A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  Donald rode by their side, followed by three armed men. Hiram had retrieved the saddlebags and Claire looked at them, draped across her brother's lap.

  She leaned her head back, resting it against Garrett's shoulder. “Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. I'm flattered that you think I'm worth it."

  Claire couldn't see Garrett's smile, but she could feel it. His body relaxed and he chuckled softly. “The saddlebags are filled with old newspapers,” he told her, then pulled her back against him when she would have moved away.

  “I'll be damned,” Donald said, reaching out with his good hand to unbuckle one of the leather pouches.

  Her brother tossed back the leather flap and Claire saw newspaper rolled into tight little bundles and tied with string.

  “Chen Loo underestimated you,” Donald said proudly. “Just as well. The devil doesn't need the money and that's where that fat Chinaman is going. Straight to hell."

  “Amen,” Garrett mumbled, then leaned down. His lips pressed against Claire's ear. “You're worth your weight in gold, angel."

  Claire smiled, then frowned as Garrett slipped from the saddle and reached for her. She'd been on the verge of asking him why he needed a second house when he'd distracted her by telling her that the saddlebags carried a worthless cargo. As he put his hands around her waist, Claire looked at the house again. This is where Garrett had housed Evelyn Holmes, and the other women who had been his mistresses, but Claire wasn't insulted by his decision to bring her and Donald here. He couldn't take them to Nob Hill without confronting his grandmother.

  “Grams?” Claire said, looking at Garrett.

  “She's fine,” he told her, cradling her in his arms as he made his way onto the front porch. “She thinks you're with Donald."

  Claire gave him a questioning look.

  “I'll explain everything as soon as Dr. Baldwin's stitched up Donald's arm and examined you. Are you sure you weren't hurt?"

  “I'm fine,” Claire lied. She was exhausted. All she wanted was a hot bath and ten hours of sleep. After that, she wanted Garrett.

  Garrett ignored her. He shifted her weight, dug into his pocket, and brought out a key. Once the door was unlocked, he pushed it open.

  Donald followed them inside. He said something about finding a whiskey bottle while Garrett walked through the dim interior of the house. Claire could see a small parlor with a piano. Did Garrett play? There was so much she didn't know about this man, although she'd learned a great deal in the last few days. He was a tender, caring lover. He was strong. Too strong to be intimidated by a man like Chen Loo. Christopher should have known that, but he hadn't. Claire wondered why, then realized that Garrett was a private person, even to his friends.

  Christopher had allowed the green curtain of jealousy to cloud his view.

  Garrett carried Claire down the hall and into a small bedroom. She looked around. At least the man had had the good sense not to put her in the room he'd shared with his mistress. The bed was narrow with a brass headboard and foot railing and a light blue bedspread with fringe that touched the floor. White lace curtains covered the windows.

  Garrett put her down on the bed. Holding her gaze with his own, his hands moved over her body, checking for any injuries she might not have told him about. Claire allowed the tender examination, reveling in the warm feel of his hands against the cool silk that covered her skin. It didn't take Garrett long to realize that she was naked beneath the Chinese clothing.

  His face took on a concerned look and Claire smiled. “An old Chinese woman helped me bathe and change clothes,” she told him. “I wasn't hurt."

  “Thank God,” Garrett mumbled, sitting down beside her.

  Claire wanted to say so much to him, but seeing the fatigue and stress of the last hours etched on his face, she decided the words could wait.

  She raised up on her elbows and kissed him. He groaned like a man in pain and pushed her back against the pillows. His mouth explored hers, his tongue dipping and tasting while his hands continued their investigation, this time to reassure himself that Claire enjoyed his touch. When his hands cupped her breasts, she arched her back and moaned softly, letting him know she liked what he was doing.

  Garrett wanted to strip the silk trousers and tunic away and study every inch of her lovely body, but he didn't dare. Donald was waiting in the other room, and Dr. Baldwin would be there soon. The next time he had Claire naked, Garrett intended to keep her that way for a very long time.

