by BJ Hoff
Now she somehow felt as though her hope had been renewed. For the first time in months, the burden of fear dropped away, and relief washed over her like a fountain of goodness.
“Perhaps God has not forgotten us after all,” she murmured, touching her abdomen where the babe rested within her. “Perhaps he truly has given us a future and a hope.”
Jack pulled the wagon as close as he could get to the curb, which because of the drifting snow wasn’t very close at all. Tugging Madog’s cap down over his ears, he turned his coat collar up about his throat, then leaped off the wagon bench and hitched the gray to the post in front.
Inside, he glanced into the front room, pleased to see the little Madden girl playing with a group of the other children. As much as he enjoyed the child, today he wanted Terese Sheridan alone.
He took the steps two at a time. At the door to her room, he stopped. She was sitting in a chair by the window. She looked to be asleep, and Jack hesitated, but only for a moment before pulling the cap from his head and walking into the room, not bothering to knock.
Terese had dozed after David left, but she roused the instant Jack Kane stepped inside the room.
He had caught her off guard, and for a moment she was somewhat disoriented. The light squeezing in through the window was gray and weak, casting the room in shadows. But she could see Kane clearly enough, and at the sight of him a wave of black fear swept through her.
Clad in an obviously expensive topcoat with a white posy in the lapel, he looked every bit the city gentleman. But Terese was not fooled: Jack Kane was no gentleman. Brady’s brother, by Brady’s own definition, was a shark.
His dark features were set in a hard, unyielding look. He raked a hand through his hair, never taking his eyes off her as he walked the rest of the way into the room.
Every muscle in Terese tensed. But then she remembered that, thanks to David Leslie, she need not fear this man. She straightened, lifted her chin and braced herself for whatever was to come.
34
EYE OF THE STORM
The winter is cold, the wind is risen.
FROM COLLOQUY OF THE ANCIENTS, THE FENIAN CYCLE
“Terese,” Jack said with a quick nod. “How are you keeping today?”
“Very well, thank you.” The unmistakable note of caution in her voice was reflected in her eyes.
Without waiting to be asked, Jack crossed the room and took the chair opposite her, close to the window. “Quite a storm we’re having,” he said, gesturing toward the window.
She made no pretense at casual conversation, nor did she attempt to conceal her suspicion as she sat watching him.
“You’ll want to know that Cavan is out of town for a day or so,” Jack offered conversationally. “He’s in Albany, on assignment. I expect he’ll be back in a couple of days, if he doesn’t get snowbound.”
“Aye, Samantha told me.”
Jack frowned. “Samantha was here?”
She nodded. “She left a short while ago. Half an hour, perhaps. She was anxious to get home because of the storm.”
“She came by cab, I suppose?”
“She did, yes.”
Jack was as irritated as he was surprised at the thought of Samantha traipsing about in such beastly weather. She could be the most headstrong woman at times.
His attention returned to the Sheridan girl. He hadn’t missed the fact that she’d referred to Samantha by her given name, rather than “Mrs. Harte.” He supposed that shouldn’t surprise him. Samantha wasn’t one to stand on formalities, and she’d spent a great deal of time with Terese Sheridan—and with Shona as well—over the past few weeks. He had already observed that a kind of unlikely friendship had developed.
Samantha did have a deucedly soft heart when it came to those less fortunate, and she seemed particularly drawn to Terese Sheridan. That being the case, he should probably take care not to antagonize the girl too much; he wouldn’t want to give her a means of unduly influencing Samantha against him.
As she might be tempted to do. Especially after today.
Watching the girl, he caught the same sense of something he had glimpsed before: a strength of will not usually seen in one so young. There were times when her countenance took on a look of challenge, a defiance that brought to mind the words Irish proud, as he tended to think of it—the often irrational obstinacy and hardheaded willfulness that he sometimes thought must characterize a major part of the Irish race, and that unchecked often proved to be their undoing. Brady displayed it in strong doses. And if truth be told, he himself had been afflicted with a goodly measure of it as well.
He was dealing with a girl, or rather a proud young woman, who might not be so easily brought to heel if she were not almost entirely dependent—at least for now—on his support. A part of Jack could not help but admire her spirit, even the way she was glaring at him at the moment in spite of her ashen appearance and the profound effort it was undoubtedly taking to reveal no sign of unease in his presence.
He had not come to match wills or wits, however. In the long run, if the girl were even half as clever as he suspected her to be, she would concede. What choice did she have, after all?
He did not like himself very much at this moment, indeed felt slightly ashamed of the way he meant to take advantage. But this was for Samantha, he reminded himself.
And ultimately, for Terese Sheridan as well. He couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking, to believe that she could support herself and a child, given her present circumstances. On her own, she was utterly destitute, still severely weakened by her extended illness, and entirely without resources, aside from whatever the Vanguard chose to provide and the small stipend her brother could perhaps manage. She had no income, no position, and perhaps an extended lying-in period ahead of her yet. What could she hope to offer a child but more of the same poverty from which she herself was trying to escape?
