Rags to Rubies (8 page)

In comparison, Jared should have frightened her with his dark, foreboding countenance and serious nature, but somehow she felt reassuringly safe with him.

Maybe she’d talk to Jane. The poor woman had been through it all, and right now Grace didn’t have much confidence in her own intuition.

****

Jared gazed down at the mossy greenhouse from the top of the stone steps at the back of Grace’s house. She hadn’t answered his knock at the front door, so he thought he’d try the back door. The glass in the greenhouse was misted over from a surprisingly warm morning, though the chilly evening had brought a light frost to the area. He could make out Grace’s form through the fogged glass as she tended the plants. His eyes narrowed, picturing every detail—her startling blue eyes glinting in the sunlight, her unruly hair escaping from its clasp to frame her face, her supple body, lithe and youthful.

He’d had no idea the one kiss they had shared would arouse such an insatiable hunger. She was attractive but certainly not as attractive as countless other females he had been with over the years. Was it her vulnerability, her innocence? Thoughts of her were deeply pleasurable in a way he couldn’t explain.

Finding Quigley’s body had changed everything. Jared’s chest tightened with the premonition of danger. He tried to decide how to handle Grace in light of the new developments. He had considered all the possibilities as he drove to her home.

She had to go away with him, get away from Chicago, maybe go to his home in New York for a while, but she was independent and headstrong. Not accustomed to anyone caring for her. She’d be safe at Ravenhall until he could figure this out.

And she was holding something back. Afraid of him in some way. What could he say to convince her? Her life was in danger, and until he knew why, she would just have to accept his protection. Yet this need to protect her fought with his need to possess her.

He descended the steps. She’d go if he had to carry her.

****

A large shadow flowed over her. “Nerts!” Grace complained. The sun had retreated behind the clouds again. She’d been hoping for a few more sunny days for the annuals before the winter chill set in. Soon she would have to clean up the yard, stow away her terra cotta pots, and shut the greenhouse down for winter.

Then the shadow moved in an odd, jerky way. When Grace glanced over her shoulder, Jared was descending the stone steps. “Oh, Lord! Do you always sneak up on a person like that?” Jared’s face was grim, his lips in a straight line. She took in his working class clothes, tweed wool jacket, suspenders, and scuffed boots.

“What is it, Jared?” She searched his face for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

He drew in a tight breath. “Grace, I want you to accompany me to New York tomorrow.”

“You must be joking,” Grace said incredulously. She plopped down on a wooden bench nearby and studied the hard-set features of his expression.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” And why was he dressed in those clothes?

“I’m afraid you’re in danger,” he said. She saw a muscle in his jaw tighten.

In the doorway, with the sun behind him, all his edges seemed fuzzy. He didn’t seem as harsh, as pirate-like. Oh, he was formidable. She knew why men had followed him into battle. He wielded authority, but this wasn’t the battlefield, and she would run her own life. And cavorting off to New York wasn’t an option, even though the thought of it left her with the same exquisite feeling his kisses did.

Shoving the trowel into a basket, she allowed her irritation to show. “In danger of what? A pickpocket? Really, Jared, don’t be silly. The Betrothal Gems are safe in the vault at work. I can’t just go off without a by-your-leave. What about my job? What about Zia Bruna? Just because you think I need protecting...”

Suddenly Jared moved, advancing on her like a large feral beast, and she was the prey. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She sensed the power in the coiled tension just below the surface. He was in control, but just barely. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The temperature in the greenhouse went up a few degrees. His spicy scent wafted over her as she waited for the explosion.

Chapter Ten

“You must, Grace,” Jared said as he brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek. Touching her had been a huge mistake.

“I don’t have to do anything of the sort,” Grace began as he pulled her into his arms. Now wasn’t the time to kiss her, but he did, one hand sliding into her hair while the other pressed her against his lower body.

Grace hesitated for a moment, a moment that seemed like forever to him, and then she entwined her arms around his neck, winding her fingers in his hair and giving herself up to the kiss.

