My Heart's Desire (3 page)

Jay Mac's level gaze slipped away from Ethan and fell innocently on Jarret. "Didn't I say? I thought I mentioned it was Mary Renee."

Ethan's immediate relief was quickly overshadowed by anger at being manipulated. "You wanted me to think it was Michael."

Jay Mac shrugged, putting away the liquor. He carried his own glass back to his desk and sat on the edge. "I needed to know what you felt for my daughter," he said without apology. He glanced at Jarret. "I think he loves her. What do you think?"

"The very same, sir." Jarret's voice was polite and grave. He felt Ethan's glare, and he gave it no weight. "Is Michael expecting us?"

"I didn't tell her," Jay Mac said. "I was afraid the news would send her packing."

Jarret doubted Ethan was pleased by that news. It couldn't have been heartening to know that Michael would do anything to avoid Ethan, yet had no sensible fear of the criminals who were after her.

"Jarret and I discussed a plan on the way here," Ethan said. "We think Michael should go on with her routine, apparently just as she has. That will draw out Houston and Dee. In deference to the rest of your family's safety, however, I think they should leave the city for a while."

Jay Mac was silent. He took another sip of his drink. "I can't say that I like the idea of Michael being used as felon bait, and that's exactly what you're both proposing. On the other hand, I don't have any hope of convincing her to leave her job at the
Chronicle
for even a day, let alone the weeks or months that it might take you to flush out Houston. Mary Francis will be quite safe at the convent. Maggie and Skye and their mother will go to my summer home in the Hudson Valley."

Jarret had been mentally clicking off the girls and their whereabouts. Someone was unaccounted for.

Ethan said, "And Rennie will be honeymooning with her new husband."

Rennie, Jarret thought. Why did he have so much trouble remembering Rennie? And why was Jay Mac hesitating in confirming Ethan's assumption?

"Rennie poses something of a problem," Jay Mac said carefully. "I'm not so sure she'll agree to leave the city once she finds out you're here."

Jarret dismissed the notion. A wreath of blue-gray smoke hovered in the air in front of him. He exhaled, blowing it away. "Surely her husband will have some say in that." It was a statement, not a question.

"Hollis Banks?" Jay Mac's snort was clearly derisive. "He wouldn't have the nerve to gainsay Rennie. He'll do what she says."

Ethan said it, but Jarret was thinking it. "Don't you have any daughters who do what they're told?"

"Not a one." Although he threw up his hands, he didn't sound especially disappointed. "Moira's raised them with a mind of their own, I'm afraid."

Jarret doubted that was entirely truthful. He suspected Jay Mac's influence. "What's to be done, then?"

Jay Mac finished his drink. "I was rather hoping this business with Houston would have a silver lining. I thought it might put Rennie's wedding on hold." He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and looked at his watch again. "Just a little over an hour now. I wish to God she weren't marrying that milksop."

Jarret grinned, making an obvious show of enjoying his cigar. "I take it you'd strike another bargain with God if you had a vice to give up."

Jay Mac blinked at the younger man's impudence. Then he gave a short bark of laughter. "You're exactly right, Mr. Sullivan, exactly right."

Ethan stood. Rennie's wedding wasn't his problem. "Jarret will stay with Michael's mother and sisters in the valley. If you're quite certain Mary Francis will be safe, there's no need for additional protection there. If you don't trust Rennie's future husband to do right by her, then I suggest you hire someone. I'll be with Michael."

Jarret put his shot glass on the edge of the desk and followed Ethan's lead. "I suppose we'll meet them all at the wedding, then. We're not really dressed for it though." Neither was Jay Mac, he realized. "Should we follow you there?"

Dead silence followed Jarret's question. Jarret only understood he had inadvertently broached a subject that was meant to be avoided.

Jay Mac went around his desk, drew out a paper and pen from the middle drawer and quickly wrote out directions. The rapid movement of his hand across the page made the slight trembling of his fingers almost invisible. When he spoke his voice was carefully modulated. Only the dark green eyes hinted at the intensity of his pain. "I won't be attending the wedding," he said. "Or giving Rennie away. One of the prices a father pays for siring bastard daughters, I'm afraid." His smile was filled with self-mockery. "Perhaps that's the silver lining. I don't have to see her make the worst mistake of her life."

He blew on the paper, drying the ink, folded it into quarters, and passed it across to Ethan. "The wedding's at St. Gregory's here in Manhattan. I'm leaving with Moira and the girls in the morning for the summerhouse. I've hired protection of my own. We won't be needing Mr. Sullivan."

Jarret nodded. It suited him anyway. He wanted to be in the city when Houston and Dee showed themselves. "Then I'll stay close to you, Ethan."

Jay Mac shook his head. "I'd feel a lot better if you stayed close to Rennie."

All vestige of amusement faded from Jarret's face. He crushed his cigar in the saucer. "On her honeymoon?"

"Since I doubt she'll agree to leave now, she'll need as much protection as Michael."

Jarret and Ethan spoke at the same time. "Why?"

Jay Mac's head tilted to one side, and his sandy brows drew together. His forehead was ridged, his expression puzzled. "You really don't know, do you? Michael never told you about Rennie."

Jarret looked at Ethan, waiting for his reply. What the hell was going on?

"I'm not certain what you mean," Ethan said.

This time when Jay Mac Worth threw up his hands he was clearly frustrated. "That's just like her," he said, more to himself than his guests. "And Rennie would have done the same thing. They've been playing these sorts of games with people since they were children. One would think that now, at twenty-four, they wouldn't take so much delight in it, but obviously some things never change. God only knows when she would have thought to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Ethan asked, impatient.

