Only My Love Page 34

  Ethan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Beside him Jarret leaned negligently against the door frame, amused and watchful.

  "Is there something we can do for you?" Rennie asked.

  It was Michael's voice, Ethan thought, and yet it wasn't Michael. Her face, and yet not hers. If Jay Mac hadn't told him Rennie and Michael were twins, he knew he would have mistaken Rennie for her sister. What differences there were, were so slight as to be virtually nonexistent. Ethan cleared his throat and his eyes wandered past Moira's worried countenance, past Sister Mary's questioning gaze, past Maggie's nervous fingers plucking the bouquet, past young Skye's fiery hair, and finally came to rest on Michael's profile.

  "My name's Ethan Stone," he said quietly. "I've come for Michael."

  It was not Michael who moved, but Rennie. Gathering the folds of her white satin gown to one side, she squeezed through the circle of her family and approached Ethan, not sparing a glance for the man at his side. She stopped just in front of him and addressed him in a voice that was bitter, cold, and remote. "Marshal Stone?" she asked. "The man who abducted my sister?"

  Jarret's eyes were on Rennie. Everyone else was looking at Ethan. "Yes," Ethan said, standing his ground. "The man who abducted your sister."

  Rennie's hand swung in a wide arc. A mere inch from Ethan's face the sweep of her arm was halted. Not by Ethan, but by Jarret. He pulled her to one side, twisted her arm behind her back, and yanked her flush against his body. She was stunned into absolute stillness. So was everyone else.

  For all of five seconds.

  Michael put her hand on Schyler's forearm and raised herself up, turning fully in Ethan's direction. Hands on her hips, the material of her pale blue over-blouse was stretched taut across her belly. There was no ignoring the advanced state of her pregnancy. Feeling cornered as Ethan's eyes dropped from her face to her abdomen, she came out fighting, stiffening her shoulders and raising her chin at him. "Tell that man to put my sister down."

  Jarret didn't wait for Ethan's directive. Belatedly he realized that he was actually dangling Rennie a few inches off the floor. "Name's Jarret Sullivan, Miss Dennehy," he said politely. He lowered Rennie slowly but didn't let her go. Stepping further into the room, he kicked the door closed behind him. Over the top of Rennie's head his dark blue eyes rested on Michael's abdomen. He glanced at Ethan. His friend had been struck dumb.

  Mary Francis found a chair for her mother. Moira looked as if she might faint after all. Mary slipped the white silk Chinese fan that dangled from her mother's wrist and fanned Moira with it. She watched Ethan consideringly, gauging his reaction to Michael's pregnancy. Mary had wanted Michael to inform Ethan of her condition months ago and Michael had refused. Ethan didn't love her, she had said. Mary thought Michael was wrong then. She knew Michael was wrong now.

  Maggie's nervous fingers were destroying Rennie's bouquet. Looking down at what she was doing, she sighed, took aim, and pitched the flowers at Ethan. They missed their mark and bounced harmlessly off Jarret's shoulder.

  "Maggie!" Rennie wailed, trying to loose herself from Jarret. "Those are my flowers!"

  Skye leaped to her feet, picked up the abused bouquet and waved it threateningly at Ethan. "Well, someone needs to do something... say something." She looked pointedly at Ethan.

  Ethan was nearly oblivious to everything going on. He only had eyes for Michael. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" Now he looked around him and added significantly. "Privately?"

  "I don't want to talk to you," she said firmly. "Now or later. Private or not. I know why you're here and it has nothing to do with me or my baby. This is about Houston and Dee escaping. Well, you'll just have to find them on your own Marshal Stone, because I'm not interested in helping you!"

  "Michael!" Five voices, almost identical in pitch and degrees of horror, chorused her name.

  Trust her own family to turn traitor, she thought. "How did you find us?" she demanded.

  "I've already talked to your father today."

  "And he sent you here?" It was a conspiracy.

  "Yes, he sent me, but he didn't tell me what I might expect. He left it to me to find out for myself. How could you, Michael? Why didn't you tell me?"

  Her face flushed. With credible calm, she said, "I am not having this conversation in front of my family."

