Yesterday's Roses (41 page)

In sin did thy mother conceive thee! He that hath suffered in the flesh hath ceased from sin!

Marius's body still bore the scars from his uncle's whip. When he was seventeen, he killed the preacher and escaped back to New York. It was then that he took an interest in seeking vengeance against the mighty Parrish family, intent on making them suffer as he'd suffered. Especially Jake, the favored son.

“Fine,” Jake snorted. “You think you have reason to hate me.” He was now close enough to the gun for his fingers to graze the handle. “But what reason did you have to kill Serena and Arabella?” His hand brushed against the pistol again, this time it moved, making a loud scraping sound against the wood floor.

That noise was enough to draw Marius's attention. With a bellow of fury, he pulled the trigger of his gun. The crash of the explosion reverberated through the sanctuary, it's deafening roar almost drowning out Jake's cry of pain.

“Jake!” Hallie screamed as she felt her husband's body jerk with the impact of the bullet.

As quick as the lash from a whip, Marius grabbed Jake's gun. Before Hallie could react, she was pulled up against the preacher's body, where he held her immobile, the barrel of Jake's pistol pressed against her temple.

“Damn it, Marius!” Jake shouted, clutching at his wounded shoulder as he struggled to his knees. Luckily, the bullet had merely grazed the upper part of his shoulder. “This is between you and me. Hallie isn't a part of this. Let her go.”

“But she's part of you. As were your parents, as was Serena.” The preacher cocked his head to one side, his finger tapping spasmodically on the trigger of the pistol. “Killing you outright was never my intention. That would have been too easy. I wanted to make you suffer first. I wanted to rob you of your friends and family, and then strip you of your honor. I started my vengeance by killing your parents … my father.”

Jake felt as if someone had stabbed him in his belly and was turning the blade with agonizing slowness. His sweet mother and jovial father had been killed because of Marius's misguided sense of vengeance.

“I used dynamite to start the fire, just like I used it on the Mission House. Hallie was supposed to die in the flames.” Marius looked down at the woman in his arms and shook his head regretfully. “I hated the idea of killing you, my dear. I actually felt real fondness for you. But you'd had the poor judgment to become enamored with Jake and he with you, so you had to die. I even hit you over the head to ensure that you wouldn't escape. I hadn't counted on your lover's heroics.”

“You could have killed everyone in the house!” Hallie gasped.

“Whores.” He shrugged dismissively.

“Like the two women you beat and left for dead?” Jake asked, trying to buy time while his mind scrambled for a plan. He had to get that pistol away from Marius. He knew the weapon to have a hair trigger, and it was only a matter of time before the preacher's habit of tapping his finger would discharge it.

Marius smiled coldly. “Cissy was a fool. She didn't know how to satisfy my, shall we say, unique sexual tastes, and therefore she was punished. As for the other woman, she recognized my voice and tried to blackmail me. The greedy bitch said she would tell everyone about my predilection for red silk gloves … and other things, if I didn't pay her off. Her, I meant to kill.”

“Red gloves? Like the ones found on Arabella and Serena's hands?” Jake narrowed his eyes as he studied Marius's stance. Perhaps he could throw the man off balance and wrest Hallie away. Then he discarded the idea. Marius's finger was too tautly flexed on the gun's trigger to risk it.

“Ah, yes. Sweet Arabella. Now she knew how to satisfy a man.” Marius closed his eyes for a moment, remembering how wonderfully deft she had been with a switch. “But, of course, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

Hallie drew in her breath sharply at his words.

“It's true, my dear.” The preacher nodded. “Your husband never did anything more provocative with Arabella than dance. She was helping him learn to dance on that gimp leg of his. He wanted to surprise you.”

Hallie's heart surged with tenderness at the revelation and, despite the gravity of their situation, she smiled at Jake. Silently, she mouthed the words, “I love you.”

Jake nodded, one corner of his mouth curling up at her soundless proclamation.
He loved her, too—too much to let her die at Marius's hands.

“So sad about Arabella.” The preacher sighed as he shifted his attention back to Jake. “But don't you see? I had to kill her. Everyone knew that you were visiting her, and it was assumed that the two of you were having … relations. I was presented with the perfect opportunity to bring you down. I tried to make it look like you'd had a lovers' quarrel and that you'd killed her. You would have hung for sure. How I relished the thought of the high and mighty Parrish heir coming to such an ignoble end!”

He tightened his grip on Hallie with a nasty laugh. “Do you want to know what brought me the most pleasure in all of this?”

When Marius received no reply, he laughed again. “Planting a child in Serena's belly. In one of her drug-induced states, she confessed how she'd been preventing the conception of your child. I knew you'd believe that your seed was fruitless when you found her pregnant by another man, and I exalted in your humiliation.”

