by Nancy Bush
“By yourself?”
“I had my horse, and my dog…” Her voice trailed off.
Jesse wasn’t certain what caused that cloud of melancholy to sweep across her face. He wanted to ask her, but this illuminating conversation had helped him come to some other, disturbing conclusions. “Was it because of Harrison that you formed your current opinion about men?”
Kelsey straightened. “I’ve already told you twice that I didn’t want to marry Harrison. I wasn’t in love with him. We were just going to end the feud. What do you mean my current opinion?”
“Well, it’s clear you take a pretty dim view of my sex. I assume something happened to create this impression.”
“Jesse…”
He smiled, loving the sound of his name on her tongue, even when she was about to revile him as her tone suggested.
She couldn’t seem to get any more words out. They were stuck in her throat. Finally, she said, “Not all men are horrid lustful beasts. Harrison wasn’t.”
He heard the sideways slur clearly. Just as she’d undoubtedly intended. And because it was maybe partially deserved, it infuriated, and hurt, all the more deeply. “Haven’t you ever wanted to make love?” he demanded. “Haven’t you ever wanted someone to hold you and touch you and tell you you’re beautiful?”
Kelsey had enjoyed this unexpected truce between her and Jesse right up to this very moment. But now she knew it was over. “I think I’ll go to bed,” she said uncertainly, correctly interpreting Jesse’s mood as somehow dangerous. She’d made a mistake in even thinking he might be a friend. Slipping from the window seat, she walked past him toward the open doorway.
“Wait!”
His commanding tone stopped her dead in her tracks.
Kelsey’s pulse fluttered in her throat. “Thanks for talking with me awhile,” she said. “It’s really helped me unwind. For heaven’s sake, I can hardly keep my eyes open any longer. I’m sorry I interrupted you. I can see you’re busy and –”
“You know I’m not busy,” he bit out. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Kelsey looked over her shoulder cautiously. “Can it wait until morning?”
The corners of the room were dim, shadowing his face until he looked hard and alien. His arms were folded across his chest, but she had the impression his control was very thin.
“Things can’t go on this way much longer,” he said softly, sending warning bells ringing in Kelsey’s head.
“What things?” Kelsey edged toward the door.
“Our marital situation, such as it is. Don’t go,” he commanded, seeing how poised she was for flight. “Come here.”
She shook her head, keeping her gaze trained steadily on his hooded eyes. “Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell me from a distance.”
“No, actually I can’t.”
“I know what you’re going to say anyway,” Kelsey rushed in. “Your ploy worked splendidly. Better than anyone could have wished for. You have the cream of Portland society falling all over themselves to get you to accept their invitations. And now you’ve got Montana right where you want him,” Kelsey babbled on. “We don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“What do you mean?” His voice sliced through the room, and Kelsey jumped involuntarily.
“We can end our marriage now,” she pointed out reasonably. “You’re Montana’s business partner.”
“This marriage isn’t over until I say so.” Jesse straightened and stalked toward her. “That was our bargain.”
“But you don’t need me anymore!” Kelsey sputtered, alarmed at the proprietary way he was acting.
“Don’t I?” he asked silkily.
Kelsey had never been a coward in her life, but she sensed this explosive situation was fast getting out of control. Without a word she spun around, gathered her skirts, and ran upstairs, down the hall, and into the security of her room. She slammed the door behind her, desperately wishing she could bolt it. Then reality struck her. Jesse didn’t want her. Good heavens, she was acting like a ninny, worse than even Charlotte! She was a business arrangement for Jesse, nothing more. He certainly didn’t want her virtue. Good heavens, he’d made love to that wretched waterfront whore when he’d wanted sex. On their wedding night, no less. That was not the act of a man lusting for his wife.
The door crashed inward against the wall and Kelsey shrieked. “Jesse!” she gasped, infuriated, a hand to her chest. “You nearly scared me to death!”
“We weren’t through talking,” he informed her coldly.
“Maybe you weren’t through, but I was.” Kelsey recovered herself, her eyes flashing fire. “Please, get out of my room.”
