The Heart You Need
Diane R. Jewkes
Avon, Massachusetts
Copyright © 2017 by Diane R. Jewkes.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance™
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-5072-0309-8
ISBN 13: 978-1-5072-0309-5
eISBN 10: 1-5072-0310-1
eISBN 13: 978-1-5072-0310-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art ©Inna Felker/123RF, ©Period Images.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
More from This Author
Also Available
I was so excited when I received my first contract from Crimson Romance for The Heart You Own that I forgot to write a dedication. I am correcting that error now.
For my parents, Walter and Nancy Rubens: Thank you for my love of reading and never stifling my imagination. I wish you were here so you could see that I did it. I said I wanted to be a writer … and now, I am. I miss you both.
To my husband and my children: Thank you for believing in and encouraging me, even when I let my doubts get in the way.
Chapter 1
San Francisco, 1896
Opening his eyes, Alec MacCairn groaned. Pain radiated from the lump on the back of his head. A lantern hanging from a hook gave off a dull yellow glow that did little to light the room. Rough wooden walls, some crates, and bits of broken wood didn’t offer many clues, though the quiet slapping of waves against a wooden hull and a small porthole on one wall gave him an idea of where he might be. Flexing his arms, he knew they were tied behind him and someone was at his back. What the hell happened? he thought, anger roaring through him.
“This is all your fault,” a familiar female voice said. “You do know that, don’t you?”
Dropping his chin to his chest, he realized he was not alone—and just whom he was bound to.
“How in that twisted brain of yours can you possibly think that?” he asked. “In no way did my attempt to stop your meddling get us here. I can assure you, Miss Ellsworth, this sits squarely on your shoulders.” He had approached her at the mayor’s party earlier in the evening. He’d recognized her as the reporter who’d interviewed him for the society column of her newspaper. He still didn’t know why she had been acting so secretive, hiding behind columns and scribbling notes on a small pad. He had pulled her aside to ask what she was doing, when they’d been attacked.
Pain ripped through his shoulders. He knew Adeline Ellsworth was twisting her body around as much as the ropes would allow, trying to look at him. “Of all the … If you hadn’t alerted those miscreants to our presence, we wouldn’t be in this conundrum now!”
“I was trying to protect you from yourself.”
“And see how well that worked.”
Alec could feel her against his back, wriggling like a worm on a hook, trying to loosen the ropes that bound them together.
“Stop squirming so I can think,” he snapped. “When we are out of this, you have a great deal of explaining to do.”
“You have ruined months of investigation. I’ll never find out what really happened.” The anger in her voice was palpable.
“It was your blasted eavesdropping that got us in this mess,” Alec grumbled. “If you hadn’t tried to listen to conversations not meant for you, we wouldn’t be here now.”
“That’s what I do, Lord MacCairn.” He could hear the disdain in her voice as she used proper address. Even though he had told her when they first met it was unnecessary, she persisted. At first she’d called him Viscount Peyton until he made it clear he would not accept the address from an American. “I am a reporter. I try to tell the world of the injustices being done.”
“I’m sorry, aren’t you a society photographer and reporter? I didn’t know I was in the presence of Nellie Bly.”
“I am working toward being taken seriously as a journalist. This investigation is part of that.”
“Well that won’t help get us out of these ties, now will it?” Alec flexed his wrists, trying to stretch the ropes. He could feel Miss Ellsworth trying to follow suit.
He noted that while their hands were tied to each other, their legs were tied separately. Hers were tied together, while his were stretched to the sides and tied to the chair legs. If one of them could reach down and get the sgian-dubh from his boot, he could cut them loose. Twisting against the ropes, he tried to see her over his shoulder.
“Miss Ellsworth, do you think you can lean to your left and reach my ankle?”
“Why?”
“There is a small knife tucked into the top of my boot.” He felt himself being pulled to the side as she stretched to reach his calf. As her fingers crawled down his leg, the random thought crossed his mind of how pleasant that would be in another time and place.
“I’ve got it!” she cried triumphantly as she straightened back up, instantly easing the ripping pain in his shoulder. “Can you feel it?”
He stretched and twisted his fingers until he felt the smooth steel of the knife blade. Wrapping his fingers around it carefully, he took the knife from her, rotated it until he grasped the handle, and positioned the blade alongside her wrist.
“Try not to move, so I don’t hurt you.” Alec closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of the blade, keeping it from twisting and cutting into her skin. After what seemed an eternity, the rope parted and their arms separated. He pulled his arms up, removing the remnants of rope dangling from his wrists. Leaning over, he cut the ropes binding his ankles, stood, and turned to free Miss Ellsworth. When he saw the raw red skin where the rope had chafed her, his temper flared.