“Damn you to hell, DeYoung!” Jake expelled, his hands curling into fists. If it hadn't been for the gun pressed against Hallie's temple, he'd have killed the man with his bare hands. “I assume it was you who introduced Serena to opium?”

“And morphine as well,” chuckled Marius. “I used to make her perform like the lowest of whores to earn her drugs. She became quite adept at satisfying my special needs.”

Jake noted then, that in his preoccupation, Marius had let the barrel of the gun slip away from Hallie's head.

“You killed Serena,” Jake stated with deadly calm. His muscles tensed as he prepared to spring.

“I destroyed Serena's mind and, yes, then I killed her.

In her half-witted state, she'd become dangerous. She talked too freely. Now you're going to watch while I kill Hallie.”

With a feral growl, Jake lunged forward, hurling himself against Hallie, Just as she was thrown to the floor, the report of a gun roared through the sanctuary.

“Jake!” Hallie screamed, as a spray of gore splattered everywhere. In one frantic motion, she rolled onto her back, only to find Marius looming over her. She stared up at him for a second, too horrified to move. Then something deep inside of her snapped, and she began to scream uncontrollably.

Torrents of crimson blood streamed over bone fragments of gleaming white, springing like a fountainhead from the gaping wound in the center of the preacher's forehead. His mouth, drawn into a twisted smile, was opening and closing as if he was trying to speak. For a long moment, his wrathful gaze bore into hers. Then his eyes rolled up, and there was a hideous
thump! thump!
as his body tumbled backward down the altar stairs.

“Hush, sweetheart,” Jake whispered, pulling her into his arms. He winced violently at the pain from his wounded shoulder, but no amount of pain was going to make him release his Hallie.

Hugging his wife protectively, Jake focused his attention on the tattered-looking man standing at the bottom of the stairs. For a moment, the man seemed frozen in place. Then he shifted his grief-filled gaze from the corpse at his feet and stared back at Jake. Neither man spoke.

Serena's eyes
, Jake thought, noting the intense cerulean hue of the man's eyes. Poor Serena. She had been an instrument of Marius's vengeance, a victim to be pitied and forgiven. And in his heart, he did forgive her.

Slowly Jake nodded his thanks to Serena's father. “We owe you our lives, King.”

“All these months of hating you … watching and waiting for the opportunity to avenge my daughter's death. I followed you here to kill you. And now …” with a sob, Cyrus dropped his spent pistol and buried his face in his hands. “Dear God! I almost killed an innocent man.”

“That's all in the past now,” Jake said. “It's over.”

Cyrus took out a grubby cloth and wiped his eyes. “Yes. Over,” he repeated, giving his head a rueful shake. “When I think of how I've wasted the last few years … hating you … making Serena hate you as well.” He let his gaze drift to the preacher's body. “Perhaps if I hadn't poisoned her against you, she wouldn't have fallen prey to DeYoung's evil. Perhaps—”

“Perhaps,” Jake interjected gently, “it's time to start your life anew. I have.” He nodded meaningfully down at Hallie, who was busy frowning at his wounded shoulder.

“But how? My whole purpose in life was to take care of Serena. After she died, that purpose shifted to killing you. There's nothing left for me.” “There's your granddaughter. She's very like Serena.” “Yes. I've seen her.” Cyrus's eyes took on a faraway look. “She's beautiful. How I've longed to dandle her on my knee.” “Then why don't you?” Cyrus's mouth dropped open. “You'd let me?” “Ariel is quite the little glutton when it comes to attention.” Jake chuckled. “I'm sure she'd love having a doting grandfather. And if you'll let me, I'd like to help you start your life over again. I think we owe it to Serena's memory, and to your granddaughter—
ouch
!”

Hallie momentarily ceased prodding at her husband's wound to meet his resentful stare. “I know it hurts, darling,” she scolded in her no-nonsense doctor's voice. “But the wound is nasty and it needs tending. It should be cleaned and stit—”

But before she could finish uttering the dreaded word, Jake clamped his lips over hers and kissed her, effectively banishing all thoughts of medicine from her mind.

Epilogue

“I'm going to miss her.” Hallie nodded toward Penelope, who stood surrounded by a bevy of admirers. As she had predicted, Madame de Sonennes had been enchanted by the girl and had given her the ingénue's role in
Gold Rush Nell.
The theatrical troupe was leaving San Francisco at the end of the week, and a ball was being held in Penelope's honor.

“It seems as if you're not alone in that sentiment,” Seth replied, staring moodily at Jake's little sister. “The girl's leaving half the pups in San Francisco brokenhearted.”

“And how's your heart doing?” Hallie inquired gently. She hadn't missed the way Seth had taken to lingering around the Parrish house, anxiously trying to catch a glimpse of Penelope, nor had she failed to note the way his face lit up when the girl finally appeared.

