Jenna Stewart

by The Sisters O'Ryan

  * * * *

  “You’re up early,” Micah told Stephen the next morning. “How do you feel?”

  “Don’t ask.” He lightly touched his head and winced. “How did you drink so much and still look like you feel fine this morning?”

  Micah laughed, rather enjoying the expression of pain that flicked across Stephen’s face at the sound. “I don’t think I drank quite as much as you did. But that’s all right. You’re on vacation, right?”

  Pleased with himself for asking the question so casually, he filled a plate and sat.

  “Until Father arrives, I suppose I can relax a little.” A shaking hand lifted his cup of coffee to his lips.

  Drew came into the dining room. He glanced at Stephen and raised his brows at Micah. Micah shrugged.

  Drew helped himself at the sideboard and took his seat. “I saw Siobhan’s maid,” he said while pouring coffee. “She said Siobhan will be down shortly and has plans for you, Stephen.”

  “Plans?”

  “I think she intends to show you the city.” He studied Stephen. “I believe today she intends to hire a boat to go onto the Bay.”

  Micah smiled at the green tinge of Stephen’s face, but hid it behind the paper. However poorly their brother felt, it was all his own fault.

  Martin appeared in the doorway. “A wire for you, sir.” He held the telegram out to Stephen, who tore it open.

  He grinned. “Is the boy still here? I have an answer to send.”

  “Yes, sir. He’s at the door.”

  Stephen stood and gave each brother a serious look but focused on Micah. “Father will arrive tomorrow. Then my vacation time will end. Yours might begin.”

  He left the room without another word.

  Drew watched him leave. “What do you think the little shit meant by that?”

  Micah took his time answering. “Do you enjoy making wagons, Drew? Is this what you see yourself doing for the rest of your life?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never given it much thought. Do you?”

  “Hell no. I want to paint, but I am aware I need to make a living. I could use my art in a variety of ways.”

  “I like making things.” Drew said. “I enjoy starting with an idea and ending with an object that people will use.”

  “I could design carriages as well as wagons. I think Siobhan had a good idea about that market.”

  Drew’s mouth fell open. “Are you talking about leaving Berwick Transport and setting out on our own?”

  Micah folded the paper and put it aside. “Why not? We can build anything we want.”

  Drew pursed his lips, lost in thought. “I don’t know. Would you want to stay here?”

  “Yes. This is where the country will grow. The East is the old world, as far as I’m concerned.”

  His brother, whom he needed to agree more than he wanted to admit, shook his head. “I don’t know, Micah. Starting our own business will take a lot of work. A lot of capital. All we’ve ever had is what Father saw fit to pay us from the company. I’ll have to give it some thought.”

  He rose and tossed his napkin on the table. Micah didn’t know where those thoughts had come from. He only knew that a dark cloud descended on the house the moment Stephen received that telegram. Something was happening, and he felt it would come to a head when his father arrived. He could only prepare for the worst.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The morning started with tension. Micah and Andrew left for work as soon as Siobhan reached the dining room. Neither explained why Stephen was giving a scrap of paper to a telegram boy at the front door. They kissed her good-bye—Micah on the lips and Andrew on the cheek—asked her to keep Stephen busy for the day, and departed, frowns creasing their handsome faces.

  When Stephen came back into the dining room, Siobhan put on her best smile. “Are you ready to meet San Francisco, Stephen?”

  “You aren’t planning to take me out on the water, are you? I really don’t think my head or stomach could manage it today.” Even as he said it his face turned a little green.

  Poor dear must have a hangover.

  She hoped so since he’d brought nothing but upset with his unwelcome arrival. She was a newlywed, after all. Was the bride accorded no privacy with her husbands? Siobhan smiled at the plural, but then switched her focus back to the object of her day.

  “Not unless you want to,” she said sweetly. “I had planned to show you the wharf area, North Beach, where I thought we would stop for lunch, and then the Chinese district as we go into town. Later I thought we would meet Micah and Andrew somewhere for dinner. San Francisco has some wonderful dining establishments.”

  He examined her as though she were a piece of property for sale, then rubbed his hands together and said, “Sounds great. Let me go and get my things.”

  What’s happened here? His cockiness, which had disappeared last night after a few drinks, showed itself again. She wished Micah or Andrew had remained to tell her what had changed.

  “Missy?”

  Siobhan turned as she pulled on her gloves. “Yes, Ching Li?”

  The Chinese woman sidled up to Siobhan and looked around to ensure no one else hung about. “The young brother, he asking questions today. He ask how often Mr. Andrew not sleep in his bed.”

  “Oh, no. Did anyone tell him?”

  “No, Missy. They all say Mr. Andrew always in his room, but I see that brother come sneaking out of Mr. Andrew’s room very early.” Ching Li shook her head. “He up to no good. And he sent telegram this morning to father. I heard him tell his brothers.”

  Siobhan looked up to see Stephen descending the staircase. “Thank you, Ching Li. I will take care of Stephen.” She donned the most ingratiating smile she could manage, and mentally planned a day from Hell.

