Love and Dreams

Neither shipwreck, amnesia, kidnapping nor deception can keep these star-crossed lovers apart! The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 When Colt Coltrane meets Russian prima ballerina Jade O'Bannon it is a case of love at first sight. But tragedy strikes when, on a voyage to America, a raging storm wrecks their ship, and Jade sees Colt swept overboard. Rescued from certain death by wealthy businessman Bryan Stevens, Jade slowly allows herself to think she might begin to love him. The only thing holding her back is the belief that Colt might actually be alive. Then at a glittering ball, Jade is jolted by the sight of Colt. When it appears he does not recognize her, she thinks he is pretending due to each of them being married to someone else. But then she discovers he suffers from amnesia due to the blow to his head when he fell overboard. Jade knows she cannot just announce the truth to Colt, that it will take time to ease into the reality of their situation. But, as when they first met, the two are inexplicably drawn together and fall helplessly into each other's arms…and in love. Too bad Bryan is willing to do anything to keep what he believes is his— Jade. This book was originally published by Avon Books in September, 1988.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Love and Dreams Copyright © 2012 by Patricia Hagan ISBN: 978-1-60928-995-9 Edited by Heather Osborn Cover by Valerie Tibbs All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Originally Published by Avon Books: September 1988 First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2012 www.samhainpublishing.com

Love and Dreams Patricia Hagan

Dedication

“For Lonni…a heart of gold… and that one particular harbor”

Life is a dream, and it is well it is so, or who could survive some of its experiences? Isadora Duncan, My Life

The curse of the romantic is a greed for dreams, an Intensity of expectation that, in the end, diminishes the reality. Marya Mannes, Out Of My Time

Prologue

The first peach and melon fingers of dawn began to slowly creep above the shadowy domes, spires, and crosses that made up the skyline of St. Petersburg, Russia, to stealthily push aside the clawing vestiges of night, parting the skies for a new day…in that late summer of 1893. Jade O’Bannon stirred dreamily as she slept, there in the early morning mist of her mind. Visions of her world, past and present, passed in review, crowding out the anticipatory future. Jade’s current affluent status was far removed from the rusticity of her beginnings. Her home in the magnificent palace of the brother and sister-in-law of Czar Alexander III, the Grand Duke Vladimir and Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna was so regally situated on the banks of the Neva River in St. Petersburg that it was more than just miles in distance from the small fishing village in Ireland where she’d spent the first years of her life as the daughter of a simple fisherman. Fate had decreed another destiny for the green-eyed colleen, due to her not being a pure-blooded colleen at all. Russian blood flowed in her veins—royal Russian blood. Jade’s mother, Natasia, had been a first cousin to Czar Alexander II. However, her marriage to not only a commoner but a foreigner as well brought disfavor from the Imperial family. But Natasia obeyed the callings of her heart, turned her back on her heritage, and went to live in the homeland of her beloved, Patrick O’Bannon. Several years later, when he was lost at sea, she was

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left destitute but managed to scrounge means to return to Russia for the funeral of her royal cousin, only to die there soon after. Jade, with her rare and special beauty, caught the eye and captured the heart of Marie Pavlovna, sister-in-law of the new Czar, Alexander III, and was unofficially adopted into the wealthy Romanov family, thus belatedly bestowing upon her a silver spoon of good fortune when she was eight years old. Exposed to the very best of the world of art and culture, Jade was given the ultimate advantages to pursue her love of ballet. Studying under the expert tutelage of the renowned chief ballet master, Manus Petipa, she became a member of the Imperial Ballet by the time she was only thirteen. Sought after by the rich, noble, and royal, Jade evaded romance in favor of her dancing. She was fanatically committed to her art…until John Travis Coltrane, known as “Colt,” came into her life…and her heart. She had met him when she agreed to help a dear and beloved friend, Drakar Mikhailonov, as he sought to claim Colt’s sister, Daniella Coltrane. Jade had always been a mischievous, fun-loving sort, given to pranks and practical jokes. To take part in Drakar’s scheme, by pretending to be a hardworking servant girl of poor background, seemed only a lark, at first. The plan called for Colt, the handsome son of an American millionaire, long plagued by fortune-seeking women, to become smitten with Jade only to be rejected, thus eventually restoring faith in himself and dissipating doubts that a woman could care for him for any reason save his wealth. After all, he was to finally reason, if a poor servant girl could turn him down, then surely there was something to be said for the honesty of some, if not all, women, wasn’t there? This was to become blatantly obvious when, ultimately, he was to learn who Jade actually was: a wealthy member of the famous Romanov family, who would certainly never have to resort to being attracted to a man for money alone.

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However, Drakar Mikhailonov’s plan went awry when Jade fell genuinely in love with Colt and, likewise, his heart was helplessly, hopelessly, mesmerized by the Irish-Russian ballerina named for the color of her devastatingly beautiful eyes. For a time, Jade felt torn between her devotion to her dancing and her growing affinity for Colt. After all, a prima ballerina does not give every shred of her being over to her craft only to toss it aside the first time love beckons. But as time passed, Jade became achingly aware of the temptation to allow nothing, not even ballet, to take precedence over the great and abiding love thatgrew for Colt each day. Yet, despite the stirrings within, the passion they shared, Jade spent much time wondering why Colt did not ask her to marry him. He professed to love her; he neglected his family in Paris and took up residence in Russia, studying the people and the language, and spending almost every moment with her. But he did not speak of marriage…or of a future together. A few months after they met, they attended the most lavish wedding Paris society had ever seen when Colt’s sister, Dani, married Drakar. During the ceremony their eyes had met and held with secret, heated messages of love, but still their own future matrimony was never discussed. Then came the night when she was asked to dance as Imperial Prima Ballerina in Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, choreographed by Lev Ivanov. It was truly the moment every dancer dreams of, and Jade was ecstatic. Costumed in frothy net, chiffon, and satin, she sparkled before the audience like the diamonds entwined in her coppery chignon. The Czar and his family sat in the royal box, but Jade did not see them or anyone in the aristocratic audience of the opulent blue and gold Mariinsky Theater. Her heart, mind, body, and soul were enraptured and dedicated to the hour for which she had surely been born.

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When the performance was over, the patrons stood on their feet and applauded until the very floors and walls shook with the echoing thunder. Again and again the thick brocade drapes swished open and closed as Jade accepted the accolades, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bouquets of flowers were brought to her by ushers. Czar Alexander himself stood up to throw an armload of red roses at her feet. She blew him a kiss, then turned glistening, happy eyes to her adoptive mother, the Grand Duchess Marie. The other dancers in the Imperial Ballet company gathered about her, themselves applauding and heralding their new star. The master himself, Petipa, came up on the stage to kiss her hand and bow before her. Then, as the cheers and applause diminished, and the other dancers moved away from Jade, one man began to walk purposefully down the aisle toward the stage. Jade blinked against the bright lights, felt the sudden rush of love within as she realized it was Colt. She’d thought him to be in Paris, called there suddenly by his mother due to his father’s being ill, but now he was here to share her glory, her triumph, the culmination of every ballerina’s dream. He stood beneath her in front of the stage, holding up a single yellow rose tied with a slender satin ribbon of green. She smiled through her tears of joy and gracefully leaned down to accept it—then froze, blinking in bewilderment. A huge, glittering diamond ring was tied to the stem. Colt gazed up at her adoringly as he continued to hold out the single yellow rose. “What better time,” he whispered so that only she could hear, “for you to decide which you want to be—a prima ballerina…or my wife.” Later, he would confide that his behavior was not premeditated, that he’d planned to make his proposal afterward, in the quiet and romantic atmosphere of wine and moonlight. But as the glory of her performance exploded, he had been struck

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with the notion that this was the time for her to truly understand the emotions surrounding her decision. Jade’s smile of consent was conceived in her heart. She reached out with trembling fingertips to take the yellow rose, pressing it against her lips, her green eyes shining with love and glory…love and splendor…love and dreams. Then, with all the grace and aplomb that had brought her to this night, this moment of stardom, she fell into his waiting arms…and he held her tightly, lovingly against him as he carried her away. Dreaming. Jade was dreaming. Would reality destroy the dream, as so often happens in life? Perhaps not. Perhaps if love was strong and true, the dream could become the reality. Jade opened her eyes, awakening to the dawn of a new day—her wedding day. And the quest to make the love and dreams a reality began.

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Chapter One

Jade O’Bannon sat on a small velvet stool before the famous gold mirror that had been used by every royal Russian bride on her wedding day in the Winter Palace. She stared at her reflection, wondering if she truly looked like royalty. Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she decided her pose was that of a prunish dowager. She was not a pure-blooded Russian like her mother, who’d also been a princess. Jade was but a third cousin to the Czar, Alexander III, who was brother to her foster father, but the Czar had, just last night, on the eve of her wedding, bestowed upon her the honorary title of princess. So now she was royalty. Princess Jade. She wrinkled her nose, lips curving in a pixie smile. She didn’t feel any more like royalty now than she had when she was adopted into the Romanov family as a child. Titles were so superficial, she felt, as had been her inclusion in the Imperial Court. Formally included, yes; sincerely welcomed, no. After all, her mother’s disfavor with the royal family might have diminished in memory through the years after her death, but Jade had always been aware as a child of how some of her cousins at court had snickered behind her back and called her names concerning her mixed blood. So, she thought with amusement, it would make no real difference to be a titled princess now. She no longer cared, anyway, though once she painfully had.

Love and Dreams

Love had taken precedence over everything else in her life, and all she wanted, yearned for, was to be Colt Coltrane’s wife, Mrs. John Travis Coltrane. Earlier, she had ridden in a royal carriage beside her foster mother, the Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna, down the Nevsky Prospekt to the Winter Palace. Though the day was to be warm, the morning had a slight chill, and she had worn a white velvet coat, trimmed in mink, over a simple blue dress. Then, at the palace, as was the custom, she had been formally dressed by the ladies of the Imperial family. She wore an old-fashioned Russian court dress of gold brocade, interwoven with tiny diamonds and pearls. Her long, flowing cape of stunning gold cloth, lined with ermine, was held by a huge chain about her shoulders, fastened by a stunning gold, garnet, and ruby pendant, fashioned by the Imperial Court jeweler, Peter Carl Fabergé. Her cardinal-red hair was coiffed in ringlets atop her head, tresses intertwined with tiny ropes of emeralds and diamonds—a gift from her foster mother. Her earrings, hanging almost to her shoulders, were of pear-shaped diamonds, held by clips of emerald chips and set in shimmering gold—an engagement gift from Colt, but not as cherished as the massive diamond ring he’d presented at the Mariinsky Theater that memorable night so many months ago. After Jade was dressed, Marie had asked everyone to leave them; then she had embraced Jade, there in the quiet of the royal dressing room, as she tremulously whispered, “You are truly the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, Jade, and I want you to know that your family and I wish you every happiness, every joy, that life has to offer. Our only regret is that you’re leaving Russia…and your family.” “I go where my heart leads me, and Colt is my heart.”

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Marie could only nod in sober agreement as she quietly declared, “Natasia spoke those same words. I suppose the Romanovs could expect no different from her daughter.” Jade felt a twinge of anger, for she had suspected what was being said in court—that inheriting her mother’s rebellious and disloyal spirit had caused her to turn her back on her family, country, and heritage, as well as toss aside all her long years of devotion and study to become a virtuoso ballerina in favor of marriage to a foreigner, a commoner, who would take her all the way across the ocean to live. Yet she struggled against the urge to defend, reminding herself that she did not want to burn any bridges or leave bitter words behind. Forcing a smile, she hugged Marie warmly and assured her, “I’m doing what will make me happy, and if you love me, as I know you do, you’ll be happy for me, not sad.” “So young to be so diplomatic.” Marie could not help smiling as she blinked away her tears. “It’s truly a shame the Imperial Court won’t have the benefit of all your many talents, my daughter. For the first time in my life, I envy America.” “You’ll come to visit us.” “Of course.” “And we’ll return to visit here.” “Of course.” They each knew the promise would, most likely, never be kept, for the years, and the great span of ocean separating them, would make it difficult. Yet it was easier and less painful to pretend otherwise. One last hug, and Marie said she should return to greet guests, as royalty and dignitaries from all over Europe were arriving to attend the wedding. In a, gesture of conviviality, meant to dissipate any tension resulting from having mentioned Jade’s mother’s past disfavor, she commented, “Even though you’re

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marrying a commoner, I must say he’s a noble commoner. The groom’s guest list reads like one for a coronation!” “Of course,” Jade was quick to agree. “The Coltranes are one of the most respected families in Europe. Travis Coltrane is legend. Colt says President Cleveland still relies on him for his opinion on important matters of state and has even offered him a cabinet post, which he turned down because he says he prefers to live in France.” “I’ve heard his health is also a factor,” Marie regretted having to point out. “He’s in his sixties now, isn’t he?” Jade nodded. “But that isn’t the reason for his failing health. Colt says he was wounded several times in that terrible Civil War they had in America some time ago, and in the last couple of years he’s started having trouble with those old injuries. The doctors say there might be some shell fragments left inside his body that are beginning to move about.” She sighed. “At any rate, Travis Coltrane is truly a great man, worthy of the respect he receives.” Marie moved toward the door. “That reminds me. I know you said you wanted to be alone for prayer and meditation in these last moments, but I saw Madame Kitty Coltrane downstairs, and she said if you had time, she’d like to speak with you.” Jade instantly brightened. “Of course. Send her up, please.” Alone for the moment, Jade went to the window to gaze out at the lovely August day. She and Colt had both wished to have a summer wedding, for the season in St. Petersburg was a joy to behold. Darkness came only two hours each day, when, at eleven in the evening, a milky haze of pearl and silver coaxed away the shimmering day. Then, after midnight, the horizon was pink and peach and coral, and soon the night slipped away once again.

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Originally, they had planned their honeymoon to be the journey to America, where they would make their new home, their new life, together. Then her distant cousin by blood, and Czar Alexander’s eldest son and heir to the throne, Nicholas, gifted them with the use of one of the royal yachts. Provided with a full crew and staff, they would enjoy a month-long cruise, sailing all the way into the shimmering blue Mediterranean before being taken to Cherbourg, France. They would then go on to Paris for a farewell visit with Colt’s family before sailing for America. Jade hugged herself with delight. Dear Lord, if she were any happier, her heart might burst. What a wonderful life! But the most wonderful of all was the man who was to be her husband, her life’s mate. Colt was everything she could want in a man, and she thrilled to every breath he drew. Handsome, tall, with a marvelous physique, he had the dark coloring of his French Creole father. His hair was as black as the raven’s wing, and his eyes were a smoldering silver gray. Gifted with sharp wit, keen intelligence, he was as natural a leader as his father, and that opinion had been shared by Cornelius Vanderbilt, grandson of the famed Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt. While visiting Travis in Paris the year before, the reigning power of the vast Vanderbilt empire had been so impressed with Colt that he had offered him a job working with William Kissam Vanderbilt in his yachting and horse racing ventures, should he wish to return to America. At the time, Colt hadn’t paid much attention, for he was too busy enjoying life in France and courting Jade in Russia to worry about a career. After all, he already had more money than he could probably ever spend, so long as he was careful with his investments…as did Jade, due to an inheritance bestowed upon her by her adoptive Romanov family. At the time Colt proposed, there had been a period when both were too mesmerized by the official acknowledgment of their love to think about the

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future. Then, while they were visiting his family in Paris in the spring, Mr. Coltrane had voiced his fears over growing economic panic in the United States. Beginning with the February bankruptcy of the Philadelphia and Reading railroads, stocks had begun to fall, trusts had collapsed, and thousands of farm mortgages had been foreclosed. In April, the gold reserve had fallen below the magic $100 million mark, firing greater runs on the Federal Treasury. Travis had predicted that disaster loomed and called for a conference with his son and daughter, Colt and Dani. He advised them to sell their interest in the silver mine in Nevada he’d gifted them with. He told them the Sherman Silver Purchase Act would no doubt be repealed by Congress, and they’d get a better price for the mine if they sold before that happened. As it was, they’d be taking a loss, but not of significant consequence. Colt and Dani followed their father’s advice just in time. The New York stock market crashed in June that year, 1893. It hadn’t really mattered to Dani when Colt also wanted to sell their ranch near the mine. After all, she had no plans to return to America, and she and her husband, Drakar, were in the process of building a huge château just outside Paris. France was now her home, but Colt had always considered America his. Selling the ranch reminded him of his transient state since meeting Jade, and this awareness birthed the idea that they would return to the United States after their marriage and he would accept Cornelius Vanderbilt’s offer. Even though they had wealth to last a lifetime and beyond, it was boring not having any responsibilities. Further, it was being said that New York, in the 1890s, was the most exciting place in the world to be. The depression would ultimately end, and it really did not touch the lives of the Coltranes, anyway. Jade was at once entranced with the idea of moving to America, especially when Colt pointed out that ballet was just being introduced there and how she

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could open her own studio and teach. From then on, she was filled with enthusiasm. How much more wonderful could life be? There was a soft tap on the door, and she warmly called out to Colt’s mother to please come in. The two women embraced, and Jade marveled, as always, how kind time had been to Kitty Wright Coltrane. If she had been prettier in her youth, then she must have been absolutely stunning, Jade reasoned, for she was still a beauty to behold. Her hair, golden-red and piled high and held atop her head by emerald combs, had only begun to fade from the color of a brilliant sunrise to the last rays of a burnished sunset. Her skin was smooth, unblemished, and the few lines and wrinkles touching her face merely served to lend a sophisticated air. Her eyes, a strange shade of lavender, glowed with mysterious fires, as though the passion within burned as brightly as ever. She was dressed in a stunning but simple gown of mocha satin, her only adornment earbobs of emerald to match her combs, for she had not wished to take any attention from the bride. Kitty’s eyes shone with love and pride as her gaze swept over Jade, and she proclaimed, “I just know there’s never been a lovelier bride, except perhaps for my Dani! My son is a lucky, lucky young man.” Jade returned her smile. “I’d have been only a shadow compared to the day you married Monsieur Coltrane, I’m sure.” Kitty laughed. “Someday I’ll tell you all about our wedding—me in simple muslin, Travis in a battered old Yankee uniform, and Colt crying to be fed.” Jade was not shocked. She’d heard the story before. Once, it had probably evoked much pain for Kitty and Travis to remember or talk about, but history had a way of becoming factual without emotion. When Travis rode away with General Sherman in the waning days of the terrible War Between the States, he’d

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not known Kitty was carrying his child. Neither had he known about Corey McRae and his hellish scheme to make Kitty his wife, how he’d intercepted Travis’s letters to her, causing him to be angry and bitter not to hear from her after they’d pledged undying love to each other. Finally returning to North Carolina after the war, Travis had believed the gossip about Kitty’s marrying the rich, powerful carpetbagger to keep from losing her precious family land…just as he’d believed the son she’d given birth to was Corey McRae’s. How was he to know the baby was his? Eventually, he learned the truth, and after the death of McRae in a land war, he and Kitty found each other again. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you got married in sackcloth or satin. I’ll bet your eyes shone like your earbobs,” Jade said. “Probably,” Kitty conceded with a warm rush of remembered love for the man she’d adored so long. “But,” she went on, “I didn’t come here to reminisce about my wedding day, Jade, or to merely compliment you on how pretty you are on yours. I came to tell you how happy Travis and I are that you’re marrying our son. We want you to know that it’s our prayer you’ll both have a long, long life of happiness, and that you’ll love as we have loved.” Jade wondered how many times on this momentous day she would have to blink away spontaneous tears of joy to keep them from dancing down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered, “and I want you, and Colt’s father, to know that I’ll do everything I can to make him happy.” Kitty went on to express Dani’s regrets over not being able to attend her brother’s wedding. “You’ll remember I told you Dani’s mother, Marilee, died giving birth to her, and the doctors are cautious about Dani, especially since she miscarried just a few months after she and Drakar got married. They’re being even more cautious this time, and they’ve ordered her to bed for the rest of her

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pregnancy. Poor child,” she said, sighing with pity, “she’s only into her third month, so that leaves a long time to do nothing but lie in bed. I feel so sorry for her, but she wants a baby so badly she’s willing to do everything she can to keep from losing this one. “And Travis,” she continued gravely, “is the one I’m really worried about. Of course he wants a grandchild, but he’s more concerned about Dani, because he remembers how it was with her mother, and he just doesn’t need the added stress and strain right now.” Jade understood. “Is he truly all right, Kitty? I’ve noticed the two of you have left the socials quite early, and Colt and I have been worried that all the goingson were just too much for his father.” Kitty nodded quickly. “They certainly are, but he’s not about to miss anything. He says he’s only going to have one chance to see his son marry a princess, so he’s going to enjoy every minute.” She rushed on to attempt to dispel Jade’s fears and concerns, not wanting her to worry about anything on her wedding day. “Don’t think about Travis. He’s strong as a mule and three times as stubborn, and you’ll say the same about his son in years to come. Now, there’s another reason I came to see you.” Kitty removed the pearl and emerald ring she always wore on the third finger of her right hand. Blinking away her own tears, she stared down at the sentimental piece. “Travis gave this to me on our tenth anniversary,” she said softly. “He said it was not only to celebrate our years of marriage but was a gesture of goodbye to the poverty of the past and a welcome to the wealth of the future. He said it was the beginning of many, many expensive pieces of jewelry he wanted to give me through the years. He was right. But none of the treasures since have meant as much as this.” She held out the ring to Jade. “I want you to have it.”

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Jade was momentarily speechless. The gift of such a precious piece was overwhelming. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, taking the ring with trembling fingers. “You’ve given me so much already.” Kitty raised a questioning eyebrow. “What do you mean, dear? We haven’t even given you and Colt your wedding present yet. We’re waiting till you come to Paris, and—” Jade laughed, a bit nervously. “Colt,” she informed her. “You’ve given me Colt.” Kitty also laughed, shaking her head from side to side as she denied, “Oh, no, I haven’t. I’ll never give away that part of him that is a son, just as you’ll never give to me that part of him which is a husband. We’ll each have him in a different way, Jade, and that’s the way it’s meant to be. We’ll be good friends to each other through the years because we’ll respect each other’s place in his heart. Agreed?” Jade hugged her, grateful for her wisdom. “I will always treasure this ring, as I’ll always treasure your son.” Just then there was a tap on the door, and the Grand Duchess Marie softly called, “Jade, darling, it’s time. Are you ready?” The mother and the soon-to-be wife of Colt Coltrane looked at each other, their hearts reaching out to touch in spirit. “Go,” Kitty whispered, giving her a gentle shove. “Go and marry my son and be happy, my child.” Jade turned toward the door…and her future…and took one more step to fulfilling her love and dreams.

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Chapter Two

Marie placed the nuptial crown of sparkling diamonds on Jade’s head; then they made their way to a grand stairway and began their descent. The palace seemed to be alive, to actually breathe amidst the glow of lights, crystal, silver and gold, and the awesome jewels worn by the ladies in attendance. Jeweled medals adorning crimson sashes sparkled on the chests of the men of nobility, gold braids shining. Cossacks of the guard lined the walls of the palace, in long coats of red and purple, curved sabers against spit-polished black boots. The cream of European society vied for a glimpse of the famed, lovely bride as the sweet song of the violins of the court orchestra filled the air. Jade found herself wishing for the hundredth time that she and Colt could have just slipped away for a private ceremony. But, adopted or not, she was considered a Romanov. And she was marrying the son of a very respected United States emissary. Protocol decreed such a formal wedding, so she faced what she felt was a circuslike atmosphere, forced a smile on her lips, and made her way to the chapel past the well-wishing guests, praying all the while it would be over soon. The chapel glowed with light, the walls and ceiling covered with luminous frescoes. Before the altar stood an iconostasis of gold, layered in jewels. The small gathering of people inside, limited to family members and immediate royalty, seemed bathed in iridescence due to the sheen from the jewels, candles, and golden icons.

Love and Dreams

Jade softly drew in her breath, overwhelmed by the ethereality, but then she saw Colt standing, waiting, at the altar, and everything and everyone faded from the realm of her cognizance. He was all that mattered…all that ever would matter, and this awesomely precious moment would forever be etched upon her tremulously pounding heart. She took her place beside Colt, and their eyes met and held; a warm, glowing message of love touched their hearts in unison. Forever would they be forged, bonded together, and the words being intoned by the officiator could not make it more binding. In spirit and soul they were already one. This celebration, this ceremony, was for the benefit of friends and family and was spectacle only. Jade was only dimly aware of her cousin Nicholas, in the stunning uniform of a Hussar, moving to stand beside her in the position that would have been for her father, and she had but a fleeting impression of Travis Coltrane, handsome and suave as always, proudly beside Colt. The ceremony began, and she spoke her vows in recitation, all the while unable to unlock her gaze from Colt’s. Within, she trembled with emotion, with the dazzling, happy awareness that now they were truly one; man and wife, forever and always, for all the world to see and acknowledge. At last, the magic words to make it all finally legal and official resounded through the tiny chapel, and Colt gently folded her in his arms and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that made her shudder all the way to her toes. Jade O’Bannon had become Mrs. John Travis Coltrane, and she did not try to hold back the tears of joy at that ecstatic, beautiful moment. The congratulatory murmurs as guests and relatives surged about them were heard only vaguely, for she and Colt were in a world all their own, a world bordered and protected by that special barrier known only to those in love.

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The reception was more glitter and pomp. Fountains in the palace flowed with champagne, and late-summer strawberries floated in the pools or fell to the bottom. Roast pigs and turkeys and chickens filled the platters of the lace-and satin-covered tables in the banquet halls, and fruits and crème desserts tantalized every appetite. Jade and Colt devoured only each other with their eyes, hands tightly clasped together except when they were in the receiving line. The family made small talk between well-wishing guests, and once Kitty Coltrane teased them, “You’re really going to have your fill of the seas—a honeymoon on the royal yacht, then the trip to America.” Jade agreed. “I’ll be ready to settle down to keeping house, no doubt.” Colt flashed a mock frown. “House, did you say, Mrs. Coltrane? I’m afraid we’re going to have to buy a palace to have room for all the wedding presents rolling in.” Jade’s eyes narrowed mischievously. “We could sell them to Dani for her antiques shop. We should make enough to keep us from starving for a while, at least.” Kitty assured that everything sent to them in Paris was being properly registered, then brought to the docks to await transport. “They’ll be on the ship with you.” “For storage until we find a place to live,” Jade pointed out. “Home will be a hotel for a while, because we want to have plenty of time to look and find exactly what we want, but I don’t care.” She turned dazzled eyes upon Colt once more. The last thing on her mind was worrying about trivial things like wedding presents and finding a permanent place to live. All she wanted was to be in the strong, possessive arms of her husband, and if she had a magic wand she would have waved away the people, the palace, everything but each other.

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Colt knew what she was thinking and stepped from the receiving line and announced, “Enough tradition and protocol. I want to dance with my wife.” No one looked disapproving, and all smiled as Colt led Jade into a ballroom. Those milling about had waited for the newlyweds to dance, and they formed a circle about them as the violinists played a special song just for them. They moved together in unison to the gentle, flowing rhythm of a waltz. “My God, you’re beautiful, Jade,” Colt murmured. “I can’t believe you’re really mine you’ll never know how much I love you.” She flashed a saucy smile. “Tonight, you can show me, my husband. Tonight, you can prove what you say.” His hand at her waist tightened, and he fought the impulse to jerk her tightly against him, then and there in the middle of the ballroom, with everyone watching, and kiss her taunting, daring lips. In a mock-fierce whisper, he warned, “You’ll beg for mercy, I promise.” “Ha!” Jade laughed softly, careful lest those guests who were moving onto the floor to dance hear. “You’ll never hear me beg…except for more.” Colt pretended to be shocked but was pleased, and secretly aroused, by her brashness. He’d never known a woman so hot-blooded and passionate, and that was one of the reasons he loved her so. “May I have a dance with my new daughter?” They tore their teasing gazes from each other to see Travis Coltrane waiting expectantly. Colt smiled and bowed and gave over his bride to his father, and Jade obligingly moved into Travis’s arms. Jade adored her father-in-law and found him handsome, charming, witty— everything her husband was, only more so, for there was a mellowness that Colt had not yet acquired. They chatted amiably, and he complimented her once

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again on how lovely she was. Then Jade noticed he began to look a bit flushed, and a shadow touched his gray eyes. She suggested a walk on the terrace for some fresh air, saying she’d like a respite from all the crowds and excitement. Travis was quick to agree, and they slipped, unnoticed, into the blue and gold beauty of the August afternoon. Outside, with a gentle breeze blowing in from the river, Travis, resplendent in a white suit, took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. Jade touched his arm, at once concerned, for he did not look well. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can get for you?” He waved her away, walked to a nearby bench, and patted the place beside him. She sat down. “Jade,” he began, “I’ve been hoping we’d find a private moment together because there’s something I want to tell you.” She tensed, then realized there was no need to be as he continued. “I want you to know how happy I am that my son has finally found someone he can truly love. To be honest with you, I was afraid he’d be like me—so bitter over past experiences with conniving, unscrupulous women that he’d close his heart and not let anybody in and wind up a disillusioned, lonely old man.” Jade didn’t understand what he was getting at and interjected, “But you have Kitty—” “Now I do.” A tender smile touched his lips. “But I sure as hell fought against loving her. I wasted precious time, and I can’t tell you what we went through. I guess you just had to be there to understand, but the truth was, I’d reached the point where I was going to be a maverick, a loner, all my life. I’m damn glad”—he paused to chuckle—“that I didn’t follow that path, and I’m even more glad that Colt won’t have the regrets I have now—losing that precious time, those precious years.”

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He was silent for a long moment, and Jade respectfully did not intrude upon his private meditation, for it was obvious from the faraway look in his eyes that he was not there, in St. Petersburg, Russia, at the palace of the Czar, at the wedding of his only son. He had moved back in time, in memory, back to the long-ago days of his youth, reliving…and, unfortunately, regretting. Then he blinked, shook his head ever so slightly as he returned to the present…and to her. “I’m sorry. Seems I get lost in the past more and more these days. Probably because I’ve come to terms with the possibility I may not have much of a future.” Jade stiffened. Travis chuckled. “Don’t look so frightened, my dear. The one and only thing we can count on in life is death, and I’ve learned not to fear my own. When my time comes, I think I’ll be ready. And I want to feel that my family is happy with their lives. I’m glad you and Colt are moving to America. I don’t have to tell you about the political unrest here in Russia—discontent, threat of anarchy, total destruction of the autocracy, and the dream of those who want to build a new world based solely on the dignity of labor. There are strikes. Riots. The Czar’s police are constantly struggling with mounting violence, and more and more political activists are being exiled to Siberia. “God…” He shuddered with the misery of such thoughts. “How long can it all go on without an ultimate revolution? I’m glad I won’t have any family living here.” Jade patted his arm in a gesture of understanding. She knew only too well of what he spoke, and that was one of the reasons she’d so willingly agreed to move away. He stood up, held out his hand to her. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be gloomy on such a special day, my new daughter, but I just wanted to let you

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know, in my own peculiar way, that this is a special day for me as well, because it’s the culmination of my last dream—knowing my son has a wife, a life’s mate he loves, and that his future is secure.” Jade put her arms around him and stood on tiptoe for his kiss. From her heart, she fervently proclaimed, “I couldn’t love you more if you were my real father, Monsieur—” “Then stop calling me Monsieur, for God’s sake,” he cried with pretended affront, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm to end the emotion of the moment. He commanded with a grin, “Call me Travis, or Poppa, or anything you please, but never Monsieur. Now let’s go find some champagne. I always found the bubbly stuff made these soirees more tolerable.” Laughing together, they returned to the party. Everyone was enjoying himself immensely, and the sounds of music and joy filled the air. Servants kept the food and champagne available in abundance, and there were no signs that the celebration would end any time soon. Finally, Colt grew tired of the revelry and said as much while dancing with one of Jade’s royal cousins. The young lady, Tamara, sniffed with disapproval, coldly reminding him that the guests of honor were expected to stay until the guests began to leave, and that would be close to dawn. Hearing that, as soon as the dance ended, he took her back to her bored-looking escort and promptly rescued Jade from the arms of a huffing dignitary with a bright red satin sash across his pot belly. He then proceeded to waltz her right out a terrace door and into the milk-and-pearl glow of night. Alone, away from the dazzle and lights, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her warm, sweet lips. “You’re beautiful,” he said in awe. “Here, in this strange night that really isn’t a night, you’re like a fairy princess. I expect to see elves dancing on the lawn any second now.”

