My Heart's Desire (9 page)

"God, I'm more tired than I thought." He shook his head to clear it as his hand fell to his side. "There for a moment..."

"Yes?"

Jarret caught himself. "Nothing."

Rennie waited. When it seemed that he was not inclined to say any more, she offered him a cup of coffee. "It may be a while before Mama and my sisters return. I intend to wait up for them."

"I'll take the coffee, then." He lighted the table lamps while Rennie went to the kitchen, and paced the length of the room from the fireplace to the large arched window. The catnap he had taken earlier hadn't been nearly enough.

From the doorway Rennie watched him. His deep blue eyes were shaded, not by his usual lazy watchfulness, but by sheer fatigue. His duster had been tossed over the back of a rocking chair, and tension was now a visible line down his back. Beneath his crisp white shirt the muscles in his shoulders were bunched. He alternately rubbed the bridge of his nose and the back of his neck.

Rennie set down the serving tray. "You could sit down, you know."

"I've tried that," he said wearily.

Belatedly she noticed the indentations in the cushions of the armchairs and the sofa. "Too comfortable?" she asked.

"Exactly."

"You don't have to stay up. I don't intend leaving the house tonight."

"You'll understand if I don't trust you quite yet."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. How do you take your coffee?"

"Black."

Rennie poured a cup and handed it to him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then laughed uneasily, a little startled by their lapse into civility.

Rennie recovered by going to the window and drawing back the drapes. Jarret recovered by growling at her to get away. She stayed right where she was until he tugged the drapes from her hand and let them close.

"You made a splendid target," he told her. "You were clearly visible to anyone from the street. This damn fortress you call a home needs a stone wall around it, not an iron fence."

Over the rim of her coffee cup, Rennie rolled her eyes. "What did you do to Hollis to stop my wedding?" she asked.

"Who says I did anything to him?"

"I do. Hollis is my fiancé. I think I know him well enough to know he wouldn't have simply stepped aside."

"He didn't step aside. He practically rolled over." Jarret watched Rennie's face drain of color. "I'm sorry. That was a rotten thing to say."

"Yes, it was," she said quietly. "Was it true?"

He was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Moira, Jay Mac, and Rennie's sisters.

"I told you he would find her, Mama," Maggie said. "I'll wager she didn't get as far as the street before he pulled her up short. Am I right, Rennie?"

"Very nearly," Rennie said. "Mama, I'm sorry I worried you. I simply had to get out of there."

Moira came forward and hugged her daughter, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I know you felt you had to, but it was very frightening for the rest of us." She turned to Jarret. "I thank God you were there."

Rennie managed not to choke on her coffee. "Where's Mary Francis?"

"We took her back to the convent," Skye said. "Papa wants to leave for the summerhouse tonight."

Jarret watched Rennie look squarely at her father for the first time since he entered the room. There was no animosity in her glance, merely a challenge. "Is that so?" she asked him. "Are you anxious to leave the city for some reason? Running scared from Nate Houston perhaps?"

Jarret couldn't imagine many people were privileged to talk to Jay Mac in that tone. Rennie's father didn't blink.

John MacKenzie Worth raised a finger and pointed at his daughter. "Don't you provoke me, Rennie. You know well enough that I'm more scared of you than I am of any thieving murderer."

"With good reason," she said. "You have a lot to answer for."

"Hollis Banks doesn't deserve you," Jay Mac said. "He's good enough to be a vice president at Northeast, but he's not the sort of man I had picked out for you."

"Thank you very much, Papa, but I'll do my own choosing." She paused a beat and gave him significant look. "And you still have a lot to answer for."

"He'll answer on Judgment Day just like the rest of us, Mary Renee. You've no right to be so critical of your father."

That brought a rich burst of laughter from Maggie and Skye. They had listened to Moira harangue Jay Mac on Rennie's behalf the entire way home. Skye grabbed Maggie's hand. "C'mon, Mag. Let's get our trunks. Maybe Jarret will help us take them out to the carriage." The girls disappeared into the hallway and up the stairs. Jarret took advantage of the opportunity they afforded him and excused himself.

"It's not settled between us, Papa," Rennie said when she was alone with her parents. "You had no right to do what you did."

"If Hollis Banks wants my money, then he can damn well work for it like the rest of my employees. And if you want a place in my business, you can do the same. He doesn't need to marry you and you sure as hell don't need to marry him."

Rennie opened her mouth and was cut off by her mother. "That's enough. Both of you. I won't have it. Not now, not when we're going to be separated. If you want to engage in a constructive argument, Jay Mac, then try to convince your daughter to come with us to the valley while I finish packing." Having said her piece, Moira swept grandly from the room.

Jay Mac watched her go, then turned back to Rennie. He stroked his side-whiskers. "Well, Rennie? It wouldn't be the first time your mother's right. Can we agree to a truce?"

She didn't hesitate. "Truce."

"What about the other? Will you join us at the summerhouse?"

Again, she didn't hesitate. "No."

He nodded, expecting as much. "Tell your mother I put forth an eloquent argument and you inherited all her Irish stubbornness."

"Irish stubbornness? I thought it was the Worth intractability."

Jay Mac was sufficiently put in his place to grin sheepishly. "Well, whatever you call it, you came by it honestly and that's a fact."

"The coffee's hot," Rennie said, smiling. "Would you like some?"

"I'll get a cup."

While he was gone Rennie started a fire. They shared a few quiet minutes on the sofa together before Skye bounded in and announced they were ready to leave. She bounced out again, her flame red hair like a beacon of light, to supervise the loading of the carriage.

Jay Mac stood. "I suppose I should help Jarret with the trunks. That man's done enough for one day."

"He certainly has."