  * * * *

  “We so wanted to meet you two for dinner somewhere, but poor Stephen’s stomach started acting up. I feared he wouldn’t make it home,” Siobhan explained to Micah and Andrew at the dining table that evening. She’d done her job well. Never had a man been more green around the gills than Stephen. “I had no way to let Cook know to prepare something bland.”

  “Can’t take a day on the town with my wife, little brother?” Micah took a bite of chicken in a spicy Mexican-style sauce and chewed with relish.

  “I’m fine,” Stephen said through his teeth. He pushed his food around his plate, and then settled for drinking wine instead of eating.

  He’ll regret that. “I did my best to entertain you. I’m sorry you became ill.”

  Stephen glowered. “You did your best? Were you trying to kill me? First I sat around that dress shop.” He looked to Micah. “You obviously allow your wife too much money. She walked into that shop and everyone in it fawned over her as though she were the queen.” He jabbed his finger at Siobhan. “If you were my wife—”

  “Which fortunately for both of us I am not,” she said with sweetness and light in every word.

  He glared. She smiled. He glared harder and then picked up his wine glass once more. Andrew kindly filled it when Stephen set it down.

  “She said she wanted to take me to the wharf. She did—right down where they gut and clean the fish for market. It was disgusting.”

  “Freshest fish in the world,” Andrew murmured.

  “Then we had lunch—seafood, of course—but prepared in a way I couldn’t tolerate.”

  “They brought it to the table with its head on,” Siobhan explained.

  “That’s to show it’s fresh,” Andrew said.

  “Then we went through the Chinese section of town. It was close and hot and noisy. They had raw chickens hanging by the neck and entrails for sale right there on the sidewalk. It was then I began to feel ill.”

  He looked to Micah again, but pointed toward Siobhan. “And she did it on purpose,” he bit out.

  “So my wife showed you daily things that normally only residents of the city see, and you’re angry? You should thank her.”

  “Tha
t will be a cold day in hell.” Stephen stood. “Excuse me.” He picked up his wine glass and headed for the door, then came back and plucked the nearly full bottle from the table.

  When she heard him at the top of the stairs, Siobhan sighed and continued eating. “He neglected to tell you that we rode the new cable car.”

  “Did you? How was it?” Micah asked as though nothing untoward had taken place. “Martin, may we have another bottle of wine, please?”

  “Lovely,” she said. “If they follow through with the plans for more, travel around the city will be so much easier.” She sipped from her glass. “Now, what happened this morning?”

  The twins exchanged a glance. Andrew made the explanation. “Stephen received a wire saying that Father will arrive tomorrow. And he made some reference to his ending vacation and our beginning one.”

  Siobhan frowned and told the men what Ching Li had revealed about Stephen’s questions.

  “Damn. We should have held off last night,” Drew said.

  “This is our house. Why should we have to live the way someone else wants? Especially someone we didn’t invite?” Siobhan was incensed over Stephen’s intrusion, but even she felt a sense that something momentous was about to happen.

  Drew sighed. “He knows to look tonight. I’d better keep to my room.”

  Siobhan reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “Do not feel constrained by your brother, Andrew. We have our lives to live and he has his.”

  “I agree with Siobhan,” Micah said. “Changes are coming, no matter what we do tonight.”

  His words matched her thoughts. The question was whether the changes were good or bad.

  Suddenly queasy, she pushed back from the table. “I guess today was a little much for me, too. I believe I’ll turn in.”

  The twins both stood, too. “Are you all right?” Micah came to her side.

  “Fine. Just a little tired, I think. Maybe I had too much sun.”

  “Too much of Stephen, more like,” Andrew added.

  Micah hugged her. “Drew and I will come to check on you in a few minutes.”

  She smiled. “That would be very nice.”

  Alone upstairs, she sat at the vanity and examined her current status. She was happy to have her shop for income and Ching Li for support. If worse came to worse, she wouldn’t have to rely on Andrew or Micah for money.

  She had married Micah for his kindness, good looks, and lifestyle. Security and a good position in society had always been her goals, and she had never hidden that from him. If her world was shifting, she needed something to hang on to. Her shop and friend would have to serve until something better came along. Yes, I will survive whatever earthquake is coming.

  But if she really believed all that, why did she feel sick to her stomach thinking about the visit of the elder Berwick tomorrow?

  * * * *

  When they entered her room through Micah’s, they found Siobhan caught in a restless sleep, tossing and turning, calling out softly for Regan, her elder sister. Drew thought that rather strange. She’d always seemed so self-sufficient and independent. She certainly gave the appearance of not needing the Berwick brothers, and he had no doubt that should something happen to her marriage, she would find her way with little trouble. That thought disturbed him even more than her unrest. He and Micah needed her, and there was the rub.

  Micah looked at him, and by unspoken agreement, they shed their clothing and climbed in beside her to give what comfort they could. Immediately, she snuggled up to him and Micah curled up against her back. In moments, she quieted and breathed deeply.

  Hmm. Maybe she did need them, if only for sound, safe sleep.

  He dropped off wondering what the next day would bring. He only wished for slumber as sound as Siobhan now enjoyed.

