“It isn't my grandmother's contentment that concerns me at the moment,” Garrett said. He lifted the linen towel off the tray. “You need to eat."
“I'm not hungry,” Claire lied. She hadn't eaten breakfast and she'd been too upset to eat lunch. The food smelled wonderful and even though she was still upset, she was also hungry. But she wasn't in the mood to be agreeable and she wanted Garrett to leave the tray and vacate her room.
Instead, he carried the tray to the bed and sat down beside her. “Would you like for me to feed you?"
Garrett's eyes searched her pretty face and decided she was much too stubborn for her own good. He picked up the fork and dipped into a fluffy mound of mashed potatoes, then held the fork to Claire's mouth. “Open up, sweetheart. I know you're hungry."
Claire clamped her mouth shut and stared at the end of the bed.
Garrett wasn't going to go away. He was determined to make Claire understand that he wasn't her enemy. He was also equally determined to make her promise to keep her pretty rump on Nob Hill and away from Chinatown. He touched the tip of the fork to her lips. When Claire opened her mouth to insist that she didn't want to be fed like a child or an invalid, Garrett filled her mouth with mashed potatoes.
She wanted to protest, but she couldn't talk with a mouth full of food and Garrett kept feeding her while he calmly lectured her about the danger she'd put herself in that morning. “Chinatown isn't safe, regardless of what Christopher may think. I want your promise that you'll stay here until I've had a chance to speak with your brother personally."
Claire shook her head.
“You know nothing of his current activities,” Garrett said. He held up his hand to silence her when she would have argued. “I understand that he is your brother, and that you want to believe the best of him. I'm not agreeing with Hiram's reported suspicions, I'm merely asking that you give me and yourself the time to make sure that your brother is indeed an honest man, capable of providing for himself and a family by legal means."
Claire mumbled something as she chewed on her food.
“You're a stubborn woman, Miss Aldrich,” he told her. “But I'm more stubborn. If you think I won't lock this door and keep you here against your will, think again."
Claire swallowed hard, forcing a small piece of roast beef down her throat. “You wouldn't dare."
Garrett gave her the wicked smile she found so fascinating at times. “Oh, but I would. I'll do whatever I have to do to ensure the safety of my future wife."
“Our engagement is a sham,” she said, pushing away his hand when he tried to stuff more food into her mouth. “You told me yourself that marriage holds no value in your life."
“Not any longer,” Garrett informed her. “As of this morning, our wedding invitations are being engraved. The tenth of August is the date, according to my grandmother."
“Oh, no.” Claire groaned as her face reddened with color. “Grams knows what we ... I mean she heard..."
Garrett chuckled softly as he used a linen napkin to wipe a small bit of mashed potatoes off Claire's chin. “She knows."
Claire slumped against the pillows and covered her face with her hands. How could she face Grams again, knowing that the older woman had heard her moaning in Garrett's arms. “I'm so ashamed."
Garrett put down the fork and set the tray on the table beside the bed. Placing his hand under Claire's lowered head, he lifted her chin until she was looking at him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said firmly. “If anyone's to blame for what happened last night, I am.” His expression softened as he leaned forward to press a light, featherlike kiss against her mouth. “Nothing shameful passed between us last night, sweetheart. I enjoyed you like I've enjoyed no other woman."
Claire's eyes took on a mutinous gleam as she pulled away from him. Enjoyment wasn't love. It was even less than passion. The last flicker of hope inside Claire died a cold and silent death. She'd been a fool to think that Garrett's physical affection had been anything more than lust and she'd been a fool to accept his offer, thinking in the back of her mind that what she felt for him could somehow move from her heart into his. Her voice was filled with conviction when she finally spoke. “I won't marry you."
Garrett was prepared for her argument. He knew he should be wooing Claire with words of love, but they didn't come easy to a man who, up until twenty-four hours ago, would have sworn the heart-shattering emotion didn't exist. His fiancée needed a firm hand and he wouldn't hesitate to use one. Claire might rule his heart, but Garrett meant to rule his home.
