Rebel Waltz

by Kay Hooper

  “I'm not sure who caught whom.”

  “Is it important?” she murmured.

  “No.” He smiled slowly. “It isn't important at all, milady.”

  Banner was just about to go into his arms when she stiffened suddenly, gazing past his shoulder. “Rory—look,” she whispered.

  Rory turned his head, his eyes immediately finding the tall blond man dressed in antebellum clothing who was standing several yards away from them. He was in the late- afternoon shadows of tall shrubbery, but remarkably distinct for all of that.

  As they watched, still and silent, the blond gent made a slight gesture toward them, as a man would gesture politely for another to take his place with a dance partner. Then he bowed slightly, gracefully, and stepped back, vanishing into the dark shrubbery.

  “I didn't believe it,” Banner said blankly.

  “What—that I've been seeing him all this time?” Rory asked, turning back to her. Then he realized that she had obviously seen him this time.

  “No, I believed that.” She gazed up at her husband. “But it was something else I read that first night.”

  “About the blond man?”

  “Yes. According to legend, the Clairmont daughters never see their guardian—except once: when he renounces his guardianship of them in favor of their husbands.”

  Rory got to his feet and pulled her gently up. “I think,” he said, smiling, “that the final mark of favor has been granted to our marriage, milady.”

  “A good omen.”

  “If we needed it. But I don't think we do. I think that you and I, wife, will never need more luck than we can make for ourselves. And I think we're going to have a great many happy years together.” He grinned suddenly. “I also think we'd better provide another generation of Clairmont daughters for that blond gent to guard.”

  “You do, do you?” she murmured, gazing up at him.

  “Certainly. We wouldn't want him to get bored, after all.”

  “I think… that's an awfully good idea, love. But maybe I'd better warn you about the Clairmonts.”

  “Oh, God,” he said, sending a plaintive glance upward. “What now?”

  Banner's smile was trying hard to hide. “Well, we tend to go to extremes, you see. Either we'll have a very small new generation—or a very large one. And it's about time for a large generation …”

  EPILOGUE

  “I SHOULD BEthere,” Rory said, pacing violently.

  “You'd just be in the way.” “That's a hell of a thing to say to me!” “But true. You've been a basket case for months, as it is.”

  “Your imagination. And hers.” “Hardly, my boy. How many breakfasts have you skipped?”

  “I picked up a bug, that's all.”

  “Of course you did. But it only affected you in the mornings.”

  “That's nonsense.”

  “Have a drink.”

  “No. My child won't smell liquor on my breath when we meet.”

  “Shawn did,” Jake reminded, amused, from the depths of his comfortable chair as he watched his grandson-in-law pacing the library.

  Rory glared at him, still pacing. “Only because you put a drink in my hand and I didn't know what I was doing,” he accused.

  Jake sighed. “If I'd had any sense, I would have done the same thing hours ago.” He was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Did you know that Shawn can see Sarah?”

  His grim expression softening, Rory halted by the fireplace and gazed down into the low flames. “I know. The pretty lady who smells so good. Do I explain to a two-year-old that she's his grandmother—and a ghost?”

  “What does Banner say about it?”

  “That he understands without really knowing.”

  “She's probably right. She understood at that age.”

  Rory's head lifted, his face turning toward the stairs and the silence. “Dammit,” he swore softly, his expression tightening again. “I wish they'd tell us something!”

  “She'll be fine, Rory.”

  “I should be with her!” He sighed roughly. “She seems to understand that, too, but I feel—”

  “You can't stand seeing her in pain,” Jake said quietly. “She knows that, Rory.”

  The younger man's haunted gaze met the steady older eyes. “It took so long with Shawn,” he said tautly. “And she's so tiny. We both love kids, but—God, this scares the hell out of me!”

  “Raynor would've put her in the hospital if he'd expected trouble,” Jake pointed out soothingly. “He's a damn fine doctor.”

  “I know, I know. And Susan's the same nurse who helped with Shawn. I know all that, Jake— but it doesn't help.”