“You little fool,” he murmured raining hot tiny kisses down her throat. “You’re not safe here. Why are you fighting me on this?”

Grace emitted a tiny sigh and melted against him. With her sweet surrender, feverish sensations swept through him like a tide, sensations that were just barely controllable.

As Jared moved his lips over hers, Grace ran her hands over his shirt, down his arms, then around to his back, leaning in, crushing her soft breasts against his chest. The heat that followed her fingertips felt like a branding iron. His whole body reacted with a surge of passion.

Another soft moan escaped her lips as she parted them. He murmured her name as his tongue explored deeper into her mouth. He couldn’t seem to get enough, couldn’t pull her close enough. With alarming clarity, he knew he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, knowing she couldn’t have answered him even if she wanted to, for he couldn’t seem to let go of her lips as he probed more deeply.

The kiss was an epiphany. Every cell in his body awoke suddenly from a deep sleep. Many years had passed since he’d felt these heated feelings, but those memories were pale in comparison to the volcanic tremors coursing through his body now.

He was a starving man presented with a sweet ripe peach. One bite would never be enough, so he drew back and looked into Grace’s glazed eyes. He saw desire there and ran his thumb tenderly along her lower lip, plump and dewy wet from his eager tongue. His hand trembled slightly.

Drawing her back to the weathered bench, he tugged her onto his lap and slanted his mouth over hers while running his fingers over her soft cotton blouse in search of a brassiere clasp. Momentarily stunned at the absence of undergarments and then pleased, he smiled into the dark, wispy curls at her temple. “You’re so soft and smooth. Smooth as satin.” His breathing sounded ragged and shallow even to his own ears, his heartbeat throbbing in his groin.

Pulling back, he looked at her face. Her eyes were closed now, the thick dark lashes forming semicircles on her flushed cheeks, her passionate response was all he needed. “You’re beautiful, Grace, exquisite.”

“Oh,
Jared
,” Grace’s eyes fluttered open. She cupped his face. “I feel beautiful with you.”

Desire cut through him so intensely it was now a physical pain. “I want you, Grace,” Jared uttered hoarsely. “I want to take you to bed.”

But the choice was not to be his.

The words he spoke had a paralyzing effect on the woman he held. Grace stiffened in his arms. She didn’t pull away, still in the ebbing throes of passion, but everything had changed.

Grace looked down at her wrinkled blouse and blushed. She stood up shakily. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m the one who should be saying that,” Jared said quietly as he rose to his feet and looked down at her.

Grace knew she should have been shocked by both their actions, but she wasn’t—she only wanted to know what came next, what followed these urgent tremors that threatened to bring her to her knees. She hadn’t been able to resist. She hadn’t been able to move. A shiver ran through her, then another and another. She ached and throbbed in private, hidden places.

“You feel the same,” Jared said, “I can tell. You want me just as much as I want you.”

“Yes,” Grace said simply; the intense emotion had exhausted her. She wanted him. Wanted this. Wanted to know everything she feared she might never have a chance to know. But how could she tell him she was afraid to give herself to him? How could she be sure this time?

Unbelievably, it felt right. He felt right. Yet she wanted,
needed
, a guarantee against the pain. Grace stepped out of the greenhouse into the sunlight.

Jared took a step toward her. “Let me explain.”

She held up a hand and stepped back.

“You must come with me, Grace.”

“Why?” she asked, gaining a modicum of control.

“You’re in danger. You must accept my protection,” he said very evenly.

“I barely know you,” Grace admitted.

Impatience flitted across his features. She realized he wasn’t used to being disputed.

“If you knew me better, you’d also know I seldom concern myself with other people’s problems. The fact that I’m involved at all is testimony that I consider this serious.”

“I don’t believe you,” Grace whispered, remembering his heated embrace.

Jared raked his fingers through his hair. He turned away, and then he turned back to face her. Apparently he hadn’t wanted to tell her what he was about to say.

“I found the shadow—a petty thief. You were right, but he took his orders from someone else. You have an enemy, Grace, whether or not you want to believe it.”