“I’ll leave when I’m damn well good and ready.” He shut the door with a soft warning thud. “This marriage ends when I say so, not before. I’m not finished with Montana yet, and I don’t want anything, or anyone, threatening me.”
“Threatening you?” Her mind flew to the rifle in her closet. He didn’t realize how threatening she could be.
He crossed the space between them so quickly, Kelsey scarcely had time to draw a frightened breath. “Jesse,” she warned.
“I’ve been thinking things over, and I’ve decided I was wrong.”
“Wrong?” She couldn’t keep up with the lightning changes in this conversation.
“I do want to make love to you,” he said conversationally. “And since you’re my wife, I can’t think of a single reason not to.”
Kelsey stared at him in utter disbelief. “How about the fact that I loathe you!” she sputtered in sheer outrage.
“You don’t loathe me.” He smiled, then his hands encompassed her upper arms like velvet manacles. His fingers were hard and determined, the look on his face implacable.
“Don’t,” she said even as she watched his mouth slowly descend to hers. At the last moment she tried to turn away, but one of his hands captured her chin. The next instant his lips found hers, and she braced herself, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t respond this time.
His kiss gently explored her lips, terribly potent in its promise of wondrous, exciting things to come. Kelsey emitted a squeak of protest, knowing she was powerless against this tender assault.
Jesse had kissed her from curiosity, and anger, and overriding need. But he’d never kissed her like this, and Kelsey’s inexperience made it impossible to discern that he was purposely, persuasively, seducing her. Her own curiosity, and a growing inner need, made her hesitate, her thoughts crashing about inside her head.
His lips were cool and hard and strangely thrilling. His arms gathered her closer, until her heart fluttered like a frightened bird, and her breath came in shortened gasps. His mouth explored hers, and the tip of his tongue touched the trembling corner of her lips. Kelsey jerked in surprise and he lifted his head. Dazed, she stared into his hooded eyes, but then he bent his head to her cheek, trailing soft, slow, long kisses across the arch of her cheekbone to the sensitive curves and crevices of her ear.
“Please… don’t…” she murmured, her hands clenched tightly around his shoulders.
For an answer his hands swept down her back, dragging her into intimate contact with his rigid thighs. The groan torn from his throat shattered Kelsey’s resistance. He did want her. And she wanted him to, she dimly realized. Jesse Danner, her husband.
Meltingly, achingly, she molded herself against him.
“Let me,” he said in a shattered voice.
He’d never asked for anything from her before. She gazed up at him dazedly. His mouth returned to hers, crashing down with possessive elemental force. One hand swept up the front of her dress, across the hardened peak of the nipple thrusting against the green silk. He brushed his hand over it lightly several times, until she pressed herself against his palm, wanting to cry out with need for something he seemed to be purposely keeping out of her reach.
“You don’t loathe me,” he said huskily.
His fingers began systematically unbu
ttoning her gown. Kelsey trembled, watching in disbelief as the fabric fell away and Jesse’s hands swept the thin straps of the camisole down her arms. In the lamplight her breasts quivered, but it wasn’t until she saw and felt his dark brown hand caressed one that her dreamy conscience shot awake.
“No!” she burst out, clutching the bodice to her breasts.
“Yes.” He yanked the fabric from her hands. Kelsey pushed against his chest, gathering the folds of green silk to her once more, taking a step back.
“I refuse to make love to you.”
“You seemed willing enough several moments ago,” he pointed out dryly.
“No, I was just – waiting to see how far you go.”
“The hell you were. Come here…”
She twisted, but she was too late. His hard arms enveloped her. She thought to hang on to her bodice, but he swept her hands aside, crushing her bared breasts against his shirt. Her breath came in short gasps. She was truly afraid.
“I want you,” he told her, and the low, possessive timbre of his voice sent goosebumps rising along her arms. Her chest rose and fell against his. Slowly, carefully, he loosened his death-tight grip, his gaze sweeping down the swell of her trembling breasts.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, mesmerized by the sight of her.