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Jade laughed, her heart warm to bursting with the love she felt. “Sorry, but there are no toadstools for my elves to hide beneath, and they’re very shy.” “Jade, let’s get out of here,” he suddenly urged. “Let’s just quietly sneak away and go to the yacht. These people will be here all night, and that dragonfaced cousin of yours, Tamara, just informed me we’re expected to stay till things start breaking up, and I’ve got another party in mind…an intimate little party just for two.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. Jade pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, it’d be terribly rude of us, I’m afraid.” Actually, the idea of slipping away was delicious, because she was also anxious for them to be alone but, in her usually playful manner, pretended reluctance. “We don’t sail till dawn, and there’s to be a champagne-and-caviar breakfast for the families on board so they can say farewell.” Colt was used to her pixie ways and knew how to get around them. He gave a heavy sigh, slumped his shoulders, presented an expression of sad resignation. “You’re right. It would be rude. Let’s go back in and get something to eat. Looks like a long night, and I’m hungry.” He turned to go, but Jade reached out and caught his arm, well aware he was paying her back for her pretended reluctance. “If you really want to leave now, Colt, we will.” He kept his face turned, lest she see his amusement. “No, you’re right. We’d best stay.” “Colt, if we don’t leave now, I won’t leave, at all. I’ll stay here,” she threatened. Colt raised an eyebrow, but only slightly. He’d learned during their courtship not to ever be surprised at Jade’s sudden, whimsical behavior, or he’d walk around with eternally raised eyebrows and wide eyes and no doubt look like an imbecile.

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“Are you serious?” He was not asking about her empty threat, and they both knew it. She nodded, excited and trembling from head to toe with the thought of such an unorthodox exit from their own party. If anyone was offended, then he or she was just an old prune and didn’t matter. She stamped her white satin-slippered foot and pretended agitation. “Well? Are you afraid to do something so daring?” Colt sneered, knew she was deliberately goading him, just as she knew that he, like his father, never yielded to decorum unless he felt like it. So, welcoming her challenge, he lifted her off her feet in one swoop and into his arms. With the yards and yards of satin, chiffon, and lace of her wedding gown bunching up, he looked as though he were carrying a load of expensive laundry rather than abducting a bride. Stepping from the terrace, Colt hurried across the wide lawn of the palace and into the eerie white night. Peasants lurking about outside in hopes of a glimpse of royalty were treated to a sight they would talk about for a long time to come—the handsome man dressed in white carrying a frothy bundle of satin and lace. They would later learn, to their astonishment, that this was actually the bride, Her Majesty the Princess Jade, and her husband, Colt Coltrane. Suddenly Jade said, “This is crazy. You can’t carry me all the way to the Admiralty. It’s too far, and—” “You’re right,” he acknowledged, shifting her about so he could raise an arm to flag a passing carriage. The elderly couple inside were on their way to a party of their own but could not resist the curious sight. All Colt had to do was explain where he was going and, with giggles of delight, they made room for him and instructed their driver to take them straight to the shipyard.

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The royal yacht was quite visible, and when the carriage came to a stop at the waterfront, Colt thanked his comrades for their kindness. Then he took Jade in his arms once more and carried her aboard the magnificent ship. Sailors milling about on the decks, as well as on the walkway, stared curiously. An officer, splendidly dressed in a white uniform with gold and black braids and cording, appeared from somewhere inside. At once he realized the newlyweds had arrived—and this was not the way they’d been expected. “Uh— uh, you’re early,” he stammered in greeting, then quickly regained the composure of his position. Heels clicking together, he gave a polite bow, then saluted. He addressed himself to Jade, for he knew her from previous cruises with the family. “Your Highness, we weren’t expecting you till much later, and we’d been told there’d be a farewell party at dawn, and—” “We’ve changed the schedule,” Colt said brusquely. Jade turned her face to his chest because she did not want the lemon-faced officer to see her laughing. “No party.” Colt brushed by him. “No guests on board. We sail as soon as you can pull anchor.” The officer’s look of surprise was fading to one of pleased amusement as he realized the couple had sneaked away from their own party. “This way,” he said with a smile, gesturing them to follow, “to the Imperial suite.” Jade was familiar with the layout of the 4,500-ton, black-hulled yacht and murmured to Colt that she knew the way. “Good,” he told her, then instructed the officer that they didn’t need a guide. “Just have two bottles of the best champagne delivered right away.” The officer stepped back obediently. “As you wish, sir.”

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Jade explained as they went how the yacht had been built especially for the Czar in a Danish shipyard and was considered nautical elegance at its most supreme. “I’ve loved the summers sailing with the family.” The craft was propelled by steam and fueled by coal. The immense bowsprit was encrusted with a thick gold leaf and jutted outward from the forward clipper bow. There were three tall masts, varnished and shining, high above twin white funnels. In the pale pink light of the night, the decks gleamed beneath white canvas awnings and were lined with tables and chairs of wicker. The drawing rooms and dining rooms and lounges below were paneled in mahogany. There were crystal chandeliers and velvet draperies and polished floors. There were spacious staterooms for the royal family’s guests and even a chapel. There were quarters for the ship’s officers and engineers, stokers, deckhands, stewards, valets, maids, cooks, and the Marine Guards. Then, farther below, rooms were provided for members of the yacht’s brass band and balalaika orchestra. “It’s like a floating palace,” she exulted. “I couldn’t believe when Nicholas arranged for us to use it for our honeymoon.” They reached the Imperial suite, and although it was lavishly furnished with everything great and marvelous and dazzling that one would expect to find in the quarters of a Czar and Czarina, Jade and Colt could have been in a dark and dingy cellar for all the attention they paid. This was their night, their moment, their time, when, at last, they were united not just as lovers but as husband and wife. No matter that they’d succumbed to passion in the past. That was then. This was now. This was different. This was the ritual and symbolic coupling of flesh and heart so significant and meaningful for those who make a legal and public commitment.

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Colt sat Jade on her feet, and at once she was struck with reality, now that the delight of their mischievous escape had subsided. “Our families will never forgive us.” Colt ran his fingertips down her arms, felt the swell of his desire beginning. “They had their moments of passion, or we wouldn’t be here, so they should understand.” Suddenly there was an apologetic knock on the door. “Champagne,” Colt said, turning to open the door and take two silver buckets and white-linen-wrapped bottles from a nervous-looking steward. He dismissed the steward, closed the door. When he turned back, Jade was no longer there, but he didn’t have to wonder why. He went in search of his own luggage and dressing room. By the time he’d changed into a blue velvet robe and returned to the main parlor of the suite, he found her there, expertly opening a bottle of champagne, breathtakingly lovely in a filmy white negligee. She did not realize she stood before a light and that her body was revealed beneath the gossamer wisps. He could see the firm outline of her naked buttocks, molded and shaped to perfection by her years of dedication to dance. Her legs, so lithe and lovely, were sculptured works of art. He gasped at the sight of her breasts, divine, enticing, cherry-bud nipples ever so slightly straining against the sheerness of her gown. She turned, and her glorious hair, brushed free of her bridal coif, swung gently about her flushed, excited face. Tiny ruby dots of lust gleamed amidst the emerald and jade of her eyes. She gave him a glass of champagne and whispered, almost shyly, “A toast to us, my love.” Colt clinked his glass ceremoniously against the rim of her own, their eyes locking and holding as they sipped, long and slow. Then he took her glass from

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her trembling fingers and, along with his, sent it smashing into the empty hearth of the marble fireplace nearby. “I’ve waited for this moment to make you truly mine,” he said huskily, lifting her once again into his arms. She made no sound, merely burned her gaze into his as he carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, feasting on her body as she brazenly opened her gown to display her offering for their own private wedding-night feast. Colt unfastened his robe, allowed it to fall to the floor without further ado. Then he moved to lie beside her. Their mouths fused together as their tongues probed and shared. Volatile passions at once ignited and spread like molten fire through their veins, to consume and devour. His lips dropped to her breasts, and he nuzzled the warm and deliciously fragrant flesh, and she danced her fingers through his thick hair and pressed him yet closer to her bosom. Love, desire…passion, ecstasy…devotion, promises…forever and always. Perfect harmony, sequence, waves of exquisite nuance and crescendo crested as waves of rhythm generated as though the two were not merely lovers in the act of passion but dancers, great dancers, performing for lovers of art, of creation, with a thousand spotlights fired from their very hearts to ignite and explode in brilliant lights of dazzling ecstasy. They lay together, arms about each other, a fusion of lives and hearts, entwined…for what they hoped, and prayed, would be…forever.

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Chapter Three

The royal yacht made its way from St. Petersburg in the milky-white night, and when Jade and Colt awoke around noon the next day, they were greeted by a breathtaking view of the rocky coast of Finland. Jade had scrambled to her knees on the bed to peer out a porthole. Her mussed hair tumbled carelessly about her face, and she cared not that she was naked, her carefully selected negligee lost somewhere in the rumpled bedcover. Colt watched with loving amusement as she clapped her hands in childlike glee and declared, “This is a special morning—our first ‘married’ morning—and I want a special breakfast—more champagne, and smoked salmon and eggs, and sweet melon in wine!” Colt dryly pointed out, “I think we missed morning. Maybe we should try for lunch.” Jade gave him her best patrician pose, and with a haughty sniff, pretended indignation. “You seem to forget, sir, that I am royalty—a princess! Princess Jade! And if I want breakfast in the middle of the day, I shall have it—posthaste! And you…” she jabbed at his bare chest, “…would do well to remember your position as a commoner—or I’ll have to put you in your place.” “How about letting me put you in yours?” He gave a mock growl and lunged for her. Both of them convulsing with laughter, he wrestled her back down on the bed, pinning her beneath him easily. Looking into her eyes, warm with desire, he huskily proclaimed, “Your place, little princess, is here in my arms, forever.”

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He lowered his lips, claiming hers in a kiss so deep as to seemingly never end. He rolled to his side, taking her with him, and his hands began to move possessively over her body. The spark was ignited, and they fell into the flame and were ultimately consumed. They drifted into the gentle veil of lovers’ slumber, awakening later in the afternoon to the realization they were utterly famished. Colt ordered the breakfast he knew was no more a problem than if he’d ordered it at noon. The crew had one purpose: to serve the honeymooners and see that they lacked for nothing. They spent most of the time in their suite, and when they were not thrilling to the endless glory of their lovemaking, they talked excitedly of the future. Colt was filled with enthusiasm for his new job with the Vanderbilts. Working with William Vanderbilt’s yachting and horse racing ventures, he felt, would be fascinating. “But you don’t have to work,” Jade reminded him. “Between the two of us, we have all the money we’ll ever need.” He playfully challenged, “Then I guess you don’t have to open your ballet school, either, do you? After all, why should you work? And you’re right. Why should I work? Let’s just spend the rest of our lives making love and spending our money.” Jade knew they each wanted something more meaningful out of life: they were young, energetic, and eager for new experiences. Besides, Colt had insisted they maintain separate banking accounts since he still had a bitter taste in his mouth from that terrible time he had almost lost his own inheritance, and Dani’s as well. He wanted to make sure that should he somehow repeat history (God forbid it should happen), he would do so at no loss to Jade.

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They talked of finding a place to stay in New York until they could build their dream house. Colt related how Cornelius Vanderbilt had mentioned the mansion he was building for his family along the beautiful Hudson River, north of the city. “Maybe we can find property there, too.” Jade spoke of her own dream. “I want four daughters, and I want them all to study ballet. We’ll send them to Russia to study, and—” “Hey,” he interrupted with a laugh, “what about our sons? I don’t want them to be ballet dancers. They’re going to be yachtsmen and horsemen, and—” Jade silenced him with a kiss, and they succumbed once more to their passion, which, like their happiness and joy, seemed endless. Their cruise took them from the Gulf of Finland into the Baltic Sea and along the western coast of Russia. Moving on to Denmark, they anchored for a few days in Copenhagen, where they were guests of King Christian and Queen Louise. Jade was happy to meet up with a lady-in-waiting who had gone to Russia in service to Her Majesty when she attended their wedding. The lady confided that after Jade and Colt had run away from the reception, no one was really angry. Of course, she related with giggles, there were those who pretended to be shocked because they did not dare admit they thought it terribly romantic. When Jade repeated this to Colt, he said he’d known all along everyone would think it was typical of Jade to do something so unorthodox. Sailing once more, the royal yacht turned to the North Sea, then south through the English Channel. The day they passed between Calais and Dover, Jade and Colt stood at the ship’s railing and stared through the gray mist toward the coast of the United Kingdom.

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Noticing she seemed wistful, Colt asked why, and she told him candidly, “Ireland is on the other side of England, and I’m wondering whether I ever want to return there.” “One day perhaps we should visit.” He tightened his arm about her waist and pulled her closer. “After all, you’ve got family on your father’s side there.” “You’re my family,” she said, swallowing against the familiar knot of sadness that arose whenever she thought of the loneliness of her childhood. Never had she confided those feelings to anyone, nor would she now, even to Colt. She didn’t want to think about any time except this, any place but here— and the husband she loved more and more each day. One day they spotted an island off the coast of Portugal, and Colt had the captain anchor there. They took a small boat ashore to have a cherished afternoon on an isolated beach with white, white sand and cool green waters lapping at the shore. They cruised through the Strait of Gibraltar, stopping in a small port of Morocco to sightsee before heading into the Mediterranean Sea. They stopped at the island of Corfu, and Jade threatened never to leave. One of the seven Ionian Islands of Greece, Corfu was a haven of beauty with its luxuriant groves of olives, oranges, and lemons. They visited ancient temples to Hera, Apollo, and Aphrodite. They feasted on sliced artichoke, octopus, small pickled birds, and stuffed vine leaves. They were to sail about the Greek islands for several days, and one morning Jade awoke to find Colt not beside her in bed. Raising up to peer out the porthole, she saw him at the railing of the deck, staring toward an island in the distance that appeared to be of coal, for all that was visible on land was black. Curious, she donned a warm robe and went to join him in the brisk morning wind.

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He did not hear her approach, was not aware of her presence until she gently touched his shoulder, and then he jumped, startled, staring at her for long seconds as if he had to stop and remember who she was. This frightened Jade, and she stepped back. “Colt, what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this.” He shook his head as though to clear it, and his laugh was forced, stilted. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s my turn to think about the past.” He looked once more to the black island, and a shadow crossed his eyes as he quietly murmured, “That’s Santorini.” Jade gasped, silently chastising herself for not remembering or thinking how passing this way might affect Colt. She knew the story, for it was one Dani had confided long before Colt felt he could share it with her. Santorini, with its precipitous cliffs more than six hundred feet high, looked completely black from a distance because of its strata of black rock which, along with russet soil, vestiges of gray lava, and veins of white pumice, were the results of a long-ago volcanic eruption. It was to this Greek island that Colt and his father had pursued the culprit, Gavin Mason, in order to recover the vast fortune he’d swindled from Colt— with the help, albeit forced, of Briana. Briana. Jade could not help the wave of…what? Jealousy? Surely she was above that, but still, for a time, it seemed Briana had possession of Colt’s heart. But oh, what a sordid story it was, and she knew Colt didn’t like to be reminded of the ruse: how Gavin Mason had forced Briana to pretend she was Colt’s half-sister, Dani, whom Colt hadn’t seen since childhood, ultimately getting him drunk and making him think he’d seduced his own kin. He’d been so guilt-ridden he’d signed away his wealth and left town.

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Later, of course, he’d come to his senses, realized the treachery, and followed Gavin and Briana all the way to France and on to Santorini. Gavin had been killed there by one of his own men. Colt had recovered his money…and Briana. What had happened then? Jade wasn’t sure, exactly, but the important thing was that no matter that Colt and Briana had, for a time, been lovers, theirs was not the love of all ages. The fire had died, but from the look on Colt’s face, Jade knew Briana would always occupy a special place in his memory and his heart. But, she asked herself, so what? She was the one he’d loved enough to marry. She moved into his arms, and he hugged her close and kissed her before whispering, “Everyone has their memories, my dear.” “Yes, but the memories aren’t important unless they’re ours.” They smiled at each other, and the sadness of the moment passed, as did the black island. “We’ve been away long enough,” Colt said as they turned back toward their quarters. “Maybe it’s time we went back to Paris, said our farewells, and headed for home.” “Home!” Jade whispered almost reverently. What a wonderful sound. What a wonderful thought. She took his fingertips, pressed them to her lips. “Yes, let’s do go home…to our future.”

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Chapter Four

Jade and Colt’s arrival in Paris was a surprise, for their cruise had been scheduled to last a week longer. Kitty was delighted, though Travis’s ill health was a sad note to her welcome. “Has he seen a doctor?” Colt asked worriedly. He and Jade and Kitty were having tea in Kitty’s parlor. Kitty nodded, shrugging helplessly. “He said the same thing he said before, that it could be an old wound causing problems…maybe a bullet fragment moving around and getting too close to his heart. It might even be his heart. He doesn’t know. Neither do the doctors I’ve called in. But they agree on one thing, and I’ve seen it myself. When he’s rested and relaxed, there’s no pain, no upset stomach, no dizziness. So the prescription is: retire, don’t worry about anything, get lots of rest.” “And what does he say to that?” Colt wanted to know. Kitty got to her feet and began to pace restlessly about the room. “That’s what has me so worried—he agrees! He’s willing to move to Nice and spend the rest of his life lying in the sun or walking on the beach. That makes me think he’s even sicker than anyone is telling me.” Jade and Colt exchanged anxious, sympathetic looks but said nothing as Kitty took hold of herself, forcing a smile to her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go into all that. I wouldn’t be surprised if worrying about Dani isn’t part of Travis’s stress, so I’m glad we’ll be moving soon.”

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Colt quickly asked when that would be, and Kitty said as soon as the arrangements could be made. “We have to find a place in Nice, see how much of our furniture we have room for, sell the rest or give it to Dani and Drake.” Jade felt a warm rush at the mention of her beloved friends and excitedly said, “I can’t wait to see them. I’m dying to tell Dani all about the wedding.” Kitty said she’d already described everything. “But she’s anxious to hear your version. In fact…” She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she remembered how Dani’s request had seemed almost desperate. “She made me promise to tell you to visit her as soon as you got here. She’ll be as glad as I am that you’re back early. I feel so sorry for her. She and Drake want this baby so much, and all we can do is pray she doesn’t lose it.” Colt wanted to know just how Dani was doing, and Kitty explained that, again, the doctor was helpless to do anything except order her to rest. “She has to stay in bed. It’s the only way she can hope to carry it to term, and she’s got about five months to go.” Kitty went to the door. “Let me run upstairs and see if your father is awake. If he is, he’ll want to see you. If he isn’t, I’m not going to wake him, as he needs his rest.” She left them, and Colt moved to sit beside Jade. She knew he was justifiably worried about his family. After all, they were going far, far away, and chances were he’d never see his father again. Tersely, he said, “We can’t worry him.” Jade blinked, not understanding. He looked at her, repeated, “We can’t worry him.” Then he explained, “No matter what happens, we can’t worry him or Dani. I’m sure we aren’t going to have any problems, but if we do, we won’t let the family know about it, agreed?” Jade said of course. “But what could happen?”

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“I’m not saying anything will, just that we have to be sure that all the letters we send home are cheerful. Mother isn’t young anymore, either, and she’s got enough on her mind without hearing our problems.” Kitty then returned to say Travis was still sleeping. “I’ve asked the cook to fix a quick lunch, and then you should go on to see Dani and Drake. By the time you get back, he’ll be awake.” After they’d eaten, they had the family carriage take them to the outskirts of Paris, only a few miles from Versailles, where Drake had built, and was still building, a three-story château in the middle of fifty acres he’d purchased. He and Dani were living in an apartment in the east wing while the rest of the house was being finished. Jade and Colt were impressed, for already enough had been completed that it was obvious the house would be beautiful. Gardeners and workmen were busy digging ponds and laying the foundation for a sculptured garden of shrubs and flowers. “Why so large a house?” Jade whispered as they made their way up the brick-sculptured walkway to the front doors. “Even if Dani is able to have this baby, surely she won’t risk having another, so they can’t be planning for a big family.” Colt agreed it seemed odd but surmised they had to spend their money on something. “Why not a mansion to rival Versailles?” Jade laughed. “They’ve got a long way to go to even resemble that.” Colt lifted the large brass knocker, shaped like a lion’s head, and let it clang to announce their arrival. Drake saw their carriage from the window and opened the door to them. Jade happily threw herself into his arms. They embraced warmly; then Drake heartily shook Colt’s hand in greeting and congratulations. “I wish I could’ve

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been there,” he apologized. “I hear the reception was more exciting than the wedding,” he added with a wink. Colt jovially agreed, daring to say, “I’m glad it was Tamara who discovered we’d sneaked away. I always thought she was a nosy little snit, anyway.” “You can say that again.” Drake laughed. Jade made a face at Colt. “Go on, make fun of my family. I’m sure in years to come I’ll find lots to laugh at about yours!” But she really wasn’t angry, since she herself had always found Tamara obnoxious. Drake led the way past ladders and paint buckets and workmen to the wing in which he and Dani lived, away from all the noisy work. He explained that it might take as long as five years to complete what they planned to do. “I’ve already had to rent storage space in Paris for the furniture and decorator pieces I keep buying. Every time I see something I think Dani might like, I get it, figuring if she doesn’t, I can sell it later.” They stepped into a cozy and lovely parlor. The wallpaper pattern was of shaded greens against a cream background, and there was intricate carved wainscoting of Brazilian rosewood. A small stone fireplace was set in one wall, and windows trimmed with draperies of butter-yellow brocade looked out on the sloping, not-yet-completed east garden. Jade sat down on the walnut settee, noticed the strangeness of its twin-chair construction with solid back splats, and ball and claw legs with scallop shell decoration on the knees. Drake took a seat beside her, noted her interest in the piece, and explained, “It’s a real antique. Kitty says it probably goes back to the early 1700s.” He nodded at the chairs opposite. “Like those. The cabriole legs date them. I’m afraid I don’t know much about antiques. I just buy what I think Dani would like. She hasn’t been able to shop with me in a long time. She…” his voice trailed

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off, and he rubbed at his temples with his fingertips, as though a sudden headache had struck, “… isn’t strong, you know,” he finished lamely. Jade placed a gentle hand on his knee and asked, “How is she, Drakar?” She used his given name, his Russian name, for she’d never gotten used to Dani’s adaptation. “How is she, really?” “Weak.” He shook his head miserably. “The least thing tires her. She has to stay in bed, I know that, but it’s making a vegetable out of her, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. God, nearly five months to go…” Colt dared to blurt, “Maybe it’d be best if she went ahead and lost the baby, Drake, and you two just gave up on having children. With her history, her mother dying in childbirth and—” Drake shot him an incredulous look, as though he had to be insane to dare make such a statement. Colt hurried to explain, not wanting to offend. “It’s none of my business, I know, but I think you have to ask yourself if it’s worth it. She might die, and meanwhile, it’s making life hell for both of you.” A nerve in Drake’s jaw tensed, and for an instant, Jade feared his temper would explode. Even she was shocked that Colt could be so cruelly outspoken with his opinion, but then, it had been on her mind as well—the question of how Drakar and Dani could even consider trying to have a baby, especially so soon after she had miscarried. Then, to her astonishment, Drakar seemed to slump in defeated frustration, and. murmured in a voice so low as to be barely audible, “You’re probably right, but we’ve got to see it through now and hope for the best…pray for the best. But whatever happens, this has got to be the last time. I love her, and she means more to me than having a baby.”

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Jade hugged him, and he kissed her cheek and told her Dani would be angry if she knew he was keeping her. “She’s really been looking forward to your visit. Come along.” She followed him from the parlor, down a short hallway that turned several times, and then they entered a large room splashed with sunshine from big floorto-ceiling windows. “Jade! Oh, Jade!” Rushing across the gold-and-turquoise rug, Jade warmly met Dani’s outstretched arms. After a moment, she pulled away and sat down to glance in admiration at the ornate upholstered bed with its elaborate needlework trimmings on headboard and tester, then exulted, “You look like a princess, so dainty and pretty in this gorgeous bed and that beautiful gown you’re wearing.” Dani beamed. “The bed is something Drake and I found when we were in England right after we married. We had it in storage the last time you were here. I think it’s my favorite piece.” She smiled broadly. “I understand you’re a real princess now—a very special wedding gift from the Czar himself. I want to hear all about it—everything.” She waved a hand airily. “Kitty gave me her version, but I’ll bet yours is more exciting…especially the part about your sneaking away at the reception.” Jade laughed. “That, I think, made a bigger impression on everyone than the wedding itself.” Briefly, she described the mischief, and Dani laughed, delighted to hear such a tale. But as Jade spoke, she was thinking how pale Dani looked, an almost ghostlike deity propped against the soft pink pillows. She seemed so thin, her cheeks hollow, sunken, and her eyes had lost their familiar happy sparkle. It was obvious she’d lost weight, yet her rounded tummy beneath the sheets gave testimony to her delicate condition.

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Suddenly Dani interrupted accusingly, “You’re thinking how terrible I look.” Jade gasped, surprised and embarrassed. “You have the same look on your face everyone gets when they come in here. You look at me and think how sick I look…how I won’t be able to have this baby. “But I will!” She glared at Jade, her eyes hot with determination. “I’m going to carry this baby the full time, and it’s going to live. I know it, because I feel it in my heart.” Jade was suddenly very uncomfortable and did not know how to react to Dani’s outburst. Somewhat hesitantly, she said, “Well, I’m sure both of you will be fine, and—” “Listen to me!” Dani turned on her side, raised up on one elbow to stare at Jade with an expression of desperation in her need to make herself understood. “I’ve lain here for almost three months. I took to this bed as soon as I thought there was the slightest possibility I might be pregnant, and I’ve been here ever since—because I want this baby more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” She bit out the declaration. Jade could only stare at her in wonder, then decided it best to let her say whatever was on her mind. If she could help by lending a sympathetic ear, she was more than willing. Dani leaned back once more, her hair fanning out on the pillow. She gazed up at the ceiling for long moments, her breath harsh and ragged, then becoming even; and when it did, she began to speak again, but it was more to herself than to Jade. “Being alone as much as I have, I’ve come to really know myself, as though up till now I wasn’t a real person, a real being. It’s as though that ceiling up there, that I stare at for so long I almost become hypnotized, is actually a mirror to my soul. I’ve seen things that were there all my life probably, but I had

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to have this time to find them, to uncover the real me. If nothing else comes from this time, then I’ve this much to be thankful for. I know who I am…but most important, I know why I am.” She gave a short, bitter laugh, reached to pat Jade’s hand. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you? You think I’m losing my mind. It’s not so bad, really. Drake spends as much time as he can with me, but there’s the rest of the house to be built, and he keeps an eye on the shop, the people who’re running it when Kitty isn’t there, and more and more lately she isn’t, because of my father, but that’s all right. I understand. I want her to be with him.” Jade sensed Dani had a reason for this speech. She did not have long to wait to get her explanation. Dani suddenly reached out to clutch Jade’s arm, nails digging into flesh almost painfully. “I want you to promise me something, Jade. I want you to promise me that if I die, you will take my baby and raise it as your own.” Jade’s eyes widened. Her lips parted, but she could make no sound. Never could she have guessed what was behind Dani’s bizarre behavior. Finally, she stammered, “I—I don’t know what to say, Dani. You know Colt and I would both be willing to do that, but it isn’t going to be necessary. Besides,” she pointed out, unsure of Dani’s motivation, “Drakar is the father, and surely he’d object.” A bittersweet smile came to Dani’s lips. “Drake knows how I feel, and he loves me enough to abide by my wishes, even if it means giving up his child.” Jade shook her head, feeling dizzy with bafflement. “But why? Why on Earth would you want him to give up his baby? Why wouldn’t you trust him to raise it? He can afford the best of everything.” “Drake is a handsome, virile man, and even though he doesn’t think so now, he’d marry again. My child would represent me in his wife’s eyes. She’d take out any jealousy for me and the love Drake and I shared on that child.

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“Oh, Jade, don’t you see?” She grasped her arm once again, looking quite desperate. “I know only too well how jealousy and resentment can be channeled to a child. My aunt had an affair with my father, but he married my mother, and my aunt never got over that. Her hatred increased when he killed the other man in her life in a gunfight. Consciously or subconsciously, she took it all out on me, and I don’t want my child to be touched by anything similar. Drake loves me, and he’ll never be able to love a woman in quite the same way, and just as my mother realized that fact with Travis’s love for Kitty, so will any second wife of Drake’s.” She drew in a harsh breath, let it out slowly. “Now do you understand my request? And why Drake will abide by it?” “I understand now, I honestly do,” Jade said softly. “And Colt and I would be honored to raise your baby and love it as our own, but nothing is going to happen to you, Dani.” Kissing her cheek, she stepped back and hoped her smile looked confident. Dani seemed at peace once the promise was made, and Jade seized the moment to end what had become a stressful visit. They embraced once more, and Jade promised to visit as often as possible before she left France; then she hurried from the room. Once outside, she leaned against the wall momentarily to regain her composure before returning to Drakar and Colt. If what she was feeling inside showed on her face, they’d want to know what was wrong, and right now she didn’t want to talk about it. She needed time to sort things out in her own mind. Dani was, after all, probably worrying needlessly. Or was she?

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Cold fingers of apprehension began to slowly wrap around Jade’s spine, and she felt a shadow of fear descending…as though something terrible was about to happen—not just to Dani, but to her…and Colt.

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Chapter Five

When Jade returned to the parlor, she could feel the tension in the air. Drakar sat with shoulders hunched, staring morosely at the glass of brandy he held with tightly laced fingers. Colt was standing at the window, hands held behind his back as he looked out at nothing in particular. He turned when Jade entered, and she did not have to ask whether Drakar had told him of Dani’s request. “You agreed.” He spoke with finality, as though no discussion were needed. “Of course, but we’re going to pray it never will be necessary.” Drakar downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, stood up, went to pour another as he told them, “I’ve talked to her till I’m blue in the face, but she’s got this fear she’s going to die and she doesn’t have anything to do except worry about it while she’s lying there hour after hour, day after day. I try to spend as much time as I can with her, but…” His voice trailed off helplessly. Colt moved toward the door. “I’d better go in now.” When they were alone, Jade sat and listened quietly as Drakar welcomed the opportunity to confide his troubles to a friend. She could not think of anything to say or do that would ease his pain; knew that all he needed for the moment was the only thing she could give him—a sympathetic and understanding ear. Colt spent an hour or more with Dani, then returned to tell them that she hadn’t mentioned her conversation with Jade. “In fact, she was cheerful.” He smiled at Jade. “I guess your promising to do what she asked eased some of the tension. Maybe things will be better now.”

