Yesterday's Roses (39 page)

Every fiber of his body was alive with pleasure and his blood pounded in his head. Mindlessly, he was caught up in the whirling vortex of his all-consuming passion.

And his cries resounded through the room, cries of victory as he conquered the last of his crippling demons.

Jake groaned one last time as he collapsed against the mattress. Spent, he surrendered to his delicious lethargy.

“Hallie?” Drowsily, he opened one eye to watch as she cleansed him of his spilled seed. “I never thought I'd be able to bear being pleasured like that again. But I liked the way it felt when you did it to me.”

“And I liked doing it to you.”

“I'll never be able to look at this bed again without thinking about how good you made me feel. Thank you.”

Hallie set aside the towel and stared down at the magnificent man stretched before her. As impossible as it seemed, he had grown even handsomer during the months they'd been married. She reached down and rubbed her hand against his sculpted chest. He smiled and drew her into his arms.

Contentedly, she curled up next to him.

“I was born in this bed, as was my mother,” Jake explained, coiling one of Hallie's bright curls around his finger. “This furniture is one of the few things I have left to remember her by. She gave it to me when I came to California, saying that I'd need a proper bed if I found a bride out here. Most of our keepsakes were destroyed when our New York house burned.” His voice caught. “It was the same fire that killed my parents.”

Hallie's heart went out to him. She knew how wrenching it was to lose everything, and she said as much.

“Poor Mission Lady,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “You truly did lose all your keepsakes. At least I still have my mother's furniture and my father's watch.”

“The musical watch?”

“Yes.” With a contented smile, Jake rested his cheek against his wife's hair. “On my parents' wedding trip to Vienna, they became enamored of the waltzing gardens. They claimed they spent every evening dancing beneath the stars. Their favorite waltz was “Invitation to the Dance.” So for their first anniversary, my mother commissioned a watch that played the tune. She said that every time my father opened the case, he would be reminded that he was on her mind.”

“They must have been very much in love,” Hallie whispered, glancing up at her husband's handsome face. By his expression she could see that his thoughts were a million miles away.

“Yes. My parents had a very happy marriage. My father would open the watch case and dance my mother around the room to the melody. As I got older, I remember hoping that someday I too would find such joy with a woman.” He looked down into Hallie's upturned face. “This time, I think I've succeeded.”

“We'll find our joy together,” she declared, lightly kissing his lips.

His expression grew tender as he returned her kiss. “And what about you, sweetheart? Surely you have some happy memories?”

She glanced away from his loving gaze with a shrug. “Very few. Every time my mother tried to do something special for me, my father ruined it.”

“I can't imagine what possessed your mother to marry such an unfeeling beast. I remember her as being an intelligent woman.”

“He was handsome and my mother fell in love with his pretty face. I suppose he was charming enough when he courted her. After all, he was penniless and she was a wealthy heiress.” Hallie sighed. “He detested me from the beginning, saying that with my whey-faced looks he'd be saddled with me for the rest of his life. He made me feel worthless … unlovable. The only reason he let me go to medical school was because he saw it as a chance to get rid of me.”

“Miserable bastard! I'm half tempted to go to Philadelphia and wring his neck.”

“He
was
a miserable bastard. Still, he was right about my not being beautiful. I've seen myself in the mirror.”

Jake raised his brows in wonder. “And what did you see?”

“My nose is too long.”

“Ridiculous,” he protested. “It's just the right length for about—” he kissed down her nose. “Three kisses. In my opinion, a three-kiss nose is perfect.”

She smiled at his fanciful remark. “My hair is too red and too curly.”

He twisted his hands through the coppery length and squinted at it, his expression serious. “I happen to like your hair. It reminds me of the autumn leaves, warm and vibrant. Besides,” he pressed her curls to his nose and sniffed, “it smells good.”

“My jaw is too square.”

“Stubborn, maybe. But then, I like a woman with a mind of her own.”

