The Gentlewoman

by Lisa Durkin

  Rory required a long hot shower and a nap after returning to the house. She eased under the showerhead, moaning when the hot water beat down on her sore body. All through the awards ceremonies and interviews following their snowmobile race, she had been dreaming of this moment.

  The race itself had been brutal and Rory was thankful Jackson had driven that snowmobile. Her ass bounced up and down the entire race. They didn’t win, but they had made pretty good time. It made Rory appreciate watching Ryan’s race, which was double the distance and roughness. The teenager hadn’t been slowed at all, jumping off his machine after crossing the finish line.

  The reporters had all asked the same basic questions: how they met, when they would marry, all the romantic information people loved. They had both proudly fielded the questions, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. They said they had yet to work out so many of the details, that they were just enjoying being together in the great state of Maine. Rory had beamed when Jackson told the reporters how proud he was to bring his girl home, and what a great addition she was to the Follies.

  Rory was out before her head hit the pillow. While she napped, Jackson slipped outside and into the agents’ car. Agents Thomas and Hondo were not regulars at Rory’s condo, but Secretary Reynolds assured Jackson he had hand-picked them for this assignment.

  “Did you spot him?” Jackson asked, blowing into his hands.

  “We did. The bastard never showed a patch of skin. We couldn’t make him.”

  “He was laser focused on Rory from the minute we arrived on the island. I saw him again at the snowmobile event. Motherfucker was lucky I didn’t lose it.”

  “He drove a rental car around town. We had to let him go after a while so we wouldn’t leave the congresswoman uncovered. Never took those goggles off, even in the car.”

  Jackson cursed. It had scared and angered him that somebody could get so close to Rory. “We’re going to my family home this evening for a dinner party. Let’s keep a close eye out. I don’t want anything to happen.”

  Jackson left the agents and went to check that Rory was still sleeping. He didn’t want to upset her with the knowledge that somebody had been following them all day. She seemed to be so relaxed and happy. He wanted her to have this reprieve before going back to their fucked-up reality.

  Back in the bedroom he slipped under the covers and surrounded her body with his, their faces cheek to cheek.

  “Don’t move me, please!”

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  Rory moaned and looked into his eyes. “I think I have Down Easter ass.” Jackson shook the bed hard with his laughter.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rory was surprised at the number of people in attendance at the Dorns’ dinner party. It was clear that his mother was feeling better. She looked gorgeous. And it helped that she didn’t have to lift a finger, with a mansion full of staff. With what Rory knew about Mrs. Dorn’s condition, that was necessity as much as luxury. There must have been two hundred people, including Dorn Foundation staff, family and friends.

  The “house” as Jackson called it was castle-like in proportions. The party was held in a main parlor, a two-story open lodge-type room outlined with dark woodwork and beams. A roaring fireplace took up one wall, with lighted displays of museum-quality china, vases, and pottery on the others. The blue-green carpeting and cream-colored settees and sofas softened the room. Small round tables with damask coverings were set up around a car-size floral arrangement in the center. A pianist and harpist played in the background, and waiters made rounds with silver trays of food and champagne.

  Rory was glad she had purchased a new dress for the occasion. She was not overdressed in her emerald-green cocktail gown, as she had feared. She liked the fitted gown with spaghetti straps. Jackson, of course, had taken charge at the store. He even made her promise to wear her hair up, so he could kiss her neck. He wore a very well-cut suit. It was so odd to Rory, Jackson never seemed like a person who came from such immense wealth.

  Of course, she knew why after meeting his mother. Patty, as she asked Rory to call her, was warm, intelligent and funny in addition to being strikingly beautiful. She sat in the middle of the room chatting with guests as they came and went. She wore a soft violet-colored gown and stunning diamond jewelry.

  Rory had met and spent time with the entire family earlier in the evening. Jackson was the spitting image of his father, who was polite but very reticent. In stark contrast were Jackson’s brothers, very animated and outgoing, flirtatious like Jackson. The oldest brother, Thomas Jr., was a vice president in the family paper and lumber businesses. Daniel and Kevin were traders on Wall Street. They were all good-looking men, but Jackson was the most handsome. Their wives were model gorgeous. His sister Fiona, a very pretty petite brunette, joked and laughed with her brothers.

  They were welcoming of her. They asked her questions about herself, including her new term in Congress. Rory noticed they steered clear of any discussion about her first husband and the incident three years prior, and she wondered if they had been prepped by Jackson. Probably so, she thought, and what a relief. His family and their potential questions had weighed on her mind.

  Later in the evening, Jackson’s mother invited her to sit. Patty remarked on the day’s events; she had followed their appearances at the Follies on the local news channels. She was thrilled Rory had joined in the games, it being her first time in town and meeting the family. Patty told Rory she liked her “moxy”. Rory laughed and could tell this was high praise.

  “Jackson looked quite happy about the news reports today. In fact, I haven’t seen my youngest son this happy in ages.” She sipped sparkling water from a crystal goblet and looked through the crowd.

  “I hope I make him half as happy as he makes me.”