Kelsey couldn’t listen. Seizing her chance, she jerked herself free of his embrace, jumping nimbly away from him and lunging for the closet in one fluid move. Quick as lightning, she snatched the rifle from its hiding place and leveled it at her husband’s chest. Jesse stared down the barrel.
“I’ll put a bullet in your chest if you try to rape me,” his wife assured him coldly. Given the fact that she was stripped to the waist, it took Jesse a moment or two to gather his wits. Then her words hammered in his brain.
“Rape.” His face darkened. Swift as a cobra, he reached out and yanked the barrel of the rifle, nearly ripping the gun from her hand. Kelsey gasped in shock. One more hard jerk and the rifle was his.
“You’re crazy! I could have really killed you!” she yelled at him, frightened.
“The hell you could. I unloaded the damn thing yesterday when I found it.”
“You’ve stooped to searching through my things?”
“No more than you go through mine,” he said mildly, his blue eyes narrowed.
Kelsey glared into his harsh, angry face. “I thought it was Irma who’d unloaded the rifle.” She reached out a hand for the rifle. Jesse hesitated, half expecting her to bash him over the head with it, but then he let her yank back her rightful property.
With skilled fingers she emptied the chamber into her hand. Jesse’s gaze was incredulous at the firepower lying in her small palm.
“I reloaded it,” she told him coolly. “I’m in the habit of checking my rifle every morning.”
“You’re the most hellish woman I’ve ever met,” he told her, shocked.
“Touch me again and you’ll be sorry.”
Jesse’d had enough. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted with her anyway. “Mrs. Danner, I would rather let Montana Gray get himself elected as mayor of this fair city than even look at you again. What I need is a woman. A real woman.”
“Why don’t you go after Lila Gray?” Kelsey suggested, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her gown. “She’s obviously willing. Or have you already slept with her? I’m surprised you haven’t thought about that way of getting to Montana. It is your usual method, after all, and I –”
Jesse’s sudden silence was as loud as a gunshot. Kelsey stopped in mid-sentence, aware she’d inadvertently landed on the truth. “Oh, no,” she murmured, hurt beyond bearing, furious with herself for even feeling the slightest tingle of desire.
“It was a long time ago. Before Montana took everything from me,” he bit out tersely.
“I don’t want to hear any more.” Kelsey swept across the room, needing space. Her knees had turned to rubber, and she felt sick.
“I have no interest in Lila Gray anymore.”
Kelsey shook her head. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? This revenge of yours. He found out about you and Lila and he beat you up and left you for dead and now you want to get even!”
“That’s partly true,” Jesse admitted stiffly. “But Lila isn’t the issue between me and Montana.”
“Yes, she is.” Kelsey was fast realizing what a complete and utter fool she’d been. “It’s Lila you want, isn’t it? My God, you’re a better actor than I realized. You made me believe that you could scarcely stomach her.”
“Tonight, Mrs. Danner, I wanted you,” Jesse pointed out ruthlessly as he strode to the door. “I think that was painfully obvious. And no matter what you’d like to make yourself believe to preserve your misplaced sense of honor, it wouldn’t have been rape!”
Chapter Twelve
Madame Lacey Duprés’s top-floor suite at the Portland Hotel was incredibly posh. Cream-colored wainscoting framed pink and spring-green flowered wallpaper. The carpet, a dreamy shade of pastel peach, was thick enough to sleep on. Windows on all sides of the salon looked over the balcony and grassy park-like grounds. While the musicians gently played at the soiree, the notes floated out the open windows to the crowd of Sunday strollers below.
Kelsey, standing beside the windows, yearned to be with the multitude on the grounds. Children with hoops and bicycles and men and women strolling arm in arm made a pretty picture. In contrast, the guests Madame Duprés had managed to round up were a sorry, pinch-faced lot. They tended to be of renowned families who, by one disaster or another, had fallen on hard times. Kelsey wouldn’t have been surprised if Madame Duprés had somehow coerced them into coming today; they looked singularly unhappy and eager to leave.