  Drew woke to someone shaking his shoulder. He rolled over to find Siobhan fully dressed and sunlight streaming through the window. Drew checked the large bed and was surprised that he slept alone. Damn! He’d been in bed the whole night with Siobhan and hadn’t even attempted to make love. His only concern had been to give her a little peace.

  “What time is it?”

  “Nearly eight.”

  “God, I was completely under.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms and pushed back the covers. Siobhan stroked his body, and he came to life faster than he would have imagined—especially one part of him.

  “I wish we had time,” she said, wistfully, “but Micah and Stephen have gone to the ferry building to meet your father. You’d better dress.”

  He pulled her to the bed. “This wouldn’t take long,” he pled.

  She looked to the door and then back at him, smiling. “Do you Berwicks ever get enough?”

  “Of you? Never.”

  She laughed, tracing her fingernail around his nipple and then down his flat stomach to the large staff straining toward her. She bent and took it in her mouth. Drew groaned and arched off the bed. She took him deeply into her mouth and up against her throat, stroking the bottom vein with her tongue. Then she lifted her head and—Sweet Jesus! He didn’t think he could hang on for another onslaught like that. Down she went, teasing, up, down, licking…

  He came like the firecrackers over the Charles River on Independence Day. She released him from her mouth and took him in hand, caressing him until he was spent.

  He watched through hooded eyes as she delicately wiped her mouth with a hankie. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Surprise lighted her eyes. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I should have pulled free from your mouth.”

  Her smile was as tender as she might give a child. “Andrew, I love having you and Micah in my mouth. It’s so…intimate, so sensual.” She pulled a face. “I have to admit, I haven’t quite developed a taste for the male essence, but I enjoy bringing you close—right up to the brink and then over. I hope you don’t mind that I can’t finish you in my mouth.”

  He wanted to hold her so badly, but he was something of a mess at the moment. He took her hand and gently pressed a kiss to her palm. “I love you, Siobhan. Micah loves you. I hope that will be enough.” He couldn’t voice the whole thought, that he hoped their love would be enough if they lost everything today.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took everything in Siobhan’s being to keep from pacing while waiting for Micah, Stephen, and Mr. Berwick to arrive from the ferry. With false calmness, she issued orders to Cook and Martin, and directed the housemaid which room to prepare for the twins’ father. She had chosen her clothing purposefully that morning to appear conservative. A white cotton blouse had long sleeves that ended in lace cuffs, and a lace collar hugged her neck just under her chin. A burgundy silk, high-waisted skirt fell to the floor in soft folds, and her hair was high in a demure braided knot. Micah’s father would find nothing wanting in her presentation.

  She came in the back from the garden with fresh flowers just as Andrew came downstairs. He looked so handsome in a black three-piece suit, pristine, white shirt, and black tie. His hair glistened with moisture from cleaning up. She reached up to straighten his tie when the front door opened. She jumped back from Andrew as though she’d been scalded.

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “Everything will be fine.” He squeezed her arm reassuringly and turned to go and greet his father. She followed, taking a deep breath.

  “Father, welcome to San Francisco.” He held out his hand, which Mr. Berwick took for a quick handshake.

  “Your brother already went through all the welcoming speeches. I’m not here to play tourist, I’m here to check on my business.”

  Andrew straightened, seeming to step back from his father without actually moving. Siobhan sought out Micah, who had spoken with Martin before the butler disappeared out the door. When he turned, he flashed her a quick smile but then looked to Andrew. As she had seen so often, the men drew strength from each other. She went forward.

  “Mr. Berwick, please come in. Can I offer you refr
eshments?”

  The elder Berwick took stock of the room arrangements and strode into the parlor. “Send in coffee.”

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured, and started toward the kitchen only to run into Stephen.

  “I like your outfit, Siobhan. Very innocent looking.”

  “As I am, Stephen,” she said with her best Southern charm. “Unlike some I could mention.” She pushed past him and stopped Martin as he came into the foyer with a large suitcase. “Martin, after you’ve taken that to Mr. Berwick’s room, will you bring in coffee, please?”

  “Right away, ma’am.”

  She slipped into the parlor and slid the pocket doors shut. Taking a seat on the settee beside Micah, she waited for the tension to break. Once she knew what was coming, she could make her peace with it and move on. Until then, she hung in limbo.

  Stephen, looking smug, stood behind the chair where his father sat. Andrew tapped the arm of the chair where he sat near Micah.

  No one spoke until Martin brought the coffee and departed. Siobhan poured and handed out the cups.

  “No need for you to stay,” Mr. Berwick stated. “This is man talk.”

  “She has every right and a good deal of interest in being here.” Micah looked to Siobhan. “If you want to, that is.”

  She took her place beside him and focused on his father.

  Berwick shrugged. “If you insist.” Only then did he begin.

  “Andrew, you’ve been here nearly two months. Micah, you’ve been here slightly more than four weeks. And yet there has been only one major sale. Explain yourselves.”

  “When I arrived,” Andrew started, “I had a great deal to do—a house to secure, a crew, and research to find whom to approach with bids. Micah secured a contract for ten wagons over the next year. We’ve submitted a bid for another twelve units. I’d say that’s damn good for two months.”

  Stephen raised his brows. “How many wagons did you sell your first two months in business, Father?”