Blackwell 2 - Timeswept Rogue
Page 29
Both his brows shot up in question.
She threw her shoulders back, drawing a fortifying breath. "I'm asking you for a date, Ramsey. Come to the premier with me."
Ramsey gazed into her green eyes at length, searching, desperate to see what he hoped, and aware that he must tred cautiously. Yet he knew that inviting him to join her, afore her public, afore the reporters and such, was a step he'd only dreamed she'd take for him.
Slowly he bowed over her hand, dropping a kiss to the back, then lifting his gaze. " 'Twould be an honor, lady heart." He straightened, drawing her closer, his stirring gaze caressing the lush bounty of skin she displayed. "Remind me though, to attend armed to the friggin' teeth."
"That might not be so bad," she said carefully, wonder and fear in her voice. "The celebration is at the Rothmere mansion."
Chapter 31
Margaret O'Hallaran adjusted the grocery bag, then shoved the Jeep Cherokee's hatch closed, moving around the side to unlock her door. Tossing her purse in before sliding into the driver's seat, she inserted the key in the ignition, then raised her arm to adjust the rearview mirror. But it was gone, broken off.
"That the hec—"
An arm around her throat cut off her air and her assailant jerked her, arching her back against the seat.
"Don't," he hissed in her ear when she tried to sound the horn. "I said—" Margaret felt the gun barrel at her temple and inhaled sharply, putting up her hands.
"1 don't have any money." She was surprised at her own calm, even though no one could see she was in trouble. The windows were tinted too dark to see inside the Jeep.
He snickered nastily. "Shut up. You didn't tell her, did you?"
A moment's hesitation, then, "No."
"One more chance and we're coming for her. " He tightened his grip and Margaret's vision sparkled with white dots.
"She doesn't have them," she gasped.
289
288
T1MESWEPT ROGUE
Amy J. Fetzer
"We have proof. Convince her with this," he said, and the pistol stock cracked against the side of her head. Pain exploded there and Margaret slumped to the side, grabbing her skull. Warm blood wet her fingers.
Distantly she heard the car door open, the rustle of clothing, then the screech of tires and she righted herself enough to see a dark car speed away.
She closed her eyes against the pain, digging in her purse for a tissue. The blood was running free, staining her shirt. They're going to know, she thought, blotting the wound, then starting the car. She blinked, backing up and carefully weaving her way into traffic.
Penelope would never forgive her.
"I'll get this one," Penny called out, crossing the foyer as the chiming bell drifted into silence. She threw open the door and found Noal, his hands braced behind his back.
"Hey, Pixie."
"Please don't call me that," she said not unkindly, backing away to let him in.
"Sure." He looked her over, frowning. "He's expecting me."
Like a brass band didn't announce his arrival already, she thought, for no one could get within yards of the gate without being questioned like a potential serial kilfer.
"Well, I haven't the foggiest notion where he is." She waved, indicating the house, a book clutched in her hand, her finger marking her place. "Somewhere in here."
"A little testy today?" Noal flashed her a disarming grin and she returned it with an teeth-gritted smile.*
"Ha! Get in fine. You're the third person to have an appointment with my house guest." And that was just today, she thought, closing the door.
Clarissa Two Leaf left a half hour ago, smiling, a new one for her; Anthony was here with a broker, arguing with Ramsey over God-knew-what, except that Tony thought it was worthless. And now Noal, whose presence always hiked her suspi-
cions. Although he was a private detective, with the emphasis on private, his association with Ramsey made her nervous.
Of course, she couldn't test the theory because she hadn't seen the man much since the dress fitting two days ago, except in passing; passing in the hall, passing as he left to do whatever or passing someone who had an appointment with him. For a man who'd just arrived in this century he'd certainly acclimated himself well and was awfully popular. And secretive.
