A Gentleman's Bargain

by Patricia Waddell

  “What did you find out?” Jennings asked, silently relenting to the fact that Chen Loo's money might have bribed some of his men.

  Claire listened, along with Garrett and Mr. Waugh, while her brother explained what he'd been doing for the last year. He'd been close to proving that Chen Loo was bribing several railroad inspectors to look the other way when opium shipments were mixed with the normal luggage that moved with the train from city to city. Claire's unexpected appearance had triggered the kidnapping, once Chen Loo discovered that she was engaged to marry Garrett.

  Claire disagreed, but she didn't say so until the police chief was done questioning her brother. When Mr. Jennings began to quiz her, Claire squeezed Garrett's hand and told her version of the story.

  She maintained the pretense that she'd met Garrett on the train after leaving St. Louis and that they had fallen in love. When she arrived in the city, her brother was missing and Garrett hired Hiram Wilson to make some inquires. Claire couldn't rationalize telling the police the personal details of her relationship with Garrett. It wasn't important now. They were in love and they were going to be married. She told Mr. Jennings that she'd gone to Chinatown to see her brother again, because she was concerned about him. When she got to the part about the nameless man pulling her into the alley and placing a rag soaked in chloroform over her mouth, Garrett shot off the settee and started cursing.

  “The man's name was Crane. Walter Crane,” the younger policeman told her. “We're still not sure about his connection to Chen Loo."

  “That's because he didn't work for Chen Loo,” Claire said, gripping Garrett's hand once again. “Mr. Crane worked for Christopher Landauer, Chen Loo's half brother."

  Everyone started talking, asking questions, and cursing all at once. Claire waited until Garrett had calmed down enough to hear the rest of her story. Once the room was quiet again, she looked at the police officers.

  “Chen Loo didn't kidnap me, Mr. Jennings. Christopher Landauer did. I can't begin to explain everything to you, but I can tell you that Christopher was the one who introduced Chen Loo to me as his half brother. He also told me that he planned to...” Claire stopped and forced a deep breath into her lungs. “He planned to smuggle me out of the city and sell me to a man in China. He had similar plans for Miss Holmes. The room where we were kept had bars on the windows. I don't think it was the first time Christopher or Chen Loo had done such a thing. God have mercy on the women who weren't saved in time."

  She turned to look at Garrett. His eyes were dark with anger and she could feel the tension in his body when she reached for his hand. “Christopher was jealous of Garrett. Insanely jealous. He laughed about stealing the ransom money, then killing Garrett and my brother. It's ironic that Donald was investigating Chen Loo, but he isn't the reason I was kidnapped."

  “Half brothers,” Carl Jennings mused, shaking his head. “Who would have thought."

  “No one,” Garrett said sadly. He looked at Claire. “All those years and I never knew the man at all."

  “He didn't want you to know him,” Claire replied. “He told me fooling people was easy. All you had to do was be what they expected you to be."

  The other people in the room accepted Claire's statement with mild reflection, but Garrett knew they had a deeper meaning. He'd hired her to do the same thing—to be what people expected her to be.

  After a few more questions, the police officers left. Apparently Evelyn Holmes had given them a similar explanation about Christopher's motive. Garrett carried Claire back to bed and tucked her in.

  “I'm sorry,” he said, tenderly brushing her hair away from her face.

  “It's all right,” she told him. “I shouldn't have gone back to Chinatown. My stubbornness and pride is more to blame than you are.” She reached up and ran her fingertips over his mouth. “I love you. No more pretense, no more lies, not for you and not for Grams. I love you both."

  Garrett pulled her close and held her. He didn't know what to say because he couldn't find the words to express what he was feeling. Love, anger, and a dozen emotions in between had his throat closed and his eyes damp.

  Claire understood and held him. “You can't make sense out of what happened,” she told him. “And you can't blame yourself for the jealousy that Christopher let fester into a disease. Evelyn said she thought he was mad, and in a way, I agree with her."