“My mouth is too wide.”

“Your mouth is amazing, as you so recently proved. And beautiful too.” Jake gave her lips a lingering kiss. “And sweet. I'm a lucky devil to have a wife with such an excellent mouth.”

Hallie shook her head, giggling. “Now I know you're teasing me. Excellent mouth, indeed!”

“Look at me, Sweetheart.” He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Do I strike you as the type of man who would settle for anything less than the best?”

That was true. Jake did have high standards in everything. “No. But—”

“No ‘buts' about it,” he interjected, shaking his head. “You are the best and I'm lucky to have you. Don't you know that I grow breathless every time I look at you? That I'm dumbfounded by your beauty? Your kindness warms me and your intelligence pleases me. You're the most worthwhile person in the world, and I'm proud to call you wife.”

“Not nearly as proud as I am to claim you as my husband,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his torso in a fierce hug. “I'm almost glad my father was such a beast. If he hadn't moved his mistress into my mother's house, I never would have answered Davinia's advertisement for a lady doctor. And if I hadn't come to San Francisco, I never would have met you. I can't imagine what it would have been like living without your love.”

Jake crushed Hallie close and kissed the top of her head. For a long moment he just held her, enjoying her closeness. He couldn't imagine living without her love either. Finally he asked. “Is there anything you want from your Philadelphia home? Something special you had to leave behind?”

She toyed with his chest hair as she considered his question. “My dowry,” she finally answered. “Right after we were married, I wrote a letter to my father's solicitor informing him that I'd married and requesting my dowry.” Hallie shook her head. “I received a reply just this morning. It seems my father told him that I'd been murdered here in San Francisco and claimed Sinclair Mines for his own. The man thinks I'm a fraud.”

“Sinclair Mines are your dowry?” Jake choked out. If that was true, he had married a very wealthy heiress.

She nodded. “And the foundries as well. My great-grandmother, Jane Sinclair, who founded the operation, decreed that they were to be passed from mother to daughter upon the death of the former. She said that every woman deserved to have something of her own, some kind of security.”

“Freethinking woman, wasn't she?” chuckled Jake. “Just like her marvelous great-granddaughter.”

“As are all the women in my family,” Hallie replied impishly. “And we all love those mines. In my case, since my mother died so young, the mines were to be passed to me upon my marriage or my thirtieth birthday, whichever came first. It's all stated in the will. Unfortunately, my father has different plans. You see, my mother was an only child, as am I, and if I were to die, the mines would revert to him. And since no one has seen me in almost a year, well, everyone believes my father's claims.”

“I'm happy to have you with or without the mines, sweetheart.” It was true, for she was his greatest treasure. Jake stared down into his wife's eyes. They were the color of fine cognac, and their expression of love warmed him inside every bit as much as drinking a snifter of the potent liquor. “I have plenty of money for both of us, and it pleases me to take care of you. However, seeing how much the mines mean to you, I'll see to it that you get your dowry. All the monies will be yours to spend as you see fit.”

“I love you, Jake Parrish!” Hallie exclaimed, covering his face with kisses. “Thank you! The mines have been in the family for three generations, and it would break my heart to see them fall into uncaring hands.”

Jake caught her face between his hands, studying it intently. “I'm sorry that I'll never be able to give you a daughter to inherit your mines.”

“Perhaps you will.”

He stared at her bleakly. How he wished that was true. Not a day went by that he didn't bitterly curse his inability to plant a child in her womb. Sometimes, when he saw Hallie frolicking with Ariel, he wondered if he'd been fair in marrying her. It cut him deeply, knowing what she'd sacrificed for him.

With a heavy sigh, he looked away. “You know I can't—”

“—perhaps you can,” she interjected. Reaching beneath the pillow, she pulled out the pessary. Her eyes glowed with anticipation as she explained the purpose of the device.

Jake took the contraceptive from her and stared at it for a moment, his emotions warring within him. With a vile curse, he flung it across the room.