That, she tried to push aside. It was really none of her affair, but she discovered this latent nosy streak of hers kept rearing when anything concerned him. Reminding herself that he'd take off in a dead run if he knew she was nothing but a fake didn't help either. She was walking a tight rope, and knew she should have never stepped onto it. She knew! Her balancing act was wobbling, and the unsettling feeling that she was about to fall terrified her. She couldn't bear to see his disgust when he found out and it weighed against the urge to just disappear before he could. She was a coward.
But Ramsey meant too much to her. The realization coming in the warehouse when he'd looked at her as if he'd challenge the world to keep her safe with him. She didn't want to lose him, but she didn't really have him either. And Penny knew a time would come when she'd be forced to either cut all ties or give up her heart to him, without question or reservation and accept the consequences.
Her palms perspired, the skin of her neck dampening as she thought of losing him completely. To catapult her emotions, Ramsey appeared, striding across the living room from the solarium, Anthony and his broker at his heels, still in a heated discussion. Ramsey's step slowed the instant his gaze lit on her, those smoldering amber dark eyes caressing her from head to toe and back and her heart leapt, pumping so much blood she felt her skin go warm and bright. Why did it feel like weeks since she'd seen him last?
He maneuvered around a statue, coffee tables, between a pair of sofas, and her attention dropped to his lean hips and long legs.
291
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
290
Amy J. Fetzer
She'd never seen a man fill out a pair of jeans quite like he did.
He strode directly up to her, gazing deeply into her eyes and her senses throbbed with energy, contouring to the width of his chest, his cradle of his hips, the corded thighs she knew were ropey with sculptured muscles. She wanted to run her hands over them and her body gravitated to his warmth, the heady look in his soulful eyes. His message was clear.
And Ram's hands flexed against the urge to touch her.
"I'll admit this is enterprising," Anthony was saying, "and I understand your reasons, but honestly, Ramsey, you simply can not take a risk like this."
Ram didn't spare him a glance. "If you do not care to handle the transaction, be assured I will."
"Gad, and have them take you for everything you've got, hell no." Anthony looked at the broker, nodded toward the door, then left, with Ramsey still staring down at Penelope.
"Your appointment, sir." Though her manner was formal, her words came on a breathless hush.
His brows drew ciose. "Forgive the chaos I've done to your household."
She moistened her lips. "Stirring excitement seems to be your forte"."
His grin was slow, carnal, his gaze dropping briefly to her scandalously-sheer blouse. He breathed deeply. ' 'I am not alone in that task."
"Would you two like to be alone?"
They both looked at Noal, who was failing miserably to hide his smile. Penny blinked, then hastily stepped back.
"Sorry," she murmured, red faced, then turned away. She could feel Ramsey's gaze on her back and her steps slowed as she headed toward the kitchen, pausing at the wide entrance and opening a small shallow cabinet. She studied the rows of keys, finding one out of place, corrected it, then selected a set.
"Ramsey," she called and he faced her. She jingled the keys, then tossed them across the foyer. He caught it, frowning at his palm, then to her.
"They're to the study. You need it and I never go in there." She tilted her head. "It sort of suits you." Suddenly he was there, inches from her, his eyes searching
<
br /> hers. "Why?"
Her shoulders lifted and fell in a gesture of uncertainty. "I thought you'd be more comfortable there," her lovely lips curved, "an antique surrounded by antiques."
His smile lit his features and he gathered her against him, crushing her mouth beneath his. His kiss was quick, a wild slide of wet tongues and warm lips, utterly possessive and devastatingly erotic. She felt her feet leave the floor and didn't care that Noal looked on, didn't care if anyone saw them, only that Ramsey was holding her. His hand roughly rode her spine, slipping familiarly low before he set her down with a thump. His gaze dropped to the book she still held, and he lifted her wrist, reading the title: Life in the Eighteenth Century.
His heart fairly leapt out of his chest. "You needn't read that, love, for you've a reliable source within your tender reach."
Twas a plea, an open door and he'd wait an eternity for her to step inside, he thought, then turned toward Noal, nodding down the hall to the study.