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On the ride back to Paris, Colt was quiet, deep in private thoughts. At first, Jade attempted to lighten his mood by pointing out the beautiful French vista, away from the congestion and hustle and bustle of Paris proper. Late-blooming summer flowers dotted the countryside, splashing it with color and spicing the air with sweet fragrance. It was a gorgeous day. A gentle wind blew puffy fingers of snowy-white clouds across the tinted cobalt sky. The sun was a teasing peach-and-golden orb, sending warmth in peekaboo waves as the open carriage passed beneath the leafy branches overhanging the curving road. Finally, with a sigh of resolution, Jade settled back to enjoy the scenic ride without further intruding upon Colt’s meditation. She had an idea why he was so deeply within himself. No doubt he was worrying that now was not the time to leave his family. This plunged her into a troubled muse of her own, for how would she react if he suggested they postpone their departure? She was excited over the prospects of a new life, away from memories that held little joy. If Colt did make such a suggestion, could she do the noble thing and agree…or be honest and tell him she thought they should get on with their own lives? Kitty was strong. Dani had Drakar. And now they had each other…and their future together. Dani’s request continued to prey on her mind, and she could understand why the wretched soul felt that way. She recalled how, that very afternoon, the maid who’d served her tea, while Colt was in with Dani, had looked at Drakar with open adoration on her young and pretty face. He was legend with women. Ever since she’d known him, which was a long time, women flocked about him, threw themselves at his feet. It was probably no different now, even though he was married, and would get worse were he a widower. He would be a prime target for conniving females after a rich husband. They’d pretend to love the baby and make all sorts of promises just to snare him, only to later turn into the

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evil, jealous stepmother Dani feared. True, it was possible he might find one good heart who would love the child as her own, but the risk was too great in Dani’s eyes. Jade shook herself in an attempt to fling away such thoughts. Nothing was going to happen to Dani, but she wondered at that strange coldness that was now enveloping her once again; why did she have this terrifying premonition that something bad was going to happen to somebody? Just as they reached the gates of the Coltrane mansion, Colt suddenly turned to Jade and in an imploring voice, eyes shaded with worry, said, “Let’s not mention anything about what Dani asked. We don’t want to upset them, especially Pa.” “Of course,” Jade was quick to agree. She reached out to touch his hand, and he wrapped his arms about her, kissed her forehead. “I love you so much, my princess.” “And I love you,” she responded huskily, blinking back tears and not knowing why she felt like crying. They found Travis sitting on the terrace that overlooked Kitty’s prize rose garden at the rear of the mansion. He looked, Jade decided at once, hearty and fit, except for slight shadows beneath his eyes. He was not wearing the robe and slippers she’d expected but was attractively dressed in casual gray trousers and a shirt of soft blue cotton. He stood up, embraced Jade, kissed both her cheeks, and said, “You’re even more beautiful than at the wedding,” then shook hands with Colt, gave him a hearty slap on his back, and laughed. “And you’re even uglier!” Jade couldn’t help exclaiming, “You look wonderful!” “Of course,” he assured her, gesturing for them to join him at the wroughtiron table, where he’d been enjoying afternoon wine and cheese. “Just because a few Reb balls are moving around in my chest doesn’t mean I’m done for. They

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couldn’t kill me thirty years ago, and I’ll be damned if I’ll give up now without another fight.” They enjoyed a glass of wine as they told him of their honeymoon cruise. He was, Jade noted, especially interested in hearing of their travels in Greece, but she remembered he’d been there with Colt, when Colt went after Briana, Gavin Mason, and the Coltrane fortune. Eventually, the conversation turned to Dani, and they glossed over the situation as much as possible. Travis listened, raised an eyebrow, then echoed aloud the thoughts of all, “Let’s pray everything turns out all right.” Kitty waved from where she was pruning late summer blossoms, and Colt left them to join her. Travis watched him leave, then bluntly asked Jade, “Well, did you promise to raise the baby if Dani doesn’t make it?” She gasped and turned to stare at him in amazement. “How did you know she asked me about that?” He reached to touch her cheek with gentle fingertips and smiled sadly. “We’ve gotten to know each other, my little girl and me, and she talks to her old pa now and tells him what makes her heart cry.” “Travis,” Jade dared to point out, “I think you’ve been doing a lot of needless worrying.” He gave her a sharp look, unused to anyone besides his wife daring to criticize—or disagree. Jade, undaunted and seldom intimidated, plunged on. “It seems to me that’s all this family is doing lately—worrying about everybody else. Kitty worries about you and Dani. Dani worries about her baby. Drakar worries about Dani. You worry about them all…and Colt worries about everybody including you.” “That happens to be the way it is when families love each other, Jade,” Travis said a bit gruffly.

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“But needlessly? When you can’t do anything about it?” He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment; then, with his usual astuteness that never failed to astound those around him, he quietly pronounced, without accusation or condemnation, “You’re afraid Colt is going to want to postpone leaving for America.” “That’s true,” Jade replied softly. “Quite frankly, I don’t know how I’m going to react if he suggests it.” “You’re going to be honest with him.” She gave him a wry smile. “I am? And what, sir, is my honest feeling on the matter?” “Don’t play games with me, Jade,” Travis said almost sharply. “One of the reasons I respect you is your honesty. You want to leave as planned, and deep down, you don’t really think that’s being selfish. You and Colt are married now, and you feel your marriage should come before family. I agree.” She eyed him suspiciously. “If I thought you were wrong, I’d say so,” he went on. “If the family really needed Colt, and he could help out in some way, and you still resisted postponing things, then I’d say you were a selfish little brat. But we both know there’s nothing he can do. If and when the time comes, be the strong woman I know you are, and be true to yourself.” He reached for her hand and held it to his lips. Then he sat back, steepled his fingers, and stared beneath the cathedral he’d built at Kitty and Colt walking and talking in the distance. “I’m like any man reaching the sunset of his life, Jade,” he quietly said. “It’s hard to look over my shoulder and remember many rainbows. They seem to be obscured by the storm clouds of sad memories. But I am going to die one day, and I don’t want to have my son hovering around till my life ends to begin his. It might make me die quicker to get out of his way.”

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Jade thought how much she loved this man, as if he were the father she’d never really known. True, their relationship had been growing for only a short time, but Travis was the kind who either became a friend to someone or disregarded him, and when the decision was one of friendship, nothing was held back. She stood up, then leaned forward to place a gentle hand on each side of his handsome face. In a tremulous whisper, she declared, “I love you, Travis Coltrane.” For one fleeting second, like the whisper of a butterfly’s wing, his gray eyes veiled with emotion. Then the melancholy time passed. With a smile from his heart, he said, “Hearing that, princess, makes me see the rainbows.” Colt spent the remainder of the afternoon with his father, and Jade enjoyed a quiet time with Kitty. After dinner, when she and Colt retired to the privacy of their suite, he became moody once more. For a while she allowed him to be alone with his thoughts; then she decided it was time for everything to be brought into the open. She went to where he sat on the divan before a cold and empty fireplace. “Talk to me, Colt. Tell me how you think it best if we don’t leave just yet.” He turned to stare at her incredulously. She did not give him time to speak, but went on firmly. “I think it would be wrong. I want to go ahead with our plans, and your family doesn’t really need you. You think they do, but they don’t. They’ve got their own lives and their own future, good or bad, just as we do. I need you. Please, don’t think me selfish, Colt,” she implored him with beseeching eyes. Colt stared at her for long moments, and she tried in vain to guess his thoughts. She could not see anger or disappointment, only love.

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Finally, when she thought she could stand the torment no longer, he drew her into his arms. “I love you,” he said tersely, his lips melting against hers in a long, soul- scorching kiss that left both of them shaken. Then he gazed at her with so much adoration that she felt a shuddering deep within. “I love you,” he repeated, then added with a soft laugh and a gleam-in his eye, “but you aren’t as sharp as you think you are—Pa and I had a long talk this afternoon.” It was Jade’s turn to be astonished. “I don’t understand.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then informed her matter-of-factly, “I never thought about postponing our leaving.” “But you’ve been so preoccupied and worried,” she argued. Again he laughed. “But I wasn’t thinking about postponing the trip. I was wondering why I didn’t feel guilty when I thought I should. Then I realized my family doesn’t expect me to set aside my future for their problems, not when there’s nothing I can do other than give them moral support.” Jade was at last able to smile with relief. Colt stood up, took her hand, and led her into the bedroom, where he began to undress her with nimble, eager fingers. All the while, as Jade also unfastened his shirt, helped him to disrobe, their gaze was locked together in a silent message of desire. When they were naked, Colt began to trail warm lips down her neck, shoulders, then kissed her breasts, each nipple in turn, finally trailing a path of fire down her belly with his tongue. He dropped to his knees, hands cupping her buttocks as he burrowed his face hungrily against the furry blossom of her womanhood. Her fingers laced about the back of his head, and she arched her neck and moaned out loud. And when at last he laid her on the bed and entered her and once more they became one, Jade knew there had never been a greater passion, a greater love.

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Chapter Six

Jade and Colt arrived by train at the tip of Normandy’s Cotentin peninsula, one day before their ship was scheduled to sail from the cross-channel port of Cherbourg. Kitty and Travis had seen them off in Paris, and the goodbyes had been emotional, for not one of them could say whether they would ever meet again. Jade found the harbor at Cherbourg delightful, with its preponderance of steamers and ships of all description. There were tugs and small boats, and yachts and pleasure boats riding at anchor. Seagulls darted and sang in their endless search for food, and a sharp yet sweet wind howled from across the channel. The port city, however, was dirty and depressing, its dark and dingy streets crowded by poorer than poor. Men, haggard and drunk, stumbled in alleyways or slept in doorways. Women, babies suckling at their breasts, sat on slimy street corners with a hand outstretched, begging passersby for money. Dirty, sick children roamed about, also begging. There were taverns and greasy cafes, and the whole area seemed to be bordered and walled by signs advertising the shipping lines—Cunard, Brunel, White Star, Great Eastern. Colt took Jade to the nicest hotel he could find, where they remained safely ensconced till sailing time. Their ship was the Le Paris, not as grand as some of Cunard’s fleets or the vessels of the White Star Line, for it was owned by a smaller company being

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slowly squeezed out by the magnates. Still, it was comfortable, as Jade discovered once they were on board, and she and Colt took a grand tour. They knew that the dangers of an Atlantic crossing had receded as better technology was developed. More liners offered all the comforts of a first-class hotel. Oil lamps had been abolished at last, and the brilliance of electric lighting shone out, the power coming from generators. There was even an ice room with a capacity for forty tons of frozen water that would take at least two weeks to melt, making it possible to preserve all kinds of previously unavailable delicacies for a crossing that would last nearly three weeks. Jade and Colt passed through the attractive and comfortable public rooms, with sofas and chairs in brocade and plush upholstery. Vases of fresh flowers had been placed on the marble-topped tables that seemed to occupy every space where there was not a chair or sofa. Ornate mirrors, stunning tapestries, and quality paintings adorned the walls. They nodded in greeting to other couples walking the rooms and decks, inspecting their home for the next few weeks. There were men in top hats and tails, and ladies in ostrich-feathered hats and velvet dresses, tailored or rib-boned bustles, flouncing side to side as they walked regally. Colt remarked, “Seeing all this, it’s hard to imagine that just a few decks below there are people crowded in like rats, sleeping on raw hardwood floors, eating leftovers from the first-class dining room, drinking water out of buckets…men, women, children, all packed together with no privacy.” Jade empathized and asked, “Does it make you feel guilty that we have so much, that we travel in style, while they travel in squalor?” Colt thought a moment, then said, “On one hand, yes, because I don’t like to think of any human suffering, but on the other hand, I have to remind myself that no one makes enough money to make everybody rich. There are always

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going to be classes of people, and fortunately, we’re a member of the richer class. When we get to America, where there’s a financial crisis going on, I think we’re going to be reminded of that fact a lot.” Jade agreed. “I’m grateful for what we have. Sadly, it’s true we can’t make it possible for everyone to have what we have, but at least we aren’t snobs. “I suppose,” she went on to confide, “that’s why being titled a princess didn’t really impress me. The Czar was being kind, but quite frankly, I’ve never cared for the status of royalty versus commoner.” Colt laughed softly, gazed down at her adoringly. “Well, my dear Mrs. Coltrane, I’m afraid that’s the position you’re going to find yourself in when we reach New York—royalty among commoners.” They found their quarters, on the prestigious promenade deck, to be comfortable in size. There was a parlor, bedroom, dressing room, private bath— and Jade thought the decor was beautiful. The ship sailed at sunset, and Jade and Colt stood at the railing, arms about each other, watching in silence as the shoreline of France slipped farther and farther into the distance. Finally, they were wrapped by the sea, the sky fading to blend amidst the deep greenish blue of the ocean. The journey to America had begun. The sound of bells gently chimed, giving signal that dinner was being served in the first-class dining room. Both admitted being famished after having no more to eat all day than the dainty finger foods offered in abundance, along with endless-flowing champagne, by the ship’s uniformed stewards. Returning to their suite, Colt grumbled as he changed for dinner. He did not mind the new false shirt cuffs, fitted into the sleeve of his coat like a wristband, nor did he mind the semi-cutaway coat, which ended at his waist in front but slanted to semi-tails in back. It was the shoes he despised, bending to use the

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little silver hook to fasten the buttons that went all the way up to the ankle. “I feel like an old lady.” Jade could not help teasing, “But it’s the latest fashion, darling, and remember, you’re the one who said we’re royalty among commoners, and that means we have to dress the part. “And just think,” she continued to goad him as he made a face at her, “tonight isn’t even formal, because it’s our first night out. Tomorrow night, you can really dress up.” Colt snapped that he had a good notion to just eat in the cabin, much preferring casual clothes, but knew she was right. No more Western boots and denims, not that he’d dressed in Paris the way he’d dressed back in Nevada, but it seemed those days of leisure wear were in the past. They were moving into high-society New York, with all its glitter and glamour, and they had to dress the part, like it or not. Jade preened in front of a mirror. She was wearing a gown of French satin in a luscious shade of gold that made her eyes look even greener against the sheen. The modestly plunging neckline accentuated her slender neck, and she wore her long red hair swept up, with waves on the side. “Conformity was never my forte,” he stated grimly, then stepped up behind her to slip his arms about her tiny waist and huskily whisper in her ear, “But beauty, my lovely wife, is certainly yours.” She whirled about in his arms, coquettishly murmuring, “Flattery, my handsome husband, will get you anywhere, as I’ll show you later tonight…in bed.” “Hussy!” He patted her bottom, pointed to the door. “Out, or I’ll drag you to bed, and you’ll go to sleep hungry.” She winked at him. “Only for food. You satisfy every other need.”

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He made as if to grab her, and she squealed in mock terror and jerked open the door to rush into the narrow hallway, only to crash into a woman passing by, knocking her against the opposite wall. “Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” the woman snapped furiously, struggling to regain her balance. “You could have knocked me down. As it is, you’ve mussed my dress,” she added waspishly, hands moving to smooth her gown. Jade stepped back, at once apologetic and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, truly I am.” “Oh, get out of my way!” The woman lifted her chin, gave an indignant sniff. She was, Jade surmised, in her forties but looked much older due to her unpleasant air. She was dressed in an expensive gown of navy blue with a high lace collar, her waist nipped in tightly to give her that fashionable hourglass look. She wore a tiny beaded hat with pink feathers atop her severely bunned graying hair, and Jade had to swallow a giggle at such a ridiculous creation. There was another woman with her, Jade now noticed, who seemed hardly more than a child to look at her. The outfit she wore, a pale pink taffeta dress with long puffy sleeves and a wide, ribboned cummerbund, made her appear quite young; that, plus the obvious fact that she seemed unusually shy. She had glanced only briefly at Jade, then turned away, staring down at her feet as if uncomfortable and embarrassed by the scene. “Well,” the woman snapped, “are you going to get out of my way and allow us to pass? Or do you possess no manners at all? And are you sure you’re in the right section of this ship?” she added tartly. “Third class is several decks down.” Jade allowed the remark, and the hateful woman, to pass, biting her tongue against an angry retort.

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“Who was that?” Colt peered out of the door to stare after the two women as they continued on their way. Jade frowned with disapproval. “Oh, just the sort I hope we never get to be.” The first-class dining room was one deck below, reached by an elegant paneled stairway which curved from left and right, coming together at a small landing beneath an arcade with a huge clock in the middle. From there, one could look down into the dining room, which was in the Louis XVI style, complete with gilt-banded columns and chintz-backed chairs. Waiters in white jackets and dark trousers scurried about to serve a sumptuous fare. The air was permeated with the delicious smells of roast duckling, chicken, and various beef dishes. Colt gave the maître d’ their names, and he checked them off on his list, motioned they should follow him to their assigned table. Just then, Jade remembered she’d left the ring Kitty had given her on her dressing table. Turning to Colt, she whispered, “My ring. The one your mother gave me. I left it in the cabin.” “I’ll go,” Colt offered. Jade shook her head. “You’d have to look for it, and I know exactly where I left it. I’ll be right back.” She scurried up the stairs before he could protest, retrieved the ring, and returned to the dining room in less than ten minutes. The maître d’ saw her behind three other couples and indicated she should come ahead. “Mrs. Coltrane, I’ve seated your husband. Follow me.” Then he was pulling out a chair for her, and Jade prepared to seat herself next to Colt but hesitated when she noticed the mischievous, knowing gleam in his eye as he fought to keep from laughing out loud. Still leaning slightly forward, not yet seated yet no longer standing, she darted a glance about the

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table—and saw the scowling face of the woman who’d questioned her right to be in the first-class section of the ship. Colt politely stood up, guided Jade to her seat. “My dear”—there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice—“I’d like to introduce you to the ladies with whom we’ll be sharing a table for the duration of our voyage.” Inwardly, Jade groaned, for the woman was glaring at her belligerently. It was obvious she had no intention of forgetting the incident, however trivial it had been. Colt was enjoying himself. He nodded to the imperious woman. “Mrs. Triesta Vordane of New York, and”—he smiled at the young girl sitting so cowed beside her—“her daughter, Lorena. Ladies, I’d like you to meet my wife, Jade Coltrane.” The girl called Lorena almost smiled, but a nervous glance at her mother caused her to merely nod her head and return her interest to the salad on the plate in front of her. Colt readjusted his napkin across his lap as he informed Jade that Mrs. Vordane had just informed him they were returning to New York after a brief holiday in France. “I told her we were moving there, that I’d be working with the Vanderbilts, and she knows them well, says I’ll enjoy them immensely,” he added with a flourish. Jade wanted to stuff his napkin in his mouth. So what if she had bumped into the twit of a woman? She’d apologized and was not about to spend the rest of the voyage attempting to make amends. After a polite nod of acknowledgment to her tablemates, she turned her attention to Colt and the delicious meal they were being served, not including Triesta or her daughter in their conversation. All the while she was wondering how she could endure such tension three times a day for more than three weeks. She had already decided that Colt ask they be

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seated elsewhere. Such an unpleasant person as Triesta Vordane could ruin an otherwise beautiful and memorable trip. Jade was in the middle of telling Colt about something she remembered his mother’s saying she’d like them to see in New York when Triesta Vordane suddenly interrupted, addressing herself to Colt. “You said your name was Coltrane.” She gave him a fawning smile. “By any chance would your father be Travis Coltrane? I saw his picture in the paper once, and you resemble him. I never forget the face of a handsome man,” she added with a ridiculous flutter of her eyelashes. Jade coughed, nearly choked on a bit of tomato. Colt gave her a gentle jab under the table with his foot. “Why, yes, ma’am,” he replied with a mock Southern drawl, “I’m blessed to be the son of Travis Coltrane.” She gave Jade a brief, disdainful glance, then mustered her charm once more for Colt. “I should have known you were someone from a distinguished family. You have that extra grace and charm that come with good breeding.” Jade was astounded that the woman could make such an issue of something as harmless as being bumped into. Heavens, was she mad? Then Jade saw how Lorena was suddenly staring at Colt as though she’d just seen the face of God Himself. Jade did not, however, find this surprising. After all, Colt was a strikingly handsome man, and she’d long been aware of the way women looked at him with unconcealed longing. Colt could not suppress a chuckle, nor a chance to thrust Jade into the unwanted limelight. “Well, thank you, ma’am, but if you want to really see grace and charm, I suggest you look to my wife. She’s a prima ballerina, and—” Jade kicked him. Hard. With fire in her emerald eyes, she shot him a look that warned him to say no more.

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Lorena Vordane spoke for the first time, exclaiming in awe as she turned adoring eyes upon Jade, “Oh, how marvelous! A real ballet dancer!” Triesta sucked in her breath so loudly that the people at the next table glanced about to see what the sound was. She ignored them as she sharply admonished her daughter. “Stop fawning, Lorena. A dancer is nothing to be excited about.” “I’m sorry,” the girl murmured, dropping her gaze once more. Triesta quickly changed the subject and began to bombard Colt with a host of questions about his father. Jade paid no attention, merely ate her dinner quietly while stealing sympathetic glances now and then at Lorena…such a mousy little thing, so intimidated by her mother that she wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible in order to avoid her anger, scorn, or ridicule. Her eyes were a dull brown, and Jade wondered if they’d ever shone with happiness or joy. Her hair, a lovely golden-blonde shade, was pulled back from her delicate, heart-shaped face with no style, no waves, no curl. She wore no makeup, not even a lipstick. She could, Jade mused, be quite beautiful if given a chance. Jade was relieved when dinner was over, and as soon as she was alone with Colt she cried, “We’ve got to change tables. I can’t stand three weeks with that horrid woman. Such a snob! All she did was try to impress you with how rich she is. Big mansion on the Hudson River, the Vordane name listed in the Social Register, whatever that is. Good grief!” She threw up her hands in disgust. “I’ve never met such a pompous, arrogant woman.” Colt shrugged, agreed with her that Triesta Vordane was a bore, but apologetically explained that there was not another table available. “The ship’s full. We’re not even taking on passengers at Southampton, just cargo. Sorry, princess. We’ll just have to make the best of it.” Jade groaned.

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It was going to be a long voyage…and not as pleasant as she’d thought it would be.

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Chapter Seven

Breakfast with Triesta Vordane was avoided the next morning when Jade and Colt opted to spend the time on deck, watching the activity dockside in Plymouth, England. That afternoon they took the opportunity to go ashore for a bit of sightseeing, having lunch in a nice cafe near the waterfront. But when the dinner hour came, they had no choice but to go to the dining room as the ship sailed from port. Jade asked again, in hopes some miracle might have happened during the day, “Are you sure the maître d’ can’t put us anywhere else?” “Sorry,” Colt replied, his voice as dismal as her mood. “This ship isn’t as large as others making the crossing, and first-class dining doesn’t have that many seats available. He says we can ask around, see if anyone would like to swap tables, but I don’t think that would be very nice.” Jade agreed but said it was no more than Mrs. Vordane deserved after the way she’d acted. “We’ll just have to try and make the best of it, I guess. Maybe we can eat fast,” she added tartly. Colt laughed, knowing she wasn’t truly serious about rushing through dinner. It was a relaxing, leisurely time, and usually two hours passed before anyone realized it, after all the wine between courses and demitasse or brandy later. “We’ll take dessert in one of the public rooms, and maybe that’ll relieve some of the misery,” he offered. Jade chose a gown of white velvet, edged in ermine, that had been one of her favorites in court. Colt went to the purser’s office to take her diamond and

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emerald tiara from the safe, while she used the heated irons a steward had brought to curl her hair on top of her head. All eyes were upon Jade and Colt as they made their way down the grand staircase into the dining room. They were a striking couple—Jade in the attire of royalty, and Colt elegant in a white suit, red silk shirt with ruffled cuffs and tie. Jade gritted her teeth as they walked to their table, steeling herself for another unpleasant encounter with Mrs. Vordane. But to her amazement, they were greeted by a broad smile! “Lovely!” Triesta Vordane clapped her hands together in childlike approval. “Such a beautiful couple. Don’t you agree, Lorena?” She gave her daughter a nudge with her elbow. “Yes, Mama.” The young girl nodded obediently, not glancing up. Jade was surprised but pleased by this new attitude. “I took the liberty of ordering our wine tonight,” Mrs. Vordane said cheerily as Jade and Colt took their seats. “You’ll be our guests, of course, as I had it placed on our account.” “Very nice of you, Mrs. Vordane,” Colt murmured. He picked up the menu and began to look it over, absently adding, “You ladies look lovely tonight.” Jade quietly concurred, noting Mrs. Vordane’s bright blue gown with thick gold beading, in sharp contrast with Lorena’s simple yellow-and-white cotton. Mrs. Vordane was also wearing a lot of jewels, while her daughter had no such adornments. “Please, call me Triesta. Let’s not be so formal, Colt. After all”—she reached across the table to pat his hand—“we’re going to be friends in New York. It will be fun introducing you and Jade to my friends and showing you around town.”

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She gave Jade a smile of inclusion, but Jade sensed it was false. The woman’s eyes were cold, her mouth tightly set. For some reason she had yet to discern, suspicion needled. As they ate their first course of rabbit and golden plum compote, Triesta made herself the center of attention with yet another bragging description of the Vordane wealth, background…their political and social influence. During the second course, stuffed veal breast, Triesta began to ask Colt questions about his future job with the Vanderbilts, where he and Jade planned to reside once they reached New York. She seemed, Jade noticed, unusually interested in the fact that they were planning to stay at a hotel until they found a place to rent before ultimately buying or building a home. “Perhaps a temporary residence is a good idea, Colt,” Triesta softly commented. “Your bride might become homesick and return to her own country. You’d have no need of a large home then, would you?” She addressed herself to him as though Jade were not present. Jade suppressed a laugh, although her ire was starting to rise. It was becoming obvious why Mrs. Vordane was so interested in Colt: if he were available, she’d want him for her mousy little daughter. Colt sensed Jade’s discomfort, was annoyed himself, and he coolly responded, “There’s no need to discuss such a possibility. Jade won’t be homesick as long as she’s with me.” Mrs. Vordane dramatically cooed, “Oh, what a sweet thought…” She reached over to touch her daughter’s shoulder. “Isn’t that a sweet thing for Mr. Coltrane to say, darling? One day perhaps a man will love you that much…if you’re lucky.” Jade did not miss the way Lorena began to blink furiously, as though fighting back tears. She remained silent.

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Jade sensed Colt was as bored as she but since Mrs. Vordane had ordered a bottle of rare and expensive cognac for their coffee, they could not very well escape until they’d politely shared the treat, although she was fast reaching the point where she felt they owed the haughty woman no regard. Then, during coffee, Jade found herself under scrutiny. “Tell me, dear,” Mrs. Vordane prodded, holding her coffee cup before her with practiced grace, “how is it that you claim Russia as your home when you’re obviously Irish?” Jade countered with a question of her own. “And how did you know I’m Irish?” Triesta laughed airily. “Irish eyes, my dear, and you speak with a trace of an accent, and I don’t mean a Russian accent. My husband and I traveled extensively before he died, and we met people of many different racial and ethnic backgrounds. I can certainly distinguish one nationality from another.” Jade said nothing, merely sipped her coffee. She was not about to allow Triesta Vordane to continue her prying. Besides, she did not want to tell anyone of her- background. Not that she was ashamed. Far from it. It was an honor, she felt, to be a member of the Romanov family. It was just that she felt no need to talk of the past, nor to answer the questions of strangers. When Mrs. Vordane realized she would get no response from Jade, she pretended sympathetic concern. “Oh, of course, you’d rather not discuss it, you poor child. Forgive me. Why, you’re probably already homesick, aren’t you?” She wagged a scolding finger at Colt. “That’s what you American boys get for marrying foreign girls. Stick to your own kind. A wife crying over her homeland is not the kind of life’s mate you need.” Jade tensed, struggling to keep from exploding, for she did not want to give this inquisitive woman the satisfaction of seeing her lose control. Tightly, she bit

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out the words, “For your information, Mrs. Vordane, I am not homesick, nor do I intend to be. My place is beside my husband, wherever he chooses to live, and I rather think it’s his business whether he marries a ‘foreigner’ or an American.” Mrs. Vordane gasped, but Jade rushed on. “I suggest you look to your own background, and unless you come from a long line of Indians on both sides, I’d say you’re somewhat of a foreigner to American soil yourself.” Colt dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and coughed to keep from bursting out laughing. Triesta Vordane looked as though someone had just thrown ice water in her face; even her daughter dared to giggle. Jade stood up. Colt also rose. “Excuse me,” Jade said crisply, then walked out of the dining room, head held high. She made her way back upstairs, let herself into the cabin. The steward had been there for his evening service, placing a bowl of fresh fruit on the table in the parlor and turning back the covers on their bed. Undressing, Jade put on a robe and then began to walk about in agitation, reliving the horrid dinner, thinking of poor Lorena Vordane and how terrible it must be to have such a wretched creature for a mother. No wonder the girl just sat silently staring at her plate, as though she wished she could slip beneath the table and disappear. Then Jade began to stew about Colt and why he hadn’t followed her. He’d handled Triesta’s nosiness rather well, considering she had asked so many personal questions. He’d hedged, sidestepped, managed to be polite, while all the time Jade had been gritting her teeth.

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Finally Colt came in, immediately going to her to wrap her in his arms. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered. “I went to talk to the maître d’ again, and there’s just nothing he can do, unless we want to swap tables. “But,” he went on, laughing, “I don’t think she’s going to try to cut you up anymore after the way you let her know you aren’t intimidated by her. That part about the Indians really got her.” He grinned and shook his head. The next morning, Jade awoke to look out the porthole and see that the ocean seemed to be getting rougher. She knew the water was rarely calm in the Atlantic, but the whitecaps were higher than usual. She remarked to Colt that she hoped there wouldn’t be a storm, and he sleepily commented that the ship was a good one and there was no danger. She returned to her watch of the rolling, heaving waves and placed a hand on her stomach. It was rolling and starting to heave there, too. She was not feeling all that well. Colt was being lazy and did not want to get up for breakfast; so, in hopes a stroll on deck might make her feel better, Jade dressed in a warm wool dress and thick fur cape and went outside. The wind at once assaulted her, biting and chilling, despite its being only September. The sky was gray, overcast, and she wondered whether the spray striking her face as she quickened her pace was from the foaming sea or rain. A crewman passed. “Deck’s slippery, madame,” he warned. “Keep hold to the railing and go inside. It’s not a fit day for a walk on the promenade.” Jade agreed, as the ship gave a sudden lurch that would have sent her falling had she not obeyed his instructions and grabbed the railing. She went inside the next door she came to where the welcome scent of fresh coffee was tantalizing. She was in one of the public rooms. She recognized this one as the room where the men gathered to play cards. It was empty now except

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for a steward standing beside a large silver urn of coffee, and she hurried over eagerly. “Terrible day out,” he said as he poured her a steaming cup. “But unfortunately, these crossings are seldom sunny…always seem to be rainy and gloomy.” Jade nodded toward the porthole, through which she saw gray horizon meet brooding sea in a blend of colorless misery. “Looks stormy.” “Aye, it’s not unusual to run into a big blow this time of year.” She could not help feeling apprehensive. “What happens then? Is it terribly frightening?” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry. Captain Myers is the best there is, and he drops anchor when he thinks it’s too rough to fight the sea, and there we sit till it calms down. Sit it out, that’s what we do. The crew battens down, and the passengers stay in their cabins. The stewards pass out sandwiches so they can eat in there and not chance coming out and getting washed overboard.” Jade shivered. “I hope we don’t have to go through that.” He gestured to a table next to the wall. “You just sit down, enjoy your coffee, and don’t think about it. Have you eaten? I can go to the galley and get you some fresh pastry.” Gratefully, she accepted his kindness, made her way to the table, out of sight of the porthole and the gloomy scenery beyond. A few moments later, Jade heard the door open but did not bother to glance about, thinking the steward was returning. However, when a soft voice hesitantly spoke her name, she was startled and turned quickly to find Lorena Vordane standing right behind her. “Mrs. Coltrane, may I speak with you a moment, please?”

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Puzzled but curious, Jade politely indicated the chair opposite. Lorena sat down, her lower lip quivering, eyes brimming with tears. Although the room was empty, she whispered, “I apologize for the way my mother is treating you. I think it’s terrible, and I want you to know I’m truly, truly sorry.” At once Jade felt deep compassion for this miserable girl and reached across to pat her tightly squeezed hands. “There’s no need for you to apologize, Lorena. You’ll find I’m a bit thicker-skinned than most women. I like to think so, anyway.” Lorena nodded, smiled meekly. “I’m glad. I truly am. Maybe after you put her in her place last night, she’ll leave you alone. I’m afraid she’s just been taking it out on you, because she’s so mad with me.” Jade’s interest was piqued. The girl was so meek she couldn’t imagine her upsetting anyone. She was like an apologetic little shadow. “What have you done?” Lorena shook her head, shrugged. A tear spilled to trail pitifully down her pale cheek. “I ran away from home…with a man.” Now Jade was really engrossed. “Go on, please,” she gently prodded. Lorena began her story with how, only two years before, her father had died when she was fifteen. “Before he died, I was preparing to go and live with his sister in Switzerland and finish my schooling there. He’d said I could go, even though my mother objected. She’s not a very pleasant person to be around, I’m afraid, and he knew how unhappy I was at home. She’s always been a snob, and I don’t know why…” She paused to give a small laugh. “She came from a very poor family, actually. It was my father who came from the wealthy bluebloods she brags so much about.

