"If you are worried about my safety, then that means you think you're going to be in danger. I'm staying with you. And there's no sense in trying to change my mind. I can be every bit as stubborn as you, Jake Deverell."
He stared at her. She had eyes that beguiled, a smile that enticed, skin as soft as a rose petal, and bones that seemed to him as fragile as a sparrow's. She was the most feminine woman he had ever known, yet she had steel running the length of her spine, and he wondered why he was just now realizing it. "I've met my match, haven't I?"
"Yes. Now, unless you'd like to make love to me, I'm going to the hospital to make sure Kenneth is settled for the night and has—"
"Kenneth has everything he needs, but I don't." His words came out in a raspy growl. "I need you. In fact, I suddenly realize I may not make it if I'm not able to get inside you in the next few minutes." He jerked her to him. "I'd like very much to make love to you, Arabella."
She smiled. "What a good idea."
Sometime after midnight the telephone rang. Jake switched on the light beside the bed and reached for the receiver.
"Hello?"
He listened for a minute, then without a word hung up the phone.
"What is it?" Arabella asked, sitting up and twisting so that she could look down at him. His face was cold and without emotion, and fear gripped her heart. "Is it Kenneth? Has something happened to him?"
"No. It's Edward. He collapsed this evening. They took him to the hospital. He's in a coma."
Chapter 12
A SINGLE light over the head of Edward's hospital bed cast ghostly shadows onto the surrounding white curtains. Jake stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at him, his hands knotted into fists by his side.
This wasn't right. Edward shouldn't be lying there, an oxygen tent covering him. He was indomitable. He couldn't die!
"Dammit, old man, you can't die now! We're not through fighting." His hand closed over the cast iron foot of the bed, and he shook it hard. "Do you hear me? Wake up and look at me! Tell me to go to hell, but fight, dammit, fight."
A hand clamped over his shoulder. "Mr. Deverell, may I talk to you a moment?"
He swung around, ready to hit whoever had interrupted him, but his fist stayed at his side when he saw the doctor, an older man with a tired-looking face.
"What's wrong with my father?"
"As I'm sure you know, he's been ill for a long time now."
"I knew no such thing, and I'm sure Edward didn't either."
The doctor expelled a long breath. "He should have known—Lord knows, I told him often enough—but he just refused to admit it."
"Okay, then, what's wrong with him? You can cure him, can't you?"
"I'm afraid not. He has black lung, which is a chronic lung disease that occurs when carbon and silica accumulate in the lungs from breathing in large amounts of coal dust. There is no treatment, and it reached the advanced stages in your father a couple of years ago. Only his strong will has kept him going this long."
Vehemently Jake shook his head. "No, no, that's got to be a mistake. Edward left the coal mines when he was eighteen."
"Your father's black lung is the 'complicated' kind. That means it can worsen over time even if the victim is no longer exposed to coal dust."
The word "victim" grated against Jake's nerves, and he glanced back at Edward. Jake was sure that there were a great many people, including himself, who would call Edward a sonofabitch. But in all Edward's seventy-five years, no one had ever called him a victim. Edward was the kind of man who had created his life from nothing. He had made things happen. Even now, in a coma, he looked invincible. "You're wrong, Doctor. My father is not going to die."
"I know this must be hard for you, Mr. Deverell, but you should prepare yourself for the inevitable."
"Inevitable is not in my vocabulary, nor is it in Edward's." He looked back at the doctor. "Now tell me about this coma. How soon is he going to come out of it?"
"I really can't say. He could come out of it at any moment, or it could last indefinitely, until he dies. At this point no one can say."
Jake saw weakness and pounced. "So you admit your knowledge is limited." He jabbed a finger against the doctor's chest. "Edward Deverell is not going to die of black lung or of anything else, do you understand? Go back to your books, call in specialists, but, Doctor, find something to get him well."