Originally he had planned to allow young Cavan and his sister to live above the stable in back of his house. He had even gone so far as to partition it and make an extra room. But that was before he decided to pursue his present plan, to gain custody of the child. Of course, if the Sheridan girl cooperated, the rooms would still be available to her and her brother if they were interested.
He still believed that, although Terese might not see it his way until a long time hence, he was actually offering her the opportunity to make a new beginning without the encumbrance of a child. Eventually, she would realize what he had done for her and even be grateful to him. Until then, however, he would have to suffer her resentment and what was almost sure to be a great deal of anger.
He realized he’d been woolgathering then and looked across at her to find her watching him with a wary, inquisitive expression.
“We talked the other day about your plans for the future,” Jack said. “I thought we might continue the conversation, if you’re up to it.”
He saw her tense even more. The hands on the arms of the chair were white knuckled by now, and her features, always sharp, grew taut and almost unpleasant.
She didn’t care for him; that much was clear, Jack thought with a touch of grim amusement. But then, why should she? Certainly, he had given her no reason to feel much of anything toward him except distrust and dislike.
But he would give the girl credit: she didn’t blanch, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink under his scrutiny. If he unsettled her at all, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
Ah, well, the Irish always did like a worthy opponent. “Have you thought any more about the possibility of giving the child up for adoption?” he said with no further preliminaries.
She paled. “No! As I told you, I will be keeping my baby.”
“And I will ask you again, how do you plan to manage?” Jack said mildly.
Her eyes blazed and she threw her answer back in his face with an ill-concealed note of triumph. “I have a job, as it happens. A job with room and board.”
Caught o
ff guard, Jack studied her for any sign of dissembling. His deliberately moderate tone was in direct contrast to her obvious agitation as he replied. “I see. Well, now—you seem to have accomplished a great deal in three days. May I inquire as to the nature of this—position?”
She smiled at him, a catlike smile that was both sly and defiant at the same time. “Dr. Leslie has offered me a job with the mission. I’m to have a room for myself and the baby, as well as wages.”
Jack had not for a minute anticipated this, but he was careful not to react. “Good of him, I must say. But what happened to your idea of letting your brother take responsibility for you and the child?”
Anger sparked in her eyes. “I will take responsibility for myself—and for my child!” She paused, shooting Jack a look of transparent dislike. “As you were so quick to point out to me, Cavan should not be burdened at this stage of his own career. Now I won’t have to depend on him. Or anyone else.”
Jack was having a difficult time keeping his own anger under control. He wasn’t sure whom he was most aggravated with—the Sheridan girl or David Leslie. He detested being caught unawares, being put at a disadvantage—especially by a seventeen-year-old immigrant girl.
He had come here prepared to be fair, even generous, thinking he knew exactly the strings to pull that would disarm Terese Sheridan and put her on the defensive. Now he apparently would have to rethink his strategy.
So be it. He was convinced that in spite of her obvious satisfaction with herself, she could still be turned easily enough.
As he’d told Avery Foxworth earlier, money would buy just about anything.
Samantha was dismayed to see how the street conditions had worsened since she’d first left home little more than an hour ago. Now she was stuck in the cab, sandwiched between a freight wagon in front and a carriage behind. They had been sitting here for several minutes. The horse was pawing the ground and snorting from the cold, while Samantha’s breath steamed the air inside the cab. They had covered only two blocks from the mission when they came to a stop, but it seemed as if it had taken forever to gain even that.
She was cold and growing more and more restless, but there was absolutely nothing she could do except to sit and shiver, waiting. All around them, other drivers and passengers were either out of their vehicles, checking to see what the delay was, or shouting impatient barbs at one another.
When they finally began to move again, Samantha breathed a long sigh. She couldn’t reach home soon enough. But her relief was short lived. As they rounded the corner onto Beckman, the wheels skidded, throwing the cab into a skid. One wheel must have hit a deep rut, causing the cab to careen. It swayed, shuddered, and then pitched sideways.
Samantha cried out as she was thrown hard against the side of the cab, wrenching her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t actually hurt, merely stunned.
There was silence for a few seconds; then she heard the loud whinnying of the horse and voices approaching. The nervous driver hurried around to help her out.
Outside, Samantha found the horse still standing, but the cab seemed lodged with one wheel embedded in a treacherous rut and the other severely bent. Clearly, she would be going no farther in this vehicle.
Some of the people in the crowd expressed concern for her, but after Samantha assured them that she was all right, they began to dissipate.
She stood in the middle of Beckman Street, which was hopelessly rutted and dangerously icy, trying to decide what to do. She decided it would be foolish to try her luck with yet another cab, and the chances of getting one of the rare conversion sleighs or a cutter were probably next to nothing in this part of town. She considered her situation for another moment. Fortunately, she had worn a pair of sturdy boots and her warmest coat and gloves. She wasn’t all that far from the mission; the most practical thing would be to return.