  He matched her tone. "Then tell me where we can talk alone."

  "I don't want to be alone with you."

  He shrugged. "Then we will discuss it now."

  "Ethan! We are in the middle of my sister's wedding!"

  Schyler's head had been turning back and forth between the combatants. She looked to Ethan now, awaiting his retort, and was disappointed when Jarret answered.

  "That reminds me," he said. He let Rennie go, slipped out the door, and closed it without another word.

  "Well, I like that," Rennie said sarcastically. She straightened her gown and rearranged her veil. "Who is that man?"

  "I've never seen him before," Michael said. "But if Ethan claims him as a friend, you'd do well to stay away."

  "He's my deputy," Ethan said, ignoring Michael's slur. "And when your mother and sisters go to the valley tomorrow, he'll be staying with you."

  Rennie blinked widely. "Staying with me? Not likely. Hollis and I will be staying at his parents' home and your deputy isn't welcome."

  Michael looked at her sister, dismayed. "Rennie, what about your honeymoon? You don't mean not to go?"

  "Of course I mean not to go," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving you alone here while those criminals are free. I might even be able to help. There's no reason you should put yourself or the baby in danger, not when I can take your place."

  "I won't have it." Michael punctuated her statement by stamping her foot. "You're not going to do anything of the sort."

  "Oh dear," Moira whispered.

  Mary Francis sought the calming influence of her rosary beads.

  Maggie and Schyler exchanged knowing glances.

  Ethan wished he could pull out his gun, fire off a few rounds, and be done with all the arguing. "You," he said sharply, pointing to Rennie, "not another word. I'm here to take care of your sister and that's what I plan to do. I've discussed it with Jay Mac and it's settled. Jarret will be looking out for you and there will be absolutely no heroics on your part."

  Michael stared at Ethan, her mouth slightly parted with surprise. "You can't speak to my sister that way," she said.

  "It seems he just did," Mary Francis said practically. She stepped away from Moira and turned on Michael. "And he's making some sense. You've not taken anything having to do with those criminals seriously. I, for one, am comforted that Mr. Stone is at least willing to look to your best interests. You've ignored Papa's warning and you've been thinking of no one but yourself since you learned of the escape."

  "Mary," Michael said imploringly, "how can you say that? I've been anything but selfish. I've tried not to interfere in Rennie's wedding plans or make any problems any part of your lives."

  "That's just it," Mary said. "We're family and you're treating us all as if we're strangers. Do you think any of us is really unconcerned simply because you wish it that way? Look at Mama, Michael. Do you think she's not worried about you? And Rennie. Rennie's prepared to take on the world on your behalf. Do you think she's underestimating the danger to you? Skye and Maggie and I have talked. We're all afraid for you, Michael, but you're so intent on going on with your life that you've failed to see how it's affecting everyone else."

  The room was silent. Michael stared at Mary, blinking back tears. She looked helplessly at her mother, then at Rennie. Maggie looked away guiltily and Skye plucked at the bouquet. Was it true? she wondered. Had they all been going through the motions of their lives because she didn't want her own disrupted?

  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, tears trickling past the corner of her eyes. She shook her head as if she still could not believe what she had done. "I'm so sorry."

  They all started to
approach her but it was Ethan who reached for her first. He hesitated, uncertain she would accept him, yet feeling that if he didn't touch her now he would surely die from wanting to. His deep whiskey voice was a mere whisper as he said her name.

  Michael turned. Her eyes held his. She had wondered for months what she would do when she saw him again. Never once, not in her day dreams or night dreams, had she willingly stepped into his outstretched arms. She did so now and it was almost as if it were happening to another person.

  Ethan's arms folded around her gently, lightly. She didn't reach for him or attempt to hold him. She didn't rest her cheek against his shoulder as she would have done in the past. Neither did she try to push him away.

  Skye slipped Ethan a handkerchief. He brushed at Michael's tears and kissed her forehead. Her hard belly pressed against his middle and he felt his child kick. His breath caught and he waited, wanting to feel it again.

