"Tell me now you cannot believe!"
Penny stared at the bright-yellow satchel, the photo of Tess's parents, Tess's small neat handwriting marking the journals.
She moistened her lips. "You knew her, didn't you?" The fractured words tore from her throat.
"Knew her?" He scoffed bitterly. "I fancied myself in love with her."
Penny sucked in a sharp breath, snapping a look at him, but he was gone.
239
Chapter 27
Ramsey paced the study, a bottle of twenty-year-old whiskey fisted in his grip, his heavy footfalls muffled by the plush carpet. He paused and tipped the bottle to his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he drank, the dark gold liquor sliding smoothly down his throat. The spirits were more refined than he was accustomed to and he consumed nearly a third of the bottle afore he realized it. 'Twas no matter, he thought, swiping his lips with the back of his hand. He'd no one to visit upon him this night. Raking his fingers through his unbound hair, he strode to the desk and snatched up Dane's letter, skimming it, longing to speak with his friend, then tossing it aside.
Ram cursed Dane for finding Tess first, then cursed the sharp tongued female, for what e'ere Tess wrote, ruined what he'd just begun to understand.
Then Ram cursed the stubborn redhead with a heart of stone and a passion of ten women.
He felt damned alone, as if he'd lost his best friend. And he'd been in the study for hours, brooding like a temperamental child, feeling twisted and confused . .. and humiliated. Blast and hell, he thought, taking a long pull from the bottle, then resuming his pacing. After all her stalling why did she not wait
240
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
for him to open the trunk? And what had Tess written about him in those books? Likely yer worthless, past, he considered, then groaned, imagining what Peneiope thought of him now. Not much a'tall, man, if she told you to leave her house, her life. And why, for the love of God, was she so bloody concerned over the speculations of a journalist? She was infamous. Was that not to be expected? Did Mathers not say people were interested in every aspect of her life?
He dropped into a chair, caught atween believing the woman was fickle as a tavern wench or that once she discovered who and what he was—[dear God, but that drove a spike through his chest just to remember her distaste] she wanted no such oddity near her precious career. Why else embarrass him with demanding he leave? That stung, Ram admitted, rubbing his chest as if to soothe the ache.
Ramsey'd never experienced aught like this afore. 'Twas far different than losing his family or a shipmate. And a horrible riddling sensation tore through his bloodstream every time he thought of how quickly everything had changed, how much he stood to lose. The receptive woman in his arms the night afore was gone, hidden beneath a layer of indifference. 'Twas understandable, for discovering her lover was a time-traveler had to be no less than a shock. But to simply not ask him? He took another pull of liquor. He wanted to go to her, to demand she cease this charade, but pride bade him keep his distance.
And his parting words to her were bitter jabs he'd have to soothe.
For all his years of experience with women, he didn't know where the bloody hell to begin.
For his heart was no longer his. *
Her lover was a time traveler from the eighteenth century, Penny thought, hugging a pillow and staring at the open trunk.
My lover. Yet Ramsey had loved Tess. So much that he'd traveled through time so she could stay with the man she adored. How chivalrous. Was he so devastated by losing Tess to Dane
241
that he couldn't be near her and leapt into the ocean? Had her rejection wounded him that deeply?
Despair swept her and she dropped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. God, what a disappointment that must have been, to find me instead of a life with Tess. Penny tried not to feel used, not to feel second best to her closest friend, but Tess's journals had told her more than she cared to know.
Ramsey was a playboy of the worst kind. A rakehell, his century named him. Spoiling for adventure, a good fight, a little pleasure, to ease the boredom.
Hedonistic charm and chauvinistic honor.
A privateer captain. A pirate for the cause.
God, he must have had a good laugh. But it was the markings of his century that attracted her to him, his inbred gallantry, the indescribable sense of cherishing her without ever knowing her. She could care less about his playboy past, for she didn't have any room to criticize, but it was the fact that he'd had several opportunities to tell her where he'd come from and why and didn't.
Right? Like you would have believed him?
She blinked.
