Angelfire

by Linda Lael Miller

  “I’ll throw your own words back at you, little brother,” Reeve breathed, taking a hold on the front of Jamie’s shirt. “If you ’ave somethin’ to say, say it!”

  Adrenaline surged through Jamie’s body. The last time he’d fought Reeve, nearly three years before, in Brisbane, he’d lost. That wouldn’t happen again. “Take your ’ands off me, Reeve,” he said.

  Reeve’s grasp on his shirt relaxed, was relinquished. “You can say anything you want to me, lad,” he warned, looking as ferocious as ever, “but you won’t mistreat that little bride of yours. Not under this roof.”

  Jamie felt a muscle twitch in his cheek; he stilled it by sheer force of will. “You’ll not be tellin’ me ’ow to do anything,” he spat. One part of him craved to make peace with Reeve; another, a terrified boy with his hands tied to an acacia tree and his back bared to a madman’s whip, wanted to rage at the brother who hadn’t been there when he needed him. “Did I ever tell you ’ow Bliss and I came to be married?” he went on when Reeve was silent.

  “Aye,” Reeve answered with weary irony in his tone. “You were forced into it, if I remember correctly. Well, I’m tired of ’earin’ it, Jamie boy. You ’ad your blade, didn’t you? Since when is one old man, with or without a gun, enough to force the likes of you into anything?”

  Jamie hadn’t been prepared for that question; he couldn’t think of a response.

  Reeve arched one dark eyebrow in affable triumph. “That’s what I thought,” he said, as though Jamie had answered him. “You didn’t fight because you wanted to bed the lass, and despite your sticky fingers, mate, you were too honorable to do that without marryin’ ’er first!”

  Jamie felt as though scalding hot water had been flung all over him, so keen was his rage at being taunted with his past. He stepped back and unfastened the scabbard from his belt, setting that and the blade aside. “Per’aps,” he said through his teeth, “Maggie’s parlor wouldn’t be the best place for this to be settled.”

  Reeve nodded, unbuttoned his shirtsleeves, and rolled them up, one after the other, as he led the way out through the garden doors. Since Elisabeth was no longer playing in the side yard, he stopped there, turning to face his brother squarely.

  And God in heaven, Jamie reflected, the bastard was bigger than he’d ever realized.

  Reeve smiled, as though reading Jamie’s thoughts. “Aye, lad, I’m still your big brother,” he said smugly. “Like I was in Brisbane three years ago, and in Dublin before that.”

  Jamie seethed at the reminder. No man, besides Reeve, had ever bested him in a one-on-one fight. “Aye, in Dublin. That would be when I was a pickpocket,” he responded, putting an emphasis on the last word.

  Reeve spread his hands, damnably confident of his ability to defend himself. “That would be the time I meant, all right,” he answered. “I guess I shouldn’t ’ave expected a petty thief to treat ’is wife properly.”

  Jamie swallowed a bellow of rage. Reeve would be pleased if he lost his head; it would give him an advantage. He clenched his jaw tight and stood his ground.

  Reeve gestured with both hands. “Come on, lad,” he taunted. “You’re the man every bleeder in New Zealand is afraid of. Show me why.” He paused, drawing a deep breath and letting it out again. “Just remember, though, that this is Australia. ’Ere, you’re just Reeve McKenna’s baby brother.”

  A shimmering red fog moved in front of Jamie’s eyes. “You bastard,” he breathed, and with those words the fury he’d held inside him escaped in a torrent. He lunged at Reeve, with all the power that love turned to hatred can unleash.

  Reeve hardly responded to the blow Jamie landed in his stomach. He gave a breathless, chortling laugh and returned the punch.

  Jamie’s rage was fathomless. “Where—were you?” he demanded as they struggled, too equally matched for the fight to fall easily to one or the other. “Where the—hell were you—when that bastard was laying open me back!”

  Reeve was caught off guard, but only for a moment. In a move as swift and unpredictable as a bolt of lightning, he caught Jamie in a neck hold that cut off his breath. “What the devil are you talkin’ about?” he wanted to know.