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“Anyway,” she continued, seeming relieved to at last have an outlet for her frustration and misery, “when he died, she wouldn’t let me leave, said she needed me since she was alone. Then she started trying to show me and everyone else that just because she’s a widow, she still has a place in high society, still has money. She even started trying to match me with the sons of friends of hers, saying she wanted to make sure I married into my own ‘class’. That didn’t work!” Her laugh was now bitter. “Why not? You’re a pretty girl, Lorena.” “You’re going to find, Mrs. Coltrane, that there are a lot of pretty girls in New York, from families with more money than my mother has, and when there’s a choice, those families don’t want to be connected in any way with my mother. They don’t like her. Consequently, I’ve lived a very miserable life with my mother dictating to me, smothering me. It’s like being in a prison. I can’t make a single decision for myself. She dictates my every move, tries to control my very thoughts!” Suddenly she closed her eyes, as though swept with unbearable waves of pain. Jade waited, not about to urge her to talk of anything that obviously hurt so badly. Lorena Vordane opened her eyes to look mournfully at Jade as she drew in her breath, let it out slowly, and confided, “Then I met Mandel. He was a sailor from France, on shore leave in the States while visiting his uncle. We met one day when I was able to slip away from the house to go for a walk. His uncle worked as a caretaker on an estate near where we live, and we talked, began to take walks together. I loved Mandel from the very first moment, and I started sneaking out every chance I got to be with him.” She went on to describe how furious her mother was when she ultimately found out about her clandestine romance. “She beat me. Locked me in my room.

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But Mandel helped me escape. We boarded a ship for France, planning to marry when we got there, and I’d live with his family while he was at sea.” Lorena wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, swallowed hard, and choked out the rest of the agonizing tale. “Mandel’s uncle told my mother where we were. His reward was quite handsome, I’m sure. She and two ruffians she hired came after us, found us, right where Mandel’s uncle told her we’d be. Mandel was terribly beaten by Mother’s men. They’re vacationing somewhere in Europe, no doubt drunk on wine and the good life she gave them in return for half killing the only man I’ll ever love…” Her voice broke finally, and so did she, covering her face with her hands, allowing the heart-wrenching sobs to consume her. Jade got to her feet at once, hurried to her side in an attempt to console the young girl, but the gesture brought Lorena out of herself. Almost angrily, she pushed Jade away, stood up, the chair tipping over noisily as she did so. “Leave me alone!” she cried, moving toward the door. “I never should have told you any of this. I have to go now, before she starts looking for me, finds me talking to you—” She ran from the room. Jade started to go after her, then decided it was best just to let her go. Her tale was told. Sad though it was, there was nothing she could do, except pray the poor girl found happiness one day, despite having a she-devil for a mother. Jade still did not feel well, in fact, was feeling worse as the ship began to pitch and roll against the angry swelling of the ocean. Making her way back to her quarters, Jade undressed and lay down next to Colt, who welcomed her into the warm embrace of his loving and protective arms.

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Chapter Eight

Over a light lunch of fruit and wine, which they’d had delivered to their quarters by a steward, Jade told Colt about Lorena’s pitiful story. He listened, wide-eyed and silent. “That’s incredible,” he finally said. “If I’d heard this from anyone but you, I wouldn’t believe it. Oh, I don’t doubt a man might find her attractive, under normal circumstances. I mean, she’s not bad-looking, and if she were fixed up and not around her mother, I imagine she’d be downright pretty, but now she’s just a plain, drab little nobody. To think of her even sneaking out to be with a man, much less running away, all the way to France…” He shook his head in disbelief, laughed, then saw the disapproving way Jade was looking at him. “Well, you have to admit it’s funny,” he defended himself. Perhaps, Jade silently agreed, but she did not feel like laughing about anything, because she was feeling worse all the time. Going back to bed and napping till noon had not helped. She still felt queasy, light-headed, and her head was beginning to ache. When she vomited after eating, Colt became alarmed and sent for the ship’s doctor. Dr. Morley reminded Jade of a Norwegian troll: short, stumpy arms and legs, bald head wreathed by frizzy white hair, and a big hooked nose with a wart on the end. But he was kind and sympathetic. “You’re suffering from seasickness, my dear lady. Classic symptoms.” The ship pitched, rolled, creaked like a burglar tiptoeing on an old wood floor.

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Jade groaned, heaved, was embarrassed to throw up again in the bucket Colt had placed by the bed. “Well, how long is it going to last?” Colt asked impatiently. “And can’t you give her anything?” “Sorry,” the grizzled little man said. “Seasickness has to run its course, I’m afraid, and the way the barometer is falling, I’m afraid she’ll get worse before she gets better, because a stormy sea is only going to aggravate it. “As for giving her something,” he went on, rummaging in his worn leather bag, “I’ve got some ground ginger. I’ll take it to the galley and mix it with some juice and have it sent up. Have her drink that, and some warm broth. Maybe it’ll ease her stomach a bit. Tomorrow see if she can keep down a boiled egg, maybe some toast.” Jade moaned again, the muscles of her stomach sore and aching from the rumbling and heaving. She said she felt terribly warm, as though a fever were starting. Dr. Morley said he wasn’t surprised. “Fever sometimes goes with it. Stay in bed. Stay warm. Can’t do anything else for you, Mrs. Coltrane, but if it’s any comfort, I’ve got other passengers sick with the same thing.” He left them, and Colt tucked warm blankets about her. Pulling up a chair, he sat beside the bed and held her hand, brow furrowed with concern and sympathy. “Try to fall asleep, princess,” he urged. “I’ll be right here. You’ll feel better when you drink the ginger juice.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead, felt her clammy, feverish skin. “I’m aching too, princess, because you are. I love you so much, and believe me, if I could trade places, suffer for you, I would.” She touched his lips with trembling fingertips, smiled wanly. “Oh, Colt, if you only knew how much I love you…”

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He kissed the tip of her nose and declared, “If it’s only half as much as I love you, it’ll last me a lifetime.” She blinked back tears, for she felt so terribly sick, and it was not a mood conducive to good thoughts. “If anything ever happened to you, I wouldn’t want to live.” “Nothing’s going to happen to me. Or you, either. Now just rest,” he warned teasingly, “or I’m going to leave so you can, and then you’ll be all by yourself with no one to protect you.” “Protect me from what?” she quipped wryly, attempting good humor despite the misery. “It’s only my third day at sea, and it looks like I’ll spend the rest of the trip in bed…sick.” “Well, just don’t think of the present. Concentrate on the future and what a wonderful time we’re going to have once we get settled in New York. I’ll work all day, and you can go shopping and spend my money.” She sniffed with pretended disdain. “Your money? You’re the one who insisted we have accounts at separate banks, remember? I’ve my own money. You can’t accuse me of spending yours.” “Not that I’d care if you did,” he soberly reminded her, “but the reason I wanted you to keep your money separate is so you wouldn’t be penniless in case I make bad investments and lose my inheritance. I’ve done that before, you know.” Jade knew what he was thinking, feeling, and changed the subject. “You know I’m not going to be one of those giddy-headed women who spend their time shopping and giving dainty little teas and formal dinner parties.” “Of course not,” he said, then added with mock annoyance, “Now I’m warning you for the last time. If you don’t be quiet and get some rest, I’m leaving

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to gamble away all our money or find a wild woman to get drunk with—or both.” Jade made a face at him, then obediently closed her eyes. The day wore on, and she was able to sleep only in spurts, for the sea was getting rougher with each passing hour, and she awoke each time the ship rolled or bounced. It was impossible to tell whether the water slashing against the porthole was rain or angry waves. The noises the ship made were frightening, as though it were being dashed to pieces by the unrelenting sea. Colt went to the captain to be reassured that everything was under control. He was told that, for the moment, there was no cause for alarm. The Atlantic Ocean could be cruel at this time of year. There was not any need to drop anchor, as the weather was not that bad…yet. Everyone should just stay inside and not venture out on deck. When the dinner hour arrived, Jade was sleeping and Colt was famished, so he left her to go to the dining room. He returned a few hours later with a bowl of warm broth and the news that half the passengers were in their cabins as sick as she. “Even Mrs. Vordane,” he added with a touch of glee. “By the way, I now know that your story about her daughter isn’t so incredible after all.” “Why do you say that?” she asked as he helped her sit up against the pillows so she could try to drink the broth. “Did she tell you the same story she told me this morning?” He shook his head, held the cup to her lips so she could slowly sip, then told her how he felt like he’d had dinner with a stranger. “A very attractive stranger, I might add. It wasn’t the way she looked. I mean, she looked as plain and dowdy as ever, but there was a radiance, I guess you’d call it, without her mother around. She laughed and talked, told jokes. She was just bubbling. I actually enjoyed her company. And when we finished eating, she asked me to go with her to the ballroom, where some of the passengers who aren’t sick were trying to

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enjoy themselves…passing the time to keep from worrying about the storm. I hope you don’t mind, but I went because I felt sorry for her.” Jade did not care that he’d entertained Lorena, certainly was not jealous, but she was feeling sick again, because her stomach obviously did not like the invasion of the broth. Sliding downward on the pillows, she lay on her back, felt the familiar heaving. “I think I’m going to die here,” she moaned. “Right here in this bed.” Colt knew she was dramatizing. “No, you won’t. Once the storm passes, you’ll feel better.” “Tell me more about your evening with Lorena,” she urged, wanting to get her mind off her misery. He said there wasn’t much left to tell. “I thought she’d confide in me, the way she did with you, but I guess that’s too personal to tell to a man. So we drank champagne, and we did manage one waltz before the orchestra had to give up due to the rough seas. Finally, one of the officers came in and said the captain would feel a lot better if everyone turned in for the night so he wouldn’t have to worry about anybody getting washed overboard.” “Your bride is here dying in her bed, and you’re out dancing and drinking with another woman,” Jade teased. “For shame, Colt Coltrane. It appears I’ve married a womanizer.” “And I’ve married a woman with a green face.” He laughed. “You look like a leprechaun.” Jade felt positively smothered with nausea but attempted humor, pretended a thick Irish brogue as she faintly whispered, “Faith an’ begorra, me laddy…fetch the bucket. ‘Tis a sick leprechaun I am—”

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But there was not time, for the broth departed violently from her angry stomach, and she burrowed her face in a towel she clutched for such an emergency. The fever returned, and this time it seemed worse. Colt awoke sometime during the night to hear her moaning incoherently beside him, felt the heat of her flesh as her temperature soared. He rang for a steward to bring quinine, but was not surprised when no one responded, for the ship was steadily rising and falling in the boiling sea. No doubt everyone was staying in his cabin. He got up and went to the porthole and stared out at a black void. To go on deck now, grope in the darkness in this storm, was suicide. He’d have to wait till the first gray light so he could see the way. Meanwhile, he could only pile blankets on top of Jade when she began to have the chills that accompanied the fever. The night wore on, and finally, Jade seemed to relax. Her moans ceased; she fell silent. The fever seemed to abate. Even the struggle of ship against sea grew less violent. Colt dared to sleep. A loud rapping on the door to the inner corridor brought him out of an exhausted stupor. He groped in the semidarkness, glancing at Jade in the misty light that filtered through the porthole to see that she still slept peacefully. He opened the door to find Lorena Vordane standing there looking very frightened. In an emotional voice, she begged, “Mr. Coltrane, you must come with me.” Colt shook his head, attempting to clear it. Was he still asleep? “Please,” she repeated, hysteria threatening to take over. “You must come with me. My mother is furious and—” She stumbled as the ship bounced up, then down, and she fell against him. He caught her, tried to swing her inside, but she struggled, jerked back, slammed

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against the opposite wall, cried out as her back painfully struck the thin wooden railing. Clutching at it to steady herself, she began to beg, tears streaming down her face. “Please, Mr. Coltrane. You’ve got to come with me. You don’t know how she is. She goes crazy when she thinks I’ve been with a man. She woke up while we were out, and she started screaming at me the minute I walked in, accusing me of all kinds of terrible things. When I tried to tell her I was with you, she went berserk. She’s been nagging at me for hours because she thinks we were…” Her voice trailed off and she glanced away, embarrassed. Then she stared up at him once more with watery, imploring eyes. “You’ve got to come with me, tell her where we were, that we weren’t alone.” “What are you talking about?” Colt hissed impatiently, still groggy, unable to grasp such a ridiculous story. Then he saw the big reddening welt on the side of her cheek, the imprint of finger marks in her flesh. He reached for her again. “Come inside, please. Get out of the hallway.” “No, no, no!” She swung her head wildly from side to side, blonde hair flying recklessly about her face. “You’ve got to come with me. If you don’t, she’s going to beat me. She’s waiting now, with a strap in her hand, and if I don’t bring you back with me to swear we weren’t alone tonight, that we weren’t doing anything wrong, she says she’s going to beat me till I can’t walk. She’ll do it, too. You just don’t know her…” Colt could see the girl was close to being hysterical. God, her mother was a maniac, he fumed, glancing about to make sure Jade still slept soundly. “All right,” he told her finally, disgusted and angry. “Let’s go and get it over with, and fast.” He stepped into the narrow hallway and closed the door behind him.

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The ship gave a sharp pitch upward, then rolled to the side, spanking the water as it fought to right itself. A chair that had been fastened against one wall came loose and slid loudly to the other end of the cabin. Jade awoke and dizzily sat up to glance about in the terror that comes when a person is awakened abruptly. Where was Colt? And what time was it? How long had she slept? Struggling to stand on wobbly legs, she cautiously fought to keep from falling as she made her way to the porthole. Barely visible was the thick grayish roll of the ocean, spitting white as waves cracked, split, to spew skyward in protest of a reluctant dawn. Someone screamed when the ship suddenly seemed to catapult upward, bobbing from side to side as the wind and waves beat and pounded. There was no bottom to the world, only a thrashing in an abyss, and time seemed to stand still. The heart-wrenching impact of the storm’s fury came as the sky exploded in jagged fingers of lightning, unleashing the boiling rage of the tempest beyond. Furniture came unfastened, crashed, bounced off walls; glass broke and shattered. There were more screams in the distance, above the storm, as passengers became terrified by nature gone wild. Jade fell to the floor, roughly tumbling head over heels as the ship seemed to turn on its side. She attempted to right herself just as the ship pitched in the opposite direction, sending her spinning backward. She had to get out, get to the deck, to a lifeboat, lest she be trapped here when the ship went under, as she knew it would! She groped in the grayness to the door leading to the outside of the cabin. The ship lurched in that direction aiding her by slamming her against the wall. Her head struck hard; she was dazed, but rational enough to still feel the

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burning, shrieking command within her soul to get out…get out or be trapped forever at the bottom of the ocean. On her knees, she wrapped both hands about-the door handle with all, her might. The door flew open just as the ship careened in the opposite direction, a giant wave dancing over the railing to wash her backward like a rag carelessly sloshed from a bucket of dirty rinse water. Again her head cracked against the wall. The ship bounced up, then down, and she was catapulted once more, this time out the door and onto the deck. Smacking against the railing, she grabbed it and held on with both hands, the sounds of her terrified screams for help lost in the cacophonous shrieks of the storm. From the cabin came the sound of Colt’s shouts as he entered from the other side, calling her name. He fell, fought to stand up, and, in terror, realized the door leading to the promenade deck was open and banging…and Jade was not in her bed. “God, no, Jade…” He fought with all his strength against the bucking and bobbing to get to that doorway. Jade’s grip was weakening. Suddenly, just as she heard Colt, the ship was caught in a grinding, twisting whirlwind that sent it careening straight upward. Just as abruptly the ship fell with a resounding thud that tore loose a crate of stored deck chairs. It shot like a cannon straight down the deck—toward the railing where Jade clung for her life. Colt reached the doorway, clutching it with both hands as he fought to stand, but he slipped, fell. Jade watched in horror as the crate smashed into his head, and she had one heart-stopping glimpse of blood spurting before the crate continued on its way and hit the railing right beside her, wood splintering as the railing gave way. The crate flew into the wind and waves, and the gray fingers of the sea reached out to grasp it and pull it ever onward.

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The railing to which Jade clung was subsequently torn loose, and she followed the tumbling, tossing crate to whatever fate awaited. When Jade fell from the ship, her mouth was open in a soul-wrenching scream, causing her to swallow water as she hit and sank beneath the churning, foaming surface. She felt herself slipping away, being sucked into a dark, cold abyss that was taking her down, down, down. It was so easy to just relax, to allow herself to be carried away, the water twisting and turning her body in frolic, like happy children playing. It would be easy, her mind told her through the panic, to let the sea have its way…and her life. But she did not want to die. The salt water was burning her throat, her nostrils, and she felt herself suffocating. With the lithe and muscular legs that had taken her to ballet stardom, Jade began to kick and thrash. Her head ached. Her chest felt as though it were going to explode. She strained, stretched, flippered her toes as never before…and began to thrust, to project herself upward. Her head reached the surface, and she coughed, spit out the salty water, gulped fresh air, then was slapped in the face by yet another wave, once more knocked below. The sea had not given up its fight. She continued to struggle as she was tossed easily in the rise and fall of the taunting waves and breakers. She caught a glimpse of the ship, bobbing up and down in the distance like a toy in the wake of a child’s gleeful bathtub splashing. It was slipping farther and farther away. She dared to scream for help, the sound, as she’d feared, lost in the wind and the crashing of the water. How long could she stay afloat? And for what reason did she want to? Eventually, she was going to drown. No one on the ship was going to see her or come after her. She was lost. Why not simply give up and end the misery, let the sea have its way?

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Something struck her shoulder, and she cried out in pain, then saw a large wooden object just as she was dragged below again. When she bobbed to the surface, she saw deck chairs dancing in the water, angrily realized that the thing that had hit her was the very crate that had washed her overboard…and killed Colt. It was being carried away in the rough currents, and she screamed out in protest, began to swim toward it. For each stroke she took, she was knocked sideways several feet. Up. Down. Under. Above. The sea enjoyed its fiendish game of torture. Each time she came close enough to the bobbing crate, another wave would explode to send it still farther from her reach, while she was dragged into the cold, swirling depths for another glimpse of waiting death. Then, as though by a giant unseen hand, Jade felt herself being propelled upward as the biggest wave yet swelled from within the very bowels of the ocean. The crate was also caught in the tidal surge, along with the deck chairs that had fallen out. Jade felt as though terror alone would smother and crush the life from her fearfully pounding heart. Then, so gradually Jade did not realize at first it was happening, the wave’s fury relented. She was allowed to breathe, was finally released from its paralyzing grip. At last she was able to reach the bobbing crate. Hysteria took over as she began to beat at it with her fists, screaming, “Damn you, damn you, damn you…!” The sight of her own blood oozing from her splintered flesh brought her out of her frenzy. Sobbing, weary, she mustered what strength remained to pull herself up and onto the crate. A gray mist rose from the swirling waters to take her into blessed oblivion and, for a time, away from the hellish nightmare of her life.

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Back on the deck, Colt’s body slid about as lifelessly as a fish washed ashore, in a mixture of sea water and his own blood. Behind him and beyond, Lorena struggled to make her way inside the cabin from the inner corridor, but she could hardly stand amidst the tumbling debris about her and the tossing of the ship. She saw Colt and screamed. A crewman coming down the hall heard and responded. Looking through the open door, he saw the reason for her horror. Pushing her toward the bed, he commanded her to grab something and hang on, lest she be washed overboard. He made his way to Colt, slipping and falling several times, but was finally able to drag him inside the cabin and close the door against the storm. He bent over him in a hasty examination. Lorena watched, biting her lip until she tasted blood, clenching her fists until her nails cut flesh, her stomach heaving with terror as she waited. Finally, the crewman looked up at her, eyes grim. “Sorry, ma’am…but it looks like your husband’s dead.”

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Chapter Nine

A golden sun broke free upon the horizon. The sky was cloaked in brilliant cerulean, not a cloud in sight. Warm breezes whirled from within the Gulf Stream. A beautiful day, the kind poets envision heaven enjoys constantly. Bryan Stevens stood above the pointed bow of his yacht, the Marnia. It was a large vessel, ninety-four feet overall with a 26.5-foot beam, and had a draft of only five feet two inches with the centerboard up. It was one of the finest crafts afloat, furnished with great luxury, and certainly what was expected to be owned and sailed by a member of the prestigious Stevens family, after whom the Stevens Institute of Technology was named, however distant the bloodline. As far back as the early 1800s, John C. and brother Edwin A. Stevens were the first prominent yachtsmen in the New York area. The Marnia was equipped with a new internal-combustion engine, still experimental, but Bryan never worried about sailing from New York to his private island near Bermuda. After all, he was no amateur yachtsman, had taken part in a transatlantic race from Sandy Hook, New Jersey, to England with three American schooners in ’86, seven years before, when he was only twenty-eight. Bryan’s father, Lawrence Stevens, had been a powerful real estate tycoon in New York, and owned valuable land in the city as well as prime sections along the banks of the Hudson River. With investments in gold, silver, railroads, cattle, and, of course, shipping interests, the elder Stevens had left his only son an impressively rich man. Trusted, qualified underlings oversaw the family fortune, leaving Bryan with little to do in life except enjoy it, by pursuing his love of ships

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and the sea…and the red-haired, green-eyed angel for whom his yacht was named—Marnia. Bryan had met Marnia when she began work as a servant for his family. She was the daughter of Irish immigrants; her father was caretaker for the Stevens’ estate. Marnia was beautiful, captivating Bryan from the very first time he laid eyes on her—the summer he was nineteen and she a mere lassie of only fifteen. His parents, particularly his mother, had frowned upon his infatuation with a common servant girl, but Bryan turned a deaf ear to their disapproval. They eloped a year after they met, never knew an unhappy moment or exchanged an unkind word. Their marriage, observed by all who knew them, was surely what God had in mind when He created the hallowed bond between man and woman. They were ecstatic, deliriously in love, could not imagine a more perfect life—till the day Bryan Patrick Stevens was born, with thick golden hair like his father and the promise of his mother’s Irish eyes. From then on, Bryan asked himself each morning if such a happy life was only a dream, then gave thanks each night that it was all quite real. But now he stared out on that late summer day, not seeing the ocean, nor the sky; not feeling the sun, nor the wind. The luster of joy was gone from his eyes. They were flat, as though unseeing, unfeeling; as dead as his heart. Marnia had exclaimed to anyone who would listen that she thought Bryan Stevens was the handsomest man who ever lived. He was tall, slender, broadshouldered. He had thick, curling blond hair, and robins’ eggs were no bluer than his eyes. He had a firm jawline, a smooth complexion, a dimple in his cheek, and a beautiful Roman nose that gave him a deliciously sensuous appeal to women. This day, however, at this hour, Bryan Stevens was a broken man, void of spirit and the will to live.

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He lowered his eyes to the blue-green water, choppy and rough as the ocean always seemed to be, and thought how it might be best to just topple forward and sink to the bottom. Perhaps there he could find peace from the horror his world had become. But not yet. The time was not right. At ship’s aft, two of the crew of four stood coiling ropes as they watched their skipper. One of the men was Walt Gibbons, a grizzled old sailor who’d sailed with Bryan’s father and had known Bryan since birth. Worriedly, he told his companion, “He’s gonna do somethin’. I just feel it in my bones. He hasn’t spoke a word, not a word, mind you, since we left New York day ’fore yesterday. Just stands there starin’ all day, then goes below to drink and cry.” Monroe Burton was enjoying a mouthful of tobacco, and he paused to spit over the railing, then echoed incredulously, “Cry? You mean he really cries? Like a woman?” Walt nodded solemnly. “Yep, and I don’t reckon it’s anything to be ashamed of. Bryan Stevens ain’t a man no more—just a shadow of what was.” Monroe shook his head, feeling pity, but also a little disgust. “Well, I know it was tragic and all that, but I hope I never love no woman so much that if she dies she takes part o’ me with her.” Walt sighed. “Doubtless you never knew a woman as fine as Marnia. Even Bryan’s parents came to love her before they died, and they was violently opposed to him marryin’ a mere servant girl when the cream of society’s debutantes was shamelessly chasin’ after him. If they was alive today, they’d be grievin’ right along with him. And remember, he lost his boy, too. Terrible thing for a man to have to face, losin’ both wife and only child at the same time.” Monroe bluntly declared, “Well, like I said, it was a bad thing, but I don’t think makin’ this run to his island is gonna do him a bit o’ good. He ain’t gonna

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do nothin’ but sit around and drink, and it’s gonna be a waste of his time—and ours.” Walt bristled at such cold logic. “Listen, mister, you’re gettin’ paid for your time, and that gives the skipper the right to his, and it don’t make a damn whether you think it’s wasted or not. It ain’t even been two months since he buried his whole world, and it’s gonna take a long time for him to think about wantin’ to get on with his life. At least this is a start in the right direction. At least he’s tryin’, or he wouldn’t have planned this trip to his island. He’s wantin’ to get away to get his grievin’ over with, and then he’ll do what Marnia would want him to do—get on with his life.” Monroe gave him a dark look, lapsed into a brooding silence. But what Bryan Stevens’ faithful employee Walt Gibbons did not know was that Bryan had not planned this trip to think about getting on with his life. He’d planned it to end the misery of his existence. The island was a perfect place. It was where he and his beloved Marnia had spent their honeymoon, where they had vacationed at every opportunity, and where, according to Marnia’s calculations, Patrick had been conceived on a warm, summer night about ten years ago, when they’d given up hope of ever being able to have a baby. Bryan knew exactly how he was going to end his life. The island was only about two miles square. The pretty house he’d built sat on a tiny knoll in the middle, surrounded by ever-swaying palm trees. There were perfect, smooth, white sand beaches surrounding the house where Marnia had delighted in finding all kinds of colorful shells that high tides washed ashore. There was also a little private cove where they’d found romantic isolation when the tide was out. He would end his misery there, would drink himself to a stupor during ebb tide, then let the ocean take him to peace.

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Walt Gibbons stared at Bryan again, then turned away to go below and find chores there. He could stand to witness the wretched despair no longer. Bryan cursed and squinted his eyes against the sun’s glare. He was sick of the devils plaguing him, torturing him with visions of Marnia. There, in the distance, he could see the cardinal brilliance of her red hair, bobbing up and down on the waves. An illusion. A mirage. He would drink in the sight all the same as it appeared and disappeared with the rise and fall of the water. Floating. Marnia was floating on something there, in the Gulf Stream. Another trick of Satan’s, but this time he would not succumb, would not do as he had done so many times in the past when, mind and heart drenched and deadened by drink, he would see her and think it was her and cry out and try to get to her, only to grasp thin air…and fall to his knees and burrow his face in his hands and sob wildly and brokenly in disappointment. No more. No more would he allow the torment. He would merely watch till the apparition disappeared on its own…when Satan and his demons realized he would not allow himself to be duped again. He leaned over the railing, straining to watch as the ghost came closer. He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Oh, the devil was playing a good trick this time, for the vision seemed real. Marnia was lying facedown on some kind of crate, sleeping, and her clothes were tattered and torn. He frowned. Before, the dreamy apparition had always been gay and happy, laughing, dancing, whirling around and around in gossamer gowns of rainbow colors, and there had been music, the sound of silver bells caught on the night wind…and then she’d danced away as he called her name, groping for her with arms outstretched. But this time she seemed hurt, suffering. Bryan gripped the railing, knuckles turning white, teeth ground together and jaw clenched so tight as to send pain stabbing down the side of his neck. His eyes

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were bulging, and he wished to God he’d never started the day by downing a huge glass of whiskey, because if he were sober, he would be able to wave away the tortured vision, but now he was yielding, for it seemed so real…so damned real. “Go away,” he whispered hoarsely, anguish mingled with fury causing him to lean out farther over the thin railing. “Get away from me, Satan! Get away, I say. You’ll have me soon enough. Let me get to the island, and you can have me then. Stop your torture…” Bryan froze, felt his eyes bulging from their sockets as he suddenly realized it was no apparition. Marnia really was down there! He threw one leg over the railing, cried out to anyone who could hear, “Help, somebody—Marnia’s down there. It’s her! Get a life ring. Toss it to me!” Monroe Burton looked up from what he was doing, gasped at the sight of his skipper preparing to jump overboard, realized in horror he had finally crossed over that thin line to insanity. Running to the hatch and the narrow stairway below decks, he screamed down, “Somebody get up here and help me with this loony! He’s goin’ overboard!” He ran across the deck, leaping over riggings as he called, “Mr. Stevens…skipper…don’t do it! Wait, please—” It was too late. Bryan had crawled over the railing, stood only a fraction of, a second on the narrow wooden ledge before diving, headfirst, into the briny deep. As soon as he went under, he arched his body upward and fought his way to the surface and began to swim powerfully through the choppy current, struggling to reach the dancing, bobbing crate. Walt Gibbons, hearing Monroe Burton’s frenzied cries, raced up on deck just in time to see Bryan dive overboard. Without hesitation, he ran for a life ring,

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secured to the deck by a long, thick rope. Rushing to the spot from where Bryan had dived, he threw it out and yelled down, “Get it, skipper. Grab the ring…” His voice abruptly trailed off as he saw the bobbing crate and what looked like a woman lying across it. The other crew members reached his side in a panic. Walt pointed. “He ain’t crazy,” he hoarsely declared. “There’s a woman down there. Get the raft and get down there and help him. Go!” He gave the man next to him a rough shove. The men reacted quickly, and by the time Bryan reached the crate, they had lowered a life raft and were paddling toward him. The dive into the water, the ensuing struggle through the choppy, unrelenting waves to reach the crate, had brought Bryan out of his whiskey- and grief-induced stupor. He knew, as he clung to the side of the crate, that the unconscious girl lying on top was not his beloved Marnia, that such was not possible, but dear God, to look at her lying there, it was easy for him to think she was Marnia— the same diminutive size, the same shade of cardinal-red hair. Were her eyes green? Lord… He shook his head to clear it, sucked in deep breaths to his screaming lungs, for the arduous swim had left him winded. He heard the shouts of the crewmen making their way to him in the raft, called to them to hurry. It was dangerous, he knew, to be in the shark-infested waters here. He reached out to touch the girl, to see if she was still alive. Her flesh was warm. In fact, it was almost hot, and he could see that the part of her skin that had been exposed to the sun was burned. How long had she been adrift? No doubt there’d been a shipwreck somewhere…but where? They were halfway between New York and Bermuda, in the Gulf Stream. A transatlantic crossing? It was possible. He knew there had been a storm a few days ago, because he’d

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talked to a skipper on a schooner who’d raced ahead of it. But there’d been no talk of a lost ship. The raft bumped into the crate. Bryan scrambled inside and with the help of the others lifted Jade from the crate. One of the men incredulously observed, “Gawd, she’s burned. Look at them lips. Swollen an’ bleedin’. It’s a wonder she’s alive.” The other sailor agreed. “Let’s hurry and get her back.” He turned to Bryan. “You want us to tie a rope on the crate and bring it in, too?” Bryan shook his head. The crate was empty, useless, but there was something else. He’d seen the name of a ship, Le Paris, painted on the side and had, for what reason he did not fathom just then, deliberately pushed the crate about so the others could not see that name. He did not want them to know from what ship this beautiful creature had come, for she was, despite the sunburn and swelling, the cracked and parched lips, so much like Marnia that a great wrenching pain was knotting within, making his stomach heave with fresh grief. He sat with her cradled in his arms, and she did not move. Her bosom barely rose and fell with her shallow breathing. “Hurry,” he tersely commanded his men with their oars. “For God’s sake, hurry.” Walt was waiting with a blanket as he took Jade from Bryan’s arms. He headed below, with Bryan right behind him, called to someone to get some whiskey. “We’ve got to get her heartbeat up. She’s pretty far gone.” He saw her burned flesh, yelled again, “And lard. Fetch some lard from the galley. We gotta get somethin’ on her skin.” She was carried into Bryan’s spacious cabin, with its huge bed and lace canopy above, a creation of Marnia’s, who had loved frothy, dainty things and had filled her world with delicate beauty.