The doctor nodded and patted Jake on his arm. "I'm sorry for your pain, Mr. Deverell. I'll give you a few more minutes with your father, but then you really must leave."
Pain? Incredulously he repeated the word in his mind. He wasn't in pain! How ridiculous to even think it.
He walked around the bed to its head and leaned down until his face was even with Edward's. "You can't die," he said, his tone low and fierce as he spoke through the oxygen tent. "You've fought all your life to get away from those damned coal mines. You can't give in to them now. Besides, there's too much left unresolved between us. If you die, I'll win. You don't want that. You'd hate that! And if you die, I'll tell everyone I'm really your son. Think about that old man, and fight, dammit. Fight!"
Jake saw Edward once again the next morning and was informed that there had been no change in his condition. For over an hour he stayed by Edward's side, talking, cursing, cajoling, challenging. He shocked everyone within hearing distance, except Edward. There was no doubt in his mind that Edward understood and appreciated every word. There was also no doubt in his mind that Edward would live.
The idea of going back to SwanSea returned time and again to him that day, and by the next day he and Arabella were there.
"I don't really know why it was so important to me to come back here," he said later that night as he lay in bed, holding her in his arms. "This place is nothing but a big pile of stone and mortar when you get right down to it."
"It's more than that," she said softly, her face lying against his chest. "It's your home. It's a place you can feel safe."
"Safe?" Laughter erupted from him. "What makes you think I need to feel safe?"
She tilted her head back and gazed up at him. "You're every bit as tough as you think you are, Jake. But everyone in the world needs a place that makes them feel safe, a place where they feel they belong."
"I'm an interloper here, Arabella. I wrenched SwanSea away from Edward and I've held it hostage ever since."
"Maybe so, but SwanSea belongs to you legally and every other way. What's more, you belong to SwanSea, even if you don't know it." She paused. "The last night I was here over New Year's, I left my room to walk the halls. The house was quiet, but it was an enduring, waiting kind of quiet. I think the house was waiting for you to accept it… and yourself."
A slow smile spread over his face. "You're an enchanting woman, do you know that?"
She nodded, her solemn expression belied by the twinkle in her eye. "Yes."
He laid his face against her head. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he whispered. "For the first time that I can remember, I feel lost."
"Your father may pull out of this, Jake."
"Oh, Edward isn't going to die—I know that—but he is unconscious, and dammit, I'm mad as hell at him for doing this. It's just like him, too, to go to sleep for a few days while I fume. The last time we talked, he told me again in his own inimitable way to stop bootlegging. Said his friends at the club were getting suspicious. If you ask me, they're pretty slow."
She pushed away from him and gazed at him, her brow creased with concern. Anyone else might think he had lost his mind, but she was coining to understand the relationship he had with his father. There was hate there, but there was also need. And she heard the thread of pain that ran beneath Jake's anger.
"He can't die, Arabella. Hating him is a permanent part of me, I've done it for so long. He can't take that away from me now. Especially not now, when there's a very good possibility Wade and I may be sharing headline space soon." He paused. "It'll drive Edward mad."
"Have you made a
decision, then? About what to do about Wade?"
"Not really."
"Jake, whether Edward dies or not, you've got to stop this insanity now. You've established a successful bootlegging operation. You've made money and you've had fun, and to top it all off, you've made Edward furious. It seems to me there's nothing more to accomplish. You've done it all. Get out now."
"But what about Wade?"
"Forget him. Sooner or later the government will be able to put him away."
He gazed down at her for a long time. "Okay," he finally said. "I'll consider it."
She was stunned into speechlessness. She had gotten through to him. He had actually listened to her and found value in what she said.
Jake watched the play of emotions on her face, then noticed the fine, faintly purple vein that lay beneath the smooth ivory skin at her temple. He didn't think he'd ever noticed it before. "I wonder if fifty years from now I'll still be discovering things about you."