Luckily, there were so many guests that Kelsey had been relatively unnoticed since her grand entrance when Madame Duprés had swept one hand skyward and announced “Lady Agatha Chamberlin’s most favored companion, Orchid Simpson Danner!” Lacey had then demanded where Jesse was, even though she’d been warned he might not come, and Kelsey had told the plain unvarnished truth: She had no earthly idea.
Since that wretched evening nearly a week earlier, Jesse had been a shadow. He’d left the house that night, slamming the front door behind him, and hadn’t returned until the following morning. Kelsey, who’d suffered a dreadful sleepless night, alternating between helpless fury and the painful realization that Jesse had been right—she did want him and it wouldn’t have been rape—had run across him just as he was entering the house in the early dawn hours.
They’d stared at each other across the length of the entry hall: Jesse, unshaven, sober, and emanating sexuality (a result of his night with a woman? Lila Gray?) and Kelsey, circles under her eyes, mouth set, and dressed in the only dress left over from her days of spinsterhood.
And that was just the first of such mornings. Kelsey tried her best to stay out of his way, but she could nevertheless hear him when he entered his adjoining suite of rooms and shaved and bathed. She refused to eat breakfast with him, then wondered how he spent the rest of his hours when he invariably took off in the buggy, with Drake in the carriage, or on horseback. Her fertile mind imagined him locked in feverish embraces with not only Lila, but all the other women she’d caught casting him yearning glances from across the dance floor at whatever party they were currently attending when they thought she wasn’t watching.
Then last Thursday she’d learned that during daylight hours, at least, Jesse was behaving like a gentleman. Zeke and Jesse had closeted themselves in Jesse’s den, and Kelsey, who had resorted to listening at the panels and drawing a "cluck" of disapproval from Mrs. Crowley, the cook, who happened to catch her eavesdropping, had overheard them discussing the past week’s meetings with Gray at his offices, or down at the shipyards.
She also heard that Jesse had apparently put up a staggering amount of his own money—the amount made Kelsey’s blood drain straight down to her toes—and that a certain park block had been thrown i
nto the deal as well.
Since Jesse’s deal to ruin Montana was moving forward, it wouldn’t be long before their marriage would be over, Kelsey realized. A few more weeks at the most. All she had to do was be patient and wait. So here she was, passing another afternoon without him and wishing there were some things she could do to stop caring about him.
“A canapé, madam?” one of Lacey’s waiters asked at Kelsey’s elbow. Absently she took a tiny pastry shell filled with something that looked like grape jelly. One bite and she gagged. Caviar. Ugh. She detested it.
Clapping her hand to her mouth, she frantically searched for the waiter with the champagne tray. Spying him, she waved frantically until she caught his attention. Her flailing arm also inadvertently caught the attention of a rather nondescript man in a brown suit seated at a corner table.
As Kelsey gratefully drank her champagne, the man eyed her from head to toe, a thorough inspection he automatically made of everyone he met. Kelsey was noticed, judged, and catalogued within the space of thirty seconds. The man, who’d arrived late and been lucky enough to escape Madame Duprés’s heralding boom announcing his arrival, circumspectly asked Kelsey’s name of another guest.
“I believe it’s Danner,” the man answered him. “Orchid Danner.”
Danner! Danner! He was electrified by the name, staring at Kelsey as if he’d seen a ghost.
“You don’t like caviar, hmmm?” an elderly woman asked Kelsey sympathetically. “I can’t abide the dreadful stuff myself.”
“Are you a friend of Madame Duprés’s?” Kelsey asked politely.
“Hardly.” She sniffed. “And I simply won’t believe that you are.”
Kelsey smiled enigmatically, unwilling to admit that the only reason she’d accepted this invitation was to defy, and get away from, Jesse.
Jesse. Everything she did seemed to revolve around him. Hating someone took as much energy as loving him, maybe more. Although, she could admit with painful candor, she didn’t really hate them. Not when her pulse took off at a rollicking gallop whenever she recalled his kisses and caresses. Not when a treacherous part of herself longed to have him make love to her …