My Heart's Desire (49 page)

Acknowledging there was some urgency, Rennie did not voice another protest. She kept pace with the long-legged strides of her father and Jarret as they headed for the exit.

Jarret glanced behind him. The man on the bench was still there. He was unfolding his newspaper. "Keep walking," Jarret said quietly. "Don't look back." He gave father and daughter a small push forward before he stopped himself and spun on his toes, drawing his gun in the same motion.

Jarret's quarry was no longer on the bench, but standing behind it. The newspaper lay on the floor. The stranger held a gun in both hands. They fired simultaneously. Jarret's shot went a fraction of an inch wide of the mark, catching the assailant in the drooping jacket sleeve instead of the arm. The other bullet also went wide, this time by more than twelve inches. Instead of striking Jay Mac it felled Rennie.

Above the screams of the passengers, above the melee of scrambling travelers, Jarret heard her cry, heard Jay Mac's anguished shout. He stopped his pursuit of the fleeing gunman and ran back to Rennie and her father. Jay Mac was on his knees beside Rennie, gently turning her over. Jarret helped him open her coat. There was a blossom of blood on her left shoulder. Behind them a crowd began to gather.

Jarret raised Rennie's head on his lap and pressed a handkerchief to her wound. His eyes darted through the faces in the crowd. "Did anyone chase the gunman?" he demanded.

"One of the station guards went running in the other direction," someone said. "Maybe he went after him."

Jarret had to be satisfied with that. Rennie stirred against him. He touched the back of his hand to her head as a measure of color returned to her face. "Rennie?"

She opened her eyes and saw the drawn and ashen faces of the two men immediately above her. Beyond them a sea of unfamiliar faces crowded her vision. For a moment it was difficult to catch her breath. She winced at the pressure Jarret was applying to her shoulder. "I think I had the wind knocked out of me," she whispered. "Jay Mac pushed me too hard. I fell."

Jarret looked at Rennie's father. Jay Mac shook his head. "I didn't touch her," he said.

"You're hurting me, Jarret," she said. "Your hand's hurting me."

Jarret knew the pressure of his hand was firm but not enough to give her pain. What she felt, the only thing she felt, was from the gunshot wound. "It will have to hurt a little while," he told her. "We'll get Dr. Turner to look at it, though, as soon as we get you home." To Jay Mac he added, "It's not a mortal wound. She's going to be fine."

"Of course I'm going to be fine," Rennie said with some asperity. "Tenacious, remember?" She tried to sit up and promptly collapsed.

Jarret leaned over her and touched his lips to her forehead. "God, but I love you."

There were tears in Jay Mac's eyes as he helped Jarret lift his daughter. He acted quickly, getting assistance, and then dispersing stragglers in the crowd. His natural authority commanded attention and obedience, and in short order he had their luggage collected and a hansom cab waiting for them in the street. Jarret gave a short, impatient statement to the station police and management before he climbed into the cab. The sudden return of John MacKenzie Worth created a stir that nearly overshadowed the shooting. Onlookers gathered again as word spread of the identities of the travelers. Disgusted with the press of the curious, Jarret slammed the door of the cab.

"It will be in the morning papers," Jarret said to Jay Mac. "All of it. The shooting, your return. There's no possibility of keeping it a secret now."

Jay Mac cradled Rennie's head in his lap. He stroked her hair, keeping her steady as the cab rolled forward. "Apparently it never was a secret. What happened back there? Who shot my daughter?"

"I don't know." Gaslight from the street filtered into the cab. Jarret stared at Rennie's pale face. It was difficult for him to think of anything save the fact that he hadn't been able to protect her. "Someone sitting on one of the benches caught my eye. I wasn't certain we were meant any harm at all. I thought he was a pickpocket or a thief making plans for a robbery. It only made sense to leave before he saw us as easy targets." Jarret leaned forward and touched Rennie's cheek with the back of his index finger. "When I looked back he was unfolding the paper in his lap. I saw the gun. I couldn't get you out of there fast enough."

"You probably saved our lives."

Jay Mac's words meant little to Jarret, not when he knew he should have been able to do more. "I pulled my shot at the last moment," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have done that. The assailant got away because I couldn't make myself go for the heart."

Jay Mac frowned. "What do mean? You could have killed the gunman and you chose not to?"

"Something like that," Jarret said. His smile was rife with self-mockery. "I told myself that after Dee Kelly I would remember that women can be as treacherous as any man. In the blink of an eye I forgot that tonight."

Jay Mac's frown merely deepened. "Are you talking about Rennie?"

Jarret shook his head. He leaned back in his seat. "No, sir. I'm talking about the shooter. It wasn't a man who fired that gun. It was a woman."

Chapter 14

Everyone agreed Rennie was a horrible patient. Of the family, Maggie could tolerate her the longest, Mary Francis the least. No one, not even Dr. Turner, quite understood how Jarret could spend so much time in her miserable company. In the week since the shooting she had snapped at everyone a half-dozen times.

Jarret sat in a large, comfortable armchair near the bed. A small table separated him from Rennie. A marble chessboard with ivory pieces was the focus of their attention. Most of the captured men lay on Rennie's side of the board. She was gloating as Jarret's fingers hesitated on his remaining bishop.

He looked up at her, saw her triumphant face, and reconsidered his move. "Your family thinks I'm a saint for putting up with you," he said.

"Don't let Mary Francis hear you talk like that. It's practically blasphemous."

Jarret smirked. "That's how much you know. She's the one who's suggesting I be canonized." He let go of his bishop, watched her swoop down on it with her rook, and sighed. "I'm not nearly equal to your skill," he said. "You should get Jay Mac in here."