  At the mention of the other woman's name, Garrett remembered what Claire had said that morning when she'd pointed at the ship in the harbor.

  “You know who Evelyn is?” he asked, pulling away and looking down at her.

  “I know who Evelyn was,” Claire corrected him. “You won't be needing a mistress from now on, Mr. Monroe. You'll have a wife and she plans on keeping you busy at home."

  Garrett laughed softly. “I love you."

  “It's about time,” Claire told him. “Now kiss me good-bye and go see your grandmother. She's going to be lonely without me there to keep her company."

  Garrett was glad to kiss her, but reluctant to leave.

  * * * *

  By the end of the week, Claire was back in the mansion atop Nob Hill. Her luggage had been retrieved from the Chinatown house, thanks to Hiram Wilson, and she was wearing the cameo Garrett had given her. Grams greeted her with a warm smile and a big hug, then insisted that Garrett join them in the parlor. The news of Christopher's death had hit the newspapers and every tongue in San Francisco was wagging. True to his word, Carl Jennings had kept Claire's and Garrett's names out of the headlines. He'd also muddled enough of the facts when they were released to the newspaper to make Donald Aldrich sound like a hero.

  According to the California Star, Donald Aldrich, working undercover for the Union Pacific and Central Pacific Railroads, confronted Chen Loo in Chinatown. A fight ensued and the China drug lord was shot. Unfortunately, a prominent San Francisco resident, Christopher Landauer, was also killed. Mr. Landauer's presence had been one of coincidence and the newspaper joined the citizens of San Francisco in mourning his death.

  Claire was glad the article spared Belinda Belton the public humiliation she would have suffered if the truth of Christopher's real activities had been revealed. It also spared Grams from discovering the truth. It would take Garrett a lot longer to get over the betrayal of the man he'd thought his best friend, but Claire knew time would eventually heal the wound.

  The façade he insisted on maintaining for his grandmother's sake kept him from sharing his real feelings and Claire knew that Christopher's funeral had been the most difficult. Garrett had been forced to sit in the church, originally founded by Christopher's father, and listen to the current minister deliver an eulogy that honored a dishonorable man.

  “So much has happened,” Grams said, holding Claire's hand as if she thought the young woman might sprout wings and fly away. “Christopher dead. Your brother. My goodness, I never would have suspected that he was an investigator for the railroad. He didn't look the sort at all."

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Claire said. “I'm sorry about Christopher,” she added. “I know you were very fond of him."

  “Yes, I was,” Grams admitted. “Belinda is going back East to visit relatives. My heart breaks for the poor girl, but I'm sure she'll find a nice young man and marry soon."

  “I hope she does,” Claire said with true conviction. “Donald wanted me to apologize for not being able to join us for dinner. The railroad wanted a personal report. He'll be back from Denver in time for the wedding, of course."

  The conversation turned to other things and by the end of the day Claire felt as if she'd returned home after a long and eventful journey. Grams retired for the evening and she sat in the library, reading, while Garrett answered the correspondence that had accumulated over the last week.

  Claire put down her book and watched him as he worked, preferring the sight of the man she loved to the fictional hero in the novel. She didn't realize that she'd whispered his name aloud until Garrett looked up from his desk. He
smiled at her and she could see the love in his eyes. Suddenly something deep and primal darkened his gaze and he stood up. Claire held her breath as he crossed the room, stopping to close the door on his way to the chaise longue where she was reclining.

  The novel was taken out of her hands and placed on the floor. Garrett knelt beside her and his mouth closed over hers. The kiss matched the need in his eyes, fierce and hungry and passionate. Claire matched his need, returning the kiss, returning the love.

  Her hand moved from his shoulder to his chest. She could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. Bold, now that she knew Garrett loved her, she began to unbutton his shirt. He kissed her again, his lips barely touching, his tongue teasing the corner of her mouth.

  “I love you,” he whispered against her parted lips.

  “Show me,” Claire challenged him. “It's been so long."

  “Too long,” Garrett agreed. “Too damn long. I'm starving for you, sweetheart. I'm not sure I can be gentle."