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Bryan stood back and watched in silence, allowing Walt to take charge, for the present, of the sea treasure he had found; he was too entranced, too hypnotized, to be useful. This beautiful creature, his mind was screaming, had been given to him to mend his broken heart, fill the aching void that had made him want to take his life, end the misery. Now he had a reason for living. The devil had lost his fight to render him insane, take his soul. God had won. Walt gently removed Jade’s ragged clothing. Bryan saw her perfectly sculpted body, was not surprised at such sensuous loveliness. Marnia had possessed a breathtaking body, never failing to arouse him. This woman, this gift to him from God, was no less fetching. Walt saw the glazed look in Bryan’s eyes, surmised he was shaken from his feat. He intruded on his reverie to ask, “You got anything I can put on her, something with no sleeves, maybe, so it won’t rub against her arms? They’re so burned…” Bryan shook himself to bring himself out of his feeling of wonder. “Of course, of course.” He hurried to the closet built into one wall, something Marnia had designed in which to hang her gowns so they would not be crushed during the voyage to their island. Often they had entertained important people from Bermuda and sometimes had taken friends with them from New York, but even when they were alone, Marnia always insisted on formal dress for dinner. It was her way, wanting everything to be lovely at all times. Opening one of the narrow drawers built across the bottom of the closet, Bryan pulled out a delicate silk nightgown that was sleeveless, wispy, and thin; it would give modest coverage but not irritate her skin. Up until now, he could not bear to touch anything that had belonged to Marnia but had refused to allow her things to be removed. Everything had been left as it was before she died. Now,

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however, there was no hesitation or remorse, for he knew it was meant to be that this girl have what had been his wife’s. He handed the gown over to Walt. “Put this on her.” He waited till it was done, then dared to ask the question starting to burn within, “How bad is her condition?” Walt drew in his breath and let it out slowly, thoughtfully. “Hard to say, skipper. I’ve seen lots of sunburn, and this is bad, but not as bad as it could be. No way of knowin’ how long she’s been driftin’, but I’d say, from the looks of her skin, not more’n a day. Any longer than that and she’d have been fried.” Bryan made his voice controlled, even, for he was not going to contemplate a negative answer to his next question. “Will she live?” “I think so.” Walt turned at the sound of a soft knock on the door, went to open it and take the bottle of whiskey Monroe Burton held out. Returning to the bed, he said, “Let me see if I can get a few drops of this down her. Then I’ll rub some lard on that burn, see if I can bring her around.” Walt took a handkerchief and dipped it down into the bottle, then placed it in her mouth so it would drip inside and, ultimately, down her throat as she swallowed. Bryan watched this, then headed up on deck, feeling the need to be alone. Bryan Stevens had never been a particularly religious man, but he did believe in a supreme being, knew that someone omnipotent had given him the joyous life he’d known with his beloved wife, his treasured son…just as he knew that same supreme being, for some unknown reason, had chosen to cruelly repossess His blessings. But now He had deemed to mercifully bestow a benediction. Bryan was so grateful; he wanted to give thanks, to vow to do whatever was required to ensure that he would never, ever lose what he had been regiven. If he had done something wrong before, something to offend, and

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had lost Marnia and his son as punishment, he did not want to repeat such a mistake. He was going to be a devout and worshipful being, worthy, this time, of such joy. He fell to his knees, clasped his hands before him, tamed his face to the sky…and prayed.

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Chapter Ten

His arms wrapped tightly about her, and he held her against him for long moments while their lips met in a searing kiss, the melding of their tongues igniting raw, primal needs deep within. His hands began to slide down her back, gently sculpting her waist before moving to cup her firm, rounded buttocks. He pushed gently against her, and she felt the probing swell that would ultimately challenge, enter, and make them one being, one love. Jade’s head pressed back against the pillows, neck arching as his lips touched, licked, branded with a love bruise upon her gentle flesh. Slowly, tantalizingly, he lowered his lips, his tongue like liquid fire as he moved to her breasts. He gently suckled, as eagerly as a babe upon his mother’s breast, and she wrapped trembling fingers in his hair to hold him lovingly closer to her bosom. “I love you,” she whispered huskily, hoarsely. “Oh, Colt, I love you so. Please…please…take me, darling, take me now.” She parted her thighs for his entry, a whispered moan of anticipation escaping her mouth. Then a voice beckoned her from her fantasy. “Drink this, please.” Jade flung her head from side to side as she felt something touch her lips, causing agonizing pain to the cracked, bleeding flesh. “Try, please,” the masculine voice urged. “You’ve got to.’’ She opened swollen lids, struggling to see beyond a hazy veil to match a face to the unfamiliar voice.

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“Please,” the voice begged, warned. “If you don’t drink something, you’re going to die.’ Jade felt as though her arms were on fire, for her skin was burning with agony. Her throat was dry, sandy. She felt weak, exhausted—why? What was going on? Why did she feel this way…who was speaking to her? She didn’t know that voice, struggled to identify past the ringing in her ears. She felt a hand gently touch her shoulder. “Can you hear me, miss? Can you see me?” The veil was parting. In its place was an opaline shadow, and slowly, oh, so slowly, that obstacle was moving away. She strained to see the face looming above hers, could finally make out golden hair, then blue eyes with an expression of deep concern…and caring. But who? He was leaning closer, and she groggily thought how handsome he was. He asked, “What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” She tried to answer but couldn’t; her throat was too tight, too dry, to make a sound. He sensed the difficulty and again urged her to drink. “Your body is all dried out, and so’s your throat. You’ve got to have water. Let me help you.” She stared at him suspiciously but slowly, gratefully, sipped from the glass he held to her lips. The cool wetness felt wonderful to the stinging, dry walls of her throat. She started to drink faster, to gulp. The strange man withdrew the glass. “That’s enough for now. You’ll get sick.” She closed her eyes, began to fight the maelstrom of her mind. Where was she? What had happened and how had she gotten here? She remembered leaving France, sailing, making beautiful love to Colt in their cozy cabin. After that, it

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was as though a curtain had dropped before her eyes and mind, and she could see nothing, feel nothing…the frustration was terrifying. “Will you try to talk now and tell me your name?” the stranger softly repeated. She tried once more and this time was able to whisper, barely audibly, but enough to be understood, “Jade…” “Jade,” he repeated triumphantly. “That’s a beautiful name.” He leaned closer, smiled. “Your eyes are the color of fine jade. I’ll bet that’s how you got that name, and I’ll also wager you’re Irish.” Jade’s brain was spinning. A great roaring was starting within, threatening to build to a crescendo and ultimately explode to take her away from the baffling present, and she did not want to go. Not yet. She wanted to remain, to ask questions and find out what in God’s name was going on. And where was Colt? Why wasn’t he here with her? Softly, hoarsely, she called his name. “Colt?” her strange companion echoed at once. “Who is Colt?” She tried to reply, but her throat refused to obey the command to speak. He gave her more water, and then she was able to murmur, “My husband. Please get him, tell him I want him with me…” She heard the man sigh, as though in pity, and she suddenly felt a wave of apprehension mingled with terror and did not know why. She struggled to sit up, but he quickly moved to restrain her as she cried, “Where is he? I want to see him. Who are you? What’s happening to me?” He looked away, and she knew at once that something was horribly wrong. Her eyes widened with the expression of a startled cat. Every muscle in her body tensed, back stiffening, head rising from the pillow. She looked at the man, then through him, beyond, to the crypt of memories that can never be truly erased

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from a tortured soul. She could see it now, as clearly as if it were happening again—the storm, the waves, the crazy lurching of the ship, the sound of glass breaking, the terrifying feeling that they were sinking, struggling out on deck, clinging to a railing, and then there was Colt, calling to her, screaming her name, fighting to get to her, and— The crate! The damned crate! The agonizing scream tore from her throat and ripped away what moisture had collected there to further blister and scald with the dry horror of realization. “He’s dead. Dead. I saw him fall…saw the crate strike his head…and there was blood, so much blood. Oh, God, God, no!” Bryan Stevens knew at once that she was remembering the nightmare that had brought her here. He held her down on the bed, attempted to reason with her, calm her. “Listen to me. It’s over. You’re safe now. You’re here with me, on my boat, and nothing is going to happen to you, I swear it.’’ She continued to scream and struggle, lashing out at him, and he pressed her hard against the mattress and yelled for Walt to come quick. But Walt was already on his way from up on deck where he’d heard the frenetic screaming. He burst into the cabin. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, what in thunderation is goin’ on in here?” The other crewmen were collecting behind him in wide-eyed curiosity. Bryan told Walt to help him get some whiskey in her to get her calmed down because it wasn’t good for her to be carrying on so. Monroe said he should just slap her good and hard, because that always worked with a hysterical female. Bryan withered him with a look, told him to get the hell out and mind his own business and take the other two crewmen with him. He and Walt could handle the situation.

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Jade choked, coughed, as the two men forced the liquor down her throat. Then she began to sob quietly, for the moment defeated. She felt as though she were dying inside, the very essence of life being squeezed out by the crumbling of her heart. They continued to force the burning liquid into her, and slowly the roaring in her ears diminished. She began to breathe evenly, although the room had begun to tilt and whirl. Through the thick fog that had descended she heard the blue-eyed man tell the other he could go, that he would stay with her, because she was falling asleep. He’d take care of things. What things? she wondered feebly, bitterly. What was there to be done? It was over. Finished. Colt was dead. She was here. She didn’t even know where “here” was and didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. She hated God for letting her be rescued; she’d rather have kept on drifting on that damned crate…all the way to the netherworld. She passed out, slept several hours without realizing it, and then the strange voice was back to interrupt precious dreams of Colt. “Can you hear me, Jade? Time for you to wake up and get something in your stomach. How do you feel now?” She vaguely made out his face through the pink cloud that was dancing before her own. He was nice-looking from what she could tell. She did like his eyes. Blue. Drakar had blue eyes. Colt’s were steel gray, like his father’s. She liked steel gray better, but blue eyes were nice, too. And he had blond hair. Thick, wavy. With a heavy hand, she reached out to touch his face, and he caught her fingertips and pressed them to his lips and kissed them, and she wondered why his blue eyes filled with tears. Still under the effects of the whiskey, she asked in a slurred voice, “Why are you crying?”

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He continued to hold her hand against his lips. “Because I’m happy that you’re going to be all right. ‘Twouldn’t be fair for the world to lose yet another beauty.” She did not understand, supposed that, for the moment, it was not important that she did, especially when she felt so miserable. Grief began to creep upon her once more, but she fought it down, dwelling instead on her physical pain. Her head throbbed. She was still dizzy. Her skin felt terrible, too, burning, stinging. And her stomach. Dear God, how long since she’d had anything to eat? As if sensing her thoughts, the stranger asked how long it had been, and she told him about having been seasick before the storm, having only ginger juice and a little broth. At once he said he’d get Walt to fix her some soup, got up to do so but paused at the door to offer an apology. “Sorry about forcing so much whiskey on you, Jade, but you were really going crazy there, and we couldn’t have that, not with you still so weak from your ordeal. Rest some more, and I’ll be back in a minute.” He left, and Jade began to look around the cabin, saw the two portholes on one wall, felt a slight rocking, remembered he’d said something about her being on his boat. She took note of the canopy above the bed and absently wondered about such femininity. The other furnishings in the cabin were more masculine, functional—two upholstered chairs, a desk, a small table with wooden chairs. Several lovely oils and watercolors hung on the wall, so she decided the decor definitely had a feminine touch, but was puzzled that so far she’d heard only men’s voices. Was there another woman on board? And if so, where? Then, suddenly, like a spider creeping across the intricate silken threads of its web toward its captured prey, the chilling acknowledgment of Colt’s death returned to stalk Jade’s mind and heart. She resisted, denied, fought to push it

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away, but relentlessly it came to wash over her in torturing grief. “Colt…no…please, God, not Colt, please…” Bryan heard her moans as he maneuvered to open the door while balancing a tray. Rushing inside, he quickly set the food down and reached to scoop her into his arms and hold her tightly against him. This time he did not offer whiskey or try to calm her. Instead, he huskily urged, “Go ahead, baby. Let it out; I know how you feel. I’ve been there, too.” He held her close, rocking her in his arms, and she did not protest, did not struggle, but let the tears come in great shuddering sobs. She cried until dry heaves shook her body. When he saw she was weak with exhaustion, Bryan lowered her once more to the pillows. She stared up at him with empty, mournful eyes. Bryan forced a tight smile as he reached for the bowl of soup. “Let me help you with this. You’ll feel better, I promise.” Obediently, because to concur was easier than to resist, Jade allowed him to spoon the still-warm broth between her cracked and bleeding lips. It felt good to her empty stomach, which had long ago given up on ever receiving nourishment again and began to release the painful constrictions of protest. Jade managed to consume half the bowl of broth before waving it away. Then the blessed sleep came, the sleep from which she prayed never to awaken if it meant a life without Colt. Jade slept through the remainder of that day and on into the night, and it was only toward the wee hours of morning that the nightmare came back again to taunt and torture: the vision of Colt lying so still, blood pouring from his head, her last glimpse, before the railing gave way, sending her crashing into the dark, cold, raging ocean. She awoke screaming.

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The strange man was once again beside her to hold her while she cried. When she quieted,’ he left her, returning with a pot of steaming coffee, bacon, and eggs. “I think,” he said, fluffing her pillows and helping her to sit up, “that it’s time we were properly introduced and had a little talk.” He unfolded a napkin from the tray he’d brought, placed it across her lap. He started to speak once more, but Jade felt somewhat naked in the sheer, sleeveless nightgown she saw she was wearing and gently interrupted. “May I borrow a robe, please?” Without a second thought, Bryan went to the closet and took out a soft blue velvet robe that had been a favorite of Marnia’s. He helped Jade slip it on. “I’m glad it fits. Seems you and Marnia were the same size.” He placed the tray across her lap, began to pour her coffee. Jade welcomed the intoxicating aroma of the coffee. Despite the ache of sorrow within, she eagerly reached for her cup. Colt would want her to try to go on, she knew, but just thinking of him brought tears to her eyes once more, and she could not hold the cup in her trembling fingers. It clattered against the tray. “I know what you’re feeling,” Bryan quietly murmured, “but nothing I can say is going to make you feel any better. It’s something you’ve got to get through alone, any way you can. Meanwhile, I’m here if you need me.” Suddenly, sharply, she reached out for anger to take her away from her grief. With a furious swipe at her eyes with the backs of her hands, she testily demanded, “Would you mind telling me who you are? And I’ve got a right to know where I am and where we’re going.” He was unmoved by her fury. “I would’ve told you sooner, but there hasn’t been a chance. My name is Bryan Stevens. I’m from New York. This is my yacht, the Marnia, named after my late wife.”

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She eyed him warily. “And you say you found me in the water?” “Floating on a crate at dawn yesterday morning. Do you have any idea how long you were adrift? We figured you couldn’t have been out there long because your sunburn wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.” Her anger, which had only been fabricated to escape the rising hysteria, subsided. She told him that as best as she could remember, she’d fallen overboard just before dawn. Together, they surmised she had drifted that day, through the night, and mercifully, he’d spotted her the beginning of her second day out. “You wouldn’t have made it through another day.” Jade laughed shortly, bitterly. “Am I supposed to care?” He ignored her remark, held the cup of coffee to her lips. She took it from his hands, at last able to hold it steadily. He asked if she felt like telling him everything she could remember. She said she would try, and she succeeded, finishing with her nightmare vision of Colt. She was even able to say, without breaking down, that she was sure he was dead. “If he weren’t, he’d have come after me. I know it.” She drew in her breath, held it to quell the fresh threat of tears, then let it out slowly. “Where are we headed?” she asked, to change the subject. “I own a private little island near Bermuda. I was on my way there when I found you, so we’re continuing on our way. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” She looked at him thoughtfully. He was not only attractive but he was nice, and somehow she felt he was genuinely sincere, that she had nothing to fear. “You’re very kind,” she murmured gratefully. “I owe you my life, although right now I don’t feel I’ve much to live for.”

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The smile he gave her was strangely sad. He reached out to caress her cheek with his fingertips and solemnly whispered, “Give me a chance to change that, Jade.”

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Chapter Eleven

For the remaining night and day of the cruise, Bryan moved out of his comfortable cabin into much smaller accommodations with Walt. The Marnia could have reached his island much sooner, as scheduled, but he had ordered they move at slow speed, wanting Jade to be able to relax and rest as much as possible. She did not move from the bed. Her skin felt better after the lard Walt had applied, and her stomach had, at last, settled down. She supposed she was comfortable but did not care. What difference did anything make anymore? Colt was dead. Everyone on the ship evidently thought she was, too, because Bryan had said a search party would’ve been sent out after the storm subsided, had they thought she was still alive. Maybe Colt had washed overboard, too, and neither of them would be missed until much later. All the passengers had been ordered to their cabins, hadn’t they, so who would look for them till the storm was over? And since they were on their honeymoon, maybe no one would wonder why they weren’t seen around the ship. She slept from weakness, and to escape, for the dreams were sweeter than the reality. Each time she opened her eyes, Bryan was there. He would urge her to drink, eat, and talk, if it made her feel better. He asked her questions about her family and Colt’s, and she tonelessly answered. Then, slowly, it came to her that, painful though it was to admit, there was nothing for her to go back to. Eventually, the shipping line would notify the Coltranes that their son and his wife had been lost at sea, and they, in turn,

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would send word to Russia. There she would also be presumed dead, and so what? At the moment, she didn’t care whether she was alive or dead, knew only that she had no desire to return to the cold, loveless life she’d known as a member of the Imperial Court, merely tolerated but never truly accepted. What did the future hold? Who cared? She would live one day at a time, and if the sun didn’t rise, so be it. Darkness was the best…darkness and sleep, when the dreams came…dreams of Colt, and his love, and the happiness they’d shared. The morning they reached the island, Bryan opened the closet and began to rummage through dozen and dozens of gowns. “Marnia loved clothes,” he told her, “and she kept a selection of gowns and dresses here so she wouldn’t have to take time to pack if we decided to sail on the spur of the moment. That never happened,” he added with a laugh, “so it was just an excuse for her to have more clothes.” Her brought out a cotton dress, lime green, the full skirt spattered with tiny embroidered white and yellow daisies. “Perfect for the island.” He spread it across the bed. “There’s a matching shawl in case the weather gets cool, but I’ve been on deck, and it’s a glorious day. Warm and sunny.” Jade stared at the dress. She’d never have picked out anything quite so bright, but this was a different part of the world from the conservatism she’d grown up with. “She kept more clothes at the house. You’re welcome to anything she had.” Jade asked how long they’d be on the island. He told her he had no idea. “Since neither one of us has much of a reason to be anywhere else, let’s try to enjoy ourselves. I think you’ll find it’s a beautiful place, and maybe you can think things out, decide what you want to do with your life.”

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She dressed slowly, still feeling weak and tired. Her sunburned skin had started to peel, and she absently thought it ugly but didn’t truly care. It was difficult to care about anything these days. Her hair was limp, needed washing and styling, but she wound it in the tight, sleek ballerina bun that was a trademark of her art. There was a matching bonnet to the dress, with a long lime satin ribbon, and she tied it on. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she thought she looked like a fruit basket. Marnia must have been a very cheerful woman to have dressed so brightly, she thought. Gingerly, she made her way from the cabin up to the deck. Bryan saw her and rushed over to take her arm as she blinked against the startling brightness of a golden sun. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked out at the dazzling blue water, had never seen such brilliance. Bryan helped her to the gangplank that led to a long, narrow pier stretching from a glimmering white sand beach in the distance. “Let me help you. You’ve got sea legs, and you’ll be wobbly when you first stand on land.” It was true, she silently acknowledged, reeling back against him as the wooden planks beneath her feet seemed to toss upward, rippling to and fro. They made their way up the pier, and Bryan held her. She noticed he’d changed also, into a white coat and bright blue pants, a white cotton cap perched jauntily on his head. As they walked, he told her how he’d come to build a home in so remote a place. “I first came here with an uncle when I was just a young boy, and I fell in love on sight. This part of the Atlantic is called the Bermudas, or sometimes referred to as the Somers Islands. There, must be over three hundred islands and islets around, but submerged coral reefs make navigation difficult. That’s why only a few of the larger islands are really able to be inhabited. I’m fortunate, because my little island has a deep channel into it on this side.”

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He pointed toward lush greenery growing up a hillside from the beach they were approaching. “The house is up there, on the other side of those banana trees. I had the pier and dock built here, on the side of the channel, and faced the house to the other side of the island so there’d be an unobstructed view of the sea. Wait’ll you see it. It’ll take your breath away.” He gave her hand an excited squeeze and grinned down at her. “My uncle,” he went on to say, “fell in love with the area during the Civil War. He was captain of a Federal runner, looking for blockade runners. The South, you see, had to try and get their cotton out for trade with England, and the Bermudas served as a transshipment port.” Jade politely listened with her mind, but her heart was somewhere in time…with Colt. She blinked back tears, rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Oh, dear God, she shuddered within, was it ever going to stop hurting? Would there ever be a waking moment when she did not grieve? “It’s like one big flower garden,” Bryan was saying proudly, gesturing toward a sweeping view of oleanders and dazzling pink cyclamen. They reached the end of the pier, and he pointed to the sand. “Have you ever seen anything lovelier? The color of pink-tinted coral, ground powder-fine by the wind and the waves. Marnia used to say it was like fine-sifted flour against your skin.” Jade glanced up at him from beneath lowered lashes, wondered if she would ever be able to speak Colt’s name so easily…the sound flowing with pleasure, not pain. Now the very thought of him made a lump rise in her throat, her bosom heaving with pain too deep for words. They made their way up a slight rise, then through the grove of banana trees, the leaves crackling and rustling in the balmy breeze like the applause of leprechauns, celebrating their arrival. The house loomed ahead, appealing,

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colorful. Bryan explained it was made of limestone coral rock, which was soft enough to be cut from the ground with a wood saw, but once exposed to the air, hardened with age; then it was painted pink. The roof was made of overlapping coral shingles, about ten by fourteen inches and an inch thick. Painted white, they were washed periodically with a coating of lime for sanitary purposes, because drinking water was channeled from rain over these shingles, funneled into a reserve tank. “Look at the steps,” he said. “Typical of the islands. See how they’re wider at the bottom than the top? They’re called ‘welcoming arms’.” He also drew to her attention the great chimney, told her how the windows were small-paned, with shutters hinged at the top to swing up and out. “It’s no mansion like the one I built along the Hudson River in upper New York State, of course,” he said without apology as they reached the top of the steps and started to enter, “but it’s lovely and comfortable. Marnia loved it, and so shall you.” He flashed a hopeful smile. A plump black woman, a native, Jade decided, displayed incredibly white teeth as she grinned and curtsied. “Marnia taught all the servants to do that,” Bryan whispered, amused. “Meet Amelia, your housekeeper. Amelia, this is Miss Jade.” “Missy Jade,” the woman cried, delighted. “She take Missy Marnia place?” Jade tensed, did not miss the quick shadow that touched Bryan’s blue eyes before he tightly corrected the servant. “She’s our guest, Amelia, but you’ll obey her and serve her as though she were mistress of this house. Understand?” The woman nodded obediently and eagerly, and Bryan guided Jade inside. One huge room ran from front to rear, with glass affording the most spectacular view of the ocean. Blue water glistened in the sun; a bright green lawn led away from the pink sand, sentinels of rose bushes lining the way.

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To each side of the huge room, in the rear, were service areas, Bryan explained. He pointed out fireplaces at ankle, knee, and waist levels, and tray ceilings—to cool food. Beyond, there were separate little buildings added on, called butteries, having no windows, only a door, air vents at the top, shelves along the walls—all this for keeping food as cool as possible. He led her to the front, where a wide terrace beckoned. There was a large bedroom on each side, with French doors opening to the outside. Bryan showed her to the one on the right, dominated by a huge lace-canopied bed, not unlike the one on the yacht. “This was Marnia’s room,” he announced quietly, reverently. “You’re welcome to anything you like.” He gestured to the dressing table with its frothy pink net skirt and then to a huge mahogany wardrobe, which he opened to display a rainbow array of stunning gowns and dresses. He went to the French doors and pulled a velvet cord that opened the white sheer curtains so that the magnificent view could be seen in all its glory. “I’ll send Amelia to help you with your bath. You’ll find an alcove behind that silk screen over there”—he nodded toward it—“with a tub unlike any you’ve ever seen, I’m sure. Marnia had one of the natives carve it out of coral in the shape of a seashell. You’ll also find the finest of bath oils and soaps, imported from Spain and France. “Remember,” he said, going to the door to leave her, “if you need anything at all, you’ve only to ask. If we don’t have it here, I’ll send the boat to the mainland to get it. Rest this afternoon, and I’ll see you at dinner.” When she was alone, Jade went to stand at the open doors to gaze out at the dazzling sea and drink in the sweet smell of the flowers. She could hear the soft rustling of the leaves of the banana trees, the birds singing. It was painfully odd, she acknowledged, to realize there was nothing out there beyond that stretching horizon that beckoned to her. No one was waiting. No one cared where she was

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or what was happening to her. It was beautiful here, and, so far, there was kindness. But without Colt, what did any of it matter? She turned from the window, her eyes swept the room, and suddenly a heart-shaped frame on the dresser caught her attention. She went to pick it up, saw that it was a picture of a bride and groom. The groom was Bryan, and the bride was a breathtakingly lovely woman in white satin and lace. Her elegantly styled hair beneath her delicate veil was the color of Jade’s own. Her eyes were shining green, fringed with thick lashes. The couple was the image of two people desperately in love with each other, optimistic of a future as bright as the smiles on their faces. So this, she acknowledged, was Marnia. Jade thought she was incredibly beautiful. “You and she, you are alike.” Jade whirled, startled, at the sound of the native woman’s voice. “Oh, Amelia, I didn’t hear you come in.” The pleasantly plump woman was contrite. “Me not mean to scare. I come to see if you need me. Master Bryan tell me to.’’ Jade waved away her apology. “It’s all right. I was just lost in thought.” She gestured to the picture. “Is this Master Bryan’s wife, Marnia?” Amelia nodded sadly. “She was beautiful lady. Like you. You look like her. So pretty.” She flashed her smile once more, hopefully asked, “You will be her, no?” Jade was at once horrified at such a concept, quickly shook her head, and set the picture back on the dresser. “No. No, nothing like that. I’m just Master Bryan’s guest, that’s all. But tell me,” she went on, turning to her curiously, “what happened to Mrs. Stevens? How did she die?”

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Amelia’s eyes clouded then, and she busied herself by going to the bed and turning the covers back. “You need to rest, master say. I bring you egg soup, tea. You eat. You drink. You sleep. First, I make bath. He say you want bath.” Jade watched her silently, decided she would not impose herself by prying. Bryan would tell her what he wanted her to know when the time came…and she had to ask herself if she really cared, anyway. As cold as it seemed, her own misery was enough; she did not want to share anyone else’s. She waved away the offer of the bath for the moment, for she was terribly tired. “Let me just lie down for a little while,” she said drowsily, and in seconds was fast asleep. Amelia stood beside the bed uncertainly, her heart going out to the pretty young woman who lay across the bed, tears flowing down her cheeks even as she slept. She heard a soft sob, then the whispered plea, “Come back, Colt, please…” Feeling she was intruding, she tiptoed from the room, closing the door gently behind her.

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Chapter Twelve

Jade slept the rest of the day, a soft breeze flowing across her skin, which was deliciously soothing to her sunburn. She awoke feeling refreshed, but she found herself in an odd emotional limbo. She could now acknowledge, with pain instead of hysteria, that Colt was dead. She experienced no trepidation at the awareness of being somewhere in an isolated part of the world, around people she did not know. She realized that everyone who knew her presumed her dead, but that thought provoked no emotion whatsoever. It was as though the restful sleep had prepared her to be resilient to worries and concern; had enabled her to accept, without question, that nothing else could cause her despair. She had suffered, been wounded…and now withdrew within herself to feel nothing. Amelia came to tell her it was time for dinner, which would be served on the terrace so she could enjoy the sunset. She went to her former mistress’s closet and presented to Jade a soft cashmere robe with the explanation that Master Bryan thought it might feel more comfortable against her sunburn than a gown. Jade gratefully accepted it. Amelia helped her brush her hair and pin it in soft curls atop her head, then suggested a pearl necklace from Marnia Stevens’ onyx jewelry box to complement the rounded neckline of the robe, with drop earrings to match.

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When she was ready, Jade opened the French doors and stepped out onto the terrace and breathed deeply, deliciously, the heady fragrance of night-blooming jasmine. The sun had almost dropped below the horizon, painting a rippling swirl of luscious pink and coral across the turquoise water. A half-moon was rising; tropical breezes caused the leaves of the banana trees to dance and undulate seemingly in rhythm to the musical calling of macaws and parrots in the branches of swaying palms. The world was bathed in a chiffon light of rainbow hues. “Have you ever seen anything quite so beautiful?” She did not jump at the sound of Bryan’s voice, for she still felt as though all her nerves and emotions had left her. She could have told him that the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen was Colt presenting her with a diamond ring, and a proposal, before throngs of people at the Mariinsky Theater. Finally, she responded, “No, I don’t think so. You should take pride in knowing you created such a place.” He handed her a glass of wine, which she gratefully took. “It wasn’t my creation,” Bryan explained. “It was ours—mine and Marnia’s. We did it together, and now I think of it as a shrine to what we felt for each other.” Once more she was impressed by, and envious of, how easily the name of the woman he’d adored slipped off his tongue. Wishing to think of other things, she gestured to the robe she was wearing. “Thank you. It was a good idea—much more comfortable than regular clothes—but I think by tomorrow I’ll be over the worst of it.” “Let’s enjoy our dinner now. Later, if you’re up to it, we can go for a walk on the beach. It’s going to be a lovely evening.” He led her to a small round table situated at the edge of the terrace. It was covered with a pale pink linen cloth, and there were matching napkins and

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crystal glasses and fine bone china and silverware. A centerpiece of wild orchids rested between softly burning candles. He held out her chair for her, and she thought she could not eat a bite, that this was all a waste of time. But then Pauly, the houseboy, began to serve the food, and suddenly her appetite surged. “This is a cassava pie,” Bryan explained, delighted when she accepted a second helping. “Actually, it’s a traditional Christmas dish of Bermuda, but I asked Pauly and Amelia to make one especially for tonight because I thought you’d enjoy it. Each household has its own recipe, I’m told. This one is made of pork, chicken, and the crust is from the grated root of the cassava plant.” “Delicious,” Jade said, surprising herself by being so hungry, but the food, the atmosphere, were conducive to a very pleasant time. As they enjoyed their meal, he gave her a brief history of the Bermudas. “The islands were named for a man named Juan de Bermudez, who is said to have shipwrecked around here about 1503, and they’re charted on a map dated 1511 and recorded as ‘La Barmuda’. The first settlement didn’t come till the early 1600s, when Sir George Somers, a British admiral headed for Virginia in his ship the Sea Venture, blew off course during a storm and wrecked and wedged so tightly in the reefs that the vessel stayed upright. The crew and almost two hundred passengers worked together to build two ships from salvaged material and went on to what’s known as our Jamestown, Virginia, colony a year later. “When they finally got there,” he continued, “they found the people starving, so the admiral came back here to get food. Unfortunately, he died here, and from then on, his sea mates referred to the islands as the ‘Somers’, in tribute to him. Colonists were sent and founded the city of St. George, which was subsequently sold to a group who called themselves the Bermuda Company, but sometime toward the end of the seventeenth century, the King of England

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annulled the original charter and made Bermuda a colony under the Crown, and it’s been that way ever since.” “How were you able to buy your own island?” she wanted to know. He explained that he’d made arrangements through a British trading company that held title from the original purchase that had never been claimed by the Crown. “This island is so small, there was no use for it, so they were glad to get a sale. It took me several years to get the house built, but Marnia and I enjoyed every minute.” “Marnia.” Jade mouthed the name thoughtfully, curiously. “That’s an unusual name. What does it mean?” “Ironically,” he obliged, “it means ‘Maiden of the Sea’, and she was truly that. She loved to sail as much as I did. I think that was the secret of our happiness, we were so much alike.” Jade’s understanding smile was bittersweet. “Not colt and me. I’m Irish by birth, Russian royalty by heritage, and I was a ballet dancer. Colt was an American cowboy in France. Complete opposites, but I loved him from the first moment we met.” He urged her to tell him how that had come about and, sipping brandy-laced coffee and nibbling bananas dipped in toasted coconut and a sherry sauce, she began to tell him her story. At first, it was painful, but her new and welcomed state of apathy took over, and the words began to flow easily. Bryan laughed on hearing the story of how Drakar had planned to use her to make Colt realize all women were not alike, nodded with tender understanding as she explained how she had fallen in love. In turn, he shared his own story of his romance with Marnia, how his family had at first voiced opposition, then had been won over by her charm, grace, and beauty.

