Jesse's Renegade (#3 of the Danner Quartet) Page 3

  Little Nell, who’d run afoul of Montana Gray and died because of it.

  It was because of Nell that Zeke had rescued Jesse and formed a partnership with him. It was because of Jesse that Zeke was where he was today: at the pinnacle of Portland society. Zeke belonged to the Arlington Club and the Portland Establishment. He went to all the right restaurants, and donated money to all the right charities. He was invited to parties and soirées and special events only the cream of society attended.

  It was lucky that Montana Gray didn’t know Zeke or remembered Zeke’s sister, Nell.

  Clearing his throat, Zeke lifted a thin cheroot from the leather humidor on his desk, his gaze still resting on the man responsible for his change of fortune. He puffed on his cheroot. Danner’s indolence was deceptive. He had an unusual grace of movement that turned women’s heads. Zeke was truly envious of Jesse’s innate sexuality, a trait he longed to possess himself but didn’t. Zeke was too gawky and awkward. Even the trappings of wealth hadn’t made up for what nature had neglected to bestow upon him.

  Not so Jesse. Women were drawn to him. Like Lila Gray had been drawn to him. Like Nell had trusted him …

  His lashes thinning against the curling smoke, Zeke allowed himself painful thoughts of his sister. When Montana found out Nell was the main reason Jesse had been able to purchase the park block away from him, he’d ordered his boys to kill her. The night Zeke found Jesse near drowned in the Willamette, he’d also found his sister’s stiff, half-frozen body. Nell had been an insignificant bookkeeper at Montana’s company. A nobody. Someone to remove when she became an obstacle in his path to success. Only Zeke, and Nell’s desolate husband, Thomas, had mourned her passing.

  And, of course, Jesse.

  Zeke suffered a pang of sadness and remorse. Jesse blamed himself entirely for her death. However, Zeke didn’t blame Jesse. In her own sweetly naïve way, Nell had been trying to stop Montana’s ruthless, and many times unlawful, acquisition of real estate. Working for the man, she’d stumbled upon the avaricious cruelty of his methods, and she’d been determined to stop him. She’d tried several times, with the help of others, but she’d failed. Just as she’d failed when Montana had caught her helping Jesse.

  It wasn’t Jesse’s fault.

  Zeke had said the same to Jesse hundreds – thousands – of times, but Jesse wouldn’t listen. He burned for vengeance. He wanted to ruin Montana, and his self-serving bitch of a wife. Zeke, luckily, had talked Jesse out of killing the man outright. There were ways to trap an avaricious man like Gray without resorting to violence.

  Not that Zeke wouldn’t gladly see Montana strung up by a rope, but he valued Jesse’s friendship too much to lose him, too. Nell was gone. Sacrificing another wouldn’t bring her back.

  Of course, Jesse could change his mind at any moment. Lord knew Jesse was incredibly ruthless when he chose to be. He was passionate and loyal and consumed with remorse. He’d worked five long years in San Francisco to create a fortune to match Montana’s. Zeke, stationed in Portland, had kept him duly informed. It had been the last straw when Montana managed to acquire that same park block Jesse had purchased on that fateful trip to Portland, the same park block Nell had died for. Now Jesse intended to ruin Montana forever by using the man’s own greed against him.

  Unfortunately, there was just one minor hitch.

  Zeke cleared his throat again. “You should have made your move into society years ago. It’ll take too long now, unless you marry somebody with a pile of money and connections. You know that.” When Jesse didn’t answer, Zeke added, “There’s no better choice than Charlotte Chamberlain.”

  Jesse turned his head and scowled at Zeke, his arms crossed over his chest. From a photograph taken of Jesse when he was younger, Zeke knew Al’s huge fists had permanently changed his looks. Jesse was “pretty” no longer. His jaw had been broken along with his nose. The perfect symmetry was gone, yet for all that, he was even more attractive now at thirty. He might not be pretty, but his face was still handsome, more masculine. His teeth had survived the beating except for a few broken molars, and his eyes were still sharp and clear and blue. He looked more dangerous now. Tougher. Zeke hadn’t known Jesse before, but he guessed there’d been some major changes within the man as well. The humor that had emanated so clearly from the snapshot was gone. In its place was cold cynicism.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jesse asked softly.