  “Just love me,” Claire said as she undid another button.

  Garrett wanted to do more than make love to Claire. He wanted to consume her, mind, body, and spirit, to lose himself in her and in losing himself to find the peace he hadn't known since their last night together. His breathing grew rough as her hand shyly caressed his exposed chest. Nothing in the world could compare to the feel of her touch, he realized. The heat of her caress went deeper than his skin. He could feel it in his heart.

  After a long passionate kiss, Garrett's hand found the buttons on Claire's dress. He undid them, stroking her skin as more and more of her was revealed. His mouth moved to her ear. He whispered words that made the fire burn even hotter.

  Still kneeling at her side, Garrett let Claire set the pace. He encouraged her with soft, sensual words and kisses that made her body go limp then rigid with desire. His mouth traced her cheekbones, her nose, the arch of her brows, while his hands explored the satiny texture of her bared breasts and the hard crowns that pouted for his mouth.

  He paused to take off his shirt and toss it aside. Claire watched him, her eyes soft with once-imagined dreams that were now a reality. Garrett saw the female triumph in her gaze and it made him smile. She knew he belonged to her and he gloried in the knowledge as much as she did. His breathing increased as he looked down at her lying on the chaise longue, her bodice around her waist, her breasts flushed from the heat of his hands.

  “Take down your hair,” he breathed the command. Claire reached for the pearl-studded hairpins. She pulled them out, one by one, slowly letting her hair fall to her shoulders. Garrett watched her with a savage intensity that would have shocked her a few months ago, but Claire wasn't shocked now. She knew that what she felt for this man was love, pure and simple and stronger than anything else on earth. There was no shame in what they shared, no regret, no doubts.

  There was only the love between them, the need to hold each other, to be a part of each other, to share their feelings in the magical, elemental joining of their bodies.

  Garrett reached for Claire's dress. She smiled as he fumbled with the last of the buttons, cursing their stubbornness. She raised her hips, and the dress was pulled away, followed by petticoats, shoes, and stockings. When she was naked, he looked at her. His eyes lingered for the longest time and she became impatient to touch him again.

  “I want to see you dressed in moonlight,” he said, walking to the wall switch that controlled the gas-fueled chandelier. The fixture dimmed slowly, until there was nothing but the natural light of a full moon drifting through the windows. “You're beautiful,” he whispered reverently. “So damn beautiful, and I almost lost you."

  “Almost doesn't matter,” Claire told him, raising her arms to let him know she'd have him come back to her. “Don't think about the past. Think about right now, this minute."

  Garrett shook his head. “I need to tell you,” he said. “I couldn't before. My pride. Not knowing the right words.” He hesitated. “That morning at the docks. When I saw your face ... it made me hate myself for not telling you. You left me because you were angry. It was my fault."

  Claire's eyes welled with tears. “It wasn't your fault,” she said softly, but insistently. “I loved you and I was afraid that you could never love me back. I felt like you'd stolen my heart.” She smiled. “You had, and I was foolish enough to think I could get it back if I left."

  He kissed her so gently the tears rolled down her face. “I didn't want to give it back. Having you give yourself to me, your body, your heart ... your love. It humbled me and it scared me, all at the same time.” He took a shaky breath. “When I think about what could have happened to you. About Christopher, I..."

  Claire silenced him with a kiss. “When I think of how much love we have to give each other, of the years ahead of us and the children and the laughter, it makes me glad I ran out of money and walked into the hotel. I'm not a very good actress, Mr. Monroe. I loved you from the start."

  “It took me a while longer,” he confessed.

  He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the scent of her skin. Perfumed soap and moonlight and woman. His hands closed over her breasts and he moaned a deep, male sound of pleasure into her mouth. Claire fisted her hands in his dark hair, loving the feel of his bare chest against her, loving the sound of his pleasure and the heat of his hands as they caressed her belly, her hips, her legs.