  Something of what he felt, the enormity of the responsibility, the wonderment of the moment, showed on his face. Moira and Mary nodded approvingly. Schyler grinned. Maggie sighed wistfully. Only Rennie frowned. It was borne home to her that she would never share a moment like that with Hollis Banks. She couldn't imagine Hollis being so deeply or spontaneously touched. Suddenly she ached inside.

  "I'd like to take Michael to her home now," Ethan told them. He pressed the handkerchief into her hand. "I can't adequately apologize for what's happened here today... or anything that's come before it." He looked at Moira. "I love her. I want you to know that. I'm not going to let anything happen to her or anyone she loves."

  Michael felt as if she had been moving through fog and suddenly it was lifted. He spoke so convincingly of love she almost believed him. It was as if they were in the mine again. He'd felt he'd had no choice then but to say he loved her. What choice did he have now? He was facing down her mother and four sisters. He'd probably expressed similar sentiments to Jay Mac and received a pat on the back for it. "I can't leave," she said, stiffening a little. "Rennie's wedding."

  Ethan was distinctly uncomfortable. His hands fell away from Michael and the sun lines at the corners of his blue-gray eyes deepened as he winced. "About the wedding," he said slowly, avoiding looking at anyone directly. He'd have rather faced a herd of stampeding buffalo, a blizzard in the Sierras, or Nathanial Houston with his gun drawn, than have to explain what Jarret was most likely doing. "You see, I had a conversation with Jay Mac today," he began again, "and he expressed some doubts about the impending marriage."

  "Ethan," Michael said, "what's going on? What have you done?"

  "I haven't done anything," he said. "But Jarret, well, I think he's gone off to strike a deal with Hollis Banks. I doubt there's going to be a wedding."

  Everyone started talking at once. Loudly.

  Ethan listened as long as he could stand it then he jammed on his hat, opened the door to the chapel, picked up Michael, and strode out with her in his arms. No one tried to stop him.

  "You won my mother over in there," Michael told him. "My sisters are, to varying degrees, appalled by and enamored of your behavior. If Rennie commits murder it will be completely justified and I will hold you responsible."

  Ethan grinned. He gave her a little bounce in his arms to distribute her weight better. "You could put your arms around my neck," he told her.

  He glanced down at her when she merely snorted. She wasn't helping him in the least. Her arms were defiantly folded in front of her and she had that familiar stubborn and mutinous set to her mouth. God, how he wanted to kiss that mouth!

  Jogging lightly down the stone steps of the chapel, Ethan caught the hansom driver's attention. The hack jumped down from his perch and opened the door to the cab. The man had a generous smile and it widened fully as he tipped his hat to Ethan. "Seems like I just got you to the church on time." The hack's eyes dropped to Michael's burgeoning belly and his smile faltered. "Then again, maybe not."

  A small horrified gasp escaped Michael's lips. She wriggled in Ethan's arms, hoping to get him to set her down. He did, but it was only to get her inside the hansom. She climbed in, spurning his help or that of the driver, and sat in the corner of the closed carriage. She heard Ethan thank the driver for waiting and give him the St. Mark Hotel as their destination. Then he stepped inside. At least he was wise enough to take the leather bench seat opposite her.

  A hundred questions occurred to her. She stared out the window rather than ask even one.

  "Your father told me you were living at the St. Mark," he said. "From the way he said it, I gather your living quarters weren't quite so nice in the past. Did Logan Marshall give you a raise when you returned?" His question was met with silence. "I can't imagine Jay Mac would have approved of you living anywhere that wasn't reasonably comfortable. He probably offered to support you in the past." She turned her head long enough to glare at him and then went back to looking out the window. "But you'd never accept anything from your father, would you?"

  "You don't know anything about it."

  "I think I do," he said quietly. "Jay Mac said you'd cut off your right hand rather than ask him for anything. But I also saw how he likes to wield his influence and control. He offered ten thousand dollars to stop your sister's wedding. I imagine that's the sort of thing your father's been doing for years."