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Warmed by dual memories of happiness climaxed by tragedy, the bond between them grew. They rose simultaneously from the table as if by tacit agreement and left the terrace. Walking down the stone steps toward the grassy arms of the waiting lawn that led to the pink-tinged beach, Bryan took her hand easily; and, lost in thought and mutual sharing of experiences, Jade absently accepted it, if she even noticed. They reached the beach, and Jade removed the satin slippers she’d taken from Marnia’s closet so that she could feel the cooling water lapping at her feet. Bryan began to ask her more questions about herself, her past, and she found it easy to describe her life in Ireland, in Russia; but when she began to share her love of ballet, her dream of opening a dance school in America, she suddenly paused in midsentence and addressed herself in silent horror: Why was she telling him all this? Why was she sharing such intimate thoughts? Only four days ago, she had no other dream except a future with her husband, and now she was on a remote island with a stranger and she…she was a widow. She pulled away from his grasp, pressed both her hands against her face, and breathed deeply. Bryan made no move to touch her. They had reached the cove where he’d known such joy with Marnia, and he began to unweave the intricate murmurings and tortures of his own private hell. He spoke in a hushed monotone, so low as to barely be heard above the gentle lapping of the waves and the melodic song of the night birds. He finished by soberly confessing, “I came here to drown myself.” She looked up at him sharply, and dully, he went on. “I haven’t told you how I lost Marnia and our son. They were staying at a small hotel in the city while our house on the Hudson was being redecorated. There was a fire one

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evening while I was out. They burned to death.” He shuddered, sucked in his breath, let the ragged edge of grief subside before continuing. “I buried them, along with my heart, and I told myself nothing else mattered except getting drunk and staying drunk so it wouldn’t hurt so bad. I went through denial and disbelief, the refusal to accept, and, finally, anger. I made up my mind I didn’t want to go beyond that. I wanted to die. The best way to do that was to come here, where we were so happy, where we made our son, and I was going to drink myself into a stupor and let the tide take me to eternity…wherever that might be.” For the first time since he’d begun his pensive soliloquy, he looked at her. She thought him even in that moment to be a very attractive man, found him sensitive, kind, and she empathized with him for his own sake, not in the mutual bond of another grievous soul. “Then I found you. When I first saw you out there in the water, I thought you were Marnia.” He paused to emit a sharp, bitter laugh. “That had happened to me plenty of times, because I stayed drunk, and when a man’s drunk, the devil has lots of room to play with his mind, to torture. He made me see Marnia in dozens of different ways, but always laughing, always enticing, and always eluding me when I reached out and tried to touch her. I’d cry when I realized it was a dream, drink a little more, and then the same thing would happen all over again. A vicious cycle. A cruel cycle.” Jade did not speak, knew it was not the time, sensed his need to purge himself of the guilt of his behavior. He shook his head in self-loathing for his weakness, then looked at her with a sudden new brightness in his eyes. “I thought you were a special manna, a gift from God to appease me for taking Marnia, and I started having all kinds of unhealthy thoughts, about how you were mine, and we were meant to be, and

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I’d bring you here and keep you forever, and you could be Marnia to me. But being with you, caring about you…” He reached to take her hand and stared at her intensely, begging for understanding. “I came to realize none of those things I was thinking were true. For the first time since Marnia’s death, my mind is functioning without whiskey, and everything is coming clear. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jade, but I accept that you aren’t Marnia, you aren’t a gift from God. I just happened to be there when you needed me, and that’s the secret, don’t you see?” Jade blinked, bewildered. Standing before her was a very complete kind of man, mature, intelligent, wise, and quite in control of his thoughts, words, and deeds. This was a man she could lean on, if need be…and trust. “The secret,” he went on, “is my being needed. For the first time since I lost my wife and son, who were my reasons for living, someone needs me, and that’s a damn good feeling. I’ve got a reason to go on, if not for you, for other people.” Jade did not speak, too awed by his confession, his self-awareness; knew she still had far to go herself to be that self-possessed again, if ever she would be. They stood together, there in the cove, which, in the silver moonlight that filtered down through the swaying palms, seemed almost hallowed. A long time passed, and neither spoke, too lost in meditation. Finally, Bryan turned, and they began to walk back toward the house. “As I told you before,” he said, “you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, but when you want to leave, just let me know, and I’ll take you to the mainland and arrange for you to book passage to—” He froze in midsentence, looked at her curiously. “Where would you go?” She shook her head, her mind still back there in the cove, wishing she had come as far as he in coping with her life. “I suppose I’d go on to New York. My bank account is there. Colt wanted to ensure that my inheritance would remain

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solely under my control. His will probably revert to his family, but I don’t need it, and I doubt anyone knew our finances were set up that way, so mine will be waiting. Money won’t be a problem. “I’ve no reason to return to Russia,” she continued. “As I told you, I was never really happy there. And I don’t want to go to France. As much as I love Colt’s family, they’ve enough problems of their own without worrying about me. It’s probably best that I don’t even contact them and let them know I’m alive. Besides, I’m afraid the shock of Colt’s death is probably going to be more than Mr. Coltrane can bear with his health as poor as it is.” She asked him of his own plans. He grinned sardonically. “You mean now that I’ve changed the one to kill myself?’ He shook his head in shame to have ever contemplated such weakness. “For now, I’m going to stay here. My business interests back in the States are run by competent people. I think I need a good, long vacation, and besides, I’ve got everything I need right here. I can sail, swim, fish, and there are friends on the mainland if I get lonely.” He gave her a sharp, sideways glance. “You can stay, too, and I think you realize by now you’ve nothing to fear from me. You make me happy when you let me look after you, Jade.” The whisper from her heart was barely audible. “I don’t know, Bryan. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.” Suddenly he turned to clasp her shoulders and force her to look at him as he urged, “Stay. You don’t have to leave now. You don’t need money here. I’ve got enough for both of us. Just stay…be my friend.” His eyes searched hers for some hint of acquiescence, but all he saw reflected in the dull green depths were dismay and confusion.

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“I don’t know,” she repeated, turning her face to the sea, to where the night wind might take her closer to the love she once knew. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I need time.” “Of course.” He turned once more and led her the rest of the way to the house in silence, giving her privacy for her thoughts. He whispered good night outside the French doors to her room, then walked away. Jade went inside and threw herself across the bed, willed the tears to come, but torpidity had returned. She could not cry, could only lie there feeling numb, void of any emotion except the wish to turn back the hands of time and make all the pain go away, return to what was, what might have been…not have to face what would never be. For a long time she lay there, then finally got up and moved to the window to look out at the night, made silver and pink by the moonlight upon the coraltinged sand. Then she saw him, standing at the edge of the terrace, staring out at the lonely ocean which seemed to stretch to infinity. He looked the epitome of despair. A wretched, haunted man. Yet, for her sake, he had found strength within, a strength he’d thought so lost there was nothing left, save ending his life. He’d said she needed him, and that had given him a reason to live. Now, as he stood there with eyes moist, once again able to experience an emotion, she could acknowledge, realize, that he needed her, and so, that would give her the reason she needed to go on. They had both loved intensely only to lose everything. They needed each other. For the time being, she resolved to remain on the island, to take one day at a time and try to get by, try to cope with what God had left her with—loneliness, anguish, and a part of her heart carved out forever. Colt would never be

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forgotten, and she would always love him, but there had to be a reason she’d been spared. Perhaps one day she would know why that additional cruelty had been inflicted upon her.

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Chapter Thirteen

When the tears came, as they inevitably did in the throes of her shock and grief, Bryan was there for her. In the night, it was as though he had a special ear, tuned all the way from his room and across the great room to hers, and he would hear her and be by her side before her tears hit her pillow. He would cradle her in his arms and urge her not to hold back, to let the tears flow, for there was much of the poison of grief inside her that had to come out in order for the healing process to begin. Jade spent most of her days resting in her room, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, or standing at the French doors to gaze pensively out at the sparkling ocean. In the evenings, she would politely join her host for dinner, attempt to make polite conversation, then escape to her room, which had become her sanctuary, where she could lock herself away to try and make sense of the maelstrom of uncertainty her life had become. Bryan was solicitous, inquiring whether she needed anything, but yielded, for the time being, to her desire for solitude. Finally, one morning after two weeks of shutting herself off from the world around her, Jade was surprised to be awakened by Bryan, not Amelia, coming in with her breakfast tray. “All right, m’lady,” he greeted her jovially. “Today’s the day you start getting acquainted with your new home. Pick out a pretty dress and meet me down at the dock in an hour.” She sat up to rub at her eyes sleepily, blink against the sudden invasion of light as he drew the draperies open, revealing another blue and golden day in

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Bermuda. Dubiously, she inquired, “Where are we going?” She wasn’t at all enthused over thoughts of venturing out among people. “Sightseeing. I thought you’d enjoy going over to the mainland, maybe shop. Then I’d like to take you to lunch at my favorite place. So hurry. I’ve got a nice day planned for us.” He started from the room but turned as she called to him. “Bryan, thank you, but I’m not ready yet. I still need some time alone, and—” “No!” For the first time he spoke harshly to her, and his blue eyes became dark, stormy. “I’m not going to let you make my mistake, Jade. You’re not going to continue to wallow in self-pity behind closed doors and pulled drapes. Your husband is dead. As is my wife. We’ve got to get on with our lives. The way they’d want us to. Now meet me at the dock in an hour, or so help me, I’ll come up here and drag you out in your gown and robe.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him, the sharp sound punctuating his ultimatum. Jade stared after him in wonder. She’d never known him to be anything but sweet and gentle and kind, and now he was giving orders, raising his voice. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t ready yet, would know instinctively when she was, and, till then, did not want to be told what to do. Of course, this was his home, and she was a guest. No doubt her pining away in her room was disconcerting, as her presence must be. Bryan’s grief was not that ancient. How long had it been since he’d lost Marnia? Not quite four months? She shook her head. Only two weeks since her tragic loss, so how could he expect her to venture out? But he’d said he wasn’t going to let her make his mistake by wallowing in self-pity. Perhaps that’s what she was doing. Perhaps it was time to get on with her life, as Colt would want her to. She ate her breakfast quickly, dressed, and in less than an hour was on her way to the dock.

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Bryan was waiting with a smile to help her up the gang plank. She exchanged polite greetings with the crew, then went with Bryan to stand at the railing while they made their way through the channel toward the capital town of Hamilton. As the sleek blue-and-white boat sliced efficiently through azure waters, Bryan explained that the large lagoons known as Great Sound, Harrington Sound Castle Harbour, and St. George’s Harbour had made Bermuda a haven for boating, despite the submerged reefs he’d told her about previously. “There are no rivers or lakes,” he pointed out. “That’s why we collect rainwater for our drinking water, and, thanks to an Englishman named Harry Watlington, there’s decent water for domestic purposes. He was knighted for his discovery of the fact that wells could be drilled into the hillsides, and by branching them off horizontally, he could draw out a fresher water than what floats on the brackish water underground. It’s known as ‘Watlington Water’. Jade was impressed with his historical knowledge of the island and said so. Modestly, he told her he’d made it his hobby to learn as much about the area as possible, had spent countless hours doing research in old archives and records. “Call it the boredom of the idle rich, if you will,” he said and laughed. The language of the islands was English, with a distinctive Bermudian dialect, and Bryan said he had encountered a number of descendants of the originally indentured Portuguese who still spoke their native tongue. Most of them were farmers, did not carry on business in town, so there was no language barrier to be concerned about. They reached Hamilton, and the dock was a busy place, with large ships from all over the world in port to trade. Jade stared wistfully at one that reminded her of the Le Paris; she wondered if the Coltranes had heard about the tragedy yet, whether Travis had withstood the shock. And what about Dani?

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Bless her heart, she’d thought she could die in peace, assured that her baby had godparents. What would happen now? It would soon be time for the baby to be born, and Jade would never know how things turned out, though she prayed all would be well, that she and Colt would not have been needed. Bryan took her to the Sessions House for a quick tour to see the high clock tower, where the Supreme Court and House of Assembly met. They stopped to watch construction of the mammoth Gothic Bermuda Cathedral of the Most Holy Trinity, built of stones from five countries and scheduled to be dedicated in another year. Bryan engaged a taxi, a small carriage with only two large wheels, a leather bucket seat to the rear, and a high bench for the driver to perch over a sleepyeyed donkey. They rode through quaint, narrow, cobblestoned streets to Spanish Point, and Bryan, a gleam in his eye, pointed out a wooden stool on a pavilion. “There’s where I’ll send you, fair lady, if I ever hear you gossiping. That’s known as the ‘ducking stool’, and back in the 1600s, overzealous gossips were tied to it and dunked in the ocean while everybody watched and laughed.” Jade gave a sniff of pretended indignance and caustically remarked, “Everyone knows men are bigger gossips than women.” Suddenly, gratefully, she realized that her ability to be humorous meant she was overcoming her resentment of being forced to leave the sanctity of her private world of grief. She silently acknowledged it was good to be out in the world again, see people, do things. Her family would be shocked that she was not adhering to the decorum of one year in mourning, which meant wearing black and not being seen in public, except on the way to church. Jade, however, felt no guilt. She followed her own codes, not society’s, and the reason she’d been keeping to herself was one of choice, not protocol.

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At Spanish Rock, Jade and Bryan together read the inscription on it, dated 1543, proving that the Spaniards had actually landed in Bermuda before the islands were discovered by Sir George Somers. Toward noon, they reached the small town of St. George, where Bryan knowingly called out the intriguing names of narrow lanes and alleyways— Featherbed Alley, Thread and Needle Alley, Shinbone Alley, Petticoat Lane, Old Maid’s Lane, and One Gun Lane. Bordering them were quaint, pastel-hued houses. “This is my favorite restaurant in all of Bermuda,” Bryan said as he directed the driver to turn into One Gun Lane. They stopped before a small stone house that looked nothing like a place to eat. Curious, Jade allowed Bryan to lead her up a narrow path lined with peonies and daisies. They reached a wrought-iron gate and inside, around a curving wall, they were greeted by a cozy little garden, with tables and umbrellas situated amidst the flowers. Bryan ordered wine, and a shrimp salad for both, and Jade admitted it was truly a wonderful, secret place, and the food superb. Before leaving to return to his island, Bryan took her to Somers Garden, where he walked her into an eerie, tree-shrouded cemetery. Jade was not pleased, did not want to be in such a place, tried to pull way, but he insisted, eyes twinkling. “Come along. I’ve got to show you something.” He pointed to a tiny marker that declared that here was buried the heart of Sir George Somers. “His heart was buried here, but his body was taken back to England, preserved in a keg of rum. I think that’s what I want to do, have my heart buried on my island, my body taken to New York to be interred with the rest of the family.” Jade shuddered but granted it was a novel idea, albeit morbid.

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“We all have to die,” he said softly, slipping a comforting arm about her. “Maybe if we thought about it more, talked about it, it wouldn’t seem so awesome, something to dread so. It’d seem like a natural part of living.” She thought that might be true but was hot in the mood to discuss such a theory. “I’m tired. Can we go home now?” she asked hopefully. “Of course.” He began to walk her back toward the waiting carriage. “You know, you’re so much like Marnia sometimes that if I went back to my harddrinking days, I’d probably think you were her. She had the same reaction the first time I brought her here, didn’t think it was such a great sightseeing idea, either, but later, when we’d bring friends with us from New York, she’d say they had to see where Somers’ heart was buried.” Suddenly, the question that had been burning inside Jade for so long erupted. She stopped walking, turned to look up at him and bluntly ask, “How is it that you’re able to speak so easily about Marnia, Bryan? You say her name with a caress, yet lightly, casually. There’s no hint of sorrow or pain or any of the things I feel when I speak of Colt.” She blinked away the inevitable tears as she waited for him to respond. He stared down at her searchingly, as though striving for the perfect words to explain, then sighed and confessed, “To be honest with you, Jade, it’s an act. It still hurts like hell. Inside. But I started pretending for your sake. I’d swallow around the lump in my throat, thinking if you saw me starting to get over the same thing you were going through, it’d make you stronger. It was hard as hell, because I was blinking away tears, too, that I wouldn’t let you see. Then it got easier.” He gave her a sad smile, caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “I’ll help you do the same…if you’ll let me.” She did not reply, but that day Jade took her first step back into the real world and away from the past. There were other sightseeing trips, to Somerset,

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west of Hamilton, where they saw the famed Cathedral Rocks, erosion by wind and sea creating arches in the coral rocks resembling cathedral arches. They also visited Gunpowder Cavern, with rooms and tunnels covering almost thirty thousand feet. But sightseeing and learning about the Bermudas were not the only outings Bryan directed for Jade. He began to coax her to go with him to visit the many friends he and Marnia had made during their numerous stays at their island. The people, some native dignitaries, some British government officials and diplomats, were genial and polite, but Jade could not help noticing a few raised eyebrows at their social ventures. Beforehand, they had discussed between them that it was best not to tell anyone how she came to be with him, for too many questions would be asked that might intrude upon her privacy. But they all knew Bryan was recently widowed, and seeing him in the company of a lovely young lady, even just for tea or a light supper, much less as his house guest, was not exactly expected or looked upon with approval. By way of explanation, he told them she was a distant cousin. Jade doubted anyone believed him, felt a twinge of guilt at how she didn’t really care and doubted he did, either. They spent time apart, also. Sometimes Jade did not go with Bryan to the mainland but would stay behind at the house, reading from the vast library in his suite or puttering with the herb garden he’d entrusted to her care after teaching her what she needed to know. There were quiet times, too, when she would slip off by herself to sit in a tranquil cove to watch the gently lapping waves upon the pink-tinged sand and listen to the melodies of the tropical birds in the swaying palms above. The days melted into weeks, and the weeks slipped by, and then Jade saw a calendar one day and realized with a start that she’d been on the island almost

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two months. “Where did the time go?” she said to Bryan. “I thought time was standing still, and it’s been flying away.” He hugged her in that friendly, almost fatherly way she’d come to accept. “That’s because you’ve been too busy being happy to notice. That’s what the islands will do for you—give you happiness…and life. I came here to end mine, and I feel like I’ve been born again. My God…” He shook his head in wonder. “I don’t think I ever want to go back to New York. I think I want to stay here forever.” “Won’t you eventually have to go back?” she wanted to know. It seemed strange that so wealthy a man could just walk away from all his responsibilities and not look back. “I’ve got good people looking after my affairs,” he reminded her, “and I’ll still make the journey back to check on things now and then, but not for a while. I’m too happy here with you.” When he spoke like that, Jade felt very strange. She knew he cared for her, and as more than just a friend. She could sense it as only a woman can. But, she asked herself, how did she feel? Dear God, she wasn’t sure. It had been much easier just to absorb the beauty and peace of the islands and not dwell on anything so complex. Bryan was a wonderful man, and she was quite fond of him, found him terribly attractive, but somehow she knew the time was not right to open her heart to another and, painfully, wondered if such a time would ever come. One evening Bryan announced he had a surprise for her. “We’re going somewhere you’ve never been before.” He rummaged in Marnia’s closet and brought out what looked like a large square of silk material and spread it across the bed.

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Jade stared at the brightly colored fabric—red, blue, green, and yellow. “It looks like a native costume.” ‘‘It is.’’ She picked up the garment, felt the elegant material. “The native girls I’ve seen wear cotton or muslin. This is imported.” “That was Marnia,” he said easily. “She wasn’t about to wear something ordinary. She liked to go to native gatherings but wanted to be her own person, so when she saw this on a trip we made to Nassau, she bought it. Amelia will show you how to wrap it around you. There’s a special way of wrapping your hair, too.” Jade was truly curious. “But where are we going?” He winked. “You’ll see.” Amelia was no help, either, when she came in to drape the rich, lustrous material around Jade’s body. Refusing to answer her questions, Amelia commanded that she stand in the center of the room, arms straight out to her side, while Amelia expertly “made” her costume. Then she fixed a turbanlike wrap atop her head and stood back to admiringly declare, “Beautiful. The lady is even more beautiful than the one who wore this last.” Jade let the remark pass without comment. She’d grown used to Amelia’s constant reminders that she wholeheartedly approved of her as a replacement for her former mistress. Walking over to the mirror, she looked at her reflection and at once burst out laughing. Amelia looked hurt, quickly asked if she’d offended, done something wrong. Jade was quick to assure her that she had nothing to fear. “I’ve just never seen me in anything but a ballet costume or a formal gown or long dress. I’m afraid I find it hilarious to see myself in a…a sarong!” Her neck, chest, and arms were bare, the material wrapped beneath her arms and across

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her bosom to twist downward. She thought she looked pretty, but it was still a strange sight. She quickly learned her amusement was only beginning, for when she joined Bryan at the dock, the sight of him in native attire made her laugh again. Not bothered at all that she found his bright, flowery ragged-bottom pants and bare chest amusing, he handed her a glass of some kind of delicious rum concoction, and they set sail in a watermelon sunset for yet another new adventure on the islands. Just before they left the pier, Jade noticed a small sailboat tied up and inquired about it, as she hadn’t seen it before. “My men are going to Mexico to bring back something for me,” Bryan said mysteriously, declining to elaborate. “I had Walt bring this over from the mainland so we won’t be marooned while they’re gone.” He would not be cajoled into telling her where they were going as they sailed the short distance from the island into the sound, then went up and around the northeastern tip, finally turning toward Somerset. As the yacht glided toward a narrow cove, Jade could hear the sound of steel drums, whose tinny music she found so exciting. It was a dark night, moonless, but the beach glowed bright pink beneath flickering candles tied to sticks placed every few feet. Flowers seemed to be everywhere. There was even a small wooden boat on the beach that was bedecked with blossoms of every kind. Jade knew at once what the occasion had to be. “A wedding!” she cried with pleasure and looked up at Bryan to see his eager nod of confirmation. “How wonderful!” she whispered. Almost proudly, he explained that it was Amelia’s niece who was getting married. He shook his head in disbelief. “Rosie used to work around the house, helping Marnia with the herb gardens. Can’t believe she’s grown up now.”

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The natives were waiting to greet them, and Amelia was there to ask anyone around to agree with her that Jade looked just like Missy Marnia, only prettier. Jade glanced sideways at Bryan to see if this caused him any stress, but he was smiling, waving to old friends. Nothing, it seemed, made him unhappy anymore, except when she cried. Only then did his eyes grow shadowy. Bryan explained that the natives were descendants of slaves brought from Africa but left on the islands either through neglect or because a ship for some reason or other had been unable to continue to the southern states of America. Not having the means to return to their homeland, the slaves had stayed on the island. “You’ll find there aren’t many black people here, and those who are, are happy. Sometimes,” he added wistfully, “I think Bermuda is where happiness began, and the rest of the world just evolved around it.” The ceremony consisted of dancing and singing, and then a minister from Hamilton performed the rites. Jade refused to feel sadness as memories of her own wedding were provoked. Instead, she lifted her chin and thought of the peace and hope around her. Bryan seemed to sense what she was feeling, for he stood very close, now and then squeezing her hand, which he constantly held. Afterward, there was a big celebration, with rum punch served from a big wooden vat. There was roast suckling pig, cassava pies, of course, and all sorts of banana dishes. Jade noted with interest there were two wedding cakes. The groom’s cake was decorated with gold leaf, symbolizing prosperity, Bryan informed her, while the bride’s was a kind of fruitcake, decorated with silver leaf and uniquely topped with a tiny, tiny cedar tree which would be transplanted to the lawn of her new house with great ceremony before she officially left her father’s home. The music made Jade tap her toes and sway to the rhythm. Until now; she had not realized how much she had missed dancing, though the undulating

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these people were doing was certainly far removed from the ballet she had performed. When there was a break in the festivities so that the newlyweds and their families could go and perform the ceremony of planting the cedar tree, Jade and Bryan wandered down to the beach. Neither spoke for long moments as they walked at the water’s edge, the cool water lapping kittenishly at their bare feet. But then suddenly Bryan turned and took her in his arms almost roughly. Their eyes met and held—Jade’s a mixture of fright and confusion, while Bryan’s smoldered with the desire he’d fought against all these long weeks. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, and she froze, unable to resist, not truly wanting to, although a small voice deep within told her she should. His kiss made her sway dizzily in his arms. He held her tightly against him, his hands moving gently up and down the bare flesh of her back. His tongue touched hers, and finally, she was able to muster the will to pull away. “Dammit, Jade, I’ve wanted to do that for a long, long time,” he admitted. “If I’ve offended you, I’m sorry, but I won’t apologize for the way I feel.” She bowed her head, tucking it beneath his chin. The thick mat of hair on his chest tickled her nose, but she did not care as she struggled within for the proper words to speak, lest she spoil the tender moment. Dear God, it was too soon…too soon to have desire so easily kindled. But she was a woman, a passionate woman, as she’d learned in Colt’s loving arms, and she could not apologize for having a need that was only natural and normal. But she was afraid to cope with such a situation yet. With a deep, shuddering sigh, she forced herself to meet his fiery gaze. “Not now, Bryan,” she whispered. “Maybe not ever. I can’t say for sure. I can’t even ask you for time to find out. All I know is—not now.”

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He gave her a crooked grin, and suddenly the almost mischievous side of him that she adored returned. “Time? The lady wants time? You forget, princess, that on the islands time is as eternal as the sea and sand. So don’t hesitate to ask for time, because I assure you, you’ll have all you need, and I’ll be here waiting. Now, let’s get back to the party.” Hand in hand, each lost once more in the heaven and hell of their private thoughts, they left the beach, silently acknowledging that nothing would ever be the same between them.

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Chapter Fourteen

In the following weeks, Jade and Bryan experienced a new awareness of each other. Jade could no longer think of Bryan as a mere friend and savior, for once he had kissed her, arousing sleeping passion, her sensual cognizance of him as a man was also awakened. This created tension and provoked perplexing emotions of need versus guilt. Was it too soon to experience such feelings? Was to do so disrespectful to Colt’s memory? She attempted to defend against her nagging conscience by arguing that emotions such as desire and need know no bounds of conformity or decorum. Jade also wondered if what she was feeling for Bryan was purely physical. Could she be falling in love? Oh, she knew there was no way she could feel that same surging, all-encompassing love she’d felt for Colt, but there was something there, something in her heart that wasn’t entirely gratitude and friendship. Yet she had to ask herself whether she was merely clinging to Bryan as she’d clung to that crate in the ocean, making him a human lifeline in her own personal sea of turmoil. These were questions Jade pondered almost every waking moment, and her sleep was haunted, also, by dreams of both men. She would envision herself in a man’s arms, and the face of that man would change from Bryan to Colt back to Bryan. It was as though her subconscious was telling her she had to make a choice. But why? Colt was dead, gone forever. The choice could not be physical, therefore, and so the turmoil within continued.

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Bryan had at first told himself that he merely fit a bond with Jade due to his empathy with her heartache. He had also acknowledged her rare and regal beauty. Then, as they shared more and more time together, getting to know each other, the bond grew—along with desire. Ultimately, he was forced to admit that he truly wanted her, loved her…and would let nothing stand in his way of having her for always. Yet in order to accomplish this, he knew he had to deal with a formidable foe—the ghost of Colt Coltrane. The tension was there between them, but on the surface, all seemed normal. They

continued

to

spend

their

days

happily

sailing,

reading,

gardening…enjoying life in their isle of pleasure. One morning, Bryan suggested a picnic and had Amelia prepare a basket of crisp, fried potato cakes, baked banana bread, fruit, and a bottle of wine. Then he and Jade took to the sailboat, for a brisk wind was blowing across the island; it would be a good day for sailing. Bryan warily eyed the whitecaps of the waves ahead as they sailed from the channel. When he’d awakened, the sky had promised a good day. Now he had his doubts. “There might be a storm brewing,” he said, noting the gray underlining of the stratus clouds. “It’s that time of year. Maybe we should turn back.” “Oh, no, don’t,” Jade protested, looking skyward. It didn’t look so bad to her. “If I’m not afraid, you shouldn’t be. After what I went through, I’m surprised I can even get on a boat again, much less go sailing with a single cloud in the sky, but we can stay close to shore if you’re worried.” He agreed without reluctance. After all, they weren’t far from shore at any point, could make land if a big blow came. The sailboat was small, room for two to sit when idly skimming the water’s surface. They drank of the sweet air, enjoyed the cooling breeze on their faces.

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Jade noted it was almost October and asked how bad the winters were in Bermuda. “What winters? Summer lasts from late April to mid-November, and it’s warmest in July, August, and mid-September. Then it’s not unusual to see temperatures dip into the low sixties, but rarely ever any lower.” “Certainly a change from Russia,” she quipped, then curiously asked, “What about winters in New York?” “That’s an altogether different story. Snow. Sleet. Ice. Freezing temperatures. I much prefer Bermuda. That’s one reason I want to live here—the nice weather and the peace and quiet.” Jade wondered whether she’d be content to remain in such a paradise all the time. More and more lately, she found herself missing people and all the activities usually available in modern civilization. Most of all, she was missing her dancing. She tried to keep up with her basic exercises, but she had no barre and so could not do the advanced positions. She knew that if she didn’t keep up with her practicing, she was going to lose all that she’d worked for, making it difficult to conduct a good ballet school. She hadn’t voiced any of these fears to Bryan; if he found out she needed anything—anything at all—he’d move heaven and earth to get it for her. He would install a barre, build a mirrored room just for practicing, send to France for the finest pointe shoes and costumes, whatever she desired. Did it really matter? If she remained on the island, she would never dance the ballet again. And yet another fact assailed her perplexed mind: remaining on the island would, sooner or later, mean a relationship with Bryan— marriage…or otherwise. She looked up at him through lowered lashes. He was everything a woman could want in a man—but would she ever be ready for another commitment?

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Bryan sensed her staring at him and pleasantly inquired, “What are you thinking, princess?” She’d long ago gotten over the stab of pain that came when he called her that. Now she was able to smile back and say, “Just woolgathering. It’s a nice day for dreaming.” He was sitting with his arm about her, and he pulled her closer, and it seemed only natural to Jade that she bend her head to lean against his shoulder. The fondness was there. The attraction was obvious. Only the inner turmoil of each stood in the way of further advancement of their relationship. It was as though they had reached a plateau and could go no further. “There!” Bryan sat up to excitedly point at a small island in the distance. “I’d almost forgotten about it. Marnia and I used to come here when she was looking for some really exotic shells for her collection. There’s a small cave in the coral there, and sometimes shells wash up inside that you don’t find anywhere else.” Jade caught his enthusiasm and moved to help him maneuver the proud white sail toward the remote island. Like the rest of Bermuda, the sand was tinted pink, and with the swaying palms and banana trees, it seemed yet another glimpse of heaven. The boat glided easily toward the beach like a feather skimming glass. Bryan rolled up his trouser legs and leaped into the water when they drew close to shore and guided them the rest of the way so as not to hit any coral reefs that might be lurking beneath. He helped her alight and they went in search of the ideal spot to have their picnic. Jade looked around and saw so many different shells she’d never seen before, declared that she had to take some back with her. Bryan promised they’d fill the basket after they’d eaten.