Incredible as it sounded, Jared’s resolve began to convince her. “I won’t be run off like a scared little rabbit. This is my home.” She struggled to maintain some composure. “How did you find the thief?”

“Sallie’s men staked out your house and caught him trying to get in the back door. They brought him to me, and I questioned him.” Looking down at his shoes, he added, “During a scuffle, he managed to escape.”

She remembered the noise she’d heard at the back door last night. Clearing her throat, she said, “The Betrothal Gems are safe at work. I felt it necessary to return the jewels to protect them, and tomorrow morning I will send them back to the owner by insured courier, as usual. My sketches and report will follow.” She straightened her shoulders. “I also had my locks changed.”

“I don’t think he wanted the gems. He wasn’t sophisticated enough to crack your safe.”

“What then? You don’t think he was...going to hurt me?”

Jared murmured, “The poor bastard wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“What did you say?”

He coughed. “No, I don’t think so, but I don’t know yet why he tried to break and enter. And that’s why you must come with me.”

“Bunk,” she said. She wanted to argue the point, then stopped and mulled it over for a few seconds. If Jared was correct, it would end up being Zia Bruna’s problem, too. Perhaps it had something to do with her father or someone using her to rob Leo Hollister. There were others to think of besides herself.

“How about a compromise?” she proposed. “I’ll stay with my aunt for a few days while we figure this out.”

Jared’s brows came together as he considered her idea. “Sallie’s men could watch your aunt’s house...” His voice trailed away as he sorted through the possibilities. “Do you agree to spend all your free time under my watchful eye?”

“Do you usually get your way?” she asked.

“Yes,” he stated simply, over his shoulder as he closed the greenhouse door.

Grace sighed. There was no sense arguing with a force of nature.

Chapter Eleven

“I’ll dry the lavender, Zia, and sew up some herb sachets for your dresser drawers.” Grace wheeled her aunt’s chair from the kitchen into the morning room that overlooked a tiny manicured lawn and garden. She handed the old woman a sprig of lavender to hold.

For six days now, she’d been sleeping at Zia Bruna’s. Halloween pumpkins shriveled on her porch, and they were no closer to figuring out why someone had followed her and ended up paying with his life.

Fragrant herbs overflowed from terra cotta pots lining the marble sills of the morning room. Beams of sunlight warmed the room, but soon the colorful autumn hues would turn to winter white as mountains of lake-effect snow buried the grime of the city’s streets.

“Next year I’ll plant more perennials for you, and spring bulbs, too.” Creating the garden for Zia Bruna had been a labor of love, the least she could do for her only living relative. When Grace’s father had taken to the bottle after her mother’s death, Bruna had cared for her dead sister’s child. Now, Grace simply returned the favor, but not out of obligation. “I need to rake the last of the leaves and put them in the compost pile,” Grace mused, “and maybe the pumpkin we carved with Patty. We’ll have a great Victory Garden next year.”

The old woman sighed. She sniffed the sprig of lavender and looked longingly out the window. “You do a good job,
cara mia
.” A solemn mood hung in the ensuing silence. Bruna could walk, but Grace wanted her to save her strength. Though Zia fought her illness with a vengeance, it was a battle she would not win. Consumption, the doctors had explained. Grace took solace in the fact that they had consulted with the best physicians Chicago had to offer.

She ran her hand over her aunt’s soft white hair as she stood behind her and gazed out the window. Picking up a brush, she began to separate the long hair into sections for braids and wondered absently how many times she had performed this simple task for her aunt.

“He’sa good-looking, Graciella,” Bruna said unexpectedly and clearly. She could speak English well enough, having lived in the States since Grace was young, but her words were usually interspersed with her native tongue. Half and half. Grace had grown up with the strange combination, and it made perfect sense to her.

“I guess so.” She began to braid the silver strands.

Soon Grace had wound the thick braids on the top of Bruna’s head and secured them with bobby pins. Bruna patted the cushion of the couch next to the wheel chair. “Sit,
uno momento
.”

Grace sat obediently. She had known it would be only a matter of time before Bruna broached the subject of her new friend.