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs made them both freeze, and they were still in a waxworks position when the cheerful, dark-haired and bright-eyed Dr. Raynor entered the room, rubbing his hands together briskly.

  “I could use a drink,” he said firmly.

  “Matt?” Rory managed unsteadily, still frozen.

  Raynor accepted a glass from Jake and took a healthy swallow. “That little lady fooled me this time,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “Since she carried so small with Shawn and so large with this one, I could have sworn it was twins.”

  “Matt!” Rory groaned.

  The doctor smiled at him. “Banner's fine, Rory. She breezed right through this time.”

  A large part of the tension drained from Rory's face, but he continued to gaze at the doctor in mute inquiry.

  “You get to pass out cigars with pink bands this time,” Raynor told him cheerfully.

  “A girl?”

  Raynor was abruptly solemn, clearly relishing his role of announcer. “Oh, yes, indeed. Like I said—Banner fooled me. You've got yourself… three brand-new daughters, Rory.”

  “Triplets?” Rory was sure he said the word, but heard no sound emerge from his own mouth. Jake handed him a glass, and he found himself swallowing fiery liquid. He tried again. “Can I—can I go up and see them?” he croaked. He barely waited for the doctor's smiling nod before he headed for the stairs.

  Susan was coming out of the bedroom just as he reached it, and she was laughing softly. “Banner's amazing,” she told him dryly. “I've never seen a woman have even one baby and still find the energy to sit up. She's in there looking through a dictionary of names. Amazing.” Shaking her head, the nurse went on down the hall.

  Rory crept into the bedroom, wary of disturbing three newborns. And found his wife, as Susan had said, sitting up in the bed and frowning down at the heavy book across her knees. She looked not one bit the worse for the past hours; in fact, she seemed wide awake and rested. And when she looked up, her green eyes were bright.

  “I know we wanted a girl, Rory,” she said with a comical look of amazement on her face, “but I think we overdid it a bit.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and put his arms around her, kissing her smiling lips very tenderly. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She was still smiling. “Even if you have been drinking.”

  “Jake caught me with my guard down again,” he explained.

  “That was your excuse the last time.”

  “I swear. Matt said three girls and Jake put a glass in my hand.”

  “Well, I'll forgive you. If you can help me come up with three names. And a mixed bag this time—blond, brunette, and redhead.”

  He blinked, then shook his head. “I can't think at the moment.”

  “I can't imagine why,” she said gravely. “Unless it's because you're exhausted. Go take a look at the babies, darling, then come to bed.”

  “With you?” he said longingly.

  “I got permission to hold you,” she said, still grave. “Matt was quite firm about saying we could not start another baby for several weeks.”

  Laughing a little unsteadily, Rory got to his feet. “The mess you've gotten me into,” he accused, then headed for the connecting nursery.

  As he stepped into the dimly- lighted room, Rory noted th
at the efficent nurse had utilized both the crib and bassinet, along with the old wooden cradle that had been Jake's, in order to accommodate all three infants. And he wasn't really surprised to see the hazy—though clearer than he'd ever seen it—form of the blond gentleman bending to get a look at the babies. Rory stood silently and watched until, apparently satisfied, the gent moved toward the hall door.

  Softly, Rory said, “Three more Clairmont daughters for you to guard, my friend. For us both to guard.”

  He could have sworn the gent smiled at him.

  Smiling himself, Rory went to greet his daughters.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  KAY HOOPER is the award- winning author of Blood Sin, Blood Dreams, Sleeping with Fear, Hunting Fear, Chill of Fear, Touching Evil, Whisper of Evil, Sense of Evil, Once a Thief, Always a Thief, the Shadows trilogy, and other novels. She lives in North Carolina, where she is at work on her next book.

  Read on for a special preview of the second thrilling novel in Kay Hooper's Blood trilogy …

  Now on sale from Bantam

  BLOOD SINS

  On sale now

  Sarah kept to what little shadows the winter- bare trees provided as she worked her way through the forest that separated the compound from the road. The full moon made this night an uneasy one for stealth, but she hadn't been given much choice in the matter. Waiting even another day was potentially far more dangerous than acting, so—

  She sensed more than heard a sound, and froze, her arms tightening around the sleeping child.