Clutching the book, Penny sagged against the wall, breathing heavily, thinking she was a fool to get in this deep, yet wanting to dive another thousand feet with him.
Noal was a gentleman and made no comment about what just happened, but the sexual tension between those two was hot enough to make him squirm in the leather seat. Penelope, it seemed, had met her match. He'd known her for years, done some investigating, some dating, but her high recognition didn't mix with his need for a low profile status. Yet he'd never seen her that .. . electric. Not toward anyone.
Ramsey dropped an envelope on the desk, and Noal looked
up.
"Your services are no longer needed."
Noal reached for the envelope, opening it and fanning his
292
Amy J. Fetzer
293
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
thumb across the crisp currency, whistling softly. "This is too much."
Ram merely shrugged.
"You have any problems with my men?"
"Nay. 'Twas Penelope who broke her promise to remain on the grounds. I cannot fault them for her cleverness. 'Twas not expected. I shall remain at her side." It infuriated him, his inability to protect her.
"Til these guys are caught or something gives, I don't think it's wise to let up."
"I am not, but—"
He heard Penelope scream his name, the sound of rapid footsteps, and he left the study in a dead run. The front door was thrown open, a guard carrying Meggie over the threshold, Penny matching his steps. She turned frightened worried eyes to Ramsey and he cleared the sofa of pillows, letting the guard lay her out.
Penny knelt beside Margaret, stroking her head. Her hand came back covered in fresh blood. Penny shot to her feet and ran to the kitchen, filling a pitcher, dragging out towels, ice, a bowl and aspirin, clutching them to her chest as she tore back into the living room. She pushed her way between Ramsey and Noal, setting the items on the coffee table as Ramsey propped up Margaret's feet, then shifted around to hover over the back of the sofa.
Penny checked Margaret's eyes. "She's unconscious." "What!" a voice said and Penny glanced up to see Hank
striding across the room, panic struck across his weathered
face. Hank sank down beside her.
"Talk to her, Hank," she said, enfolding the ice in a towel,
then tucking it beneath Margaret's head. "Sha'has to wake up.
Now."
Hank grasped Margaret's hand, patting it as Penelope gently washed the blood from her head and neck.
"In the butler's pantry, under the sink is a first aid kit," she said to no one in particular and within moments it appeared before her vision. She suspected it was Ramsey.
Penny assessed the damage; not deep enough for stitches,
yet she had to clip away some of Margaret's hair to affix a butterfly.
I saw Tess do that, Ram thought, watching her work with swift efficiency. Her concentration was fixed, her movements practice although her hands trembled, and he remembered Tess caring for Dane in much the same manner, the morning he was caught in the broken mast and received a concussion that nearly killed him.
"Try harder, Hank," Penny urged, applying ice to her wrists. Margaret stirred, moaning and reaching for her head.
"Open your eyes, Margaret," Penny commanded, restraining her hands.
"Aw, Meggie, darlin','" Hank said softly when her eyes fluttered open, and Penny glanced to the side, her frown deepening. There were tears in his eyes. Penny's gaze slid to Ramsey, then Hank and Margaret.
"What have you gone and done now, woman?" He bent a kiss to her forehead.
"Oh hush up, you old goat," she slurred, "and give me some air."
Margaret looked around at the small crowd, her eyes tearing when they fell on Penny.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
Margaret's lips quivered and she glanced at Ramsey. He rested his hip against the back of the sofa and grasped her hand.
She told them, and at the mention of the dark car Penny's gaze swept up to lock briefly with Ramsey's.
"Why didn't you tell us they'd made contact?"
"It was a note, an ordinary letter, addressed to me, not you," she said to Penelope. "I didn't think much of it, thought it was junk mail, no postmark, no return address. I didn't even go through it til yesterday. I never dreamed—oh, I'm sorry. You've got to believe me, I would have said something but I was afraid for you."
"It's all right," Penny soothed. "As long as you're safe." Penny leaned close and kissed her cheek, blinking rapidly. "I would die without you," she whispered and Margaret offered a tremulous smile.