  Jamie broke the hold and whirled to face his dumbfounded brother, breathing so hard that he couldn’t speak.

  Reeve was a bit winded himself. “All that anger inside you—good God—you’ve got your dander up because you needed me—and I wasn’t there!”

  Never, never could Jamie have acknowledged the moisture in his eyes, though it burned like hell and made it next to impossible to see for a moment. “Needed you?” he rasped. “I screamed your name in me sleep, big brother!”

  Now Reeve’s voice was quiet and gentle. Hoarse. “Jamie, I looked for you for twenty years—here, and in New Zealand—”

  Reeve had said all this before, but not until now had Jamie really heard what his brother was telling him. He had to have time, to think, to pull himself back together.

  He turned and walked away and Reeve made no effort to stop him.

  Jamie had stood for some time alone in a copse of gum trees, trying to come to terms with all the things he was feeling, when he heard light footsteps approaching. Hoping for Bliss, he was disappointed to see Peony.

  “Go and talk to Bliss,” his friend pleaded softly. “She’s in pieces, Jamie. I don’t need to tell you how impetuous she is—God only knows what she might do.”

  Jamie felt as though he’d taken his own blade through his middle, and his eyes got damp again, so he looked away. “Run away to America, probably,” he said hoarsely.

  Peony stood close to him, laying one light, gentle hand on his arm. “Could you live with that?”

  He shook his head, keeping his eyes averted.

  His friend let her head rest against the rounding of his shoulder. “I thought not. That leaves you with only one choice. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Aye,” Jamie managed to answer. “I know.”

  Peony stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’m going back to Auckland, Jamie,” she announced quietly. “I’ve got a shipping agency to run.”

  “But Increase—”

  She silenced him by laying her fingers to his lips. “Increase is here in Australia, and I’ll be in New Zealand. Just look after your wife, Jamie—the only way that old viper could bring you to your knees would be through Bliss, and he knows that.”

  Jamie nodded. He never forgot, waking or sleeping, that Bliss was in the worst kind of danger. “It’s not far from ’ere,” he said in a haunted voice, “that place of ’is—”

  “Don’t torture yourself, Jamie,” Peony interrupted. “That time is over.”

  He shook his head. “No. It won’t be over, for me or for Bliss, until Increase Pipher is dead.”

  Peony closed her emerald eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were glistening with tears. “Be very careful, Jamie. You’re still regarded as a criminal here in Australia, while Increase is a rich planter. If you search him out and kill him, chances are you’ll hang for it.”

  There had been times in Jamie’s life when he’d expected to hang, when he’d have welcomed it, but things were different now. Life, once so cheap to him, had become precious because of Bliss. “I’ll be careful.”

  She walked away, and Jamie followed her with his eyes. He’d make sure she was escorted safely on board a ship in Brisbane, of course.

  Against his will, he lifted his gaze to Reeve’s impressive house. He could feel the brass medallion beneath his shirt, burning into his flesh.

  They’d come a long way, he and Reeve, since that day in Dublin when their mother lay dying. Jamie sighed. He’d been a thief, but he’d never begged. By God, he’d never held out that beggar’s badge and asked another man for food to fill his belly.

  And neither had Reeve.

  Jamie drew a deep breath and started back toward the house. He’d apologize to Bliss first, and explain about Eleanor and Elisabeth as best he could, and then he would set t
hings right with his brother.

  Bliss stood staring out her bedroom window, watching Jamie stride toward the house from the stand of gum trees at the far end of the lawn. Only a few minutes before, she’d seen Peony making her way back from that same place.

  She turned on her heel, one thumbnail caught between her teeth. She didn’t understand why she was so surprised, and so wounded, when she’d known what kind of man Jamie was almost from the first.

  She dragged one of her trunks out of a closet and was taking folded garments from the bureau and dropping them inside when the door opened and Maggie stepped in.

  With a sigh, Bliss’s sister-in-law sat down on the edge of the bed and said, “Planning to run away again, are you?”

  Bliss turned to glare at her. “There are times when it’s sensible to—to chart a new course for your life.”