If David Leslie was there, perhaps he could manage to see that she got home somehow. If not—then she supposed she would have to spend the night there.
Her decision made, she brushed herself off, secured her hat, and started walking in the direction from which she had come.
She would not let him see so much as a hint of fear in her—she would not!
Terese sat waiting for Jack Kane’s next remark; clearly, he had not finished his business with her yet. She cautioned herself against feeling too much satisfaction at this point, even though his surprise upon learning about her job offer had been obvious. She knew little about Brady’s powerful older brother, but she had seen enough to know that Jack Kane was not a man who appreciated being outfoxed. She must be careful. It would be foolish entirely to deliberately antagonize this man, no matter how her blood boiled at his insufferable bullying.
So she continued to watch him carefully, determined to stay calm and coolheaded in anticipation of yet another barrage of unpleasant questioning.
It wasn’t long in coming.
“No doubt the good doctor’s proposition seems like an excellent solution to your future,” Kane said in a tone that sounded almost friendly. “A job, a place to stay—a place with which you’re already familiar—and a small wage for pocket money. I’m right in assuming it would be a small wage, am I not?”
Terese made no reply but simply gripped the arms of the chair a little more tightly.
“But I would suggest that you think about this at some length, girl. What about later? Will you be satisfied to stay here indefinitely, working for a pittance, never striking out on your own, never being more than a drudge—and raising your child in the midst of sickness and despair? Is that all you want for yourself—for the child?”
Terese clenched her teeth, determined not to let him shake her. “It would not be forever,” she said tightly. “Just for a time, until I decide what I want to do.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I should think you would approve. Sure, it must be an expensive venture, bringing so many to America and paying for our keep indefinitely. Wouldn’t you prefer that we earn our own way instead of being dependent on you and your newspaper?”
He regarded her with a look that made Terese go cold inside. Those black eyes of his gave no hint of what he might be thinking, but his hard mouth had thinned until it was little more than a slash.
“Despite what you may have been led to believe by my brother,” he said slowly, his tone still smooth and unperturbed, “I have no intention of supporting you or anyone else ‘indefinitely.’ As a matter of fact, should you fail to cooperate, to keep up your part of the arrangement, I can always arrange to have you sent back to Ireland.”
Terese’s heart slammed hard against her chest. At the same time the babe kicked, as if the womb itself had been shaken by Kane’s threat.
“Why are you doing this?” she choked out. “Why are you so—set against me?”
He stood, his lean frame looming tall and dark in the dreary room. “I’m not against you, Terese. To the contrary, I’m trying to help you. But since you’re so determined not to accept my help, it occurs to me that I should approach this as I would any other business matter, one in which we can both benefit.”
He began to tap his gloves lightly against the palm of one hand. “The simple fact is that you have something I want,” he said quietly, his eyes glinting like black fire. “And I have the means to make your life either considerably easier or—much more difficult.” With that he turned away, leaving Terese to stare at his back.
Her throat burned as if she had swallowed acid. “What—could I possibly have that a man like you would want?” she asked him warily.
He had been looking out the window, but now he turned and gave her a cold, unpleasant smile. “I think you already know the answer to that, Terese,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the stillness of the room. “I want your child, of course. And I’m willing to pay you a handsome price for it.”
She looked up into his face, her own countenance going ghastly white. “Why?”
Jack debated about what, exact
ly, to tell her, then decided it might work to his advantage to simply tell her the truth. “For Samantha,” he said quietly. “She can’t have children of her own, you see. I want to marry her, but she feels that she would be—cheating me, because she can’t give me a child. I don’t care about that, but she does. And, to put it bluntly, Terese, I happen to believe that at this particular time in your life, you wouldn’t be nearly as good a mother as Samantha.”
A flush of anger suffused her features, but Jack went on, giving her no chance to interrupt. “You’re young, girl. Some would say too young to shoulder the responsibility a child brings. Be that as it may, you have your entire life ahead of you—you’ll have plenty of time to bear all the children you want. Right now, this baby that you’re carrying will be more burden to you than blessing. But it can make all the difference in the world to Samantha.”
“And to you,” she said with an ugly twist of her mouth.
Jack nodded. “Exactly.” He drew in a long breath. “Terese, you can’t fight me. As I see it, you really don’t have a choice. If you go against me, you’ll regret it. If you cooperate, I’ll see that you—and Cavan—are well taken care of for years to come. Be reasonable, girl. You like Samantha. You know she’d be a good mother. Do this for her, and you’ll have my gratitude.”
“And if I don’t?”
Jack lifted his brows. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Jack saw the sudden blaze of fury in her eyes, only to be replaced almost instantly by fear, and at that moment he disliked himself more than he had for a very long time.
He was deliberately baiting and intimidating a vulnerable young girl, a girl who had already suffered a brutal assault, who carried a child because of that assault, a girl who had left her own country to begin anew in a strange city in a strange land—with the help of the newspaper he owned. He was the one individual committed to helping her—and instead he was manipulating her.