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Beneath a shady palm, they spread the pink cloth Amelia had packed, along with small plates and goblets for wine. “She thought of everything,” Jade said, pleased, laying out the delicious fare. Bryan opened the wine, poured for each, and they toasted to the glorious day. “And to us,” Bryan added, sending her a special message with his eyes. Jade responded in kind, “And to us,” and wondered if her own longing showed as well. The wind began to pick up while they were eating, and Bryan uneasily said that perhaps they’d better hurry and start back. “We can get your shells the next time.” Jade was starting to agree with him because the clouds were becoming thicker, darker. A heavy haze began to descend. Suddenly the wind died down, and the atmosphere around them became very still. The air felt heavy, pressing. At that, Bryan stood. “I don’t think we should risk heading back now,” he stated. “Looks like we’re going to have one of those sudden blows that can be dangerous to small craft. I’ll drag the boat up, lower the sail, and try to secure it.” He ran down the beach and Jade quickly began to gather up their things, repacking the basket. By the time she finished, the wind had picked up once more, this time with a slow, shrill scream that rose and fell like the cry of a banshee, sending chills of terror up and down her spine. Bryan returned, grabbed her hand tightly, and shouted above the wind, “Let’s get to the cave. It’s facing against the wind, and there’s a high ledge we can crawl up on where we’ll be safe. I don’t think this will last long.” They ran the short distance to the cave, stumbling inside just as the skies opened and the rain washed down in torrents. Inside, the light was dim, but they

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could see their way to scramble up on the shelves of coral till they reached the ledge Bryan felt was safe. There they huddled together and as the moments ticked by and the storm raged outside, they became increasingly aware that there was also another tempest brewing within the sanctuary of their cave—within themselves. At precisely the same moment, they turned, eyes meeting in a communion of longing which was rising in a crescendo with the raging wind and rumbling thunder of the world outside. But they were in their own universe, their own sphere, and it was as though no other time had ever existed for either, no other life, nor love. They moved into each other’s arms as fluidly as the tide touches the shore, lips meeting in a searing kiss. The passion was ignited, and they each silently acknowledged that there would be no turning back. Bryan lowered her to the cool coral ledge, and as his tongue explored her mouth, his hands likewise traveled over her body, slowly, savoring each curve and valley, delighting in all that he had coveted for so very long. Jade gave of herself freely, yielding to his touch. Her hands clutched his shoulders, smoothly dancing across his skin to hold him against her closely, wordlessly assuring him that she was no longer afraid, no longer unsure. Then he was nimbly unfastening her dress to slide the bodice down to expose her breasts. He lowered his head, and she burrowed her fingers into the thick golden hair at the back of his head as his lips parted to take the rosebud nipple between his teeth. She moaned, writhed beneath his gentle assault. His hand began to travel downward, trailing to part her throbbing thighs and explore the warm moisture of the nucleus of her womanhood. Fire licked at her veins as she responded to his touch without inhibition. He tore himself from her breasts to hungrily reclaim her mouth, near bruising her lips with his urgency. Jade clutched him, clawed at his back. His

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clothing was the only barrier between them—an intolerable separation. With quick and eager fingers, she helped him from his garments, their breath coming in steaming gasps, bodies shuddering in a blend of torturous agony and ecstasy. Stretching out over her, he fitted the gentle curves of her body against his. She could feel him, knew he wanted her as fervently as she wanted him. She felt him probing, tensed at the unfamiliar violation, then huskily urged him on with the undulations of her body. Outside the coral cave, the storm was abating. The winds and seas were calming. The waves quieted their angry crashing against the beach; instead, lovingly caressing with a whisper of foam upon the pink sand. Within the coral cave, a storm of passion between two previously tormented souls was also abating. They had reached the magic pinnacle together, crested as the heart of a storm, then cruised softly, gently, back to the world from which they’d departed for long, frenzied, delightful, and satisfying moments. Bryan rolled to his side, taking her with him to hold tightly, possessively, against his chest. “I love you,” he avowed in a hoarse, ragged whisper. “I think I loved you the minute I laid eyes on you. Fate brought us together.” Jade pressed her face against his perspiration-slick chest and did not, could not, speak. She was too confused, too overcome with the wonder and perplexity of the moment. “Marry me!” It was almost like a command, so sharply spoken that Jade was abruptly brought back to reality. Twisting her head so she could see his face in the gentle shadows of the sunlight now invading their private sanctum, she searched his face for an answer she knew she would not find there. “I’ll make you happier than you ever dreamed possible, Jade,” he recklessly declared. “I’ll build you a new house, a palace, one that you can design yourself,

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if you want. Closer to people. Hamilton, if you want. Anywhere on the island. You’ll live like a queen, I swear it.” He lowered his head, intending to bestow a sealing kiss, but she turned away. She did not want to be kissed. Not now. The passion had subsided, for the hunger had been fed, and, in place of the whirlwind of ecstasy and anticipation there existed only a nagging void of doubt and uncertainty. “Jade, why are you afraid of me?” Bryan asked quietly. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. You know I’d spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. We’ve both lost the ones we loved, but now we’ve found each other, and we’ve got a chance to love again, live again, if only you’ll let go of the past and let it happen.” “Time…” She mouthed the word against his skin as he lovingly stroked her long red-gold hair. “I need time, Bryan, please.” He sucked in his breath raggedly, let it out slowly and reluctantly said all right, he understood, or at least he would pretend to. “Just tell me that you love me,” he urged softly. “Tell me that you care for me, and I’ll have that much to cling to while I’m waiting for you to let go of the ghost.” She looked inside herself, knew without long meditation that she did care, and told him so, adding, “But I’m not sure it’s enough. I’m not sure I can ever love any man the way I loved Colt.” At once, he reached to cup her chin in his hand and force her to meet his searing gaze. “Listen to me,” he said thickly, fiercely. “I’m not asking you to love me the same way you loved Colt, goddammit, because I’ll never love you in quite the same way I loved Marnia. Notice I said ‘in quite the same way’…that has nothing to do with how much Marnia and Colt were other people who lived in another time. All I’m asking from you is that you try to love me in your own

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special way, the way I love you. Let’s make our own memories, Jade, not try to live in the old ones.” She trembled in his embrace. She did love him, in her own special way, but was it enough to commit to marriage? “Time,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible as a lump welled in her throat. “Just give me time to know my heart, Bryan. Please.” He nodded slowly, then got to his feet and began to dress. He left her to straighten her own clothes, saying he was going to check on the boat. By the time she was dressed, about to make her way down the rocks from the ledge, he was back, a grim expression on his face. “Hate to tell you this,” he said, reaching out to help her down, “but the storm washed the boat out to sea. I can barely see it on the horizon.” Jade felt no real fright, reasoning that when night came and they didn’t return, Pauly and Amelia would become alarmed and send out a search party. They were even in sight of the island, albeit distant. They went outside into that special cool air that seems to come only after a sudden, bitter storm. The smell of the ocean was sweet, and it looked calm, docile, in the lazy afternoon sunshine. All that was left of the thundering black clouds were skittering far, far away. Bryan reached for her hand and she took his, and they stood for long, pensive moments staring toward the edge of the Earth, where sea met sky, where home and boat were mere specks. “There’s not even a dry place to sit down,” Bryan said wearily, looking about helplessly. “We’ve got the cave,” Jade reminded him. “Okay. You go in there, and I’ll stay out here ready to wave if I see a boat. How’s that?”

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She hesitated. It hardly seemed fair, but before she could say that she was willing to stay outside and do her part, Bryan murmured that maybe they both needed some time just then to be alone. She agreed, but silently, and so turned and walked toward the cave without further conversation. Back inside, she lay down on the dry ledge, her arm under her head. She closed her eyes and attempted once more to sort out her feelings. But the excitement of the day had made her weary, and sleep came quickly…as did the dream. She was back on the ship, back in the storm, on the deck, clinging desperately to the railing above the swirling black waters. It was all happening again, and she could see Colt in the doorway of the cabin, calling to her, about to make his way to her, arms outstretched. Then he slipped, fell, and the crate careened toward him. She screamed as he was struck in the head, and there was a split second when she saw the blood, his eyes open wide in agony and horror. Then a wave washed up and over him as the crate crashed through the railing, taking her to the hungrily waiting sea below. But there the reality became the dream, for it was as though she could look back to the ship and see Colt, only he was not lying in a pool of blood, dead. He was calling to her, reaching out to her from a deep black void. She struggled to get to him, but each time their outstretched fingertips were about to meet, an invisible force would pull them apart with a sickening upward lurch. Around and around, a wild wind would take each of them, bringing them tantalizingly close, only to rip them far apart before they could touch. She woke herself screaming, sat upright as Bryan swung up on the ledge. She burrowed her face in her hands and let the tears come in great convulsing sobs. Dear God, it had been so real…so terribly, heartbreakingly real. She had seen his dear face, seen the strong, abiding love in the warm gray eyes she adored…could

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feel the softness of his breath upon her flesh just before invisible demons tore them apart. It had been the first time she had dreamed he was alive, and the experience left her deeply shaken. She went into Bryan’s arms willingly, but at that moment of desperation recognized that she would have allowed the embrace of anyone offering solace. “My God, Jade, what’s wrong?” He gave her a gentle shake, held her away from him. He’d never seen her quite this upset. “Tell me, what happened?” She shook her head, pulled away from his hold. “A nightmare. That’s all. A nightmare. I’ll be all right. I’m sorry…” “Don’t think about it. You’re awake, with me. It’s over.” He motioned for her to allow him to help her down from the ledge. “Come on. We’re in luck. Pauly got concerned when the storm came, so he was down on the pier looking for us, and he saw the sailboat going out to sea, figured what had happened, even figured where we’d gone, because he remembered Marnia liked to come here.” She pushed down the dredges of the bad dream, gratefully breathed, “He found us!” “He’s down at the beach. He signaled for help, borrowed a boat. Let’s go.” He put his arm around her, drew her close as they walked out of the cave. “Whatever it was that upset you so, it was just a dream, princess. Remember that. What we shared earlier was real…and wonderful. Dwell on that, and the happy thoughts will overshadow the bad ones.” He kissed her gently. She accepted his lips, then turned her head away. What he said might make sense, she rationalized, except for one thing—dreaming that Colt was actually alive was not a bad thought.

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Chapter Fifteen

There was a knoll on Bryan Stevens’ private island that overlooked the ocean and was the highest point of the terrain. The bank sloping back and inland was covered with such a profusion of wildflowers that there was seldom a time of year when colorful blossoms were not abundant. On the side facing the ocean, jutting chunks of coral could be seen glowing like trapped sunshine in the midst of the foamy turquoise water that swirled in rhythm with the sea. Jade found the spot to be the most beautiful on the island, even more lovely than the isolated cove which Bryan favored. It was to this place she had begun to make a pilgrimage twice each day. At sunrise, with its glorious creations of pink and rose and salmon and silver, she could look toward Europe and her memories there, both fond and sad. At sunset, when the western sky was a gradual explosion of brilliant, gorgeous hues of crimson, saffron, magenta, burnt orange, she would gaze toward America, where she’d focused so many hopes and dreams. In between her visits, she spent her time attempting to adjust to the place that had become her home…and the endless struggle to sort out the complexity of her life. It had been nearly two weeks since the memorable picnic, and the dreams of Colt being alive had come to her every single night. They were so vivid, so real. She had even been able to touch him, hold him, kiss him. Then, when she awakened, she cried because she was awake and wished to sleep forever if it meant being with him. Oddly, that feeling did not last long once she was alert,

Patricia Hagan

fully awake. She would be aware of her environment, enjoy her day with Bryan; until night came and the dream returned, she was content. Her times with Bryan after their intimate encounter had not been strained. She had not nurtured guilt or regrets and had enjoyed the passion they shared. When he had come to her room the next night, she had gone into his arms willingly, eagerly, and they had lam together till nearly dawn. Then he had returned to his own quarters, so that when Pauly came to bring him his early morning coffee, he would not find his bed empty. They could not risk having the servants gossiping, for there was enough speculation on the mainland as it was about their relationship. If it were known they were sharing a bed, they would be ruined socially. Bryan was being patient, understanding, not pressing her to consent to accept his proposal, but how long would he wait? Each time he held her in his arms, he swore that all he wanted in life was to spend it with her, as her husband. “I love you,” he told her over and over, “and I won’t be happy till you belong to me completely.” She continued to ask herself if what she felt for him was true love, deep and abiding. On one hand, she felt strongly enough about him to want to be beside him and nurture that emotion and find out if it was enough on which to base a marriage. On the other hand, she was forced to acknowledge there was a strange seed growing within—a seed of doubt that was frightening to even contemplate, growing larger with each dream of Colt. It was as though he were calling out to her from another place, but not from the netherworld. She knew, also, that if she did not marry Bryan, there was no way she could remain on the island and impose on his hospitality. The emotional limbo could not continue.

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If, however, she married him, she had no doubts that he’d be good to her, and she would certainly try her best to make him a good wife. The fact that she could never love him in quite the same way she loved Colt was a moot point. They’d find their own comfortable plateau of love and mutual respect. No doubt there’d eventually be children, too, and that thought was not unappealing. Yet always, when she leaned toward giving in and consenting, the burning question returned to torment: What if Colt were alive? Dear God, it wasn’t fair to her or to Bryan for her to enter into a union with him when there was even the slightest possibility that such a miracle might be true. The indecision and mental torture continued, and in its midst Bryan began to act differently. He was still as pleasant to be around as always, but he stopped coming to her bed at night. He gave no reason; Jade’s pride did not ask for one. His manner during the day also became a bit formal, and more and more, she would rise to learn from Amelia or Pauly that he’d gone to the mainland for the day…as though avoiding her. It was also along about then, she noted, that his crew returned with his yacht. This sudden, mysterious behavior caused Jade to realize the time had come for her to make a decision about the future, but that awareness did not make it any easier for her to do! Then came the nightmare that left her with only one choice to make. She dreamed that Colt was alive, but this time there was something terribly wrong with him. He was calling to her in anguished desperation, stumbling through a great gray fog that made it difficult for her to see him at times due to the changing density of her vision. Sometimes she could see his face clearly, and what she saw there wrenched her heart with terror—he had no eyes! He groped for her, and she screamed out to him that she was there, she, would help him, be his eyes…but he could not hear her, continued to stumble about pitifully in the

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smoky mist rising about him. She fought to get to him, but each time she was within distance to reach out and touch him, an invisible hand scooped him up and away, and when that happened, his cries to her became near hysterical, and he sobbed and shuddered in his helplessness. When at last he was taken away, so far as to no longer be seen, his final scream wrenched her to the very core of her being, “If I’m not dead…then please, God, kill me…” She screamed and screamed again, and even when Bryan heard and ran to gather her in his arms, she kept on screaming. He sharply patted her face and shook her and cried out to her to wake up, it was only another nightmare. Finally, she was torn from the wretched depths of her hellish hallucination and stared up at him in wild-eyed horror. “I’ve got to know if he’s dead!” Bryan closed his eyes and prayed he himself was only dreaming. Then he looked down into her face, so etched with despair, and raggedly whispered, “Jade, Colt is dead. You’re being haunted by a ghost. You’re in love with a ghost. Please, please, let it go. Marry me, and put the past behind you. Stop clinging to it, or it’ll destroy you.” He lovingly pressed his cheek against hers. “You don’t know how much I love you. I thought I couldn’t love any woman more than I loved Marnia, but that was nothing like this. I’ve never felt this way before. God forgive me, but the way I love you makes me actually glad Marnia did die, so fate could bring you and me together—” “No!” She quickly placed her fingertips against his lips for silence. “Never say anything like that again, Bryan. It’s not right. It…it’s an awful thing to say, and you know you don’t mean it.” “But I love you so…” He tried to kiss her, but she turned away. He straightened to sharply, almost angrily decry, “I can’t believe you don’t feel anything for me after what we’ve shared.”

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“Bryan, you know I care for you,” she began, “but—” “I’ve left you alone the past few nights in hopes you’d miss me,” he brusquely informed her. “I wanted you to be so miserable without me you’d realize we’ve got to be together for always, and you’d consent to marry me. “Obviously,” he added testily, “you didn’t mind.” With lower lip quivering, heart trembling, she shook her head slowly from side to side. “You just don’t understand, Bryan. I do care for you. I think I love you, but I can’t marry you until I know for certain that Colt is dead.” He ground his teeth together in resolution, the nerve in his jaw tensing. Then he turned his face toward the first peach and golden light of dawn streaming through the open French doors. Finally he forced himself to ask the question he dreaded having answered. “All right, Jade. Tell me. What does all this mean?” “I don’t quite know,” she said in a small voice, though all the while a new revelation was building within. “Are you saying you’re going to leave me? Leave the island? Return to Russia?” Solemnly, she shook her head, then allowed that new revelation to speak. “I’m going on to New York, to find out whether Colt is alive.” At that, he stared at her incredulously. “You’re joking.” Quietly, with determination, she informed him that she most certainly was not joking. “And if you’d help me make arrangements to book passage to New York, I’d be grateful.” Suddenly she sat up and reached out to clutch his shoulders as she implored him with her eyes to please understand. “Oh, Bryan, don’t you see that this is something I’ve got to do if I’m ever going to have any peace? “The dreams I’m having, the nightmares,” she rushed on to explain, “they’re different. I’ve been dreaming Colt is alive, and just now I dreamed that he’s in

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some kind of trouble and he was calling out to me from somewhere. I’ll never be able to put it out of my mind until I know for sure that he did die that night!” “Jade, please don’t—” “You said yourself everyone would presume I was lost at sea, that I’m dead—but I’m not! I’m here, alive. And the same thing might be true of Colt. I didn’t actually see him die. Don’t you see? Colt might be alive just as I’m alive!” She searched his face for some sign that he understood. Bryan sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “All right, tell me this. How do you propose to find out whether he’s alive? Wouldn’t it be easier to just write to his family?” Quickly she vetoed that idea. “No. I wouldn’t dare upset his father. If he’s been officially informed that Colt and I are dead, to hear I’m alive, and asking whether Colt might be, could be a fatal blow to him. I can’t risk that, and I won’t. I’m going to New York. I know that Colt was supposed to go to work for some important people named Vanderbilt. They shouldn’t be too hard to find. I also remember the name of the bank where he deposited his money, and they’d know if his account had been claimed.” “Jade, here we have peace, happiness, everything we want. But if we go back to that other world out there, we’re liable to lose it all. We’ll be tempting fate to destroy what we’ve found together.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, praying he could somehow understand what she was feeling. “If I don’t do this, then I’ll never have peace, and this won’t be a paradise to me.” He sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, made no move to put his arms about her. “What if I refuse to help you?” She raised her head to stare at him incredulously. “Surely you wouldn’t do that.”

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“I might,” he said coolly. “I love you. I make no apologies for that, and I’ll stop at nothing to make you love me. I’d be a fool to help you leave me.” Feeling a chill run up and down her spine, she cried, “That would be the same thing as making me your prisoner.” “A prisoner of love.” His taunting smile was frightening. “Eventually I would hate you for it.” She pushed him away from her, shakily got to her feet, and reached for her robe. Suddenly she despised wearing a dead woman’s clothes, and as the thought assailed her, she realized that the resentment toward him had already begun. She whirled to face him. “I don’t want your help. Just let me go to the mainland, and I’ll take care of myself.” His gaze upon her was one of pity. “You have no money.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “I have plenty of money in New York.” “What if the Romanovs have claimed it by now?” “That will take time. It hasn’t been quite three months. I think I can get there before that happens.” “But you can’t be sure.” “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Finally Bryan conceded. “Very well. I’ll let you go. But first you have to come with me. There’s something I want to show you. If, after seeing it, you still want to leave me and the love and everything else I have to offer, then I guess I’ll just be fool enough to help you.” She looked at him suspiciously. “What is it?” He smiled, a kind smile that provoked no fear, as he held out a hand to her. “Come along, please.” Jade took his hand and allowed him to lead her onto the terrace and across the sprawling green lawn. They had not gone far before she realized they were heading toward her favorite spot. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. Something was

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different. The hillock was no longer smooth on top. There was a large object there. It looked like a rock of some sort. But why was it there, and how had it gotten there? She asked Bryan, but he did not reply, merely held tightly to her hand and kept on walking purposefully. They drew closer, and then Jade could see that it was a large stone, perhaps five or six feet in diameter, and it had been placed on the very top of the hillock, like a monument of some sort. The color, she noted, was strange—an emerald green, with a black sheen within. Bryan’s voice was proud as he said, “It hasn’t been polished yet. When it is, the green will really shine, and it’ll be seen for a long way in all directions from the sea. No boat or ship passing by will fail to see its brilliance when the sun strikes it.” They reached the stone. Jade reached out to touch it with her fingertips, felt the coolness of its granular surface, marveled at the glassy green luster. Bryan moved to stand behind her and caress her shoulders with his hands as he quietly told her, “It’s jadeite. From Mexico. I did some research and learned that’s one of the few places where it can be found. That’s why I sent my crew there with instructions to stop at nothing and spend any amount necessary to find a stone this large and bring it back here. I knew you’d always liked this particular spot on the island.” She turned to stare up at him, bewildered. “But why?” His arms went about her, and she did not resist his touch. “Don’t you see?” He smiled at her with adoration, blue eyes shining with love for her. “I named my boat for the first woman I ever loved, and now I’m naming my island for the last woman I’ll ever love—the Isle of Jade— for you, my darling. I did it in hopes that it would make you realize, once and for all, just how much I do love you.”

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He pressed his lips against hers in a kiss of dedication, and she received it with tender gratitude. Then, regretfully but resolutely, she pulled out of his embrace. “I’ll always be honored, Bryan, but I’ve got to know for sure if I’m free to love you in return.” He closed his eyes as though steeling himself for the possibility he might ultimately lose her, then, with a sad smile, yielded. “Very well. I’ll take you to New York.” She shook her head in protest. “No, I can’t let you do that. Just take me to the mainland, and—” “My way!” he said sharply, firmly. “It has to be done my way, which means you’ll let me take you to New York and look after you till you find your answers.” Jade knew he was adamant, and something told her that if she refused, he might make it difficult for her to leave. Because of his love for her, he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. “All right,” she finally agreed. “I don’t think I’ve got any other choice.” Bluntly, happily, he concurred. “No, you really don’t.” Again he kissed her, and once more Jade did not resist, but her heart and mind were not there, in his arms, with his lips pressed against hers, his tongue exploring her own. She was not really there, on the Isle of Jade. She was mentally projecting herself ahead, into the future, to America, and New York.

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Chapter Sixteen

Jade stood beside Bryan at the bow as the Marnia sailed through the Narrows. He explained to her the sights as they entered the harbor. To the right, they could see the low, flat land that was New York City, with buildings and wharves visible along the harbor where the masts of ships stood like an endless parade of sentinels. On the left were the crumbling, ancient walls of Fort Wadsworth and, beyond, even more ships lying at anchor, perhaps numbering in the hundreds. “Over there”—he pointed—“is Staten Island.” Jade could see cliffs and rocky ledges dusted with snow. She shivered, despite the floor-length mink cape she wore. It was nearly December, and the cruise from Bermuda had been uneventful, but each time she’d ventured up on deck, the wind had been frigid, biting. She’d spent most of her time below but refused to miss the experience of witnessing their entrance to the famous great city of the western world. The yacht moved closer to shore, and voices could be heard carrying across the water. Steamers and small boats were traveling back and forth between the larger anchored ships. Merchants and peddlers were aboard these small craft, hawking their wares of clothes, bread, milk, and fruit. Bryan continued to tell her of everything he thought might interest her as they passed, but she hardly heard a word he spoke. She was far too dazzled by the sights and sounds and smells to communicate. So many thoughts were spinning around in her head, but the one that screamed to be heard above all the

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others was the question of whether Colt was somewhere out there in that crowded place. Bryan had explained to her earlier that she would have to go through Immigration, and since there might be a problem because she had no papers or identification, it would be best to let him do the talking. They anchored at a pier, and then Bryan guided her into the crowded area beyond. Jade asked why they even had to go through such a formality. “It seems to me we could just keep on walking—who’d notice in all this mad rush of people?” Bryan laughed. “That would be nice if we could get away with it, but the truth is, we’re on an island, and there are guards about. We won’t be allowed to leave until we go through that building over there.” He indicated a large, flatroofed structure directly ahead. Jade groaned. There were three long lines with probably a hundred or more people standing, in each. They looked tired, weary, their bags and suitcases piled around them, which had to be moved each time they inched forward in line. The women wore ragged shawls or shabby coats, and the children were in tattered clothing, most crying and whining. The men, in caps and worn jackets, tried to stand proud and tall as they led their families to a new life. “It’s so sad,” Jade murmured compassionately. Bryan nodded, regretfully told her she’d see many such sights. “Most of these people, unfortunately, are destitute, and they’re pouring in from all over the world in hopes of finding happiness in the land of milk and honey. I’m afraid most will be very disillusioned in a short while. The country is in a state of depression, and people are starving. Immigration should shut the gates till things improve, but they won’t.”

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He led her past the bedraggled people and then turned and went around the side of the building to a door marked Employees Only. Do Not Enter. Without hesitation, he walked in. Jade expected that at any moment someone would yell at them to get out, get in line, but instead, everyone they passed smiled and waved and called Bryan by name—and with respect, she noted. They walked upstairs to the third floor and went to a door with a Private sign posted. This time Bryan knocked, but was promptly greeted by a pleasant-faced woman wearing a white shirtwaist and a paisley bell skirt. Jade noted her tiny waist, knew she was strapped into a miserably tight corset since it was the current custom for women to do so, regardless of the discomfort. She was glad she had a naturally small waist and did not have to resort to such torture to be stylish. The woman seemed genuinely happy to see Bryan. “Oh, Mr. Stevens, it’s wonderful to have you back. We’ve missed you…” Her voice trailed off and she dropped her gaze for an instant as she murmured, “I didn’t have a chance to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your loss.” Bryan smoothly said, “That’s in the past, Miss Stallings. Life goes on.” He gestured to Jade. “I’d like you to meet Miss Jade O’Bannon.” To Jade he made the introduction, “My dear, meet Miss Vanessa Stallings, secretary to the chief immigration officer. We’re old, old friends.” Jade listened with a straight face as Bryan told his story, but all the while she was swallowing against a gasp of astonishment. He was smoothly relating how Jade was a distant cousin of Marnia’s, and he’d traveled from Bermuda to Ireland to bring her to America to live. On the voyage home they’d been in a bit of a blow at sea, and she’d lost her purse with all her personal papers inside. “I’m afraid,” he said, gesturing helplessly, “that if Ben doesn’t give her some

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kind of special dispensation, she’s going to be placed in a detention center for a long, long time until all the legal loopholes can be worked out.” Miss Stallings was gracious and sympathetic. “Well, we can’t have that,” she said and walked across the room to a glass-paned door. “I’ll see if Mr. Roberts is busy.” While she was in the other room, Jade whispered, “I can’t believe how easily you lie. I’ll never believe anything you tell me.” His eyes were twinkling as he countered, “Then I can say anything I want, can’t I? Like how I’m going to make mad, passionate love to you as soon as I get you to myself.” “That I believe,” she wryly assured him. Miss Stallings returned to promptly usher them into Mr. Ben Roberts’ office. Jade at once felt at ease with the pleasant, rotund little man. He had nice brown eyes, a pencil-thin mustache that curled at the corners, and she liked the gay blazer he wore. He grasped Bryan’s hand to pump it up and down in warm greeting. “Welcome home! It’s been too long. We’ve missed you at the Yacht Club. Had a big dinner the other night and heard your name mentioned several times. Lots of folks wondering when you’d be back.” He turned to Jade and his grin grew broader. “So this is Marnia’s cousin. I can see the family resemblance. Welcome to America, young lady. My, my, you’re as beautiful as your cousin.” Jade demurely thanked him; then Bryan fluidly proceeded to repeat their predicament, finally requesting, “So if you could see fit to give her some kind of papers placing her in my care, so to speak, we can go.” Jade held her breath, felt Bryan tense beside her. Ben Roberts looked her up and down, pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shrugged and said, “Oh, why not? What’s authority good for if you can’t use it once in a while, eh?” He winked,

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patted Bryan’s shoulder, then called to Miss Stallings to bring in the necessary forms to be filled out. As the paperwork was being done, listing Jade as an unmarried Irish immigrant, Ben informed Bryan that the Sherman Silver Purchase Act had just been repealed after a bitter congressional fight. “Gold reserves are still falling though,” he said worriedly. “We’re in a depression for sure.” When they left, Jade could not help regarding Bryan with awe. “If you hadn’t been able to do that, I’d have been on Ellis Island for months.” He winked, gave her a quick hug. “I keep telling you how wonderful I am, but you just won’t listen!” She had to laugh, despite herself. If their search confirmed Colt was dead, as she secretly believed it would, and she were to eventually marry Bryan, she knew they would share many good times. In fact, she could recall no time spent with him that was not enjoyable. He was witty, possessed a wonderful sense of humor as well as a bright and easygoing personality. After Bryan gave instructions to his crew to service the yacht before going home, he rented a hackney cab and they were taken to the train depot. From there they left for the Stevens estate, situated north of Manhattan along the Hudson River. Jade hungrily drank in the sights and smells of the city as they passed, enjoying the excitement of seeing America for the first time. Bryan noted it was certainly different from Russia, and she nodded in agreement. He then settled back with a newspaper to catch up on all that had taken place while he’d been away, leaving Jade to be captivated by the scenery. She marveled at the countryside, the sleepy dark blue Hudson River winding its way through its carved path in the craggy mountains that were upper New York State. Bryan said she should see it all in the spring, for now the

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trees were bare, the landscape brown, dull. She still found it quite beautiful; it was new, different…and a part of the dream she and Colt had once shared. From the train station in Newburgh, another hackney cab took them a few miles farther out into the country where, at last, it turned up a cinder-paved drive. The Stevens mansion sat on a high bluff overlooking the river and was quite impressive. It was three stories tall, of painted white brick. A wide porch skirted three sides of the first floor, and several upstairs rooms opened onto balconies with ornate railings and shingled, cone-shaped roofs. Shrubs and trees were carefully placed, but with the onset of winter, the grass was a sleeping color of brown, and all the trees were bare and reaching toward the sky with skeletal fingers, save for the evergreens, a splotch of color on the landscape. Bryan paid the driver, who placed their few pieces of luggage on the front porch; then he turned to Jade and somberly declared, “This is your new home. You are mistress of this house for as long as you like, which I hope will be forever.” He stepped ahead of her and reached to open the door, then paused to apologize. “I’m afraid it’s going to be very cold and dusty. I told the staff to just close it up, and that was months ago, so—” He was abruptly interrupted as the door swung open, and a plump, smiling woman burst onto the porch with arms outstretched in greeting. “Mister Bryan! Praise the Lord, you’re back. Welcome!” She hugged him effusively, and Bryan graciously returned her embrace but asked, bewildered, “Mina, what’re you doing here? I told you to close the place up, find another job.” She stood back to smugly shake her head. Placing hands on fleshy hips, she challenged, “Did you think I’d do that after working for your family so many years? No, sir! You were very generous, paid me more than my wages due, and

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I’ve been able to keep the place running, the fires burning, and you’re going to find everything just like you left it, because I knew one day you’d come home.” Suddenly she noticed Jade for the first time, and she was washed with embarrassment. “Oh, sir, I—I’m sorry,” she quickly stammered. “I was so happy to see you, I didn’t notice you had a guest.” Bryan introduced Jade to Miss Mina Dobbins and said she’d been his family’s head housekeeper for longer than he could remember. “Miss O’Bannon,” he pleasantly related to Mina, “will be our house guest for as long as she wishes, and she will be considered the mistress of this house as long as she is here. Is that understood?” Mina gave a small curtsy, then stepped aside so they could enter. “Of course. Anything you need, Miss O’Bannon, you just ask.” Bryan affectionately took Jade’s hand and led her to the curving goldcarpeted stairway. “I’ll give you a grand tour later, but right now you’d probably like to freshen up, rest a bit. I’ll have Mina bring you a pot of tea and a sandwich.” Jade fleetingly glimpsed the lavish furnishings, knew that everything was a touch of Marnia’s, and was not unaware of a twinge of jealousy of her own. If she stayed, if they married, then she’d no doubt be given free rein to redecorate to her own taste…which was just what she would insist upon. Bryan led her down a long, mahogany-paneled hallway to double doors at one end. They entered a large parlor. There was a divan and two comfortablelooking chairs before a white marbled-framed fireplace. Tables held lovely brica-brac. The color scheme was pink and white, like a huge birthday cake, Jade noted. Another touch of Marnia. Bryan gestured toward doors on one side and said that was his bedroom. “Yours is opposite.” He led the way.