  Claire felt her body warming as her senses came to life. Garrett's kiss ignited a fire in her heart and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her mouth was as greedy as his and soon they both knew that the kiss had to end or they'd be making love with her brother in the house.

  “Stay put,” he said, reluctant to release her. “I'll get Donald settled. Dr. Baldwin will be here soon. He doesn't live too far away."

  Claire leaned back against the feather pillows and yawned. “I won't move an inch."

  Garrett laughed then left the room. The tension of the last twenty-fours hours was gone, but Claire knew the betrayal he'd suffered would surface soon enough, and when it did, he was going to need her.

  Claire's privacy didn't last long. A short time later, Dr. Baldwin knocked on the front door, accompanied by Hiram Wilson. Claire could hear them talking. Evelyn had been rescued from the freighter. Except for some bruises, she was fine, and Hiram had taken her to the hotel. He was on his way to the police station to give the authorities a thorough explanation of the waterfront events that had concluded with the death of Chen Loo, Christopher Landauer, and several other men. Evelyn would be questioned later, along with Claire, but not until Dr. Baldwin had decided that the ladies were up to the ordeal of repeating what had happened to them.

  Garrett didn't want Claire questioned at all. “She's been through enough. Tell the police whatever they need to know, but make sure Claire's name isn't mentioned in the papers. Mine either, if you can keep it out. Grams is going to have a hard enough time accepting Christopher's death without knowing the reason why."

  Dr. Baldwin seconded Garrett's motion, then remarked, “Keeping the news of a waterfront gunfight out of the papers isn't going to be easy. You're going to have to tell Theodora something. She's not a fool."

  “I'll handle it when the time comes,” Garrett said.

  Claire could hear the dread in his voice. She cursed her ankle. She wanted to be by Garrett's side, comforting him, aiding him while he wrestled with what had happened, not just to her, but to himself. Men were dead. She and Evelyn had come close to being smuggled out of the city and sold into slavery. Donald had been shot. Claire knew Garrett was carrying the weight of those events on his shoulders.

  Claire lay in the bed, feeling content, but helpless. When Dr. Baldwin came into the room, she asked him about Donald's wound.

  “Your brother is fine,” the physician assured her. “The bullet grazed his arm. He'll have a scar, but no permanent damage.” He opened his medical bag for the second time that morning. “Now, let's have a look at you."

  Garrett stood near the bed, close enough to watch Dr. Baldwin without getting in his way. He'd shed his jacket and his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Claire tried not to notice, but she couldn't help stealing a glance in his direction while Dr. Baldwin examined her ankle. He wrapped it, then told her not to move out of the bed for at least three days.

  “I'll be back later to change Donald's bandage,” he said to Garrett. “Until then, make sure this lady gets lots of rest."

  “I will,” Garrett said. He walked Dr. Baldwin to the door.

  When he came back into the room, he was carrying a glass. “I know you don't like whiskey, but you're going to drink this. Then you're going to go to sleep."

  “Yes, sir,” Claire said. She gave him a mock salute, then reached for the glass. The whiskey tasted awful, but she drank it all. When she was done, she handed the glass back to Garrett. “Send for Mae Ling. She can take care of Donald."<
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  Garrett smiled. “I already did.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Someone has to cook and make sure you don't go hobbling around and hurt yourself again. Grams thinks you're staying with your brother. He came back to the city, disliked me on sight, and demanded that you give him an equal portion of your time."

  “Grams believed that flimsy story?"

  “Enough of it,” Garrett told her. “When I realized you were gone..."

  Claire placed a finger against his mouth. “We can talk later. After we've both had some rest."

  He kissed her cheek, then tucked her under the covers. “Sleep well. I have to go to the police station, then I have to convince Grams that I haven't chased you away. She made me promise to have you and Donald at the dinner table, come Sunday."

  “We'll be there,” Claire said.

  Garrett kissed her again. “I've got men guarding the house. Don't worry."

  “I'm not worried,” Claire told him. “Don't stay away too long."

  “I won't,” Garrett promised.