  “Lady Chamberlain’s granddaughter, Charlotte. I saw her at the concert in the park last week. She’s lovely. And socially one of the best catches in the city. You should marry her.”

  “No.”

  Zeke sighed. “If you want Gray to know who’s responsible for his financial collapse, you’re going to have to show yourself. I don’t know why you’re so damned worried about your brother finding out –”

  “Shut up, Zeke. I don’t want any of my family to know where I am.”

  “They might not recognize you anyway,” Zeke pointed out. “How many years has it been since you’ve seen them? Thirteen? And your looks have changed.”

  “Thanks to Montana Gray,” he murmured dryly.

  “Samuel Danner is fairly well known in Portland,” Zeke went on, undeterred, bringing up Jesse’s younger brother. “He’s an excellent lawyer and businessman. You’re bound to run into him sooner or later.”

  “I want it to be later. After I take care of the Grays.”

  Zeke frowned. Jesse had returned to Portland about a month before, and he insisted on keeping a low profile. No one knew he was the man behind Drummond & Co.

  “I don’t see how you can do that. Montana Gray thinks you’re dead. You need him to realize you’re alive and well. The ghost of retribution come back to haunt him. He needs to remember you.”

  “He won’t.” Jesse was positive. “He barely looked at me that night. Just ordered me to be killed. Besides,” he added with a faint smile, “I look different now.”

  “Not that different. Given a little prodding, he’ll certainly remember your name. No,” he went on, as if the matter were decided, “Charlotte is the best answer.”

  “If you’re so dead set on Charlotte Chamberlain, why don’t you marry her yourself?” Jesse suggested irritably. The last thing he wanted was to tangle with another society woman.

  “Because you won’t be able to live with yourself unless you can make up for Nell’s senseless death,” Zeke said softly.

  Jesse stiffened. Zeke’s words stabbed into him, as they were meant to.

  “Besides, you’re the one who needs to become socially respectable,” Zeke reminded him quickly, easing over the moment. “I don’t know why you tried to hide out all these years anyway.”

  “Because I didn’t want to tip off Gray.” And I didn’t want any interference from my family, Jesse added to himself.

  Marry Charlotte Chamberlain? A girl less than seventeen years old? Good God! Not that he gave a damn about Charlotte. He didn’t care what happened to any lady. He’d learned from Lila just how treacherous they could be.

  “I don’t need any woman to help me,” said Jesse. “I’ll get Gray by myself.”

  “You need Gray to recognize you, Jesse. Recognize you in a position of power. The only way you’re going to do that is to become a part of Portland society. We’ve discussed all this before,” Zeke added impatiently. “I can get you an invitation to the party Lady Chamberlain’s throwing in honor of Charlotte’s seventeenth birthday.”

  “I would rather cut off my right hand than go to any party Lady Chamberlain, or any other so-called lady in this town, would throw.”

  “Well, you need to win one of society’s sweet little darlings,” Zeke went on relentlessly. “If you want real revenge, you’ve got to do it my way. If you’re powerful enough socially, you could kill Montana Gray with your bare hands and get away with it.”

  Jesse swore violently. He hated being reminded of the inequities in the political and social systems. He loathed having to listen t
o Zeke, though he knew his friend was right. He’d spent too many years building his fortune back up to derail this plan for revenge now.

  “Isn’t there any way other than marriage?”

  “You could buy favors from the politicians,” Zeke answered as he’d done countless other times. “But the fastest way would be to marry someone with money and connections.”

  “Who’s to say one of those sweet darlings will marry me, even if I ask?” Jesse demanded, pacing restlessly across the room.

  “They’ll marry you.” Zeke’s tone changed, causing Jesse to stop right in front of his desk. He watched Zeke puff on his cheroot. “Don’t look at me like that,” Zeke added, smiling. “You’ll have them panting after you, and you know it.”

  “Go to hell,” Jesse growled.

  “Women want you, Jesse. All you have to do is throw out a little charm. Try not to be so cynical and impatient. Relax, for God’s sake, and make a woman feel like a woman. Seduce her.”

  “That’s your advice?” One black brow arched.

  “It worked with Lila Gray, didn’t it?”