"He's only a little better than Mary Francis when it comes to tolerating my company," she said resignedly. "I haven't been very pleasant to anyone." She didn't expect Jarret to deny it, and he didn't. Sighing, Rennie adjusted her position on the bed, plumping the pillows behind her. She winced as her shoulder bumped the headboard.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "Here, let me do that." Jarret fixed the pillows, one at the small of her back, the other at her shoulders. He smoothed the blankets over her lap and moved the table so that she could reach it without straining.

"Thank you." She couldn't quite meet his eyes. "That's better."

"That hardly hurt at all."

"My shoulder's getting better."

Jarret shook his head. He captured her chin and raised it so that she was forced to look at him. "No," he said, "I meant saying thank you." He let his hand fall away as Rennie pulled back, all prickly and defensive now. He cut off the tirade she was preparing by simply laughing at her. A moment later she gave in and joined him.

Jay Mac nudged open the door to Rennie's bedroom with the toe of his shoe. "That sweet laughter is music to
my
ears," he said, elbowing the door closed. He was carrying a dinner tray laden with slices of ham, parsley potatoes, corn and lima beans. Steam from the dishes had misted his new spectacles. He set the tray across Rennie's lap and wiped off his lenses with a handkerchief. "Why is it no one else can make her laugh like that?" he asked Jarret.

"Perhaps because no one else plays the fool so well," said Jarret.

"Somehow I doubt that's the case," Jay Mac said.

Rennie retied the ribbon that gathered her thick hair at her nape. "You heard it from him," she said, unfolding her napkin. She pointed to the chessboard. "Perhaps you could help him out of his predicament, Jay Mac. This game won't last three more moves if you don't."

Jay Mac sat on the edge of Rennie's bed, careful not to jostle her tray. He studied the board for a moment. "It won't last three more moves if I do. He's coming at you from all sides. Go on, Jarret. You can have in her check."

Startled, Rennie reexamined the board, then Jarret's smug smile. She sniffed delicately, flattening her mouth primly, and went back to cutting her meat. "I think you moved something while I wasn't looking," she said testily. "I refuse to believe I've lost fairly."

Now Jay Mac laughed. He gave Jarret a pat on the back, reminding him dinner would be within the half-hour, and that their appointment was at eight. He kissed Rennie on the cheek, patted her uninjured shoulder, and left.

The door had barely closed when Rennie turned on Jarret. "What appointment? What are you and my father doing?"

Jarret moved his black knight. "Check."

Rennie wagged her fork at him, refusing to even glance at the game board. "I'm not a train. I can't be so easily sidetracked."

"It has nothing to do with you," Jarret said.

"I didn't think that it did. It was a simple enough question."

He gave her an arch look. "Nothing is ever simple with you, Rennie."

"You're doing it again," she said. "I won't be dismissed like that, Jarret. My mother and sisters have been doing it all week. Even Jay Mac won't give me straight answers. Then they have the gall to wonder why I'm so miserable being cooped up in this room. You've been the only one to talk about what happened, what
really
happened."

"I think the others didn't want to distress you."

"Well, I
am
distressed. And I have been since I woke up in this bed with Dr. Turner leaning over me. I'm not used to being shot."

Jarret managed to choke back his laughter. "It's not the sort of thing one gets used to," he said dryly.

"You know what I mean. I think I have a right to know more than anyone, including you, has thought fit to tell me. It isn't fair, Jarret."

Pushing aside the table and chessboard, Jarret stretched his legs in front of him. He recognized Rennie's stubbornness. It was in the shape of her seriously set mouth, in the tension around her emerald eyes. Her feathery brows were drawn fractionally together. The curling strand of dark red hair that lay across her left cheek fluttered slightly as she worked a muscle in her jaw.

Her skin was flushed, not the unnatural, fevered flush that had waxed and waned for the better part of the week, but the flush of frustration and impatience. Two buttons at the neck of her nightshirt had been unfastened, exposing the hollow of her throat and part of her collarbone. She should have looked fragile. With her chin jutting at that defiant angle, with the pulse beating hard in the side of her neck, with the tense rise and fall of her breath, Rennie looked unbreakable.

It was a sure sign that she was recovered.

Jarret's fingers threaded through his hair. The shape of his mouth changed, puffing slightly, as he slowly exhaled. "I don't think any of your family meant to be secretive by design, Rennie; it simply unfolded that way. On your second day here you took a fever, and no one wanted to do or say anything that would impede your recovery."

Rennie put down her fork. She had little interest in her food now. "Such as..."

"Such as your mother collapsing when she first saw you being carried in the house." His voice grew grave and quiet. "And again when she saw Jay Mac hovering over her in the entrance hall."

"Poor Mama, seeing Jay Mac like that... with no warning. She must have thought she'd died and gone to heaven." Rennie's eyes clouded because what she saw in Jarret's troubled face didn't quite fit her facile explanation. "But she's all right now, isn't she? I mean, she's been flitting in and out of here, caring for me all week. It was just a fainting spell, isn't that right? The shock of everything..." She stopped. "What else is it, Jarret?"

"Moira was going to have another child, Rennie. She lost the baby that night." He watched Rennie's face drain of color, her eyes darken and widen. "It's not your fault," he said quickly. "And if you go on believing it for even another minute, you'll be justifying your family's avoidance of telling you. It wasn't the shock of seeing you or Jay Mac, or even the fall. She'd been having pain for some time. Dr. Turner said there was nothing that could have been done, that weeks ago he and your mother discussed that she might not be able to carry the child to term. Your mother's beyond the years when most women can even conceive."