“Damn her! All these years of hating myself for my inadequacies, feeling emasculated …” He sprang from the bed and began to pace the length of the room, the muscles bunching and releasing beneath his skin like those of a restless panther ready to pounce.

“How she must have hated me!” he ground out. “And what a fool I was! I actually believed that she loved me once, that she wanted my child.” Jake smashed his fist against the marble mantle, painfully splitting his knuckles. Drawing a ragged breath, he buried his face in his hands.

“But she did love you,” Hallie whispered, moving over to where he stood. Twining her arms around his waist and drawing him close, she added, “Don't you know how impossible it is not to love you?” She rubbed her cheek against his chest.

“I would hardly call letting me believe that I was inadequate a gesture of love,” he snorted. “Do you know how demoralizing it's been, thinking that my seed was worthless? That I was less than a man?”

“Poor love. Of course, it's been awful,” she cooed, forcing his anger-stiffened body closer. “But I don't think she prevented conception out of a sense of spite or cruelty. Not at first.”

“Really?” He snorted again. “What's your theory, pray tell?”

“She was afraid.”

“Of what, for God's sake?”

“Of dying in childbirth.” Hallie felt Jake's muscles flex slightly at her pronouncement. Soothingly, she stroked the long line of his back. “During one of her bad spells, Serena believed that she was a child again. She huddled in her bed crying and clasping her hands to her ears, begging me to make her mother stop screaming. After she regained her lucidity, she explained that her mother had died trying to give birth to a stillborn baby. She told me she'd always feared giving birth, afraid that she too would die.”

Jake pulled away from Hallie's comforting embrace and walked over to the bay window. Silently, he stared into the lengthening shadows of the coming night. At long last he spoke “If only she'd trusted me enough to confess her fears. I would have understood. I knew how her mother had died, but when I mentioned a child of our own, she seemed pleased by the idea.”

“I think she truly wanted your child, but was too afraid to take the risk.” Hallie moved to stand beside her husband. Taking his hands in hers, she whispered, “Perhaps in time, she would have let herself conceive. Or at least confessed her fears.”

Jake gave the hands holding his a squeeze. Looking deeply into Hallie's eyes, he asked, “And do you have any such fears?”

“My only fear is that someday you might cease to love me.”

“Never!” he growled, yanking her down onto the wide window seat and holding her close.

“Good,” she murmured. “Because there's nothing I want more than to give you children. At least a dozen, which should be plenty to breathe life into this big house.”

“And I'll enjoy making every one of them.” Jake laughed, kissing the tip of her nose.

Hallie moved to straddle Jake's lap and twined her arms around his neck. Moving her face close to his, she whispered, “I love you, Jake.”

Jake stared into her eyes, mesmerized by the emotion blazing in their depths. “And you are, indeed, the woman of my heart.” Then he claimed her lips in a sweeping kiss.

As their kiss deepened, Hallie could feel his manhood stiffen against her woman's flesh. Gently, she rubbed against him in response.

Groaning, Jake undulated his pelvis in sensual reply. He found the idea of taking his wife while she sat straddled across his lap highly provocative.

Hallie broke off the kiss as he tried to penetrate her. “What's this? Randy again already?” she murmured, reaching down to position his sex at her feminine opening.

Inflamed by Hallie's touch, Jake thrust his pelvis upward and impaled her. “Just thought we should get a start on those twelve children,” he replied wickedly.

Chapter 26

“Fair as the moon, clear as the sun,” the man murmured, his gaze leisurely sweeping the length of the woman's nude body. “Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon. Thy two breasts,” his lips curved into a sensual smile, “are like young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.”

He leaned back against the Venetian dressing table and shifted his gaze downward to contemplate the woman's softly rounded belly. Inspired by its perfection, he lifted his glass in salute, quoting, “Thy navel is like a round goblet which wanteth not liquor.” As he took a sip of strong claret, he looked yet lower, letting his gaze caress the voluptuous curve of her hips and skim the satiny length of her thighs. They too were flawless. With a rapturous sigh, he added, “The joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman.”