Fifty years implied a long life together, and if they stayed together, it would be just the two of them, without marriage, without children. It wasn't the life she would have chosen for herself. But there Jake was, smack in the middle of her heart, and in the end there would be no choice. She leaned toward him and curled her hand around the back of his neck. "Let me tell you something, Jake Deverell—you'll go to your grave knowing absolutely that no woman you ever knew satisfied you in as many ways as I do."
"There are times, Arabella, when you steal my breath away."
"Then let me give it back to you," she whispered, and pulled his mouth to hers.
Several loud explosions shook the house and awakened everyone in it. Jake jerked upright and reached for his watch on the nightstand to check the time. It was five-thirty in the morning. He reached for his trousers, stepped into them, and was fastening them when he realized Arabella was pulling a wrapper around her.
"You'd better stay here. I don't know what's happening."
"I'm coming," she said, ignoring her trembling limbs and stepping into her feather-trimmed heeled slippers.
"Dammit, Arabella—"
"I'm coming."
He recognized the stubbornly set expression on her face and didn't waste any more time arguing. He pulled a gun from the nightstand and checked that it was loaded. "Then stay behind me and do exactly what I say."
They took the stairway down, stopping on each floor to look for anything out of the ordinary, but saw nothing. By the time they reached the main floor, though, they could smell smoke.
Marlon, in robe and slippers, met them in the grand entry hall. "Firebombs have been thrown through several lower windows, sir. Our men are acting quickly and already two fires are out. But your study, sir. I'm afraid it's engulfed in flames. There are people already working there, trying both to put the fire out and to contain the damage. More men are on their way."
"Good. Good. Any sign of the people who did it?"
"None that I've seen, sir. Would you like me to form a search party?"
"No. Don't pull anyone away from fighting the fire." Wade's men had accomplished what they came to do, he thought grimly, and were probably on the road back to Boston or in a boat, heading south. He drove his hand through his uncombed hair, then tucked the gun into his belt. "Okay. Get as many people as you can to help you, and I'll be right there."
Jake waited until Marlon had hurried off, then turned to Arabella. "Wade bombed my car, then the island, now my house. Why the hell didn't I see it? Each time, he was getting closer."
Urgently she laid her hand on his arm. "Jake, last night you said you'd consider stopping this fight between the two of you. This fire just underscores the importance of making that decision."
"He's hurt my home, Arabella. He's hurt SwanSea."
"I know, but—"
He held up a hand. "I don't know how to explain to you how or what I'm feeling. And I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Except right now my house is burning, and I've got to go help the men."
Her nod acknowledged that he was right. With an effort she tried to pull herself together. "All right, then. I'll go see if I can help in the kitchen. I imagine food and coffee are going to be in great demand."
As Jake strode away, a cold feeling began to grow in her. By the time she reached the kitchen, the cold had completely encased her.
Later that afternoon Jake stood alone amid the blackened, wet ruins of what had once been his study. The destruction was total. All the beautiful, exotic citron wood was now ashes, as were the hundreds of leather-bound books.
It was like a part of himself had been destroyed, he thought, and knew he would never be able to explain the feeling.
But one thing he did know—he would rebuild. The study would be completely restored, right down to the last art nouveau detail. And the cottage. He would rebuild the cottage, fresh and new and put it to a happy use.
"Looks like I got back just in time," Lucas drawled.
Jake jerked toward the tall, blond-haired man lounging in the doorway. "Great heavens, where did you come from?"
"The sky." Lucas waved his hand through the air. "Vanessa and I took the train part of the way, and flew the rest of the way. The new coast-to-coast service won't be officially inaugurated for a week or so, but I think we must have unofficially inaugurated it."
"Good Lord!"
A smile glimmered in Lucas's clear blue eyes. "Exactly. We prayed the whole way. Our prayers must have worked, because we're here."
Jake stared at Lucas a moment longer, then closed the distance between them and threw his arms around him. "Lord, I'm glad to see you!"