“Hold still while I cut the ropes on your ankles.” He leaned down, gently grasping her leg. “Are you injured?” The knife easily sliced her free.
“Other than a little stiffness and raw skin, I am fine. Thank you.”
• • •
Linnie rubbed her wrists as she stood, trying to encourage the feeling to return to her legs. She watched as Lord MacCairn prowled around the room, assessing their situation. She remembered how large he had seemed when she interviewed him and his companions, Lord and Lady Stoneham, about their visit to San Francisco, and the impression was made even stronger in the cramped cabin of the ship. The two noblemen were large investors in shipping and had come to San Francisco to visit the offices of one of their companies. It was the buzz of the society co
lumns, and the upper-class ladies were all aflutter with not just British nobility, but also an unmarried lord in their midst. After meeting both men, she’d understood. They were extremely handsome and as large as Northwoods lumberjacks. Whenever Lord MacCairn spoke, his voice dark and velvety, his brogue soft, she felt butterflies in her stomach. She was drawn to him.
Even wrinkled and dusty, the immaculate cut of his evening jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and her eyes were drawn to his slender waist and flat stomach as he tugged at his silk vest. She looked at her gown, nervously brushing at hopelessly wrinkled sateen, shaking out the skirt as best she could, pushing down her unladylike reaction to him.
“Any idea what ship we might be on and how we can escape?” She watched as he tugged at the door, which appeared to be bolted from the outside. After a few fruitless attempts, he walked over to the porthole.
“I don’t know which ship,” he said, looking at her and back at the porthole, then back at her. “But I think I have an idea for escape.” He reached up toward the porthole, measuring the span between his hands, and turned toward her.
“Now wait a minute.” Adeline took a step back, recognizing his intent. “There is no way I can fit through that opening.”
He walked over to her, his hands held apart at the width of the porthole. He first held them up to her shoulders and then lowered them to her hips. She watched as his eyes slowly traveled the length of her body, an assessing look in his eyes. It sent a small thrill through her, followed by discomfort and guilt.
“Well, if we strip off those large sleeves, remove your bustle …” He tapped a finger against his lips. “How many petticoats are you wearing?”
“How dare you ask me such a question!” Adeline felt a flush of anger and embarrassment course through her body. “A gentleman would never make such an inquiry.”
“While I might agree, madam,” Lord MacCairn continued, “these are desperate times, and we need to use desperate measures.” He turned and walked back over to the porthole. He grasped the handle, tugging and pulling. Abandoning that effort, he prowled around the cabin until he found a broken belaying pin behind some crates. Tapping it against his palm he walked back over to the porthole.
“Stand back.”
Adeline moved to the other side of the cabin as he swung the club and shattered the window. She held her breath, waiting for footsteps or shouting to indicate their captors had heard. Lord MacCairn looked back at her, nodded, turned, and started clearing the broken glass. He stuck his head through, came back in, and motioned to her to come closer.
“It appears we are alone. I don’t hear anyone or see any lights. We are in luck—there is a deck on the other side of the wall. I will boost you through the porthole, and you work your way back to the door and let me out.”
“Even if I were able to free us, how will we get off the ship?”
“One thing at a time.” He looked at her gown. “Would you be so kind as to remove your petticoats or crinolines—or whatever things you ladies wear.” She saw a devilish glint in his eyes. “Or you could just remove your gown.”
“So I can either ruin one of my few good gowns by ripping the sleeves off and hope it doesn’t get shredded going through the opening, or disrobe?” She wasn’t sure she liked either choice but knew there was no other way. “Turn around, Lord MacCairn. I have no intention of letting you ruin my gown. I will disrobe to my underthings, but you will not watch.”
He cleared his throat, surprise lighting his blue eyes. “Do you need any assistance? I have some experience.” His wicked grin and wink drew a nervous laugh from her. She fought the blush creeping up her neck, trying hard to keep him from seeing how much he was affecting her. Guilt and pain slammed through her as Robert’s face appeared in her mind. He would have admonished her for getting herself in such a situation, then laughed and told her she was tough enough to save herself. Even after three years, she couldn’t reconcile herself to not having him in her life. To being called a widow. Shaking the memories away, she looked at the porthole again.
“I’m sure you do,” she said. “If I’m to get through that opening, you will need to move some of those crates under the window so I can climb out. I realize I’m tall for a woman, and I consider myself athletic, but I don’t believe I could get up there on my own.”
“I’d be—” He began, but she held up her hand. “Do not finish, Lord MacCairn. Let us get this over with so we can get back to our lives.”
Laughing, he turned to do her bidding while she moved to a shadowed area to disrobe.