  Maggie nodded. “Yes, but you’re not doing that. At least listen to what Jamie has to say—”

  “So now you’re on his side?” Bliss demanded. “Not an hour ago, Maggie McKenna, you were furious with him!”

  Maggie lowered her eyes. “Reeve was right. I should have minded my own business. I got upset because I like you so much, Bliss, and I knew you were hurt, and how I would feel if Reeve kept something like that from me—”

  Bliss sniffled. She’d done all the crying she was going to do over Jamie McKenna, and all the forgiving as well. And that was that. She should have followed her first instinct and gone to America.

  Her mother had found a new life there. She could have done that, too. Resolutely, she went back to her packing.

  Maggie crossed the room and took drawers and camisoles and petticoats out of the trunk as fast as Bliss could put them in. In total frustration, Bliss put her hands on her hips and cried, “Hellfire and spit, Maggie, will you stop that!”

  Maggie laughed. “No,” she answered just as there was a rap at the door. “Come in, Jamie,” she called, with a smug little smile.

  Bliss dived into the armoire and closed the doors. She wasn’t going to deal with one more cussed McKenna even if she had to hide there all night.

  After a moment or so, she heard the outer door close and dared to hope that both Maggie and Jamie had given up and gone away. Cautiously, Bliss peered out of the armoire, only to see Jamie sitting on the bed, watching her.

  “If you’re goin’ to act like a child, Duchess,” he said, “I’ll ’ave to treat you like one.”

  Bliss was admitting nothing, but she did climb down and go back to her packing.

  “Eleanor and I used to steal together,” Jamie said, just as if Bliss had invited him to unburden his soul. “I thought I loved her, though I realize now that I didn’t even know what love was then. You taught me that, Duchess.”

  Bliss was unable to keep herself from turning and looking at Jamie, but if he thought she was going to forgive him, he could think again. She was through. She was leaving. . . .

  “What happened?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  There were sad memories in Jamie’s eyes. “Eleanor liked fights, especially if they were over ’er favors. It gave ’er a sense of power, I guess, to convince me that some poor bastard ’ad forced ’imself on ’er and then watch me kick in ’is rib cage. One night, I came ’ome early and caught the wrong part of the show—Eleanor and one of ’er beaus were ’avin a grand time in our bed.”

  Bliss lowered her eyes, hurting for Jamie but unwilling to let him see that. “You were married to her, then?” she dared to ask.

  “No,” Jamie answered. “Eleanor never demanded that of me, and I never offered.”

  Bliss swallowed. “She didn’t have a father to force you?” she asked, hoping that the words sounded flippant.

  Jamie gave a raspy chuckle. “No, Duchess, she didn’t.” His face was solemn again in an instant. “What she did ’ave was me child, growin’ within ’er, though I didn’t know that until after Reeve and I met up again.”

  Wearily, Bliss went and sat down beside her husband on the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jamie? I would have understood.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I was afraid,” he admitted.

  Bliss knew the cost of those three simple words to Jamie’s pride, and she felt an aching warmth in her heart. She couldn’t speak, she was so moved.

  Jamie got up and crossed the room, and for a moment Bliss thought he was going to leave her. Instead, he opened the door and the two little black girls who helped the housekeeper tumbled through the opening, giggling.

  Bliss, familiar with the children by now, smiled and shook her head. “You know Goodness and Mercy, I assume?”

  Jamie grinned, but he looked so tired that Bliss’s heart twisted. “Aye. Like you, Duchess, they’ve been grossly misnamed.” He frowned at the girls and added, “Tell Kala I want hot water and a bathtub!”

  They scampered off in a gale of childish laughter to do as they were bidden.

  “What do you suppose they hoped to hear?” Bliss speculated.

  Jamie only gave her a wry look in response, then he sat down on the side of the bed and pulled off one of his boots with such a show of effort that Bliss volunteered to remove the other.

  “Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked with an exaggerated yawn.

  Bliss nodded, but her thoughts had already taken one of their quicksilver turns, and her expression was serious. “Jamie, did Peony tell you that—that Increase Pipher was on our ship when we came over from New Zealand?”

