but she clasped his elbow tightly when he tried to push past her into the sea of bodies. “What is it about her you find so compelling? She isn’t even that pretty. She’s bold and uncouth and a lump of coal in bed, just ask Tyrone McNamara. What is it you like about her?”

  “She isn’t you,” he said caustically, pulling away from her, forgetting her just as quickly. His gaze roved anxiously over the crowds. Kelsey could be here. Chances were Lila was lying, just to be difficult. But as his glance swept from the red, white, and blue beribboned bandstand to the white picket fence around the perimeter which clearly marked the line between the socially accepted and the uninvited, he had to admit there was no sign of Kelsey.

  However, Samuel was standing by one of the tables, and as Jesse worked his way toward his brother, he saw that Lady Agatha Chamberlain, Charlotte, and their hostess, Madame Duprés, were all seated beneath the royal blue umbrella, sipping tea and champagne.

  Samuel jerked his head in recognition as Jesse approached.

  “Mr. Reevesworth and I are personal acquaintances,” Lacey Duprés was saying. “I’ve been meaning to call on him.”

  Agatha was eyeing Lacey with carefully concealed suspicion. “Are you certain we’re discussing Mr. Evanston Reevesworth? Evanston and his wife, Beatrice, have been friends of mine since I first arrived in Portland. He’s never mentioned you knew each other.”

  “We know each other very well,” Lacey maintained through tightened lips. “He’s a Southerner, like myself.”

  “Well… yes, that’s correct,” Agatha agreed.

  Charlotte’s gaze froze on Jesse. “Grandmama…” she murmured in distress.

  “Hello, Lady Chamberlain, Madame Duprés, Charlotte.” Jesse inclined his head in greeting, wishing he could avoid this scene and get Samuel alone.

  “Mr. Danner.” Lady Chamberlain tilted her coiffed white cotton-candy head regally.

  “Jesse,” Charlotte squeaked out painfully.

  “Where’s your lovely wife?” Lacey Duprés broke in perfunctorily, looking beyond him.

  “I thought she was already here.” He glanced at Samuel, who slowly shook his head from side to side, his expression changing from mild exasperation to worry.

  “She’s not alone, is she?” Samuel asked quickly.

  “She’s with Drake.”

  He expelled a breath of relief, but Jesse’s nerves tightened. Where was she? Montana was nowhere to be seen, and although his presence at this party would scarcely mean he wasn’t sending one of his men out to do his dirty work, Jesse would feel better just having the big man in his sights.

  Kelsey, Kelsey, he thought with growing uneasiness, checking his pocket watch.

  “Jesse?” Charlotte spoke in a small voice. “Could I speak to yo
u alone?”

  Stifling his impatience, he nodded, leading her away from the table to a relatively quiet spot by the picket fence. Fear was crawling through him, and he heeded it, trusting his own intuitive nature.

  “I have to know something for my own peace of mind,” Charlotte said in a strained voice, clutching her hands together as if afraid they might betray her if she let them go. “When you were — seeing me”—her voice softened, becoming barely audible—“was it just because I had money, or social connections? That’s what Orchid, I mean, Kelsey, said. I just have to know if it’s true…”

  People had lined up to gawk outside the gates. Jesse’s eyes moved from place to place, hoping for some sight of her, of her lovely hair and mischievous eyes and smiling mouth.

  A waiter held out a silver tray laden with champagne glasses sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. Jesse shook his head. Beer, or brandy, or bourbon was all he wanted.

  “Jesse…” Her voice had changed to a breathy whisper of embarrassment.

  He snapped his attention back to her. “Yes, it’s true,” he said gently, unable to lie and be kinder. For all his experience with women, he had little with young innocents whose hearts were on their sleeves and whose eyes reflected their anguish.

  “Oh…”

  “But I like you, Charlotte. For what’s it’s worth. I couldn’t go through with my plan, whether Kelsey was there or not. I’d already determined to give it up. You trusted me, and I couldn’t use you.”