"Tell him what?" Jarret asked, intrigued.

"Michael and Rennie... they're identical twins."

Ethan's mouth had opened a fraction. Now it snapped shut.

Jarret whistled softly. "Twins. Imagine that." His black brows rose a little as the full implication set in. "Houston and Dee might stumble on the wrong sister."

Jay Mac's gaze shifted from one man to the other. "Precisely. And that fool Hollis Banks can't protect her. I'm not sure anyone can"—he looked significantly at Jarret now—"if Rennie decides to draw attention to herself to save Michael. And that, gentlemen, is just the sort of maggot Rennie's gotten into her head." He pushed away from his desk and stood. He took off his spectacles, folded them, and put them in his breast pocket. "I'd be willing to pay ten thousand dollars to stop that wedding."

"I don't want your money, Mr. Worth," Ethan repeated.

He held out his hand to Jay Mac, shook it, and turned to go.

Jarret Sullivan followed suit, but on the point of leaving he turned back to Jay Mac. There was the suggestion of dry amusement in the line of his mouth. "About that ten thousand dollars," he said. "I could be very interested."

Chapter 1

The bride was not blushing. The hint of color in her cheeks was the result of sheer exasperation. Her dark emerald eyes were bright, not with anticipation, but with impatience. Her full mouth was set in a flat line that was both serious and forbidding. Narrow shoulders were braced stiffly, her slender figure at attention. Even her wildly curling hair had been tamed, the vibrant auburn color smoothed over her scalp and twisted into plaits at the back of her head. She had the look of a woman prepared to do battle, not walk down the aisle.

Everyone was hovering. Rennie closed her eyes and gratefully accepted the peace darkness momentarily afforded. She tried to think of something other than the vows she would soon be exchanging. It was impossible. She could only imagine herself in the main chapel, in front of dozens of guests, saying the words the priest prompted.

And she would say them, she thought. There was no backing out, even if she wanted to. She didn't want to. Hollis Banks was the perfect life partner. Partner. Not husband. Her choice of words did not surprise her. Her marriage was a business arrangement, and she could admit it to herself, though pride and good sense kept her from admitting it to anyone else.

Rennie opened her eyes. They were still hovering. This time it made her smile.

Skye Dennehy was on her knees in front of her sister, making last minute adjustments to the hem of Rennie's gown. Her small oval face was flushed, and tendrils of flame red hair were curling away from the smooth chignon at the back of her head. She mumbled around a mouthful of pins, and no one paid her the least attention.

Maggie fiddled with the bouquet, arranging and rearranging the orange blossoms to display them to their best advantage. Her small, delicate features were taut, her mouth screwed comically to one side as she concentrated on her work.

Mary Francis, her beautiful face framed in the cornet of her habit, fussed with Rennie's hair, tucking hairpins back in place and adjusting the veil. She hummed lightly while she worked, carrying the same tune the organist played in the main chapel, and inadvertently reminding everyone there wasn't much time left.

The mother of the bride smoothed the satin sleeves of Rennie's gown. Moira's hands shook slightly as she worked, her brow creased with concern. A lace scarf covered her dark red hair. From time to time she glanced worriedly at Rennie.

"A wake is more fun than this," Michael said. She was on her knees beside Skye, threading a needle.

"Michael," her mother admonished.

"Well, it is," she said, unrepentant. She gave the needle and thread to Skye and carefully plucked the pins from her sister's mouth. "Looking at all of us, one would think the Irish only know how to have fun at funerals. All this last minute fussing because Rennie tripped on the steps and ripped out her hem, soiled her gown, and tossed the bouquet before she was supposed to. If I were a bit more superstitious, I'd say this wedding wasn't meant to happen."

Rennie glanced down at her sister, her mouth twisting in disgust. "I'll thank you to keep those kind of thoughts to yourself. I know you mean well, but I've heard all I care to hear from you on the subject of my marriage to Hollis Banks."

Now that Skye's mouth was free of pins, she took up Michael's cause. Her young face was earnest. "It's not that we don't like Hollis. Well, it's not exactly that we like him either."

"Schyler," Moira said, shaking her head in despair. Where had her daughters learned to speak their mind so bluntly? It was Jay Mac's influence, she thought, and he wasn't here to see what he had wrought. "She didn't mean it quite that way, Rennie."

"Yes, I did," said Skye. "Hollis is all right, I suppose, but he's not the sort of man I imagined you'd marry." Rennie was strong-minded, independent, and plain speaking. Skye doubted Hollis appreciated any of those qualities. He probably suffered them.

Rennie snorted delicately. "I can only guess at what you conjured in that head of yours. Hollis suits me just fine. He's kind and gentle and smart and—"

"He's after your money," Mary Francis said with serene confidence.

Moira gasped at her eldest daughter's pronouncement.

"Actually," Maggie said, shaking the bouquet at Rennie, "he's after Jay Mac's money and thinks you're just the Dennehy who can get it for him. Skye's too young, I'm not pretty enough, Mary Francis is a nun, and Michael's seven months pregnant."

Moira fanned herself. She wished she were a woman given to fainting spells because she would have liked to have had one right then. As it was, her daughters completely ignored her.

"This is a fine time to be telling me what you think," Rennie snapped.

Michael stabbed the collected pins into the pincushion.

"We've been telling you all along. You didn't want to hear."