Her observation startled Seth's gaze away from Penelope. Grinning sheepishly, he asked, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to those who care to notice.” She laughed, giving his arm a gentle pinch. “Have you told her of your feelings yet?”

“No. It wouldn't be fair to burden her so, especially since she's leaving in a few days.” He paused to scowl at a youth who had seized the laughing Penelope's hand and was playfully kissing her palm. It took all his willpower not to grab the young fool by the scruff of his neck and drag him outside to teach him a much-needed lesson in manners.

When had he become so possessive toward Jake's sister?
he wondered. For the first time in his life, Seth Tyler felt jealousy over a woman, and he didn't like the feeling one bit.

“I'll speak to her when she returns home,” he promised, more to himself than to Hallie.

If she returns home,
Hallie added silently. If Madame Sonennes could be believed, Penelope had a bright future on the stage. Depending on the success of her first tour, it could be months, or even years, before the girl returned to San Francisco.

Seth and Hallie stood in companionable silence for a few minutes watching the colorful swirl of dancers glide by, both deep in thought. He, wondering if Penelope's lips tasted as sweet as they looked; she, looking forward to sitting at Jake's feet while he gently brushed her hair; both beginning to feel the fatigue from the long evening. It was past midnight, and thankfully the ball was drawing to an end.

“Wonderful party, my dear,” boomed Davinia, moving to stand between Hallie and Seth. Looping her arms through theirs, she nodded at Penelope. “Going to miss that girl. She's become quite popular at the Mission House, you know.” She slanted a knowing look up at Seth. “Bet I'm not the only one who's going to miss her, eh, Seth?”

Seth groaned. “Is there anyone who hasn't noticed?”

Davinia screwed up her face in an expression of fierce concentration as she considered the question. “Well. I doubt if old Elias Winthrop has noticed. Of course, he is blind and deaf.”

Seth groaned again as he flushed a brilliant shade of crimson. Focusing his gaze on the floor, he mumbled something about needing a drink and wandered off in the general direction of the buffet table.

“Good-looking fellow, that Seth,” mused Davinia, letting her gaze slide down Seth's retreating back to stare at his hindquarters. Damn those tailcoats anyways! They concealed far too much of a man's finest physical attribute.

Sighing her disappointment, Davinia turned her attention back to Hallie. “Not as handsome as that husband of yours, mind you, but then, it wouldn't be fair to compare any man with him.”

Hallie glanced at Jake, who was talking to several of his business associates on the other side of the room. Davinia was right, he was impossibly handsome. So much so that she often felt drab in comparison—rather like a peahen next to a peacock.

Yes. But he's my peacock,
she told herself, grinning wickedly as she eyed his expensive suit. And she was looking forward to plucking those fine feathers off his magnificent body!

As if he had sensed his wife's naughty thoughts, Jake looked up. For a moment, their eyes met, his smoldering gaze full of sensual promise. Very slowly, his lips curved into a smile, and even across the distance she could feel the impact of his magnetism.

What he did to her! Her heart was turning crazy flip-flops in her chest, and just looking at him filled her mind full of unladylike notions. Hallie snapped open her fan and began to fan herself frantically. Had the room suddenly grown warm?

Hope no one lights a match.
Davinia chuckled to herself. Not with the way the sparks were flying between the Parrishes. There was enough heat in their gazes to catch a flame and burn the house to a cinder.

Clearing her throat to draw Hallie's attention, Davinia commented, “The new preacher for the Ascension Tabernacle is supposed to arrive next week. Bringing a wife and nine children with him. Solid sort of man.”

“Um … yes.” Hallie reluctantly drew her gaze away from her husband to glance at Davinia. “Uh—I hear his background is impeccable. He spent seven years …”

But her friend no longer appeared interested in discussing the new preacher. She was staring at something across the room, her eyes bulging slightly beneath her glasses, her expression dreamy. Curiously, Hallie followed her gaze. One of the gentlemen had bent over to retrieve a lady's glove, thus presenting a good view of his well-rounded, wool-clad buttocks.

“Durn fine backside,” Davinia mumbled to herself. From the posterior view, the man reminded her of her dear departed husband, John. How she missed him!

As the man straightened up, and presented the woman with her glove, Hallie saw that it was Cyrus King. “You remember Serena's father, don't you?” she asked, grinning at her friend's besotted expression.

“That's Cyrus King?” exclaimed Davinia so loudly that several people turned to stare. “Hell and damnation! I never would've guessed that the man would clean up so well.”

Hallie nodded her agreement. “He's working for Jake now. Jake says he's got a wonderful head for the shipping business.” Neatly dressed in evening attire, Cyrus did look quite distinguished.