"I knew you would be," Lucas said, smiling broadly, "but I also knew that you were too damned dumb and stubborn to ever ask me to come back. So I decided, as usual, I needed to take matters into my own hands." He gave Jake an affectionate hit on the back as they drew apart. "So what's happened here? Was this an accident or was this Wade's work?"
"Wade, definitely Wade."
"Well?"
Jake understood the one-word question perfectly. "I've made my decision. I'm going after him."
"That's why I'm here."
Jake shook his head. "No, no. You're out of this."
"Not on your life. Jake, I got word of what happened out on the island and I started back almost immediately. I knew you'd need me."
Jake's hand was still on his friend's shoulder. "I appreciate your coming, but, Lucas, I don't know what's going to happen, and under those circumstances, the only person I'm willing to risk is me."
"You can't do it on your own, Jake, and the sooner you admit that, the sooner we can get on with things."
He exhaled a long breath. "You can help me come up with a plan, but that's it."
Lucas gave him a friendly sneer. "Go intimidate someone else, because you're wasting your energy with me. I came here to help you, and that's damned well what I'm going to do."
Jake's eyes narrowed on his old friend. "There's nothing I can say to change your mind?"
"No."
"Lord, I'm glad you're back!"
"We've always taken care of each other, Jake, and together the two of us can't fail. You'll see, it'll be cream in a can."
Vanessa took a moment between bites of her dinner to examine her surroundings. "You know, I don't think I've ever been in this salon before. Arabella, you were so clever to think of it for our dinner tonight."
Arabella smiled, pleased with Vanessa's compliment. They were in a small salon on the second floor. A fire burned in the fireplace, and a mild evening breeze came in through the open French doors. The ambience was warm and cozy and cheerful. "I thought we might be more comfortable in here than in the dining room. Marlon would have had us scattered up and down that table, yards apart."
Lucas chuckled. "The old boy means well."
Jake nodded. "He does, and he's certainly put up with a lot from me over the years, but he is absolutely-devoted to Arabella. And he loves what she's doing to the house."
Vanessa
's fork halted midway to her mouth. "Everything does look wonderful, Arabella. I meant to tell you that earlier."
Happy that her efforts had been noticed, she shrugged away the compliment. "The house just needed a little love and caring, that's all, and with SwanSea, loving and caring are easy."
Jake sipped his wine. "Thank heaven Arabella had decided my desk needed refinishing. A stableman has it somewhere, and it escaped the fire."
"Bert," Arabella said. "The stableman's name is Bert. And he and I have established a workshop for him in the back of the carriage house."
Jake looked at her with interest. "Really? I didn't know that."
"Yes, he's refinishing almost full-time now, and he really needed a place of his own. Anyway, that's where your desk is—and, as you said, thank heaven."
Jake suddenly frowned. "Vanessa, I just remembered something. You told me the studio had you scheduled for back-to-back pictures. How did you get away?"
"The first film was finished. The second one was just beginning. And"—she glanced at Lucas—"I walked out."
Arabella's eyes widened. "The studio can't be happy about that."
She shrugged an elegant shoulder. "I don't know. I didn't wait to hear their opinion, and frankly, I don't really care. It was too important for me to be here with Lucas and with Jake."
Jake reached for her hand and kissed it. "Thank you for coming."
Suddenly Vanessa laughed. "Can you believe we actually flew?"
Jake grinned, looking from Lucas to Vanessa. "No, I can't."
Arabella groaned good-naturedly. "I wish you understood—flying is fun and exciting. There's nothing to be afraid of."
Lucas reached for a cigarillo. "Only falling, I suppose."
She frowned. "That's what Jake says, but—"
Jake pushed back from the table and stood. "Would you two mind if Lucas and I go upstairs for a while? There are some things we need to discuss."
"Yes," Vanessa said in a mild tone, "we'd mind. But whether we mind or not really isn't going to make any difference, is it?"
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