  She didn't say anything for a moment, but pressed her forehead to the cool pane of glass. The colorful parade of pedestrians on the boulevard blurred as she blinked back tears. Impatient with herself, she swiped at her eyes. "All my life," she said. She shook her head slowly, sadly. "How could Jay Mac do that to Rennie?"

  "He was afraid your sister was making the biggest mistake of her life."

  "Other people would have the right to learn from their mistakes," she said bitterly. "Jay Mac's daughters have to fight for the right." Her laughter was short and humorless. "When he found out I wanted to be a reporter he used his influence to get me a position at the Herald. I told him I wouldn't work at the Herald if they made me city editor. I got the job on the Chronicle on my own." She paused, then added quietly. "At least I think I did. When Jay Mac's your father it's difficult to know what you've earned and when the deal's been cut behind your back."

  "It's because he loves you."

  She nodded. "That's part of it. But he also feels guilty. Five bastard daughters is quite a burden, even for a man of Jay Mac's wealth and influence. It's his conscience he's trying to appease." Michael looked at Ethan now. "Rennie won't thank him for what he's done. It doesn't matter that he was right about her making a mistake. I thought so, too. We all did. But we respected her enough to allow her to go through with it."

  "You were trying to talk her out of the marriage when I got there."

  "Of course," she said simply. "But it's not that same as offering a... a reward for stopping it. Only Jay Mac would be that outrageous. Rennie has a mind of her own. She should be allowed to use it."

  "Like you."

  Michael shrugged and turned away again. "Like me."

  "Why did you never tell me Rennie was your twin?"

  One of Michael's hands absently stroked her distended belly. "In the beginning... I don't know... habit perhaps. Rennie and I liked to see people's astonishment when they saw us together for the first time. It was always our natural inclination to avoid telling people about the other one. Later, as I came to know you better, I couldn't tell you."

  "Couldn't?"

  Her hand stopped moving across her abdomen. "Couldn't," she repeated. "I wanted too badly to be unique in your eyes." The moment the words were out she knew she had said too much. Without sparing Ethan a glance to gauge his reaction, Michael's beautiful mouth flattened and the faint worry line appeared between her brows. The subject was closed as far as she was concerned.

  Ethan was not of a similar mind. "There's no one else like you, Michael. There couldn't be. Not even Rennie." He paused and added softly. "Not to me." He watched, waiting for some response, but there was nothing. It wasn'
t so much that she was ignoring him, but that she was telling him what he had to say was unimportant to her. Sighing, Ethan looked away himself and stared out the window.

  The St. Mark Hotel was an impressive white marble residence on Broadway. Although the management was careful to call their clientele guests, never tenants, and treat them accordingly, fully two-thirds of the occupants maintained a permanent address there. It was a prestigious location, known for its gracious living quarters and the family atmosphere. There were reading and dining rooms open to the public but the St. Mark also reserved private areas for guests only.

  Ethan didn't need to see his rumpled reflection in the glass entrance to know he was out of place. The furtive glances of the other guests assured him that he was. Crossing the wide lobby with its polished mahogany paneling and crystal chandeliers, Ethan followed Michael to the registry desk. She asked for the key to her room then looked at Ethan expectantly. He didn't understand what it was she wanted him to do.

  "You have to register for your room," she said.

  He started to tell her he had every intention of staying with her, then thought better of it. It was not the sort of discussion they could have in the lobby of the St. Mark. He signed for his suite, one floor above Michael's, and asked the manager to have his bags brought to the hotel from the train station. He turned to go but Michael didn't follow suit. "What is it now?" he asked impatiently when she continued to stare at him.

  "Your gun," she whispered. "You should check it here."

  "Like hell."

  Michael turned to the harried manager. "It's all right, Mr. Denton. He's a marshal."

  "A Marshall?" His nervous smiled eased somewhat. "Oh, well, that's different, I suppose. The St. Mark has a certain affection for the Marshalls since one of them actually designed this hotel. Perhaps we can accommodate..." His voice trailed off as Ethan slipped his arm through Michael's and began to lead her toward the staircase.

  They climbed the staircase in silence until Michael stopped on the landing of the third floor. "My suite's down this hallway."