  “Oh you do, dear. I can tell. He’s smiling with his eyes again. I haven’t seen that in years. I was beginning to worry that he’d never find the woman he needed. I always knew his screwing around was just boredom, and I always hoped he’d find his match.”

  Rory’s eyebrows rose and she felt very complimented. “Thank you. I certainly know I’ve met mine…finally.”

  Patty looked into Rory’s eyes. “Yes, I know you’ve had a difficult time. Maybe now you can both be happy and free. True love can set you free.”

  Rory looked at Jackson, who was chatting with his brothers. She thought about what Patty said. She was right. Jackson set her free. She had felt it from the start. The way he made her feel such excitement and yet so comfortable that she didn’t hesitate to come out of her shell. She had felt it before she even realized it was happening. He set her free. Free from her panic and anxiety, free from guilt and shame, and free to love and deserve love.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Patty, I’d like to dance with that man.”

  “Please, dear. It would be a pleasure to see.”

  Rory crossed the floor and Jackson entwined her in his arms, kissing her neck.

  “May I have this dance?”

  “Certainly, Congresswoman.”

  They crossed to the dance floor. He took her into his arms and nodded to the pianist. A slower song began.

  “I want to tell you something,” Rory said.

  “Oh?” He hummed to the music.

  “I love you.”

  He smiled and pulled her closer. “Well that’s good. Because I love you too, and you’re marrying me.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You’re sure? There’ll be no turning back.”

  “I’m sure.” She beamed.

  “Well, in that case.” Jackson swiftly dropped to one knee. The few couples around them backed out of the way and the piano immediately played a full dramatic crescendo before falling silent.

  Rory looked down at Jackson in shock. She looked around to see all eyes were trained on them.

  “Congresswoman Rory Elizabeth Morgan, you have transformed me. I love you, and I never want to be without you. Please wear this rin
g and be my wife.” He held up an open ring box. Rory looked into it, at the most exquisite diamond ring she had ever seen.

  She looked past the ring into Jackson’s handsome face. Tears broke free as she thought of the words he had said, of how he was the one who had transformed her.

  She took a deep breath. “Congressman Jackson Patrick Dorn, you are my home. You are the love who has made me whole and I will be honored to wear your ring and be your wife forever.”

  She could see the tears in his eyes. He swiftly freed the ring from its box and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. He rose quickly and took her into his arms. He pulled back and cupped her cheeks, kissing her slowly and deeply while the other party guests applauded loudly.

  “I love you, baby,” he whispered into her ear.

  She looked into his glowing eyes. “I love you so much.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Rory admired the ring again, on the corporate jet headed back to DC. A driver had shown up at Jackson’s house Sunday morning to take them to the airport, courtesy of his father. This was out of character and Jackson had quipped that his father must have been impressed with Rory.

  The ring had been Jackson’s grandmother’s. When Rory learned that, she cried again. She knew what that meant to Jackson. He had spoken so fondly of the times he had spent with his grandparents. He had mentioned them that first day she spent with him in the antiques store.

  It was beautiful, a five-carat diamond with three rows of sapphires on either side. She was being very careful. “It’s just so beautiful. Are you sure you want me wearing a family heirloom? What if something happens to it?”

  “I’m sure it’ll be just fine. I wouldn’t want you to have anything less than a family heirloom.”

  She leaned in and kissed him hard, her hands digging into his hair.

  His cell phone rang as she straddled his lap. It was sitting on the seat beside him and they both looked down and saw the caller was Secretary Reynolds.

  “I better take this.”

  Rory dismounted. She knew it wasn’t good when Jackson blanched and stood, walking swiftly out of the seating area. All manner of thoughts raced through her head.

  After what felt like an eternity, Jackson emerged from the back of the plane. He looked grim and pulled her onto his lap, squeezing her to his chest.

  “What’s wrong?” Rory whispered.

  “There’s bad news, baby. I’m going to tell you, but I want you to try to remain calm.”

  Rory looked up at him, her palms against his chest. “What is it?” she breathed, her stomach dropping to her knees.

  “Early this morning, Agent Tagg was killed.”

  Rory gasped. “What happened?”

  “He was found dead in your condo. It appears he was stabbed to death.”

  The plane began to spin, not due to aerodynamics. Jackson immediately set her on the sofa and shoved her head between her knees.

  “Breathe, Rory. Just keep breathing.”

  She was reeling. Motherfucker, she was reeling. What the fuck was she going to do? That was supposed to have been her.

  “Baby… Rory… Look at me,” Jackson demanded. He was on his knees.

  She looked at him, breathing hard. “Tell me…what he did to him…”

  “No, Rory. Look at me,” he demanded. “Breathe.” He cupped her face with his hands.

  “Tell me,” she repeated.

  “I don’t want you this upset.”

  She was haunted. “I have to know,” she whispered miserably.

  Jackson smoothed the hair away from her face. He held her cheeks as he looked back into her eyes. “This is not your fault. None of this is. I don’t want you thinking you brought any of this on yourself or anyone else. You couldn’t have known what Aidan or Roan Sullivan were about.”