“If you don't mind, I think I'll go reacquaint myself with Mr. King.”

And as Davinia moved toward Cyrus, who was standing awkwardly against the far wall, Hallie could have sworn she heard her friend mumble something about being able to judge the nobility of a man's character by the shape of his backside.

Perhaps there is some truth to that
, she thought wickedly. After all, Jake
did
have a particularly nice backside and his character
was
noble. Smiling to herself, Hallie looked back to where her husband had been standing.

He was gone. She scanned the crowds, looking for him, but he was nowhere in sight. The orchestra was beginning to play the last dance of the evening, a waltz, and Hallie sighed when she heard the selection.

“Invitation to the Dance.”

“Mrs. Parrish?” It was Teddy Carruthers. “May I have this dance?”

Hallie nodded and presented him with her hand.

“Excuse me.” Jake sketched an elegant bow and took his wife's hand from Teddy's. “I believe this last dance is mine.”

Teddy bowed and moved away, smiling.

“Are you sure, darling?” Hallie whispered, anxiously staring up into her husband's handsome face.

“Never surer,” he replied, leading her out to the dance floor. As he placed one hand on his wife's waist and then took her hand in his other one, Jake forced himself to take a deep breath. It was now or never.

His first steps were stiff, self-conscious, and to his frustration, he stumbled twice. Then he felt Hallie give his hand a reassuring squeeze. Reluctantly, he forced his gaze away from his feet to look into her eyes. She was looking at him with such pride, such admiration, that his self-consciousness melted away.

“You're doing wonderfully,” she said, bringing the hand holding hers up to her lips and kissing it. True, he wasn't the most graceful partner she'd ever had. Yet she couldn't remember ever enjoying a dance quite as much as she was enjoying this one. She gladly would have waltzed with her Jake forever.

Relaxed now, and moving automatically to the music, Jake whispered, “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Only about a hundred times.”

“Then consider this one hundred and one,” he murmured, drawing her nearer.

Hallie slanted him a seductive look from beneath her lashes. “You're holding me much too close, Mr. Parrish,” she purred. “We must look terribly scandalous.”

“Not nearly as scandalous as we'll look when I get you alone.” Jake missed a couple of steps as he gave her a kiss, the pause almost sending the following dancers hurling into them.

“Wicked man!” Hallie giggled, returning his kiss fervently.

“I've got to get in my wickedness while I can.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“Well. Between your medical practice and the managing of your mines, I doubt if you'll have much time left for me.”

“My mines?” Hallie stopped in midstep. “You got my mines for me?”

He nodded.

With a squeal of delight, she threw herself into his arms and proceeded to cover his face with kisses. “I do love you, Mr. Parrish!”

“Something which can't be said for your father.” He laughed, tossing the couples behind them an apologetic look. Their abrupt stop had sent several of the dancers colliding into one another, leaving one couple lying in a tangled heap of petticoats and dark coattails. “He and his solicitor put up quite a fight.”

“I don't doubt it.” Giggling, Hallie fell into step as he resumed dancing. “I can't imagine how he'll be able to support all his mistresses without the profits from the mines.”

“I guess he'll have to settle for just one. I could tell him from experience that it's wonderfully satisfying to devote oneself to one very special woman.”

“And this particular woman will always have time for your wickedness, mines or no mines,” she whispered, warmed by the sincerity of his words.

In silence, they took several more turns around the room, each contemplating their good fortune in finding the other.

“What?” Jake laughed, seeing Hallie studying him intently.

“Oh. I was just wondering something.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes,” she murmured, furrowing her brow in mock puzzlement. “I was wondering if the baby I'm carrying will be a boy to inherit his father's pretty face, or a girl to inherit Sinclair Mines.”

That stopped Jake in his tracks, and for the first time in his life, he was struck speechless.

“You mean …?” He finally managed to croak. His voice drifted off as he stepped back and stared at his wife's still trim waistline, oblivious to the fact that they had again caused chaos among the other dancers.

“I mean you're going to be a papa.”

“A-are you s-sure?”

“I'm a doctor, aren't I?”

Jake let out a loud whoop as he drew Hallie into his arms. Spinning her around he shouted, “We're going to have a baby!”

All around them, there were cheers and applause.

“When?” he whispered, hugging her close.

“December. Around Christmas, I think.”

A Christmas baby. The child from his loins.

Jake threw back his head, howling his victory. And like yesterday's roses, the last of his doubts withered and crumbled, blowing away like petals on the autumn wind.

She had given him her love, and now their child.
With a sob, Jake lifted his wife into his arms, cradling her close. As his lips claimed hers, contentment such as he had never known before bloomed in his heart, unfurling like the eternal, life-affirming buds of spring.

His Hallie had given him the most precious gifts of all.

The Young Midas's touch was truly golden at last.