Her heart was thundering, and her hands were slippery with sweat. What am I doing? Panic threatened to overwhelm her. After we are out of this awful situation, I’ll go back to being a social columnist and hope to never see this man again. What would my mother think, seeing me doing this? Okay, buck up, girl, and get on with it.
Squaring her shoulders, she took a quick peek, assuring herself that the man trapped with her was indeed being a gentleman, keeping his back turned to her, despite his less-than-gentlemanly taunts. She slid the sleeves off her shoulders and pushed the bodice down, then twisted the dress around so she could reach the buttons on the back. Stepping out of the dress, she was glad she hadn’t purchased the one with the larger train. She then loosened the crinoline petticoat and stepped out of it. Looking down, she tried to decide if there was anything else she should remove, while still maintaining some modesty. She still had her corset, chemise, and bloomers covering her. Not that different from a bathing costume, she tried to convince herself so she could go through with this crazy plan.
“I have never understood how you women can appear so weightless and glide effortlessly about while wearing pounds and pounds of clothing.” She spun around to see him watching her, a gleam in his eyes and laughter in his voice.
“Practice, Lord MacCairn. Practice.” Linnie refused to give into the urge to cover herself with her hands and cower. Angry, she straightened her back and returned his stare. “Can we get on with this before someone comes back?” she snapped. Feeling far less confident than she hoped she sounded, she hurried over to the stack of boxes he had pushed under the porthole and climbed up. She stuck her head through, looked up and down the narrow passage, then pulled her head back in.
“How do you suggest I get out on the other side? Should I just land on my head?” This was all such a disaster. They would never get out of here, and she would have done this for nothing. The months of investigation to prove her cousin Tommy had been murdered and that Charles Vonn had ordered it. So much time following leads that led to dead ends, and people too afraid to talk. Irritation and fear rose up into her throat, and tears threatened in her eyes.
“Not at all, Miss Ellsworth. I presume since you profess to be a modern woman that you engage in physical activity and will be able to grasp the porthole frame on the other side, pull your impressively long legs out, and drop the short distance to the walkway.”
She gasped at his forwardness. Never had a complete stranger spoken to her in such a manner. She didn’t know how to respond. Was this how titled British people spoke to each other? Impossible! She knew the social rules as well as anyone. He was being impertinent, trying to get under her skin. Sputtering, unable to respond, she turned back, blew out a breath, determined to not let him get the upper hand, and shimmied her way through the porthole. Holding on to the edge as he suggested, she dropped to the ground.
Chapter 2
Alec let out huff as Miss Ellsworth dropped out of sight, congratulating himself on not giving the young woman any indication of how her state of undress had affected him. He knew she would have panicked and not been able to go on, so he’d fought hard to present bland indifference when he had turned and seen her in nothing but her corset, bloomers, and stockings. The sight of her curvaceous figure, so well displayed, had almost sent him to his knees. If they hadn’t been in such a dire situation he might have considered …
Cutting off his thoughts, he remi
nded himself this was a dire situation and he had no idea who was behind it.
Why was obvious. The voluptuous Miss Ellsworth and her snooping had obviously annoyed the wrong people, whoever they might be. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.
“Lord MacCairn?” He heard her voice call softly through the door. “I didn’t see any sign of anyone else on the ship.” A sharp click, and the door swung open. She rushed into the cabin and gathered up her gown, holding it against her chest as if that could erase the delectable shape he had already observed. “If you’d be so kind as to turn around again.”
“Are you serious? I’ve already seen you in your underthings.”
“Please.” Distress and discomfort were plain on her face. “I don’t feel right dressing with you watching.”
“That’s a first.” He chuckled, turning his back. Anything to get her moving so they could escape before someone decided to check on them.
He could hear the rustle of fabric as she put her gown back on. “I did notice,” she said, “that we’re still tied up to the dock. We won’t have to swim back to shore.” He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see her once again covered in yards of material. The Kelly green fabric complimented her green eyes and striking auburn hair. She was once again the controlled, contained, professional woman.
“That seems strange.” He pondered this new bit of information. “Let’s take advantage of our good fortune, and we’ll try to figure out why later. Grasping her by the elbow, he hurried her onto the deck of the ship.
Alec made note of his surroundings as they left. They appeared to be at one of the far end docks, away from the lights and taverns—and help. There were no guards or any indication that someone meant for them to be kept on board should they get free.
“There’s a trolley stop a few blocks from here.” Miss Ellsworth’s words brought him from his reconnaissance. “I’ve been down in this area during the day. Fremont Street is a few blocks over, and we can go back downtown from there.”
The Heart You Need Page 1