My Heart's Desire

by Jo Goodman

  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 t
he 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."

  "You should be supporting me now. You should be happy for me, wishing me well." Rennie started to shake everyone off, feeling as if she were being pulled in five different directions. She was only peripherally aware that she had caused them to back away, shame-faced and sorry for their lack of sensitivity. In spite of the activity all around her, something else had caught Rennie's attention.

  Two men stood on the threshold of the side chapel, hat in hand, looking distinctly uncomfortable in their dust-covered and travel-wrinkled clothes. Their gun belts were jarringly out of place. One of the men shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitant, as if he were gathering courage. The other leaned negligently against the doorframe, amused and watchful.

  Rennie's back straightened. She raised her chin as her eyes darted from one man to the other. Without even realizing it she took a protective step toward Michael. "Is there something we can do for you?" she asked.

  Her voice was cool, Jarret thought, and sharp, like the stinging spray of white water. There was an aggressive tilt to her chin he did not care for and a feral look in her eye that could only bode trouble. Jarret's smile hinted at deeper amusement. Poor Hollis Banks. Jarret began to believe that the intended groom would be grateful for his interference.

  The stranger's ill-concealed humor was unwelcome and annoying. Rennie's gaze shifted to the other man and watched as his own eyes wandered past her mother's worried countenance, past Mary's questioning gaze, past Maggie's nervous fingers plucking the bouquet, past young Skye's fiery hair, and finally came to rest on Michael's profile. In that moment Rennie knew who he was.

  "My name's Ethan Stone," he said quietly. "I've come for Michael."

  Like hell, Rennie thought. Gathering the folds of her white satin gown to one side, she squeezed through the circle of her family and approached Ethan, not sparing a glance for the man at his side. She stopped just in front of him and addressed him in a voice that was still bitter, cold, and remote. "Marshal Stone?" she asked. "The man who abducted my sister?"

  Jarret's eyes were on Rennie. Everyone else was looking at Ethan. "Yes," Ethan said, standing his ground. "The man who abducted your sister."

  Rennie's response was delivered without hesitation. Her hand swung in a wide arc. A mere inch from Ethan's face the sweep of her hand was halted. Not by Ethan, but by Jarret. He pulled her to one side, twisted her arms behind her back, and yanked her flush against his body. She was stunned into absolute stillness. So was everyone else.

  For all of five seconds.

  Michael put her hand on Schyler's forearm and raised herself up, turning fully in Ethan's direction. Hands on her hips, the material of her pale blue overblouse was stretched taut across her belly. There was no ignoring the advanced state of her pregnancy. Rennie knew her twin felt cornered as Ethan's eyes dropped from Michael's face to her abdomen. Michael came out fighting, stiffening her shoulders and raising her chin as Rennie had done earlier.

  Michael faced Ethan squarely. "Tell that man to put my sister down."

  Jarret didn't wait for Ethan's directive. Belatedly he realized that he was actually dangling Rennie a few inches off the floor. "Name's Jarret Sullivan, Miss Dennehy," he said politely. He lowered Rennie slowly but didn't let her go. Stepping farther into the room, he kicked the door closed behind him. Over the top of Rennie's head his dark blue eyes rested on Michael's abdomen. He glanced at Ethan. His friend had been struck dumb.

  "He didn't know," Jarret said under his breath.

  Rennie's whisper was harsh. "Of course he didn't know."

  She tried to pull out of Jarret's grasp, but he merely held her tighter.

  Mary Francis found a chair for her mother. Moira looked as if she might faint after all. Mary slipped off the white silk Chinese fan that dangled from her mother's wrist and waved it in front of Moira. She watched Ethan consideringly, gauging his reaction to Michael's pregnancy. Mary had wanted Michael to inform Ethan of her condition months ago, and Michael had refused. Ethan didn't love her, she said. Mary Francis only thought Michael was wrong then. She knew Michael was wrong now.

  Maggie's nervous fingers were destroying Rennie's bouquet. Looking down at what she was doing, she sighed, took aim, and pitched the flowers at Ethan. They missed their mark and bounced harmlessly off Jarret's shoulder. His low laughter incensed Rennie.

  "Maggie!" she cried, renewing her struggles. "Those are my flowers!" She felt the vibration of Jarret's silent laughter this time. His breath was warm against her ear. Rennie twisted her head and glared at him. He ignored her.

  Skye leaped to her feet, picked up the abused bouquet and waved it threateningly at Ethan. "Well, someone needs to do something... say something." She looked pointedly at Ethan.

  Jarret shook his head. John MacKenzie Worth's daughters were as fierce as lionesses. He wouldn't have wagered much on Ethan's chances of surviving. But then his friend seemed nearly oblivious to everything going on. He only had eyes for Michael. "He's a goner," he said to himself.

  Rennie snarled.

  "Is there somewhere we can talk?" Ethan was asking Michael. He looked around and added significantly. "Privately."<
br />
  "I don't want to talk to you," Michael said firmly. "Now or later. Private or not. I know why you're here, and it has nothing to do with me or my baby. This is about Houston and Dee escaping. Well, you'll just have to find them on your own, Marshal Stone, because I'm not interested in helping you!"

  "Michael!" Five voices, almost identical in pitch and degree of horror chorused her name.

  Jarret whispered in Rennie's ear, "Turning traitor on your sister?"

  Rennie had an urge to bite him. Her dark green eyes flashed. "You don't know a thing about it," she whispered back.

  Michael's eyes snapped at Ethan in a similar fashion. "How did you find us?" she demanded.

  "I've already talked to your father today."

  "And he sent you here?"

  "Yes, he sent me, but he didn't tell me what I might expect. He left it to me to find out for myself. How could you, Michael? Why didn't you tell me?"

  Her face flushed. "I am not having this conversation in front of my family!"

  "Then, tell me where we can talk alone."

  "I don't want to be alone with you!"

  "Then, we'll discuss it now!"

  "Ethan! We're in the middle of my sister's wedding!"

  Schyler's head had been turning back and forth between the combatants. She looked at Ethan now, awaiting his retort, and was disappointed when Jarret answered.

  "That reminds me," he said. He let Rennie go, slipped out the door, and closed it without another word.

  Rennie watched him go, open-mouthed. "Well, I like that," she said sarcastically. She straightened her gown and rearranged her veil. "Who is that man?"

  "I've never seen him before," Michael said. "But if Ethan claims him as a friend, you'd do well to stay away."

  Rennie was thinking much the same thing. She had never been touched with such disregard for her person. She may as well have been baggage. Jarret Sullivan's hold had been impersonal, careless, and rough. There would be bruises where he had gripped her wrists and a film of dust on her wedding gown where he had trapped her against him. Rennie impatiently brushed herself off.