  He moved to the end of the chaise longue, looking up at her with questioning eyes as he gently parted her legs. He kissed her ankle, completely healed now, and then continued kissing her, moving up the inside of her calves, stopping to nibble and smiling when she squirmed anxiously underneath him. “I'm going to love you all night,” he told her.

  His warm hands rubbed circles on the inside of her thighs and Claire closed her eyes against the pleasure. She gripped the edge of the chaise longue, holding on to the furniture because the world was spinning around her. Garrett's mouth was damp and hot against her skin. She could feel the abrasive stubble of his beard, not scratchy, but teasing. When his hand reached the center of her wanting, Claire moaned. Her hands moved to his head, cradling him against her body, wanting more and more of the delicious sensations that were spiraling through her.

  While Garrett taunted and teased her with one hand, his other hand moved to the buttons on his trousers. He flicked opened the buttons then pushed the clothing down his hips.

  He never stopped touching Claire as he finished undressing. One hand loving her, the other freeing himself to love her more completely. Then he covered her. His hands molding her breasts to fit his mouth while his hips pushed against her, letting her feel the power of his desire, the need that wouldn't be sated no matter how many times he had her.

  Claire moaned his name in a whisper of wonderment and slid her arms around his neck. His hands slid under her, arching her body, as his mouth moved over her breasts, touching but never touching enough, until Claire was begging him to stop the torment. When he finally took the tip of one breast into his mouth and began to suckle, Claire dug her fingernails into his shoulders. Garrett groaned at the sensual demand, knowing he could love Claire as fiercely or as gently as he wanted and she'd find pleasure in it. His tongue teased her nipples, licking at them before he suckled her harder.

  The moonlight was forgotten as Garrett let himself fall into pure, white fire. Desire burned around him, inside him, and he let the flames consume him. He moved up and down her body, wanting to taste every inch of her, needing to possess her as surely as she possessed him, and obsessed him, every thought, every moment of every day.

  He kissed the center of her desire and Claire thought she would die. She cried out in her passion and her hands twisted at the edge of the chaise longue a second time. With each stroke of Garrett's tongue, each caress of his lips, she went higher and higher, until she couldn't climb anymore. Then she fell like a shooting star.

  “There's more,” Garrett said as he moved to cover her. “More pleasure than you can take. Enough pleasure
to make you lose your mind for a brief moment and not care about the insanity. Do you want that kind of pleasure, Claire?"

  “Yes,” she confessed. Her legs were shaking and her body was on fire. Sweet, hot fire that burned with pleasure, not pain. But it wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted Garrett to feel what she was feeling. To burn with her.

  His skin was damp, his muscles rigid with control, as he repositioned her. Claire let him control her, sliding onto his lap as he sat up on the longue. He placed her legs on either side of his hips. She sat astride his lap. His hands cupped her bottom as he pulled her close. She could feel his arousal, pressing against her belly. He felt hard and hot and wonderful and she knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

  “I want to be inside you,” Garrett breathed against her ear. “So deep inside you all you can feel is me.” He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, gently but firmly, until she was looking at him. “I want to love you slow and easy, then hard and fast, then I want to start over again. Give yourself to me, sweetheart. Trust me to keep you safe this time."

  “Always,” she said.

  Claire moved, raising up, then lowering herself, slowly absorbing his body into hers. Garrett made a low, throaty sound as his eyes closed and his head fell back. Claire moved with him, caressing him with her body, letting him feel her need the way she was feeling his.

  “Slow and easy,” she said softly. At some deep, instinctive level, she knew she was in control. Garrett wanted her to love him, to make love to him. He was relinquishing control to her, proving that he could receive as well as take.

  Claire moved and moved again, each time taking more and more of him, each time giving more and more in return. She kissed the damp skin of his throat and let her hands tease the flat male nipples hidden beneath the dark hair that covered his chest. She whispered words that she'd said only in her dreams, wild exotic words that made Garrett more hungry than he'd ever been in his life. Then when he couldn't take it any longer, when the desire threatened to steal his mind, he let the insanity have its way.