“What if you're carrying my child?” he asked her. He could see by her shocked expression that she'd been too busy contemplating her brother's situation to think about the consequences of her own actions. If she even knew such things. Her mother had died a long time ago and he doubted that Mrs. Shurman had tutored her on the delicate subject of intimacy. “There are ways to prevent a child from being conceived,” he continued as if he were explaining an investment venture. “Unfortunately, I was too enthralled by your charms to incorporate them last night. You could very well be pregnant, Miss Aldrich, and I daresay that even a lady of your high spirits isn't independent enough to think she can raise a child alone. Not that I'd let you,” he added firmly. “We will be married."
The words stung Claire far worse than Garrett realized. She turned her face away, refusing to look at him while she thought of a tiny babe suckling at her breasts the way its father had done the previous night. The image brought tears to her eyes and she blinked them away. She loved Garrett and she'd love to have his child, but she didn't want a marriage based on guilt or obligation.
“I've become a very proficient actress,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. “Should the necessity arise, I'm sure I can convince almost anyone that I'm a widow with a child to raise."
“Over my dead body,” Garrett said. He stared at her, his eyes as hard as the polished pewter cane resting beside the bed. Claire got the distinct impression that he'd be more than willing to put bars on the windows and doors to guarantee she didn't leave the mansion until the day of the wedding.
Garrett poured a glass of wine. Claire accepted it, wishing she could drink the whole bottle. Her ankle was feeling somewhat better, and her stomach was finally full, but now her head was pounding. She took a sip of the wine and handed the glass back to Garrett.
“If you could send Libby up, I'd like to have my bath and go to sleep. I've very tired."
Claire closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on anything but the sound of Garrett moving about her room. She could hear the gentle clink of silverware and china as he removed the tray from the bedside table. A few moments later, she heard the door being opened, then closed. Thinking she was finally alone, she opened her eyes. Garrett had merely put the tray outside in the hallway. He was standing at the foot of the bed, seemingly content, as if he actually enjoyed looking at her. Enjoyed. God, how she hated that word.
Garrett knew he was pushing his luck to think that he could remain in Claire's room too much longer, but he wasn't about to go downstairs to his own dinner until he'd at least had the satisfaction of one kiss. He returned to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he stretched his arm over Claire's lap and balanced his weight on his right hand.
“I want a good night kiss."
Despite the anger and hurt Claire felt toward Garrett, she couldn't keep herself from wanting the kiss, as well. It will be our last one, she said to herself. I'll return to Chinatown tomorrow and force Donald to be truthful with me. If I can't depend on my brother, then I'll depend on myself. I won't marry a man who doesn't love me. I won't.
Unable to read her mind, Garrett lowered his head and covered her mouth with his own. He wove his fingers into her unbound hair and held her head tightly as his tongue moved over her lips, touching the corner of her mouth and the tiny pout of her bottom lip. When her lips parted to give him entry, Garrett's tongue swept inside her mouth and the kiss became more urgent, more demanding.
Claire returned the kiss with a wild violence that surprised her as much as it pleased Garrett. Her body ached to relive the wonderful magic of the previous night, and her heart hurt to think that she'd never again feel that alive.
Garrett's good intentions to collect a good night kiss and leave Claire to ponder their upcoming wedding disappeared as they mouth-dueled in the delightful, passionate act of pleasing one another. His hands moved from her hair to her shoulders, then downward, exploring and pressing, tracing each ridge of her ribs, then finding her breasts, hidden beneath layers of cotton and silk. Garrett wanted to reach for the hem of her skirt and draw it upward, one delicious inch at a time, but he had just enough sanity left to know that if he touched her that way he wouldn't be able to stop until she was lying naked beneath him.
Slowly, reluctantly, Garrett released her and stood up. “Sleep well, sweetheart. And promise me that you'll stay put until I can escort you to Chinatown myself."
Claire didn't want to lie to him, but she quickly decided one more falsehood couldn't damn her any more than she already was damned. She nodded, letting Garrett assume whatever he pleased.