  She heard what he said. “Tell me what happened to Tagg.”

  He blew out a hard breath. “His throat was slit, Rory.”

  They were met at Ronald Reagan Private Arrivals by Secret Service and were whisked back to Jackson’s condo. The day was gray and cold and it suited the change in her mood. She was amazed at how quickly the wind was sucked from her sails. She had gone from flying high to being thrown back into the hell that was her real life.

  They weren’t allowed into Rory’s condo, not that she wanted to go. She looked at her door and noticed there was no police tape, nothing to say that something horrible and sick had happened there. She entered Jackson’s place and hovered as he and an agent carried in the luggage. They were expecting Secretary Reynolds as well as the rest of the team for a debriefing. She hovered some more after she and Jackson were left alone.

  “Come sit on the couch with me,” he said, bringing a glass of water. “You’re so pale.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She took a sip and let him pull her to his chest again. She loved being sheltered there. She smiled up at him, mostly because she couldn’t stand that worried look on his face. This wonderful man deserved to never worry. She looked down at her ring.

  “What kind of wedding do you want to have?” he asked her quietly.

  She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. The question caught her off guard, and she knew he was trying to cheer her. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, let’s think. When do you want to get married?”

  When all this bullshit is gone. “I don’t know,” she murmured again, laying her head back.

  “It’s Valentine’s Day Thursday. Wanna get married Thursday?”

  Her head shot up and she smirked at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yep, damn serious.”

  “No, we can’t get married Thursday.”

  “Why not?”

  She gently fondled her engagement ring, deep in thought. She finally looked up at him.

  “Because when I marry you, I want my friends and cousins there. I want everybody to hear us say those vows.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I want everyone to know that no matter what, you are what matters to me.”

  His baby blues smiled into hers before he gently kissed her lips.

  They rested quietly in their own melancholy until the knock on the door let them know that Homeland and the FBI had arrived. Jackson let everybody in. The atmosphere was tense. They had lost one of their own. Rory knew what that did to cops. They stood around, arms crossed, looking determined and dogged. She sat forward, her back straight.

  Secretary Reynolds spoke evenly and quietly. “In order to debrief you. FBI Agent Steven Tagg was found about six this morning. He was stabbed twelve times about the chest and upper back, and his neck was severed. The instrument used was a ten-inch serrated knife from Congresswoman Morgan’s kitchen. There have been no fingerprints or biometric material identified other than that of victim, occupant, fiancé of occupant, and agents on scene. There were no witnesses to any unlawful entry into the building. No perimeter evidence was found. There was no forced entry.”

  Everybody was silent and still. His name was Steven, Rory thought. She hadn’t known that. She felt sick to her stomach. She had always had contempt for Tagg for using her as he had in Cleveland. She guessed she always felt he was somewhat responsible because of his willingness to put her in harm’s way, and then not being around. And now he had lost his life because of her. No, not because of her, Jackson’s reminder filled her head. She looked up and listened to the conversation.

  “We’ve alerted the secretary of state, the House speaker, minority leader, CIA, and all the other appropriate agencies…”

  Rory sat back, massaging her forehead. Great, now she was everybody’s problem.

  “We have nothing else but to believe that Sullivan and Doward are out there, trying to get to the congresswoman,” Reynolds explained in answer to a question posed by Jackson.

  “And we have nothing on which to pick them up?”

  “You know as well as I do, Congressman. They’ve committed no crime on US soil that can be proven. In
ternational laws are insufficient for what we have.”

  “It’s not safe here. Rory shouldn’t be here,” Jackson barked.

  “Agreed.” Reynolds looked at her. “It’s time to go to a safe place, Congresswoman.”

  Rory blanched. The idea of leaving was completely antithetical to her current mindset. Everything was different now. She was no longer broken and numb. She was engaged to a wonderful man. She wanted to live this life. She wasn’t going back.

  “I’ll leave here, but I’m not going into hiding.”

  Everybody was silent. Jackson finally spoke softly. “What do you mean?”

  Rory thought about things. Something didn’t sit right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I think this is one of the safest places to be right now. That’s why I can’t stay.” She looked up at Secretary Reynolds. “I don’t think they’ll risk coming back here now that they know authorities are on-site. Do you?”

  “No,” Reynolds said quietly.

  She turned to Jackson. “This has to end. We can’t live life looking over our shoulders. We should leave here, go somewhere else in DC and keep living publicly. If Roan is crazy enough to kill a man in my home, he’ll come after me again, right?”

  “I don’t want him coming after you again, Rory. No more of this. I won’t have you in danger.”

  “Then how will this ever end? What are we to do, go into witness protection?” She placed her hands on his arms. “Jackson, remember your words? We’re building something that I want. I want to live our life. I want to have a wedding with invited guests and I want to live in a house, married to you. We can’t do that if we’re hiding from Roan Sullivan. We have to end this somehow. This is the only way I see.”

  “By having him come after you?”

  “Unless we can think of something else.”