Studying his daughter, Jay Mac ran his fingers through his thick, dark blond hair. "Don't blame him overmuch, Rennie. I offered him what must have seemed like a king's ransom to do what he did." A fee, he reminded himself, that he still owed the deputy.

"I have no respect for a man seduced by money," she said. "He didn't have to do what he did."

Jay Mac hesitated, his mouth set seriously in his broad face. "I hope you heard what you just said." Then mimicking Moira's lilting brogue, he added. "Sure, and I hope you did."

* * *

Rennie allowed Jarret to draw her back inside the house as the carriage carrying her family turned the corner on Broadway. "Will they be all right?" she asked.

Jarret's hand idly smoothed his trouser pocket. He felt the outline of Jay Mac's personal draft for ten thousand dollars accompanied by a twinge of regret. "They'll be fine. Your father seems confident of the men he's hired. That satisfies me."

"And Mary Francis?"

"Houston isn't stupid. Even if he knows about Mary Francis, I seriously doubt he'd attempt anything at the convent. He'd have to be desperate and frustrated to do that."

"Michael?"

"Do you want reassurance or the truth?"

She stared at him unblinkingly. "The truth."

"Ethan Stone will give up his life protecting your sister."

Rennie nodded, realizing she had to be satisfied with that. Jarret could offer no certainties. "I'm going to bed now," she said. "Will you see to the lamps, or shall I?"

"I'll do it." He stepped aside and let her pass. Watching her climb the staircase, her head bowed wearily, Jarret realized that once again she hadn't asked anything about herself.

* * *

Jarret turned in his sleep. The bed creaked. He lay very still, alert now, listening. Was it his movement he'd heard or perhaps something else? The sound came again: a faint shuffle, the brush of the sole of a shoe against the carpet. Rennie apparently didn't understand that picking up her feet would have been quieter than sliding stealthily along the hallway runner.

Sitting up, Jarret pulled on a pair of jeans. The bed creaked again when he stood, but it was the last sound he made as he padded barefoot to the door. Jarret allowed himself to entertain the slim possibility that it was an intruder moving along the hallway. He opened the door only a crack at first. He was in time to glimpse Rennie taking the corner to the rear staircase. Pausing long enough to get his bearings, Jarret took the main steps to the first floor, ran down the hall, and was waiting for Rennie when she reached the servants' entrance near the kitchen.

Arms folded across his naked chest, leaning negligently against the doorjamb with a smug smile on his face, Rennie thought he looked too cocky by half. Hot candle wax dripped on her fingers as her hand shook with anger. Jarret reached out and took the candle from her. The fact that he could hold it steady simply fueled Rennie's fury. Her anger, in turn, made her speechless.

Jarret skimmed her attire. She was wearing a navy blue gown, walking shoes, and carrying a small beaded bag around her wrist, hardly what she'd be wearing to make hot milk in the kitchen.

Although there was no excuse she could offer, Jarret waited to hear what Rennie had to say. He was prepared for a diatribe. It was only when she said nothing that he understood how deep her hurt and anger went. His smug smile faded as he straightened and used his free hand to indicate the kitchen. "Let's get the candle wax off your fingers."

Rennie followed him to the sink and surprised herself by allowing him to care for her hand. After he ran cold water over her fingers the burns only tingled. She withdrew her hand from his. "It isn't fair," she said quietly. "I shouldn't be a prisoner in my own home." Without waiting for a response, Rennie turned and mounted the steps to her room.

Jarret followed. When Rennie opened the door to her bedroom, he put his arm out and blocked her entrance. "Your mother suggested I lock you in if I had to."

Rennie blinked. Her face flushed hotly. "My mother was teasing. She knows very well there aren't any keys for these doors anymore."

"I was afraid you'd tell me something like that." He sighed, resigned to what would have to be and not liking it much. "Let me see the inside of your room," he said tiredly.

"Oh, by all means." She curtsied and waved him inside with an exaggerated flourish. "Please, feel free to treat my home as your own. Go anywhere you like."

Jarret chose not to bite. He used his candle to light the oil lamp on the nightstand. When he could see he looked around slowly. His interest wasn't in the furnishings, or the items contributing to the personal clutter on the highboy and the vanity, or even in the fact that Rennie had apparently packed a small bag of clothes for herself and then left it behind in her excitement to leave. What Jarret cared about was the other means that Rennie could use for escape.

"Where does that door lead?" he asked, pointing to the door situated to the left of the fireplace.

"You'd believe me if I told you?" she said.

"Never mind. I'll see for myself." He opened the door and glanced around. As he expected it was a dressing room. Unfortunately it connected to a bathing room and another bedroom beyond that. "That's a problem," he said to himself.

"Don't mumble," she told him.

He merely gave her a sharp look. She brazened it out and stared right back. Jarret rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What about these doors?" he asked, pulling on the brass handles of the French doors on the outside wall. The double doors jiggled but didn't budge.

Rennie sat down on her bed. "What about them?"

"They're not opening."

"That's because there's a latch at the top and bottom. You may want to consider thinking before you resort to brute force."

"You may want to consider changing your tone."

"Or what?" Rennie asked, challenging him.

Jarret pretended he didn't hear. He unlatched the doors, opened them and stepped out onto the balcony. He could hardly credit his own stupidity as the doors were slammed behind him and the latches dropped into place. Jarret pounded on the doorframe with the flat of his hand. "Rennie! Open up!"

There was no response.

"Rennie! I mean it! Open these doors!" He waited a beat, peering through the windowpanes into the bedroom. He couldn't see her anywhere. Jarret put his shoulder to the door and tried to force it. The latches held. He considered breaking individual panes to reach the locks and door handle, but it would have taken too long.