Lying there in the middle of the bedroom floor, her skin moonlight pale and gleaming with the waxen sheen of a newly opened calla lily, Arabella Dunlap was so very beautiful in death.

The man tapped his thumb spasmodically against the delicate stem of his glass and tilted his head to one side, critically surveying his latest victim.

With her shapely legs carelessly thrown apart and her head pillowed on the ebony silk of her unbound hair, she reminded him of an erotic carved-ivory figurine he'd once seen in a Chinese curiosity shop.

Just remembering that figurine was enough to make his pulse quicken and his breath come out in shallow gusts. Sweet, shameless Arabella! She had been his living incarnation of the lewdly posed ivory lady … so wanton, so exquisite in her wickedness. A temptress with the flesh of an angel and the soul of a whore.

Lust not after her beauty in thine heart, he cautioned himself, shuddering at the sudden, fierce clenching of his loins. For he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body.

Emitting a tormented moan, he pushed away from the dressing table and stalked over to the prone figure on the floor. With glass still in hand, he knelt by her side. It was such a pity he'd had to kill her. In his own way, he had loved her. Trembling with something strangely akin to grief, he reached out and gently traced the shape of her parted lips.

Shall I come unto you with a rod, or in love?
she had purred, pursing those red lips with seductive query.

Bowing his head in shame, his reply had never varied. A rod is for the back of him that is void of understanding. Thou shalt beat me with the rod, and shalt deliver my soul from hell.

Grief choked the man like a fist to the throat, and the forgotten glass of claret slipped from his now slack fingers. The wine, expensive and darkly garnet in hue, splashed across the bright vermilion carpet, a monochromatic contrast to the drying crimson of Arabella's spilled blood.

How he would miss her ministrations, miss the bite of the switch and his own glorious response. How he would miss the feel of her silk-clad hands coaxing him to his final release.

Unlike the other women he'd been with, Arabella had understood his special needs. She had understood that the flaccidity of his sex stemmed not from a lack of desire, but from the shame and guilt he felt over his own carnal appetites. Most important, she had understood his need to be punished for the weakness of his flesh.

But it was necessary to kill her
, he reminded himself. Her death was the final sacrifice in his crusade to right the terrible wrong done to him. And soon, very soon, sweet vengeance would be his. The reminder of his imminent victory was enough to chase away the sting of his regret.

With the reverence of a knight paying homage to his liege, the man lifted Arabella's scarlet-gloved hand to his lips and kissed her palm, unmindful that the fabric was sticky with his own spilled seed. He remained in that position for a very long time, safe in the knowledge that he had slipped into the house unnoticed, and aware that the servants knew better than to invade the sanctity of their mistress's bedroom unbidden.

It wasn't until after he'd whispered a lengthy benediction that he gently dropped her hand back to the floor and started to rise. Then he stopped abruptly, half crouched over her lifeless body. In one smooth motion he stripped off her soiled glove.

It bore the shameful testimony of his lust, it bespoke of sin. It was an abomination before the eyes of God, and therefore must be destroyed.

It was a beautiful afternoon, with the sun beaming down like a cheerful smile and the breeze as gentle as the stirring from a butterfly's wings. Colors, more vivid and prismatic than the paint on an artist's palette, surrounded Hallie, mingling to create a collage of striking splendor.

During the months since her marriage, Hallie had taken pleasure in restoring Serena's garden, and now, on the last day of May, her efforts were gloriously apparent.

Deep pink Sweetbriar roses nestled against creamy white Damasks, while pale yellow English Ramblers wept cascades of blossoms, creating a muted backdrop for the riotously blushed crimson Chinas. Centifolias of pale pink and Mosses tinted a rare deep purple merged amidst a hundred different varieties of roses, all abloom in a blaze of color.