If I'd fallen from the heavens into your world, would it matter? he said the night in the kitchen. And hadn't he promised to tell her this evening? Penny felt altogether foolish and contrite and didn't trust herself to go to him. Yet when she heard his deep voice belting out a lurid sea chanty she flew to the door, yanking it open as he thumped up the stairs.
He saw her, the song dying, and when she opened her mouth, he put up his hand. "Nay, do not speak to me, woman, for I've no taste for your wounding words this night."
"Well, you've certainly had a taste for something. You're drunk."
He blinked at her, swaying like a great oak. "A state I rushed to achieve, aye." His gaze traveled the length of her, the thin collarless shirt scarcely hiding her body from him. He tisked, shaking his head. " 'Tis a sad state of undress, lass. Careful." Wide eyed, his gaze searched the hall. "There could be a bit of your public about."
242
Amy J. Fetzer
Penny fumed, any thoughts of offering the olive branch disintegrating.
"Good eve to you," he said with a slight stagger in his bow afore heading to his room. He grasped the knob like a lifeline, pressing his forehead to the wood.
"Twentieth century liquor too much for you?"
He caught her needling tone and cast her a half-lidded glare. "Do not concern yourself with a mere tenant, mistress, 'tis naught that a good retching won't cure." Ram pushed his way inside and as he shut the door, Penny realized because of her quick temper and insecurity, she'd lost him.
Flint-lock in hand, pan primed, Ramsey was off the bed and at the chamber door afore he realized he was naked and quickly snatched up the bedsheet, wrapping it around his waist. Abruptly he threw open the door, aiming at the metal contraption roaring in the center of the hall, the noise competing with the one atween his ears. He blinked, his bleary gaze focusing on the molded block with a pole protruding from its spine, its lungs puffed up like an angry child holding its breath in threat. Sweet Jesus, 'twas bloody loud, the teeth grinding roar grating on his last nerve and he jabbed the beast with the barrel, praying 'twould cease and he could sleep off this hangover in blessed silence. But his jolting merely tottered it to its side, the growl increasing in volume and snapping Ramsey's patience.
He leveled the gun and fired.
It exploded in a puff of gray smoke, whining to a slow death and as the mist filled air dissipated, Ramsey noticed Meggie standing on the landing, her hair and face dusted with a fine muddy powder. She looked from him to the gun, then to the whimpering contraption, then sent him a disgusted look, her hands on her hips.
"Well," the housekeeper snipped. "Aren't we crabby this morning." Then she marched over to the wall and yanked the vacuum cord from the circuit. The whine ceased and Ramsey shrugged, looking sheepish and guilty as he turned back into his room, hitching the drooping sheet over his bare buttocks.
243
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
'Twas the soft laughter that stopped him and slowly he turned, finding Penelope just inside her doorway, a sadistic almost triumphant smirk on her lovely lips. His gaze rolled slowly over her, his expression as bland as he could summon afore he turned back into his chamber and closed the door. He leaned back against the frame, his head throbbing mercilessly. You be deservin' of it. Wallowing in self-pity i
n the bottom of a bottle did naught to change the situation. His gaze dropped to the open leather chest, the diamond glistening from the dark velvet, and he pushed away from the wall. He'd a promise to keep and prayed that time in the rain chamber would ease the pain in his head, for he needed his wits about him. If anything, to keep from going to Penelope and foolishly confessing his heart.
His professional attitude always impressed Ramsey.
"She's sold jewelry, a few numbered prints and two of her four cars. There hasn't been a deposit in her account in over two weeks, which usually was steady twenty-five grand a month. Daddy's money," the dark haired man said, reading from a list. He paused to sip from the beer Ramsey placed before him.
"Your assumptions?" Ramsey asked, propping his feet on the low table and relaxing back into the stuffed chair. Ahh, the luxuries of this century, he thought, the cushions bracing his body perfectly.
"She's been cut off from the Rothmere money. And to keep up her lifestyle, she has to sell a few baubles." At Ramsey's arched brow, Noal Walker added, "She's gotten herself into one hell of a jam and Phalon Rothmere isn't helping her this time. I don't know why." He shrugged. "He always has before. And no, I don't know what she's done."