  Chapter Twenty

  Garrett was gone longer than he liked. After returning home to change clothes and reassure Grams that he and Claire weren't arguing and that she'd be there for dinner on Sunday, he went to the police station. Once there, he and Hiram answered a barrage of questions. The police chief sent a deputy to the hotel to interview Evelyn Holmes. Garrett intended to call on her himself and offer her passage back to England. It was the least he could do.

  The authorities insisted that they would have to speak with Miss Aldrich as well, and despite Garrett's loud protest, he was forced to give in. The case of Claire's kidnapping couldn't be put to rest until the police had spoken with her and her brother. The railroad would have to be contacted to confirm Donald's part in the events, and they would do their best to keep Claire's name out of the papers. With Chen Loo and Christopher both dead, a trial wouldn't be necessary, but there were a lot of unanswered questions and the case would remain open until a complete explanation could be recorded.

  Garrett found three armed men guarding the house on Bartlett Street when he arrived. He spoke to each of them briefly. Mae Ling was inside, taking care of Donald and Claire.

  Garrett found Claire's brother in the parlor. He sat sipping a neat whiskey with Mae Ling perched by his side. Donald's good arm was wrapped about the young woman's shoulder. They were talking in hushed whispers and Garrett realized he'd interrupted a private moment.

  “How's Claire?” he asked, as Mae Ling stood up to greet him.

  “She is sleeping,” Mae Ling said.

  Garrett wanted to wake her, but he waited. Mae Ling left the room after saying something to Donald in Chinese.

  “She's going to start dinner,” Claire's brother explained while Garrett helped himself to a drink. “Thanks for letting us stay here. Chinatown isn't my idea of home sweet home after this morning."

  “You're welcome to the house for as long as you want it,” Garrett replied, knowing he was finished with mistresses. He'd told Grams to send out the wedding invitations. “The police will be here in a few hours. They want to talk to you and Claire."

  “Can't blame them,” Donald said. “Chen Loo and Christopher Landauer. That's a puzzling combination. How did you know that Christopher was on the sour end of the deal?"

  “I didn't,” Garrett said, slumping into a chair. He was tired to the bone. He sipped his whiskey before saying anything else. “Something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it until I saw Claire. She didn't look relieved to see me, or you. She looked scared to death and she was staring at Christopher as if he'd grown horns and a tail. When he wouldn't take the gag out of her mouth, I knew he didn't want her to say anything. Then he reached for the gun."

  The two men discussed the events, projecting possible explanations for Christopher's partnership with the Chinaman. When Mae Ling appeared with Claire's dinner tray, Garrett and Donald followed her down the hall.

  Claire was awake.

  Mae Ling put the tray next to the bed.

  “Thank you,” Claire said, smiling at the young woman. It was apparent that there was real affection between Mae Ling and Donald, and Claire decided to have a long talk with her brother about the girl's status as a housekeeper.

  “I hope you do not judge my people by the actions of a few men,” Mae Ling said. “Chen Loo had an evil heart. He will not be missed in Chinatown."

  “And we won't be missed if we eat in the kitchen,” Donald said, taking Mae Ling's hand and leading her from the room. He winked at Garrett. “Make sure my sister cleans her plate."

  Claire gave her brother a disgruntled look but it faded into a smile. “He likes you,” she told Garrett as he pulled a chair up and sat next to the bed.

  “What about his sister?” he teased.

  Claire gave him a pensive look, as if she was trying to make up her mind. “No more acting?"

  “No more acting,” Garrett said.

  “His sister thinks you're stubborn, but wonderful. Handsome, but arrogant. Wealthy, but acceptable."

  Garrett laughed. It was a genuine laugh. One that came from his heart. “Does that mean you'll marry me?"

  “Maybe,” Claire teased him. She'd woken up feeling renewed. She was alive, Garrett and Donald were alive. Evelyn Holmes has been traumatized by her experience, but she was alive and Claire hoped she was strong enough to put her experiences behind her and start a new life.