  He looked at her incredulously. “What?”

  Bliss nodded. “Do you remember Walter Davis? From—from the hotel in Auckland?”

  “Aye,” he replied in an ominously low voice. “I remember, Duchess.”

  Bliss dropped her eyes again. “Mr. Pipher was pretending to be his grandfather. They were staying in the suite across the hall from ours.”

  Jamie was so still that Bliss had to relent and look at him. “I knew Pipher was at the Victoria when we were—it makes sense, lookin’ back. ’E’d enjoy that kind of irony.”

  “You’re going to k-kill him, aren’t you?” The question had been tormenting Bliss ever since Jamie had sent her away on the train that day.

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “Now, come ’ere, wife. You ’aven’t given me so much as a kiss yet.”

  Bliss stumbled toward him, let him pull her down on the bed, and trembled with anticipation and fear as he stretched out beside her—anticipation because she wanted him, needed him, so desperately, fear because she was beginning to have a glimmer of the risks Jamie would be running.

  He left her long enough to lock the door and unbuttoned his shirt as he approached the bed again. When he was lying beside her once more, he drew her into a kiss that set her soul to spinning within her, one hand unfastening the buttons of her blouse at the same time.

  Bliss gave a little crooning moan as he bared one of her breasts and took hungry suckle at the nipple; she’d ached for Jamie during their weeks apart, and to give herself to him was the purest joy.

  Still, as the sweet, heated ritual began, Bliss could no more contain her questions than her responses to Jamie’s lovemaking.

  “Are—are you a free man here in Australia?” she whispered in delicious misery as he moved from one breast to the other.

  “No,” he answered, before teasing the nipple thoroughly with his tongue. “I’m wanted.”

  Bliss whimpered, her hands entangled in Jamie’s hair. She wanted to push him away, but she couldn’t. “Oh God, Jamie—they could—arrest you?”

  He seemed completely unconcerned by the possibility as he bared her stomach and began kissing his way down over it. “Aye, Duchess, I suppose they could—”

  Bliss was writhing on the bed in an anguish of desire and despair. By the time Jamie had smoothed away the last of her clothes and attended to all the sensitive places that he alone had charted, there was no room in her mind for the past or the future.

  All her thoughts were on the tender and tempe
stuous now.

  Chapter 24

  THERE WAS STILL ONE THING LEFT UNSETTLED, FOR ALL THE FOR-giveness and the lovemaking, and Bliss flung the sponge into Jamie’s bathwater in fury when she remembered it. The splash was horrific.

  Jamie groaned. “What now?” he asked.

  Bliss’s color was high. “There’s still that little matter of what you said down in the garden, Jamie McKenna! ’I never meant for us to have children, Bliss,’ you told me. ’I married you to keep from being shot, in case you’ve forgotten’!”

  “God,” Jamie breathed, “what a memory you ’ave, Duchess, and for all the wrong things, too. I didn’t mean anything by that and you know it.”

  “I know no such thing,” Bliss retorted, kneeling there beside the bathtub. “And don’t start thinking you can just make whatever nasty remark comes into your brain and then smooth it all over by taking me to bed, Mr. McKenna!”

  He was watching her lips as she talked with a half grin on his face. “Oh, I won’t think that, Duchess,” he breathed, and then, without giving Bliss any warning at all, he grabbed her and hauled her into the tub with him, clothes and all.

  She shrieked with rage and struggled hopelessly, subsiding only when he kissed her so soundly, so thoroughly, that her entire body went limp.

  Jamie laughed, his voice low and husky, when he drew back from her and looked into her wide, bewildered eyes. “Ah, Duchess,” he said, “I do love you. I do indeed.”

  The words were precious to Bliss, but so was her pride. Her dress was wet clear through, and there was such a thing as maintaining personal dignity, after all. “Let me go!” she ordered breathlessly.

  “Never,” Jamie answered, catching her lower lip gently, tantalizingly between his teeth. “Seems to me that it might be time to start that first red’eaded baby growin’ inside you.”

  A tremor went through Bliss. “Jamie—”