Wielding a pair of clippers, Hallie now busied herself with the taming of an errant rosebush which was threatening to obscure the garden path. Today, however, her mind wasn't on her gardening. It was on one of her patients, a prostitute who had been viciously beaten and almost strangled.

The woman lay near death, her once pretty face savaged beyond recognition and her throat ringed with bruises—bruises that mirrored the unique, pendantlike configuration found on the necks of both Cissy and Serena after they'd been attacked.

Hallie tossed aside a bush clipping with a shudder.

What had shocked her most were the woman's gloves. They had been perfect replicas of the red silk ones Serena had so loved, identical right down to the faux diamond buttons at the wrist closures.

Cissy had also identified them as being like the ones she'd been asked to wear by her attacker, as had several of the other girls who had also serviced the depraved stranger.

Yet no one had seen hide nor hair of the man in question since the night Cissy was beaten, and the police, who shrugged him off as just another dissatisfied customer, had never bothered to investigate the incident. However, when this latest victim had turned up in a respectable part of town, lying half dead in the gutter, they had been forced to take an interest.

Jake, too, had taken notice. After being told about the gloves, he began to suspect, as did Hallie, that the same fiend who had assaulted the prostitutes had killed Serena.

So strong were his suspicions that he now accompanied Hallie on her rounds to the brothels, questioning the madames and the girls, searching for the clues which had evaded him for almost a year. Not surprisingly, the women were more willing to talk to the handsome Jake Parrish than to the police.

Despite the prostitutes' help, Jake was still no closer to discovering the identity of the killer than he had been at the time of Serena's death. There simply seemed to be no connection between her and the other two victims.

At first Jake had thought that Serena's opium addiction might in itself be a clue. After all, somebody had introduced her to the vice, for Jake had known Serena to be surprisingly naive about the darker aspects of life.

Yet everyone close to the other victims had vehemently denied his suggestion that the women had had a weakness for the drug. It appeared that despite their unsavory profession, the prostitutes who had been assaulted were a surprisingly clean-living pair. Both were said to be teetotalers and regular attendees of the Ascension Tabernacle. Of course, as Coralie LaFlume had observed wryly, the women's piety stemmed more from their fascination with Reverend DeYoung than with any real desire for redemption.

“Damn!” Hallie swore as she pricked her thumb on a thorn. Sucking on her finger to ease the pain, she stood back to survey her handiwork.

“Hallie!”

Hallie looked up to see Penelope scampering down the garden path, the laughing Ariel bouncing in her arms. Both woman and child wore straw hats which were extravagantly trimmed with a bounty of silk flowers. Jake had brought the hats home as May Day tokens, one each for Hallie and Penelope, and a miniature version for the baby.

“Celine said you needed to speak with me?” Penelope was panting, breathless from having run across the wide lawn.

“Yes,” Hallie replied, taking Ariel from Penelope. After depositing a kiss on the baby's cheek, she set her on a soft patch of grass to play. “I thought you might be interested in hearing about my morning medical call.”

Penelope dropped to the ground next to Ariel. “Not another one of those prostitutes? I do wish you'd be more careful where you go. I worry about you going to those wretched areas of town at all hours of the day and night.”

“I'm safe enough. Jake or one of the footmen always accompanies me.” Hallie smiled, touched by the girl's concern. She'd become quite fond of her beautiful sister-in-law during the last few months, and the women were now fast friends. Because of their friendship, Penelope had taken an interest in the new Mission House that Jake had built, and she now spent two afternoons a week teaching the Chinese girls deportment.

“I did check on the girl who was beaten two nights ago,” Hallie added as an afterthought. “But she still hasn't regained consciousness.”

“It must be awful to lead such a sordid life,” Penelope murmured, gently wrestling a rose from Ariel's hand. The baby was attempting to stuff the whole flower into her mouth.