"What say you of the crimes she has committed 'afore?"
Noal was getting used to O'Keefe's manner of speech. "Not crimes exactly. Well, she sent his yacht into a pier during a drunken party, her lover was arrested for insider trading—" Ram nodded even though he didn't know what the bleedin' hell that was. "His money kept it out of the papers." Noal
244
Amy J. Fetzer
braced his forearms on his knees. "Regardless, Captain O'Keefe, it hasn't affected her lifestyle, at least she hasn't let it yet. She's at Derringer's nearly every night with a crowd."
"Have you met the lass?"
Noal sank back into the cushion and laughed shortly. "No-ho, she's too rich for my blood."
Ramsey smiled, despite the odd tinge of bitterness he caught in Noal's lone. 'Twas decadent wealth then, for Noal Walker had a bleedin' corps of detectives working for him. He'd resources Ramsey couldn't begin to understand, and though Ram attempted for two days to find the information himself, his ignorance of this century's advances and lack of time to learn, drew as much attention as did his manner and speech. Neither were aught he could rectify and at all costs, his journey through time must be kept secret. And potential for repercussions on Penelope was a risk he refused to take. He needed assistance and with Hank's help, found Noal by using the yellow phone book, calling each agency and slyly mentioning that their competitor offered more for his money. On each occasion, this man's agency was mentioned. His agency was the best this state had to offer, his sterling reputation stemming from efficiency, absolute discretion, and a low profile. And he garnered results.
"Have you naught else for my money, Mister Walker?"
Noal grinned. The man paid well, offered a bonus for quick work and came through each time. In cash.
"Rothmere's man, Owen, is still in jail, being held on a minor parole violation, but 1 think it's for his own protection. He's singing to the cops, if he's stupid as I think."
Ramsey stiffened in the chair. "Are you insinuating giving over the truth is not wise?"
"Who's to say it's the truth?" Noal spread his arms and shrugged. "He's in jail, Rothmere's out. Let me warn you, Captain. Rothmere's is a respected family in this town, and Phalon Rothmere's even bigger. Sloane causes him trouble all right, but it's more than any bad press reaching his doorstep. His name is clean."
"But?"
The man was too insightful for his own good, Noal thought with honest admiration. "I don't have proof, but I know he's got the ties and could have that man's throat slit with one phone call."
Ramsey swallowed that bit of news with bitter resignation.
This venture was becoming dangerous. Sloane was the one he needed to speak with, yet doubted she'd confess her crime of blackmail. But 'twas against Penelope and she'd involved Tess. Why be so vindictive? He wasn't about to discuss this with Walker, even though he trusted the man. Penelope's secre-tiveness was her choice. He would respect it, for as long as he could.
Was he wasting his time? Was the battle atween Rothmere and Blackwell dead after two hundred years? Ramsey thought not.
Noal stood and dropped a thick packet on the table. "My intel man says this is everything that's ever been printed about a Blackwell since the city started keeping records. Newspapers, certificates of birth and death, their shipping business, there's even a police report." Ramsey's brows shot up. "Read it and you might understand the circumstances, 'cause I sure as hell can't. A B & E with nothing stolen? In that house? Christ the doorknobs are worth a small fortune." He shook his head. "It's vague, too vague, if you get my drift."
Ramsey glanced at the broad packet. Was it about Tess? He didn't think a Rothmere would involve the constabulary if he had the power to go around it and the detective already told him unsolved cases were not public information.
Noal moved away, blue eyes staring out the living room window. ' 'That other matter we discussed?''
' 'Aye?'' Ramsey rose, his body suddenly tense.
"Nothing documented before twelve years ago."
Ram cursed under his breath, then stared intently at Noal's profile. "By God, how did you discover such so quickly?" Ramsey had asked only this morn,
"I've done this one before,"Noal said lowly, bringing his gaze back to Ramsey, tempted to ask why he wanted this information, but ethics forbade it.