  “Grams is mailing the invitations,” Garrett said, suppressing the need to take Claire in his arms until things had been settled between them. “The wedding is the tenth of August. I expect to see you at the church, dressed in white and walking down the aisle."

  “Does that mean you like me, too?” She held her breath. She wanted Garrett to do more than like her. If the man didn't hurry up and get the words said, she was going to say them for him. Patience had never been one of her virtues.

  “It means I love you.” He got up from the chair and sat down on the bed. His weight rolled her against his side as his arms wrapped around her. “I love you so much it almost killed me when I found out that Chen Loo had kidnapped you. I love you so much, it will kill me if you don't agree to be Mrs. Garrett Monroe."

  Claire couldn't see him for the tears. She'd dreamed of hearing him say the words, but the reality of it was so much sweeter than she had imagined. He placed short, sweet kisses on her hairline, her eyelids, and finally her mouth. Claire kissed him back, her tongue meeting his in a soft duel of sensual play that made her body tremble and her hands fist in the fabric of his jacket. Garrett shivered in return and made a throaty, male sound as he pushed Claire back against the feather pillows. He jerked down the coverlet, thankful to find a cotton gown instead of Chinese silk. But he was hungry for the woman underneath the cotton. His hands found the laces at the neckline and untied them. A second later, Claire moaned softly and lifted herself against his hands as they covered her breasts.

  “I love you, too,” Claire breathed out the words as Garrett's mouth lifted away from her lips and moved to nibble at her throat.

  Garrett tried to speak, but all that came out was a deep, male purr of satisfaction as his mouth moved to worship more and more of Claire's body.

  The sound of someone knocking on the front door brought them apart. Garrett frowned as he watched Claire close her gown and tie the ribbon lacings. He didn't want to share her with questioning police officials. He didn't want to share her with anyone.

  “That's Carl Jennings,” Garrett said as Donald answered the door. “He's the chief of the city's police department. He insisted on speaking with you and your brother. I tried to talk him out of it, but what happened is too complicated for the police to take just my word and be satisfied."

  “I'll talk to him,” Claire said, realizing that Garrett was trying to protect her again. She loved him for it, but there were certain things only she could explain.

  “Are you sure you're up to it?"

  “They have to know,” Claire sai
d, reaching for the robe Mae Ling had left with her.

  She wasn't sure who the gown and robe had belonged to originally. Mae Ling had walked into the room with the garments draped over her arm and Claire had been too anxious to get out of the silk trousers and tunic to ask questions. Garrett belonged to her now. She didn't like the thought of other women in his life, but they were in the past, she was his present and his future.

  Garrett helped her into the robe, then picked her up and walked toward the front of the house. Donald and Mae Ling were in the parlor, along with two men. The older man had a bulbous nose and white whiskers that grew down from his temples and onto his jaws. He was tall, but thick around the middle. He moved briskly for a man of his size and came to his feet the moment Garrett appeared in the doorway. The second man, younger and much thinner, wore spectacles that made his blue eyes seem larger than they actually were. He was wearing a smooth chocolate brown suit and a white starched shirt.

  “Claire, this is Carl Jennings, the head of San Francisco's police department. The other gentleman is Stephen Waugh. Mr. Waugh is a detective."

  Claire greeted the two men with a shy smile.

  “I know this is difficult, considering what you've been through, Miss Aldrich, but it's also necessary. I wouldn't have insisted, otherwise,” Mr. Jennings said once Garrett had put her down on the settee. “I need to know exactly what happened.” He turned to look at her brother. “And I need to know about your position with the railroad as well, Mr. Aldrich. No one in the police department was notified that the Union Pacific was conducting an investigation of Chen Loo and his opium operations."

  “We couldn't take the risk,” Donald told him. “Chen Loo had a lot of contacts in the city. Some could be in your department.” He held up his hand when the law officer started to protest. “I know you don't like hearing this, but it's the truth. The only way we could be sure that Chen Loo didn't know I was working for Union Pacific was to make sure that no one knew."