  “It's just me.” Bailey appeared to step literally out of the darkness not ten feet away.

  “Are you early or am I late?” Sarah kept her voice as low as the other woman's had been.

  “Six of one.” Bailey shrugged and crossed the space between them. “Is she out?”

  Nodding, Sarah relinquished the little girl, who was warmly dressed to protect her against the January chill. “She should sleep another couple of hours at least. Long enough.”

  “And you're sure about her? Because we can't keep doing this. It wasn't part of the plan, and it's too dangerous. Sooner or later, he's going to figure it out.”

  “That's what I'm trying to prevent. Or at least delay.”

  “It's not your job, Sarah. Not the reason you're here.”

  “Isn't it? He's getting better at choosing latents. Better at finding them and convincing them to join him. Better than we've been.” Sarah was aware of a niggling unease that was growing rather than diminishing. “Speaking of, are we covered?”

  “Of course. My shield's enclosing all three of us.”

  “What about more conventional protection?”

  “Galen's got my back. As usual. But once we leave, you're on your own again.”

  “I'm not worried about me.”

  “Sarah—”

  “She could be the one, Bailey.”

  “She's six years old.”

  “All the more reason. Without the defenses we can teach her, she's vulnerable as hell, especially to someone bent on using her as a weapon.”

  Bailey shifted the slight weight of the child and sighed. “Look, are you sure you haven't been … in fluenced … by what this guy is preaching? All that prophecy stuff?”

  “We believe in prophecy stuff,” Sarah reminded her.

  “Not the kind he preaches.”

  Sarah shook her head. “Don't worry, I'm not a convert. It's all I can do to keep up the facade of a loyal member of the flock.”

  “Many more defections and kids disappearing, and that's going to get a lot harder.”

  “Harder than this?” Sarah reached out a hand and lightly touched the long blond hair hanging down the child's back. “Her mother is gone. And her father vanished day before yesterday.”

  Bailey's mouth tightened. “You didn't include that in the report.”

  “I wasn't sure until today. But he's gone. I think he was beginning to ask too many questions. He didn't believe his wife would have just run away, not without their daughter.”

  “He was right about that.”

  Sarah had been expecting it, but the news was still an unwelcome shock. “She was found?”

  “A few miles downriver. And she'd been in the water awhile, probably since the night she disappeared. No way to determine cause of death.”

  Bailey didn't have to explain that further.

  “Are the police going to come around asking questions?” Sarah asked.

  “They have to. Ellen Hodges was known to be a member of the Church, and the last time she was seen it was in the company of other Church members. Her parents know that, and they're more than willing to point the police in this direction. So if the good Reverend Samuel can't produce Ellen's husband or her child, he's going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Sarah managed a hollow laugh, even as the sense of unease she felt grew stronger. “You're assuming the cops who come here won't be Church members or paid- off friends of the Church.”

  “Shit. Are you sure?”

  “From something I overheard, I'm convinced enough that I say it wouldn't be a good idea to take any local law enforcement into our confidence. Not unless somebody on our side can read them very, very well.”

  “Good enough for me. But Bishop is not going to be happy about it.”

  “I doubt he'll be surprised. We knew it was a possibility.”

  “Makes the job harder. Or at least a hell of a lot more tricky.” Bailey shifted the child's weight again. “I need to get the kid out of here.”

  “Wendy. Her name's Wendy.”

  “Yes. I know. Don't worry, we'll take care of her. She has family who love her and will want her.”

  “She also has an ability she's barely aware of.” Sarah reached out once more to gently touch the child's hair, then stepped back. “Protect her. Protect her gift.”

  REBEL WALTZ

  A Bantam Book

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Bantam Loveswept mass market edition published February 1986

  Bantam mass market edition / April 2009

  Published by Bantam Dell

  A Division of Random House, Inc.

  New York, New York

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 1986 by Kay Hooper

  Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  eISBN: 978-0-553-90610-3

  www.bantamdell.com

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