  “Are you in love with Kelsey?”

  Jesse was baffled by women’s obsession with love. “She’s my wife.”

  “But are you in love with her?” Charlotte insisted with the fervency of a true romantic.

  “No,” he growled out, stalking away, quickly surrounded by glittering peacocks of women and black-suited men, wishing his wife would suddenly appear. Memories of Nell’s cold, stiff body slashed across his mind, and he couldn’t wait one moment longer.

  Thrusting his way back through the crowd, he felt someone’s gaze like a knife between his shoulder blades. Glancing back, he encountered the watchful eyes of a man in a brown suit. As soon as the man caught Jesse’s stare, however, his eyes slid away and he engaged himself in a conversation with a young blond woman standing next to him. Jesse’s skin crawled with premonition. Was he one of Montana’s men?

  “Kelsey,” he muttered through his teeth. “Where the hell are you?”

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  “Are you ready to continue, madam?” Drake asked.

  Kelsey jerked to awareness. She’d been gazing off into space, reliving those moments of fear when she’d realized Jesse had been shanghaied. She wasn’t the only one who had to watch her back these days, and she fervently wished her husband would give up this dangerous game of revenge.

  She wanted a chance, she’d realized during this moment of reflection. A chance to be a real wife to him. A chance to love him. As silly and heart-breakingly risky as that was, she knew it was what she desperately craved: to admit her love and hope, pray, that he might be able to return that love.

  “You idiot,” she told herself furiously an instant later.

  “Madam?”

  “No, Drake, I was reviling myself.” What a dreamy imbecile she was! Lord sakes, her heart was in danger of being shattered into a million pieces. She smiled achingly at her starchy companion. “Please, Drake. Can you call me Kelsey?”

  “I don’t believe so, mada—”

  A shrill cry suddenly rent the air, the terrified scream of a woman. Drake’s mouth was still open in surprise. Kelsey half turned. A flash of black thunder clattered across the cobblestones straight toward her: an enormous stallion the color of midnight.

  “Madam!” Drake yelled, stepping forward.

  But he was too late. Kelsey threw up her arms to shield her face, her shoes slipping on the cobblestones. A shriek pierced the quiet sky. A bridle jangled and clanged. The horse hit Kelsey’s shoulder, spinning her backward. She stumbled, falling. A whip bit into her back and she cried out, her cheek crashed into the street, stunning her. Hoofbeats rang like angry, discordant bells all around her. Something hard struck her right hand and jagged streaks of pain shot up her arm.

  The horse wheeled and reared high above her. Dimly Kelsey turned her face protectively to the ground. Then the animal gathered to leap over her prone body, its hoofbeats crashing past her, receding into the now-empty silence.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  “Oh, my heaven!” the woman next to Jesse declared as screams rent the somnolent afternoon air. Jesse whipped around, in time to see a black horse racing hell-bent through the towering oaks that lined the eastern side of the park, scattering shrieking cyclists and couples and children strolling along in its wake.

  “Damn fool!” Jesse muttered. The rider, bent low over the withers, slapped his reins against the horse’s flanks. Shaking angrily, the horse leapt away.

  The skin on the back of his neck prickled. He glanced back. There was no one watching him. Everyone’s gaze was riveted to the drama played out beyond the white picket fence, even the man in the brown suit.

  A crowd was gathering on the other side of the grassy knoll, which obscured Jesse’s view of the road where the horse had crashed by. He could see the tops of men’s bowlers and women’s feathered hats. Someone must be injured, he determined, and without pausing to consider what his own thoughts might be about who and what had occurred, Jesse dashed through the gates in aid of the victim.

  Halfway to the accident he spied the mint-green gown and lustrous fall of hair of the woman lying on the ground. His heart constricted. Drake was bent over the woman, his normally taciturn face a mask of horror.

  “Oh, God, no. No, no!” He ran with all his strength.