  “I’m not exactly sure who seduced whom,” Jesse bit out harshly. “I can’t do it, Zeke. I can’t tie myself down.”

  “You don’t have to be faithful.”

  “I don’t have to be married at all!”

  “Go to the party, Jesse. See Charlotte Chamberlain for yourself. She’s extraordinarily beautiful, and from all accounts just waiting for Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet.”

  Jesse’s scowl deepened and he swore a string of epithets that made Zeke grin. Finally, Jesse had heard him.

  ¤ ¤ ¤

  The Chamberlain party was in the ballroom of the Portland Hotel and it spilled out onto the upper balcony that overlooked a hotel’s entrance two floors below. The dance floor was gray and white squares of marble and the overhead chandelier was seven levels of gaslit candles and shining, tinkling prisms. A group of musicians was assembled on a raised dais in the corner. Satin ribbons in pink and lavender and silver festooned the curtain alcoves, wall sconces, and rosewood tables clustered around the edges of the room.

  Kelsey stood next to the musicians, a crystal cup of red punch cradled between her palms. Her mane of hair was pulled into its ubiquitous net, and her cream-colored dress rode high on her neck, clipped by a diamond brooch. She wore no earrings, and the cool patrician look on her face discouraged dance partners. Not that she wanted to dance. She was suffering through these hours, trying to appear entertained for Charlotte’s sake, when all she really wanted to do was escape and take Justice, the Chamberlain’s gray stallion, for a race across the flowing grounds of Agatha’s estate.

  Kelsey smiled in anticipation. Though Lady Chamberlain generally indulged Kelsey’s passion for horses, she’d been in such a fluster over the party that Kelsey had been forced to delay her ride and help with the preparations. Kelsey had organized everything, from the engraved invitations to the sparkling champagne spewing from the mouth of the silver fish fountain on the center table, where the champagne was currently collecting in a moat around the base of the fountain and spilling over the edges in ten silvery streams into another wider receptacle.

  Several people were dipping their glasses beneath the trickling champagne. Kelsey smiled to herself. She hoped Charlotte appreciated the time and effort, not to mention money, her grandmother had spent making sure the party was perfect.

  “Hello, Orchid.” A smooth, familiar male voice interrupted her thoughts. “May I have the next dance?”

  Tyrone McNamara. Kelsey inwardly groaned. She had half a mind to scratch his name from the guest list, but since she’d already scratched Samuel Danner’s, a necessity since Samuel would have undoubtedly recognized her, she’d left Tyrone’s name on to keep Agatha from asking too many questions.

  Tyrone led her onto the dance floor. Though he attempted to pull her against his chest, she kept her arms rigidly straight, her gray eyes simmering with stubbornness. Kelsey moved woodenly, skillfully parrying Tyrone’s every attempt to draw her near. As soon as the music stopped, she made a beeline to the powder room. Only a few more hours and this dreadful affair would be over.

  Heaving a sigh, she caught sight of her reflection in the gilded-mirror hung on the flower printed wall. She looked furious. Surprised, she purposely smoothed her brow. Tyrone and his kind got under her skin. Lord, how she wished she could be left alone.

  Her mother, Lucinda Garrett, had tried to arrange marriage after marriage for Kelsey, but to no avail. From the time she was barely fifteen years old, Kelsey had endured a barrage of suitors. When Lucinda died, Jace took over the role of matchmaker. As a means of escape, Kelsey has accepted Harrison Danner’s offer of marriage. She and Harrison had been friends, nothing more, but she’d thought she might be happy with him.

  But that engagement ended when Harrison met up with exotic Miracle Jones, a half-breed Chinook Indian who was as wonderful as she was beautiful. Kelsey liked Miracle even after she discovered Miracle was her half-sister, a product of Kelsey’s philandering father’s love for Miracle’s Chinook mother. Unfortunately, Jace hadn’t felt the same. The enmity Harrison’s love for Miracle had inspired in him had been the final reason Kelsey had to leave town. She was fed up with her brother in particular, and men in general. All she wanted was peace.

  Only one man had ever captured Kelsey’s heart, and the memory was enough to make her twist with pain and shame. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, far from it. She was as untouched today as she’d been when she was dreaming over Jesse Danner at the tender age of fourteen.