Thinking he'd won at least one argument, Garrett swooped down, planted a quick hard kiss on her mouth, and left the room.
Claire stared after him, angry at her brother for putting her in a situation where she'd had to accept Garrett's employment in the first place. Men. She was beginning to dislike all of them.
* * * *
The next morning, as the servants were stirring about in the kitchen and the sun was creeping over the horizon to shine on San Francisco Bay, Claire was dressed in her old suit. By the time Garrett woke up and walked drowsily into his dressing room to shave, Claire was at the trolley stop. With a small valise sitting beside her, she waited on the bench for the trolley to deposit its load of domestic workers at the top of the hill. She wasn't going to let Donald send her away with nothing but a hug and a poor excuse for his behavior this time. If her brother didn't want to do his duty and put a roof over her head, then she'd find another way to be free of Garrett Monroe.
Claire was too busy berating herself for her own foolishness in believing that Garrett felt any real affection for her to notice the man standing across the street. He was partially hidden by the large stone columns of a residential gate and she had no reason to look his way for more than a moment. Instead, she studied the skirt seam of her brown suit and wondered how long Garrett's enjoyment would have lasted before he turned to another woman.
She wasn't Belinda Belton, and although Claire had formed a friendship of sorts with the young woman, she couldn't imagine herself being a dutiful wife, enjoying the luxury of her husband's wealth and social status, while he dallied about with his mistress. If she couldn't have all of Garrett's heart, she'd have none of it.
The trolley arrived with a tingle of a brass bell and the hum of metal wheels. Several women, dressed in servants’ uniforms, got off. Claire smiled briefly as the women passed by, then climbed aboard the trolley, valise in hand, and sat down behind the conductor. Confident of where she'd find her brother this time, Claire looked back over her shoulder. All she could see of the Monroe mansion was its white stone chimneys and the stucco walls surrounding the gardens. Looking forward again, at the metal rails slicing down the hill, Claire thought of her future. She had no idea how to begin a new life, yet she must. Once she was away from Garrett's intoxicating presence and irresistible kisses, perhaps she would be able to think clearly.
She wasn't overly concerned about being pregnant. One of her friends in Cincinnati had been married for almost three years before the birth of her first child and Bonnie had confessed on one occasion that her husband was a lusty man. Claire suspected that Garrett was a lusty man, as well, but they'd only shared one night together.
The man who'd been waiting across the street got on the trolley before it began its journey back down the hill. Dressed in a dark brown suit, he paid Claire no mind as he moved past her to take a seat in the rear of the small train.
The city was just waking up as the trolley moved down the elite hill of San Francisco and into the heart of the city. The sun warmed the air and Claire tried to think pleasant thoughts as the narrow trolley was joined by buggies and carriages on the busy downtown streets. Store clerks were sweeping the sidewalks in preparation for a new day of business and Claire could hear the mournful sound of ship whistles announcing departures at the nearby docks.
The trolley made its way down Waverly Avenue and into Chinatown. Once again she was amazed by the colors and sounds and scents of the Oriental community. The morning sun was chasing the last of the fog from the streets and the soft chatter of shopkeepers and street vendors filled the air.
When the trolley stopped, Claire picked up her valise, filled with what few possessions she could call her own, and stepped onto the street. Thankfully her ankle was being cooperative and she walked toward the small house where her brother lived. The man who'd joined her on the trolley at the top of Nob Hill got off, too. She stepped off the sidewalk to cross a narrow alley when the man came up behind her, clasped a hand over her mouth, and pulled her into the shadows.
Claire fought him, dropping her valise to the ground, but he was tall and twice her weight and no matter how hard she kicked, his hand didn't move. Two Chinese men joined her abductor and Claire was pulled deeper into the alley. Claire continued kicking, moaning as her injured ankle did its best to inflict some damage to the man's shins. Finally her abductor's hand dropped away from her mouth and Claire started to scream for help. The sound was muffled by a cloth pressed against her lower face. A horrible odor attacked her nose and tears flooded her eyes. Claire looked up at a red and gold banner fluttering in the wind just before her world went black.