  Kelsey lay on the street. Blood ran in rivulets down her white cheek to mingle with the dust between the cobblestones. One hand was thrown outward, as if beseeching him to help her.

  “He ran her down, sir,” Drake said in a choked voice as Jesse bent to her side, almost afraid to touch her.

  He gently checked the pulse at her neck. It was strong and sure. “Thank God,” he murmured, heartfelt.

  A hand touched his shoulder. “I’m going after him,” Samuel’s voice said determinedly.

  Jesse nodded. He could scarcely breathe. “I’m going to kill Montana for this.”

  “We’ll kill him together.”

  “Get a doctor,” Jesse ordered Drake, gathering Kelsey in his arms. “Meet me at the house.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Drake disappeared. Jesse drew a slow breath. Beneath Kelsey’s cold skin he could feel the slow throbbing beat of her heart. He stared down at her, consumed with pain. This was his fault. His fault. Just like Nell. Only this hurt a thousand times worse. He’d never believed it could hurt worse than Nell, but he’d been wrong.

  Montana Gray would pay with his life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Kelsey.” Jesse’s voice sounded faraway and watery. She moaned and turned her head into the pillow. She was in his room, she realized, inhaling his masculine scent deep into her lungs.

  “Kelsey, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice strained. She felt his hand cover hers.

  Lifting one eyelid, she saw the room was nearly dark, the bedside lamp dimmed. Jesse’s beloved face swam into view. His blue eyes were naked with concern, and she wanted to reach out and assure him she was all right.

  “I’m sending you home,” he told her. “I’ve got to get you away from here.”

  Home? What did he mean by home? This was her home, here with him.

  “You’ve got a concussion, and several fingers on your left hand are broken,” he went on.

  So that was why her hand felt so strange. She twisted to look at the splinted fingers, and pain exploded inside her skull.

  “Don’t move, love,” he whispered. “Tremiane’ll take care of you when you get to Rock Springs.”

  Rock Springs! Kelsey uttered a protest, every muscle tight
ening.

  “Shh.” Jesse warned, smoothing hair away from her forehead in such an intimate, loving way that Kelsey’s throat filled with unshed tears.

  “Don’t… make… me …go,” she whispered.

  “Jace doesn’t know. No one’s going to tell him unless you want them to,” he said, misinterpreting her reasons for not wanting to leave. She wanted to be with him, with her husband. “Tremaine and Lexie will be here tonight. They’re taking you with them.”

  She squeezed her right hand, holding on to his like a lifeline. He squeezed back reassuringly.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he added in a voice consumed with dark emotion. “I’ll take care of everything. You just need to rest.”

  “I want you… with me…”

  Kelsey wasn’t certain she’d actually said the words aloud or if they were only in her mind. But Jesse’s sudden silence cued her that she’d indeed used her voice.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he murmured hoarsely. Then he released her hand and she heard his booted footsteps leave the room.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  “She’s coming around again,” a familiar male voice said into the gray gloom.

  Kelsey slitted open her eyes, expecting another wave of pain. Tremaine Danner was eyeing her with the professionalism of a doctor. He smiled when he saw her eyelids rise. “Hello, there.”

  “Hi,” Kelsey struggled to get out.

  “You’ve got a concussion. Did Jesse tell you?”

  “Have you seen Jesse?” Kelsey asked anxiously.

  “Actually, no. My brother seems to have disappeared on some mysterious mission.”

  “Trust Jesse to turn the whole family upside down with his first message in years, then make certain he’s absent when we come to see him!” a familiar female voice fumed.

  Kelsey turned her head, experiencing only a few sharp twinges of pain. Lexington Danner, Jesse’s half-sister and Tremaine’s wife, regarded her with amusement and curiosity. Kelsey smiled at the dynamic blond-haired woman. Though Tremaine was also Jesse’s half-brother, Lexie and Tremaine had been related only by marriage: Lexie’s mother, Eliza, had married Tremaine’s father, Joseph, when Tremaine was a small boy and while already pregnant with Lexie from a previous marriage.