Immediately, Ariel's fair skin flushed poppy red and her lips began to quiver with anger. She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly a few times before releasing an earsplitting howl.

“Poor Sprite,” Penelope cooed, lightly tickling the baby's stomach. “It must be a trial to have such a horrid Auntie.'-' She pulled a silly face and made a growling noise, comically pretending to be the mean auntie in question.

Ariel stared up at her aunt with surprise, her shrieks momentarily reduced to a mewling whimper. Growling again, Penelope swooped down and covered the baby's small face with kisses, not stopping until her sounds of distress had dissolved into chortles of delight.

“If only the proper Princess P's beaux could see her now,” chuckled Jake, pausing just beneath the arched opening of the garden to stare at his sister.

It was hard to believe that this charming hoyden, her hair tumbling down her back and her white muslin gown grass-stained from playing with his daughter, was the same waspish girl of just four months ago. Yet Penelope seemed truly happy these days, something she hadn't been since their parents had died. Her happiness, like his own, had blossomed in the sunshine of Hallie's caring presence.

At the sound of her father's voice, Ariel held out her arms, squealing her delight. It was obvious that she adored her father, a feeling which was returned tenfold. Hallie smiled as Jake strode over to the baby. She couldn't recall the last time she had seen a man as crazy about an infant as Jake was about his daughter.

Sweeping Ariel up into his arms, Jake tossed her in the air, quipping, “What have we here?” Catching her tiny form easily, he held the baby high above his head, peering into her smiling face with mock suspicion. “Why, I do believe I've captured myself a garden sprite!”

With that, Jake swung her around in the air like a flying fairy, eliciting screams of laughter from Ariel. It was one of their favorite games, and neither ever tired of it.

Finally settling the infant in the crook of his arm, he declared, “Everyone knows that to give a fairy sugar is to ensure good luck for the whole year.” He fumbled in his pocket and produced a stick of molasses candy.

“Jake!” Hallie protested, as he stuck the treat into the baby's mouth. “You're going to ruin her teeth giving her sweets.”

“All three of them,” Penelope added with a giggle, holding up her arms to take Ariel from her brother.

Grinning wickedly, Jake turned to his wife and planted a kiss on her lips. “Jealous, are you?” he teased, enjoying the way Hallie was frowning at his battered face. He'd just returned from boxing with Seth and was looking forward to having his wife fuss over his scrapes. Invariably, her innocent examinations turned into the intimate ones he so enjoyed.

“Never fear.” He laughed. “I've got molasses sticks for all my girls.” He playfully shoved a candy stick in Hallie's mouth and then bent low to do the same to his sister.

“You're in a happy mood,” Penelope observed, daintily licking at her treat. “Considering that your eye and cheek are starting to swell and you've got a nasty cut on your lower lip.”

With a raucous whoop, Jake lifted Hallie into the air, sending her candy stick tumbling from her mouth. “That's because I won the boxing match!” Twirling her around, he shouted, “I pummeled Seth from one end of the ring to the other!”

“Poor Seth!” Hallie laughed. Wrapping her arms around Jake's neck, she gave him a gentle kiss, careful not to hurt his torn lip. This was the first time since her husband had been wounded that he'd been able to best Seth in the ring. It was, indeed, a victory to be savored.

“And what would the champion like for a prize?” she whispered, staring into his sparkling green eyes.

Jake arched one dark eyebrow as he returned her gaze. “Perhaps an examination would be in order?” he purred, his meaning abundantly clear.

“For you or for Seth?” Hallie giggled. “It sounds as if you left poor Seth in dire need of medical care.”

“Seth can find his own lady doctor,” Jake growled, nipping suggestively at her earlobe. “Mine is going to be occupied for the rest of the afternoon.”

Penelope cleared her throat, coyly reminding the pair of her presence. Jake and Hallie were always touching and kissing, and though it warmed her heart to see the two people she loved most so happy, she sometimes found their behavior a bit embarrassing.