246
Amy J. Fetzer
"For who?"
Noal's expression was unapproachable and without explanation he headed for the front door, yet when he paused to shake Ramsey's hand, he knew the man would not let the matter die.
"Are you aware there's a reporter hanging in a tree across the street with a long-range lens camera?''
"At least he has obeyed my wishes to stay off the property."
"He can't see anything from there," came from behind and both men turned as Penelope walked into the foyer. "Too many trees," she added, her gaze sharpening on the slender blond man beside Ramsey. "Noal?"
"Hello, Penelope." His appreciative gaze swept her as she moved closer. God, she looked good, all sleek and leggy in that snug little tank dress.
"It's been a while."
"Yeah, too long," he murmured, and her gaze shifted immediately to Ramsey, instantly suspicious. He met her stare unflinchingly, his expression bland despite the jealously slithering through him like a hot coil. Twas more than business they shared, if the way Noal was looking at her was any indication. Ramsey wanted to fire the man, but wisely kept his emotions under control.
Noal glanced at Ramsey, nodded, then returned his gaze to Penelope. "Take care, pixie," he said, then left.
Penelope sighed softly, almost dreamily, and Ram's control slipped. He shoved the door, the slam making her flinch.
He stared at her across the small foyer, the five foot separation feeling like miles.
She hadn't seen him in three days. No, she corrected, she hadn't been this close to him, but she'd seen him; learning to drive with Hank, swimming in the ocean off (he end of the pier, planting scrubs with the gardener, but never speaking to her. And from the look on his face he wasn't pleased to see her now, as if he'd marked a line in the dirt, daring her to cross it. He lived here, but didn't live with her. Made love to her, but never loved her. And she was miserable, wishing he'd say something, yell, rant, do anything to break this horrible silence. But words wouldn't come.
247
For Ram was dying inside, his imagination running wild and his eyes thirsting for the sight of her. Dark fathomless brown eyes absorbed her lush curves enhanced by the black dress like a man starving. God, he would never grow accustomed to seeing women display so much unencumbered flesh in public, he thought, his arms throbbing to hold her, make peace with her. But his bruised pride and the encounter atween the detective cloud
ed his mind and he grew hot with rage thinking they might have been lovers. Or had Noal worked for Penelope? He opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, spinning on his heels and snatching the envelope off the low table, heading above stairs without a backward glance.
Penny watched him go, the urge to call him back hovering on her lips. But she didn't. His hurt was too fresh and she considered he might not want her, ever.
In his chamber, Ram slapped the parcel down onto the table and faced the window, focusing on the rushing sea and not on his anger. By God, he wanted to smash something and clenched his fist in an effort to restrain the urge. He drew in a full breath, then released it slowly. This jealousy would serve him naught. And he realized whate're was atween Noal and Penelope, she looked upon it with the fondness of a sweet memory, and had naught to do with the woman she was now. At least he hoped.
For that a simple look from her could bring him to his knees boded a sorry future if he were to lose her. Yet if she wanted him in her life, truly a part of it, enough to risk her heart to his tender care, she had to come to him.
'Tis a reeking fix you've made for yourself, he thought, then glanced at the fat white envelope. And spending the afternoon discovering how Dane's family had died off would not better his mood either. Resigned to a thoroughly ruined day, Ram dropped into a stuffed green chair and tore open the envelope, dumping the contents on the table. He read.
At least Noal was correct, Ram thought hours later after pouring through the stack of papers. The Rothmeres were the epitome of society, respected, sought for funding for museums and hospital wings. And Ram had to admire that Phalon was not at all like his ancestor. He was generous with his wealth
Amy J. Fetzer
248
as Dane and Grayson had been. His lips quirked. He wondered what Dane would think to know his personal effects were under glass in a museum. Even the ships logs Tess had deciphered were there. Outraged likely, for Dane was a private man. Ram-sey pushed his fingers through his hair, dislodging the ribbon holding it back and he snapped it free, frustrated.
Blackwell 2 - Timeswept Rogue Page 24