Chapter Sixteen
“Mr. Monroe!"
Garrett looked up at the frantic calling of his name, closing the ledger that he'd been working on. The bank clerk who had announced his grandmother the previous day came rushing into his office. The man looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin and for a moment Garrett thought the bank was being robbed.
“What is it?” he asked, looking past the frazzled young man and out into the main lobby of the bank. Everyone else seemed calm enough and Garrett relaxed momentarily, thinking the clerk was probably fretting over nothing but a disgruntled customer who didn't want to understand bank policy and had insisted on seeing the head cashier, who was off for the week.
“A message from your grandmother,” the clerk said, holding the crumpled piece of paper. “Your driver said it was most urgent."
Garrett snatched the note from the clerk's hand and broke the seal. He read the short but blunt statement, crushed the paper in his fist, and headed for the door. Looking over his shoulder, he gave the clerk a curt command. “Send someone to the Landauer Hotel. I want Mr. Landauer to meet me at my house. Immediately."
“Yes, sir."
Garrett was outside of the bank in seconds and climbing inside the buggy. “Don't waste any time,” he said to Henry. “Get me home as quickly as you can."
A snap of the short driving whip and the horse hitched to the buggy leaped forward. Garrett cursed as he unfolded his fist and read the crumpled message a second time; Come home at once. Claire missing.
Garrett knew Claire wasn't missing. The little hellion had taken herself off to Chinatown again, he was sure of it. As Henry expertly weaved his way through the crowded city streets, managing to avoid several small children and a barking dog that nipped at the buggy's wheels, Garrett vowed that this time he would lock Claire in her room. After, he'd beat her black and blue.
By the time Garrett got out of the buggy and rushed up the stone steps leading to the front door, he was shaking with anger. And fear. Hiram Wilson had called on him that morning to report that his discussions with several other railroad officials confirmed his initial suspicions. Donald Aldrich was suspected of helping Chen Loo orchestrate the transportation of opium out of San Fr
ancisco, using the Union Pacific Railroad to reach St. Louis and cities to the east.
“Your grandmother is in the parlor,” Mrs. Smalley said, meeting Garrett at the front door. “I sent for Dr. Baldwin. She's so worried, I'mafraid she'll have another attack."
Garrett stopped in his tracks, took a long deep breath, and forced a calm, confident smile to his face. As he stepped into the parlor, he appeared to be in no particular hurry.
“What's this about Claire?” he asked, as he sat down beside his grandmother and reached for her hand. It was cold and Garrett hoped he wouldn't lose both the women he loved.
“I thought she was sleeping late,” Grams said. “But when Libby went to her room, she was gone. I sent for you right away."
“As you should have,” Garrett replied. “But there's no reason to get yourself in a tether. I'll find her and bring her home."
“You argued didn't you?” Grams said. “I was afraid you would. You can be so damn obstinate at times.” She gave him a frustrated look. “Well, whatever you did, undo it, and get that girl back in this house."
Garrett didn't answer her. Instead, he poured Grams a small sherry and insisted she drink it. “Now, I want you to relax until Dr. Baldwin gets here. I'll find Claire, and she'll be back before you wake up from your afternoon nap. I promise."
Garrett found Libby in the foyer, wringing her hands and looking responsible for Claire's unpredictable actions. “Stay with my grandmother,” Garrett told the maid. “I don't want her left alone."
“Yes, sir,” she replied and hurried into the parlor.
Mrs. Smalley appeared from another of the rooms fronting the main entrance. Garrett told her to send someone to the stables. He wanted two horses saddled and ready by the time Christopher arrived. He didn't have time to waste on a cumbersome buggy or trolley schedules.
Marching into the library, he unlocked his desk and withdraw a small wooden case. He flipped the engraved top back to reveal a pistol. He was well versed with firearms and within minutes he had the gun loaded and inside his jacket pocket. After what seemed like a small eternity, Christopher joined him in the library.
A Gentleman's Bargain Page 23