294
Amy J. Fetzer
295
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
"Where is the letter, Meggie?" Ram asked. "In my rooms, on my dresser.' Margaret tried to get up, but Penny held her down.
"Downstairs,' Penny said to Ramsey. "No, I'll get it." Hank kissed Margaret once, short but passionate and Penny's gaze followed him til he disappeared beyond the kitchen. It struck her then that they were in love. She wasn't so blind that she didn't realize there was some affection between them over the years but they were madly, deeply in love, like teenagers.
Cutting herself off from the public, maintaining that precious privacy, she realized, made her an ostrich with its head stuck in the sand. For she'd lost so much in the process. Yet that the two people she adored most hadn't told her, had hidden their love from her and . . . well, it hurt, and made her feel like a selfish demanding bitch.
Oh, Margaret, she despaired, after all they'd been through. "So, is he going to make an honest woman out of you or are you just going to keep living in sin?"
"Look who's talking about sin," Margaret managed, her gaze flicking meaningfully to Ramsey.
Ramsey tried to look affronted. "Meggie, you're a shameless tart."
"Yeah, yeah, but a damn good cook, too," she said. Ram chuckled, squeezing her hand, then nodded to Noal, who stood discreetly back, near a window. The two men met in the foyer. "I fear I've been hasty in releasing your services." "No problem. But we have to get a hold of that letter. If there is anyway we can trace where it came from, we'll have some proof."
Ram shook his head, a gesture delivered more to himself for the wonders of this century continued to amaze him. Follow the path of a slip of paper?
And where was Hank?
As Noal went off to speak with his men, hired guns, as Penny had come to call them, Ramsey passed through the galley to the set of stairs leading to the cellar. Even as he descended he'd wondered why Margaret chose to live below, until he saw
the rooms. Twas teaming with light and lovelier than he'd imagined, white walls, pale-green carpet and several tall plants filled the parlor. A door to the left led off to the housekeeper's bedroom and tucked beneath the sleekly sculptured stair case was a small serviceable galley. Ramsey was impressed, yet his pleased smile fell when he saw Hank standing afore a shelf, his arms loosely at his side. Ram could feel the despond
ency in the man and he frowned.
"Mate?"
Hank turned around, sniffling as Ramsey strode close.
"The letter?"
Hank handed it over and Ramsey examined it. 'Twas thin paper, a quality common in this century, he'd come to know, and was not marked except for the address and Meggie's name. He opened it and read.
Coral Keys Park
Near the bird sanctuary.
I P.M.
His suspicions were confirmed. Whoever was in that dark carriage had been waiting for them to deliver the diamonds and Ramsey was surprised they'd gotten away with their lives.
"That could have been stuck in the mailbox by anyone," Hank said, defensive. "Won't find any fingerprints worth anything either, too much handling."
Hank turned his gaze to the shelf and the framed photographs lining the wood.
" 'Tis Penelope?" Ram said, stepping closer, consistently intrigued by this process of capturing images on paper.
"She's four or five in that."
Ram was struck by the dark weathered look on the child's face, as if she were an adult in an adolescent's body. It gave him pause to wonder what had happened to make her appear so unapproachable, even then. Her thin arms were folded over her chest, a mutinous dare on her face. No smile, not even the devilish pleasure of the innocent.
"She wasn't a happy kid," Hank said as if to himself. "Didn't know her name, but then she didn't talk either. She was a pitiful thing, skinny and with all that red hair. Only thing
297
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
296
Amy J. Fetzer
she had was that dang locket and wouldn't iet it go, chewed on it even." He shook his head, almost chuckling. "Margaret found her behind a store, sleeping in a grocery cart, having one hell of a nightmare." Ramsey looked horrified. "Yeah, that's how they knew she could talk, 'cause she screamed. Sometimes she'd lash out violently, try to hurt herself." Hank shrugged, not understanding. "I think she still has nightmares, but 'course she wouldn't let on."