  Kelsey groaned aloud at her foolishness. Jesse Danner. Lord sakes! Of all the men to fantasize about, why had she chosen the most shallow, womanizing renegade of all? Luckily, Jesse had been totally unaware of his effect on her. The most notorious Danner son, he had provided Kelsey’s thoughts with romantic visions for years – until she finally realized how foolish it was to pine for a man who barely knew she existed, a man who moreover had a reputation as tainted as Curly Wythecomb’s homemade wine!

  Jesse had been seventeen when he left Rock Springs. He’d never looked back. And he’d never looked once at Kelsey. She was a Garrett, after all, and Danners steered clear of Garretts whenever possible. But Kelsey had been smitten with Jesse, even though his philandering ways were well known, even though trouble follow him like a dark cloud, even though “scandalous” was the term generally attached to his name. Even though Alice McIntyre’s father had blasted him with a shotgun for defiling his one and only daughter.

  Now, as Kelsey narrowed her eyes on her mirrored reflection, she was glad she’d gotten over her adolescent infatuation. It was lucky that what beauty she possessed had come later. Jesse had known her only as a skinny, knock-kneed kid; he’d never seen her grown-up. His reputation being what it was, she wasn’t at all convinced he wouldn’t have used her infatuation against her, had he but known of it.

  Not that he would want her now, or, God forbid, that she would still want him! She met other men of his ilk, like Tyrone, and couldn’t stand them. And like the two bastards who’d tried to kidnap her, men were interested in only one thing.

  No, she didn’t want any man in her life. Ever.

  Charlotte was dancing with a dark-haired gentleman in a black suit when Kelsey returned to the ballroom. Kelsey frowned, unable to see the man’s face. He moved with unconscious grace, his arm wrapped possessively around Charlotte’s small waist. There was something familiar about him, but she could see him only from the back.

  “How do you think it’s going so far?” Agatha Chamberlain asked, commanding Kelsey’s attention.

  “I think it’s a rousing success,” Kelsey told her with a smile.

  “Charlotte seems to be having a grand time. You did make certain there were no fortune hunters on that list, didn’t you, Orchid?”

  “Every person invited possesses a healthy bank statement, I’m sure,” Kelsey answered dryly.

  �
��What about Gerrard Knight? I’ve heard he’s a notorious gambler.”

  “With enough money to lose steadily for a year and still buy and sell half of Portland.”

  Lady Chamberlain sniffed her disdain. “And Charles DeWitt?”

  “As rich as he is ugly.”

  “Do you really think he’s ugly, my dear? His face has a certain character, don’t you think?”

  She sounded so anxious, Kelsey reserved her opinion that Charles DeWitt was homely enough to be mistaken for a mule. Besides, Charles was nice. Much nicer than most of the wealthy young men Lady Chamberlain allowed in her granddaughter’s circle of friends.

  “Who’s Charlotte dancing with now?” Agatha asked suddenly.

  The dark-haired man was leading Charlotte toward one of the curtained alcoves. Kelsey’s brows rose. This was certainly not the done thing, especially in Lady Chamberlain’s eyes. “I’ll find out,” she said in a steely voice.

  Gathering her silk skirts, she swept across the room, but the dark-haired man was met by another gentleman, who spoke a few words to him, then led him in another direction, leaving Charlotte alone and bereft and looking piqued.

  Her blue eyes were flashing when Kelsey reached her. “Of all the nerve! That man, Mr. Drummond, stole my dance partner from me!”

  “It didn’t appear that you were dancing anymore,” Kelsey pointed out.

  “He was going to kiss me in the alcove! He told me he was!”

  “At least you were forewarned,” Kelsey said, slightly alarmed. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know his name yet.” She spoke in a breathless voice that convinced Kelsey she was already spinning romantic dreams around this unknown lothario.

  “Charlotte, I don’t think it’s wise to let some man take you to an alcove and kiss you when you don’t even know his name.”

  “I don’t need to know his name. I know I’m in love.”

  “You silly featherbrain!” Kelsey laughed in amusement. “Be careful or you’ll find yourself in serious trouble. What about the other men you’ve danced with? Haven’t you been interested in any of them?”