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Again Jade was assailed by the feeling she’d been trapped inside a bowl of ice cream and strawberries as she looked about the room done in various shades of pink. The wallpaper was of pink silk with tiny white clovers and pale green vines intertwining. Draperies of pink satin hung at each of the four French doors leading onto a sweeping balcony with a breathtaking view of the Hudson River. The canopied bed dominated the room. The floor was covered in a rug of pink and white roses. It was lovely, no doubt about that. But Jade also found it smothering in its fluff and froth. Bryan sensed her tension. “Marnia never slept here, you know,” he explained. “It was while the redecorating was being done that she was killed.” He surprised even himself by being able to speak of it without emotion. Unable to control her overwhelming revulsion of the decor, Jade blurted, “Why so much pink? I’m sorry, Bryan, but it makes me feel nauseous, like I’ve eaten too much candy or something.” He nodded with understanding. “I know. I felt the same way when I saw the final results. It was almost finished when the fire happened, and I didn’t care one way or the other and just let the workmen go ahead and finish it the way Marnia had wanted. “She said,” he went on self-consciously, “that maybe so much pink would bring us luck, help us have a daughter. She wanted another child, and—” “I won’t sleep in here!” Jade abruptly turned and walked out of the room. Bryan followed after her to protest, “But it’s right across the parlor from my room, and we’ll be close.” She whirled about to face him defiantly, jade eyes sparking with resolution. “You have guest quarters, don’t you? I’ll stay there or move to a hotel. It might come as a shock to you, Bryan, but I’m about as tired of living with Marnia’s ghost as you are with Colt’s.” She paused to suck in her breath raggedly, then

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rushed on without giving him a chance to respond. “I came to New York to put Colt’s ghost to rest once and for all, but I’ll be damned if I’m moving in and sharing a room with Marnia’s.” She walked away in a huff, head held high, and Bryan was delighted. Her explosion, he knew, was a good sign that she was jealous of Marnia’s memory, which meant, of course, that she cared about him. He took her to the opposite end of the house where a huge room combined parlor and bedroom, and there was also a balcony from which she could enjoy a view of the river. He showed her around, kissed her, then hesitantly asked, “I don’t suppose you want to use any of Marnia’s things?” “Absolutely not,” she fired back at him. “Tomorrow, I want to go find that bank where Colt had my money deposited, and then I’m going shopping to buy my own wardrobe.” Again he was pleased. He held her at arm’s length and whispered, “I’ll leave you now. Remember, I love you, and anything you want is fine with me.” He turned to go, but she called out to him, ready to deal with what had to be done. “Please make arrangements tomorrow to do what you promised.” He nodded, already planning to contact a private detective agency the minute he got to his office in the city so that the search could begin. Until Jade was convinced Colt was dead, Bryan knew her heart would never be free. The next morning they took the train into Manhattan. Jade insisted on going into the bank alone; Bryan remained outside in the hackney. She glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings, having never in her life been inside a bank before, having never had the need. A man passing noted her hesitancy and paused to ask if he might be of assistance. She explained she

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needed to talk with someone about her account there, and he pointed to a man sitting behind a desk positioned along one wall. She walked over, and he got to his feet, gestured to a chair beside his desk as he introduced himself. “Mallory Curtin, vice president. How may I help you, miss?” He seemed nice, anxious to help, Jade decided, feeling more at ease. She gave him her name—Jade O’Bannon Coltrane—then explained, “My husband had money placed in this bank in an account in my name. I’d like to find out whether it’s still here.” He laughed. “Well, why wouldn’t it be? We’ve never had a robbery here that I know about. Let me get some more information from you, and I’ll see what I can find out.” Jade chided herself for being so nervous but knew she’d be embarrassed if the funds had been claimed by the Romanovs after being notified of her “death”. Mr. Curtin might call the police, thinking her some kind of imposter attempting to steal a dead person’s money. Soon, however, Jade learned she had nothing to fear. She filled out a form; then he took it and left his desk to disappear through a door at the rear of the bank. He was gone perhaps five minutes, returning with a respectful smile and an impressed gleam in his eye. After he handed her a slip of paper, she stared down at the astonishingly large amount he’d printed on it, only vaguely heard him declare, obviously awed, “That’s quite a bit of money for a young lady to manage. Perhaps you’d like to discuss some financial planning?” “Later,” she murmured and got to her feet. Suddenly she was no longer nervous or unsure of herself. Seeing in black-and-white the true scope of her financial independence gave her new vigor and determination. She thanked him and said she’d like to make a small cash withdrawal.

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When she related to Bryan that her money was still on deposit, he said he was pleased for her sake but pointed out, “Don’t you think the Romanovs are going to be shocked when they attempt to claim it and find out you’re very much alive?” “I’m going to write to them and let them know it was all a terrible mistake,” she quickly informed him. “They’ll be surprised, no doubt, but happy. I’ll also ask them not to tell the Coltranes.” “Why not let the Coltranes know, too?” She shook her head soberly. “As much as I love them, it’s better they think me dead along with Colt. To let them know otherwise, as I told you before, might be too big a shock for Mr. Coltrane, and I’ll probably never see any of them again, anyway.” They went on their way, Jade to shop, Bryan to his office. In the days that followed, despite the dispirited reason she’d come to New York, Jade was enthralled with all she saw. Bryan found that he had many items on his desk that needed his attention but still took time to show her around the city. A rapid transit system for commuters was becoming a reality on Manhattan Island. The Hudson River Railroad became elevated on its approach to the bustling city, traversing some of its worst slums—the puffing engines showering soot and cinders and fiery sparks that sometimes set fire to the rotting wood shingles of the tenement roofs along the route. Jade realized that New York was far ahead of even the great European capitals in modern inventions, particularly in lighting and communications. Electricity as well as gas was used in illumination, and then there was that marvelous new miracle—the telephone! There was even news that a man named

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Henry Ford was building something called a horseless carriage reportedly capable of traveling at the astounding speed of twenty miles an hour! Fashion decreed prominent bosoms, hips, tightly constricted waists for women—an unnatural hourglass shape. Tailored suits were the rage, as well as dainty and frilly underwear. There were small hats set on top of the head and decorated with the plumage of exotic birds. Hair was long and worn high with waves frothing around the forehead. For men, there were top hats and derbies. Sportiness decreed gay blazers and cricket caps, and then there were straw hats and high-buttoned coats. Almost every man of gentle birth wore a heavy gold watch chain or black ribbon fobs with gold-encased jewels. A strict code of etiquette decreed rigid rules for all social behavior. Jade was glad that Mina lived in the house with them, in her own quarters; otherwise it would have been shocking for her to be there, unchaperoned, with Bryan. She was astonished when, only three days after their arrival, two lemon-faced ladies from Bryan’s church came to call, and one of them came right out and bluntly asked whether the housekeeper stayed at night. She bit her tongue to keep from asking what business it was of theirs, managing to coolly give them the reply that brought approving nods. One evening Bryan took her to a minstrel show, and Jade was astounded to see white men with burnt cork on their faces to color them like a Negro. In elegant costumes, they sang a blend of sweet ballads, did some shuffling dances, and offered deep-dish humor. Jade loved the city, the excitement of just being alive in such a fascinating time, but there was not a single moment of any day that she forgot the real reason for being there. Finally, after a week, while in the midst of shopping one day, she decided the time had come to end the suspense. She went to Bryan’s

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office intending to tell him that if the detectives he had hired had still not been able to learn the truth, then she was going on her own to the Vanderbilt offices, wherever they were, and conduct her own investigation. Bryan’s secretary was not at her desk, so she went over to knock on the closed door to his private office. When there was no response, she hesitantly eased the door open to see him sitting behind his desk. He was so preoccupied with a folder he held in his hands that he had not heard her come in. She called to him softly. “Bryan? I’m sorry to intrude…” Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the folder to stare at her, but blankly, as though he didn’t recognize her. Then he shook his head sharply. “Jade. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” He laid the folder aside, gestured for her to sit down. His smile, she noted, seemed false, forced, and when he spoke, his voice was strained. “So you’ve honored me with a surprise visit? Can I celebrate by taking you to lunch?” She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I’m tired of waiting for your detectives, Bryan. I’m going to the Vanderbilt office and see what I can find out myself.” He got up and went to stand at the long, narrow window behind his desk, hands solemnly folded behind his back as he stared at the sprawling city below. Snow had begun to fall gently, painting the landscape a ghostly white in the late afternoon glow. Jade tensed. Something was wrong. “Did I come at a bad time?” she asked worriedly. He turned to face her, blue eyes cloudy, misty. He was staring at her so strangely she thought she’d scream if he didn’t tell her what was going on.

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Finally he said in a somber voice, “It won’t be necessary for you to go to the Vanderbilts, Jade.” She blinked, bewildered, and just as it dawned on her what he meant, he nodded to the folder on his desk. “The report from the detective agency I hired,” he said in a voice so cold and ominous it might have echoed from a tomb. “Your quest, it seems, is over.”

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Chapter Seventeen

Jade felt herself swaying dizzily, and with shaking hands, reached out to clutch the leather chair positioned in front of Bryan’s desk lest she collapse and fall. The words he had just spoken paraded in singsong fashion before her bedazzled mind: the quest was over…over…over… She tried to speak, but only soft gasps escaped her tightly constricted throat. Oh, why was he torturing her this way? Why was he making her wait in unbearable anguish to learn whether Colt was alive or dead? Bryan was one of the kindest and most compassionate men she had ever known, and it was totally out of character for him to deliberately make anyone agonize. So why now? Her lips quivered as she attempted to plead for the suspense to end. With great effort she held out a trembling hand to him, like a beggar pleading for alms, but he did not see and was once more staring out the window, locking his gaze upon the exciting and rapidly growing brick and mortar world that was New York City. At last, he turned to meet her desperate gaze. She saw that his eyes were doleful, melancholy, and she could see within the cerulean depths other emotions as well—disquietude, dread, but also the ever-present warmth of the love and affection she sensed, beyond a doubt, that he felt for her. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though to shut out the dreaded moment of truth, then said, his voice shadowed with regret he could not conceal, “He’s alive.”

Love and Dreams

Somehow, Jade made her way around the chair to collapse and sit down before her knees gave way, then, hand clutching her throat, whispered, “I can’t believe it. Please, God, let it be true…” “Oh, it’s true, all right,” Bryan curtly affirmed. He returned to his desk, sat down, and grimly nodded toward the file. “I hired the best agency in the business, Jade, the Pinkerton. I have no reason to doubt what they’ve told me, and I can assure you it’s all been kept confidential. Colt has no idea that there was an investigation.” Now she was truly puzzled. What did all this mean? And why was he being so mysterious? She didn’t care anything about details, only the miracle that Colt was alive. All she was interested in hearing now was where he was so she could go to him, throw herself into his arms, and never, ever let him go. As for her past, personal relationship with Bryan, it was as though she had suddenly found herself in the presence of a stranger. No matter that she was aware of his deep, devoted love for her, or the knowledge of having slept in his arms too many nights to remember as he’d soothed her grief beneath a velvet guise of arousal and longing. Those memories were pushed aside in the face of the tumultuous climax of a heart-wrenching quest…the triumph of dream over nightmare, because Colt was, praise God, alive! Suddenly Bryan shook his head abruptly, as though waving away emotions that were trying to diminish his responsibility for this moment. Then he began, “Jade, first of all, I want you to know that I intend to tell you everything the Pinkerton agency learned. I won’t leave out anything—” “But that doesn’t matter,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand. “All I care about is that Colt is alive.” She saw the instant frown that touched his forehead and rushed to appease him. “Bryan, I know you love me, and in my

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own special way I love, you, too, but stop and think how you’d feel if you suddenly found out that, by some strange miracle, Marnia was alive. “You’d have to set aside all your feelings for me, wouldn’t you? You’d have to try and forget all the passion and emotions…” Her voice trailed away as she realized he was looking at her in abject pity. With a sudden sense of foreboding, she sharply demanded, “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me that way?” He drew in his breath harshly, then slowly exhaled, fingertips pressed against his temples. Painful though it would be, he had to tell her. “Colt is married.” Jade blinked in disbelief, then exploded with laughter. “Oh, Bryan, stop teasing me. I know this isn’t the way you wanted it to be, but as I just said, think how you’d feel if Marnia—” “Marnia is dead,” he curtly reminded her, then added grimly, “And Colt might as well be.” The cold feeling of dread and horror, returned with the force of a slap. She jerked her head sharply from side to side, as though rebuking a physical assault. “I don’t understand. What are you telling me? I wish…” her voice broke with emotion, “…that you’d stop fooling around, Bryan, and tell me what I need to know. I’d like to see Colt, as soon as possible.” Her eyes filled with tears of joyful anticipation. He was alive…alive…and Bryan, despite his goodness, was disappointed, and he was deliberately being mean, and that just wasn’t like him at all, and maybe that was why she had this rushing, frightening feeling inside. Suddenly, with a loss of control alien to his nature, Bryan slammed his fist down on the desk, causing Jade to jump, startled. “Dammit,” he cried, eyes flaming with frustration and anger. “Do you think I’d make jokes at a time like this? And I’m not going to be a hypocrite and pretend I’m happy about it, either.

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The truth is, it would’ve suited me just fine if they’d found out he was dead. Maybe then you’d have buried his ghost, because I’ve known all along I’d never win your heart till you did. “Only it didn’t work out that way, did it?” he added with a bitter, crooked smile. “Now the ghost lives on, but not the man.” She stared at him, aghast, but said nothing, merely watched in stunned silence as he got up and returned to his vigil at the window. “I knew the minute you heard he was alive you’d want to rush to him. That’s why I didn’t tell you until I had all the details.” Jade stiffened with indignation. “You mean you’ve known? Before now? And you didn’t tell me?” He turned to stare at her solemnly, hands folded behind his back. “Yes,” he admitted without apology. “And be glad that I didn’t let you make a fool of yourself, because you’d have gone rushing to him only to be hit square between the eyes with the fact that he’s married to someone else now.” Again Jade shook her head in disbelief. “He can’t be. Why, it’s obvious he thinks I’m dead, but it hasn’t been that long. He wouldn’t have married anyone so soon.” He raised an eyebrow. “Really? But what if he met someone he loved, despite his grief, in a very special way?” He paused, then goaded, “The way you profess to love me. What then? Be honest with yourself, Jade, and with me. If I’d told you today I had absolute proof Colt was dead, how long would you have waited to agree to marry me? Not very long, I’m sure.” His gaze swept over her, warm with lusty remembrance. “Ah, Jade, my love, you can lie to yourself, and you can lie to me—with words—but when I take you in my arms and feel your passion…that, my dear, is a truth you cannot run from.”

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“It isn’t fair, Bryan, to talk of such things now,” she rebuked him sharply. He went on as though she had not spoken. “Neither of us is a conformist, and you know it. You don’t see me wearing the obligatory black garb of mourning—not even an armband. And when you went shopping for a new wardrobe, you didn’t buy black bombazine.” He could not resist the sarcastic barb. Jade ignored it, continued her argument, although she realized she did not sound convincing, even to herself. “If it is true, then he only remarried because he was so grief-stricken he didn’t know what he was doing. He believed I was dead, and—” “You can’t get around the fact that he didn’t confirm your death, the way you insisted on confirming his.” “Well, he…” She paused, her mind spinning as she tried to rationalize in the midst of Bryan’s mocking smile. But through the wave of emotions pelting her, she knew he was not trying to be hurtful or unkind, for surely he was agonizing within himself. Therefore, she knew there had to be truth in what he was saying. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, but only momentarily. Lifting her chin in renewed defiance, emerald eyes sparkling with resolution, she prepared to do battle. “All right. I believe you, because you know if you’re lying, I’ll find out the truth sooner or later and hate you for it. But it doesn’t matter, because when Colt hears I’m alive, he’ll take immediate steps to undo what’s been done.” She flashed her own gloating smile. “Now, will you tell me where to find him, or will you make me go out and hire my own detectives?” She rose from the chair, reached across the desk for the file, but Bryan moved quickly to snatch it away. “No! You’ll only hurt yourself, along with Colt and his…” He paused to allow the full implication of the word to assault her. “Wife.”

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Jade felt her cheeks flush with rage. “Do you think I care about her, whoever she is? She’s not his wife. I am. And she has no right—” “What about the baby she’s going to have? Colt’s baby?” His words hung in the air like clawing humidity before a thunderstorm. Jade reeled before this newest jolt. Wordlessly, she mouthed the word in disbelief. “It’s true,” he affirmed, getting up to walk around the desk and tower above her. “When the detectives gave me their first report, that they’d found out easily enough that Colt is very much alive, they said they thought he and his wife were expecting a baby. I told them to check it out and be sure, and I was waiting to hear before saying anything to you.” He waved the folder with finality. “I got the final report just minutes before you walked in.” Jade’s eyes were desolate, empty, as she shook her head in denial. “No…no, it isn’t possible. I don’t believe it. I mean, it hasn’t been that long, and there’s just no way Colt could have remarried and be expecting a baby, unless…“ Her voice trailed off as the realization of what she was actually saying struck like a sledgehammer to her brain. “Unless, “Bryan brusquely finished for her, “they were married right after Colt arrived in New York, and she conceived immediately.” Jade stared at him in horror yet knew it was the only plausible explanation. Tears she could no longer suppress spilled from her sad eyes to trail pitifully down her ashen cheeks. His heart went out to her, for he felt her anguish. He reached to pull her to her feet, folded his arms about her to draw her close against his chest. With his chin resting atop her head, he nuzzled the softness of her silky red hair. “I feel your pain,” he murmured, “but believe me when I say I’m going to make it go

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away. I’m going to do my damnedest to make you love me so much you’ll forget he ever existed.” Abruptly, she pulled back from his embrace to stare up at him, as though she might find in his expression a hidden meaning, an answer, to this madness. She was no longer crying, and she suddenly seemed afire with renewed spirit. “Swear to me, Bryan,” she commanded in a dread whisper. “Swear to me that everything you’re telling me is the truth.” He was quick to respond, dismayed that she could doubt him. “Of course! Every word. As I told you, the Pinkerton detectives are highly reputable. They never make their report until they’re sure of everything in it. “Believe me,” he went on, “when I tell you that it looks as though Colt wasted no time in remarrying. The detectives said they couldn’t find any other address for him once he’d arrived in New York except the one where he’s living now. Which means—” “Which means,” Jade interjected icily, “that it had to be someone he met on the ship because he didn’t know any women in New York. Damn him!” She whirled about in furious frustration. “How could he have done it?” she cried. “No period of mourning! Nothing! Why, he was probably married on the ship!” Reluctantly, Bryan told his first lie. “No, but within a few weeks after arriving here, I’m told.” She bit down on her lower lip thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in malignant concentration. “What is his wife’s name?” “Does it matter?” “No. I suppose not.” He told his second lie. “They didn’t put that in the report.” He reached out for her again, but she stiffly resisted. His arms fell away, and with all the

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adoration he felt for her mirrored on his face, he implored, “Jade, you’re going to have to put him out of your mind. Colt has another wife now, who’s going to have his child. Forget him. Don’t you see?” He clutched her shoulders despite her struggle against him. “Colt might be alive, but your marriage is dead. Over. You can’t go back now. “Would you even want to?” he challenged. “Knowing he didn’t care enough to wait even a little while, if only for the sake of appearance? As painful as it is for you to realize, as much as I hate having to say it, the truth is, he couldn’t have loved you very much or he wouldn’t have acted so hastily. He’d have hidden away with his grief, as I did. My God, I was on my way to my island to kill myself when I met you. That’s how torn and lost I felt after Marnia died. Think about it, Jade. Colt never really loved you. He couldn’t have, if he—” “Stop!” she screamed, jerking away from him and covering her ears with her hands. “Stop it! I won’t listen to any more.” Just then there was a knock on the door, and Bryan’s secretary hesitantly peered in to apologetically announce, “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Mr. Debnam is here for his appointment, and he’s very impatient.” Bryan clenched his fists in frustration at the interruption. “He’ll have to wait. I’m busy.” The young woman looked uncertain, stammered, “But—but he says he’s in a hurry, because he’s leaving for Europe tomorrow and has other appointments today, and—” Enraged, Bryan cried, “I don’t give a damn. I said I can’t see him today.” At that, Jade declared, “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from your work.” She hurried across the room, rushing by his startled secretary. Bryan started after her, calling for her to wait, but suddenly found the doorway blocked by a very large and very angry man who bluntly informed

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him, “You will see me today, Stevens, because your company made a hell of a big error on my statement, and I want it straightened out before I leave tomorrow.” He pushed his way inside the office, closed the door soundly behind him. Jade lifted her long velvet skirts as she hurriedly made her way down a narrow stairwell. She paused inside the doorway, breath coming in ragged gasps of wretchedness, just long enough to retie her bonnet snugly about her head and gather her fur cape tightly to ward off the chill before rushing from the brownstone building. She then walked swiftly to what was called the “Flatiron Corner”, the best-known corner in New York at the intersection of Broadway, Fifth Avenue, and Twenty-third Street. Near the shopping district, it was busy at all hours, especially on this late afternoon when snow was thickly falling and people were rushing to get home before they found themselves completely marooned beneath a frigid white blanket. She did not know where she was going and, for the moment, did not care. The snow caused her no anxiety, accustomed as she was to the deep drifts and frenzied blizzards of Russia. Aimlessly, she began to walk up Fifth Avenue, her mind reeling with only one thought: Colt was married…married…married… The words echoed loudly, painfully inside her head like the ringing of a death knell. Dear God, to think that he now slept with another woman, revered her as his wife, that she was carrying his baby inside her. The knowledge hurt, so badly that pain was a white-hot knife carving into Jade’s very soul. What could she do about it? What did she even want to do about it? She could never go to Colt thinking that if he knew she was actually alive he’d leave that other woman, whoever she was, and their baby, to come back to

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her. Whatever it was—egoism, pride—it would stop her from contemplating, or allowing, such a thing to occur. So what happened next? She could turn the ashes of a once brightly flaming love that had obviously been merely infatuation, a folly, to Colt, into embers of indignation and rage. Hating him would make the disappointment of her love-dream easier to bear, but other than teaching herself to loathe him and the formerly bright and tender memories, she had no plans. She knew only that she had no intention of returning to Russia. Her future was here, in America. Bryan, her heart told her, could be a very important part of that future. Was that what she wanted? She was not sure, not yet. Her heart, her mind, had just been hit by a thunderbolt of anguish, and time was needed to absorb and deal with the damages inflicted. She paused on a corner as a fire engine raced by, horses at a gallop, earth trembling as the hatless fireman driving leaned forward with arms out straight and held tightly to the reins. Behind him were the long ladder-wagon chutes with firemen clinging, coats flapping in the frigid winds. Then, farther behind, there was a crowd of small boys, excitedly running to follow the firemen in delighted anticipation of the faraway day when they would, hopefully, be among the brave men clinging to the wagons. Jade crossed the street, noting the skies were growing dark, not caring that night would soon fall behind the cloak of gray snow clouds. Had she not changed their plans, she was to have met Bryan at his office later, when the stores closed, and they were to have taken a hackney to his club near Central Park, where they’d dine before taking a late train home. Now she wished it were not snowing, for she would have liked to engage a hackney and ride endlessly

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up and down Fifth Avenue, could have done so for hours in an attempt to deal with her turmoil, since the cost was nominal—fifty cents to ride twenty blocks. But the weather was becoming worse, and she knew she had to seek shelter from it. Perhaps, she thought a bit remorsefully, she should not have walked out of Bryan’s office in such a hurry. After all, he was the one and only friend she had in America, and he’d been there for her when no one else had. What, dear God, would she have done without him? She shuddered to think. He’d done much more than save her life when he’d miraculously found her adrift in the ocean— he’d given meaning to her life when there had been none. Such thoughts provoked warm, grateful memories, and suddenly she wished he were there, beside her, giving her a hand to cling to amidst the turbulence of her life. And suddenly, like a prayer answered…he was. She felt firm fingers clasp her hand, and she glanced up to meet his anxious blue eyes. “Never run away like that again,” he said, his voice a blend of relief and indignation. “I’ve been running around like a madman looking for you.” She squeezed his hand in grateful greeting, felt a wave of guilt to have worried him so. “I’m sorry.” Her smile was subdued, but radiated all the same from deep within, where affection for him fought to ignite amidst the painfully smothering ashes of her love for Colt. “I just needed to be alone to try and think things out. This is quite a shock, Bryan.” He was at once tender, supportive. “Of course it is. God knows I hated having to tell you, but I wasn’t about to try to hide it from you. We both knew the ghost was there between us, but…” He paused to bestow a lopsided grin of apology, then candidly admitted, “The truth is, I wish they’d found out he was dead.”

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She looked at him for a long time as she contemplated his frankness, then finally nodded. “That’s what they did find out, Bryan,” she whispered. “For all intents and purposes, Colt is dead.” His brows raised in wide-eyed hope. “You’re going to try and forget him?” “I have no other choice,” she confirmed with a shrug. “I’m certainly not going to run to wherever he is and make a fool of myself. He’d probably never leave his wife and child for me, anyway, and quite frankly, even though I loved him more than I thought it possible to love any man, I can’t say that I’d want him to leave them. It’s obvious,” she added bitterly, “he didn’t feel the same about me.” In spite of her sadness, Bryan couldn’t help his cry of joy at her decision. He grabbed her in a fierce hug. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that!” He released her to wave at a passing hackney. “Come on. I had a surprise waiting for you before all this came up, and now’s the time to show it to you.” He refused to answer her questions as he directed the driver to an address on Riverside Drive, ignored her protests as she wailed she did not feel like visiting anyone. “You’re going to love it,” he mysteriously assured her. “Relax and enjoy the ride.” The carriage eventually drew to a stop in front of a large and breathtakingly beautiful ornamental iron gateway. Beyond, at the end of a sweeping cobbled driveway, was a huge two-story house constructed of rough stone. Even from the street, Jade was awed by the magnificent glass and sculptured iron doorway, the symbol of the wealthy class of New York. Despite her misery, she curiously asked, “Who lives here?”

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Bryan grinned, reached to open the carriage door with a dramatic sweep before proudly announcing, “Why, you do, my dear. Welcome home!” Jade blinked, confused, and stared at him in bewilderment as he paid the driver. The grand front doors then opened, as though she and Bryan had been expected, and a white-costumed housekeeper and black-uniformed butler stepped out in respectful greeting. Bryan, enjoying the moment, extended his arm, which Jade absently took, and they began to make their way from the gate, snowflakes kissing their faces. “I bought this house because I thought you’d like your own place, away from memories of Marnia,” Bryan gently explained, “and I also thought you’d enjoy living in the city, in the midst of everything. It’s a long way to commute to the Hudson Valley.” Jade was stunned, knew before she even entered the gorgeous house that it was going to be sumptuous, lavish, with all the luxuries money could buy. Looking up at him in grateful wonder, she asked simply, “But why?” He kissed the tip of her nose, then smiled. “Because it’s the first step of my promise, princess, to make you love me so much you’ll forget there ever was a Colt Coltrane.” She squeezed her eyes shut in painful retrospection, then flashed them open to brightly shine as she declared, with a pixielike wrinkle of her nose, “Well, Mr. Stevens, even if you don’t succeed, at least we’ll both enjoy your trying.” He accepted her humor, love and desire mirrored on his face as he huskily proclaimed, “Oh, but I’m going to succeed, my dear. Believe that.” They toured the house, with its huge reception hall, twin parlors downstairs, library, dining room, ballroom, kitchen, pantry, and glassed-in day porch. Then they ascended the curving mahogany stairway to an upper receiving foyer leading to three separate wings. Each wing contained separate serving pantries

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so guests could receive breakfast or tea in their suites, as well as small music parlors and reading rooms. In the wing fronting the river, however, there were two bedrooms at the end, large, spacious, and joined by a sitting room dominated by a huge stone fireplace. “This will be our quarters,” Bryan said with a flourish as they stood, hand in hand, in the middle of the sitting room. He turned to give her a warm look. “But we won’t need both bedrooms, my darling,” he whispered. “Just one. I never want to sleep one night without you in my arms.” Jade started to turn away, to escape the moment she was not yet ready to face, but Bryan grabbed her arm and whirled her roughly about to hold her tightly against him. “Dammit, Jade, stop running from reality,” he ordered. “Admit that you love me! Say it!” Her head fell backward beneath the delicious assault of his hungry, teasing lips. “I can’t,” she gasped. “Not the way you want me to.” She tried to shake her head from side to side in emphasis, but he moved a hand upward to hold her neck in a viselike grip. “Think of all the hours we’ve spent in each other’s arms.” His mouth attacked the warm, soft flesh of her jawline. “Think how good it was…naked flesh melded against naked flesh, every nerve in our bodies on fire with desire. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever known before. You satisfy me completely, in every way—a regal princess in public, a shameless hussy in my bed—” “Bryan, no…” She struggled against him, for his words, his lips, his warm breath against her flesh, all were combining to ignite the familiar rush of feelings…feelings she did not want to have just now, not in the wake of so much unexpected anguish. “Let me go, please…”

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His laugh was short, brittle, almost maniacal as he echoed, “Let you go? Never, Jade. Don’t you understand that?” Suddenly he was sober, and his eyes became angry slits. His hand at the back of her neck tightened menacingly, and his voice shook with emotion as he decreed, “Now that I’ve found you, now that I’ve come to love you more than life itself, I won’t let you go, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you away from me. If it takes my dying breath to do it, I’m going to make you love me…and I swear to you, I’ll never let you go.” “Bryan, you’re hurting me,” she cried, frightened. Never had she seen him so adamant or forceful, and the look in his eyes, cold, glittering with malice…it was terrifying. At once, he released her, and apologized. “I’m sorry. You make me do strange things, Jade, when I think I might lose you.” She did care for him, she thought. And what he said was true, they had shared wonderful, magic hours of passion. There was no doubt that he was as perfect a lover as Colt, awakening all sorts of secret delights within her. What, she wondered suddenly, almost frantically, would she do if he stepped out of her life? She would be totally alone, but that was not what filled her with such a feeling of misery. She was self-sufficient, self-confident, would be able to cope, somehow, but to think of not having Bryan to share her hopes and dreams and, yes, the sadness that life could sometimes bring—it was all more than she liked to think about. “Will you marry me, Jade?” She stared at him thoughtfully, feeling the warmth in her heart at just his nearness.

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“If you care for me at all, it’s enough.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Bury the goddamned ghost, Jade, before it destroys both our chances for happiness in this life!” She closed her eyes, swayed ever so slightly with the wonder of the moment and the sudden awareness that, had she never met Colt; had, instead, encountered Bryan, then he would have been the nucleus of all her dreams of love and happiness. He was, she knew, all she could ever ask for, or want, in a man. So why not give in to the impulse to return his love wholly and completely? Why hold back? She took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly, then smiled up at him softly, warmly, her body trembling with the overwhelming emotion of the words she was about to speak. “Yes, Bryan, I’ll marry you. Just give me a bit of time, to think, to plan, to get used to the idea… “…and,” she finished with a laugh and a careless wave of her arm, “to redecorate this huge and glorious house and make it even more grand and glorious.” “Oh, you shall have it!” he exclaimed, lifting her up in his arms to whirl her around and around in jubilation. “Along with anything else you ever want. I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the whole world, I swear it!” Then he set her on her feet, and their eyes met and held in adoration and the silent promise of the future. When, at last, he kissed her, Jade responded with fervor and determination. The ghost was buried forever, she told herself, but all the while a thousand needles stung into her heart, for try as she might, with her eyes shut and Bryan’s strong arms holding her close, his lips melded against her own…Colt’s face was still before her…in the shadow of her dreams.

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Chapter Eighteen

On the surface, it seemed as though Jade had accepted the cruel, crushing blow that fate had dealt her. Inside, however, a struggle of emotions waged war between head and heart. Bryan could not understand her refusal to set a wedding date. She pleaded for time, to deal with the myriad emotions running wild within. He countered by saying she was only prolonging the complete letting go of the past by not facing the future. She questioned the legality of a marriage, and Bryan argued that no one would know she’d ever been married before. After all, the ceremony had taken place in a foreign country. She was not using her married name, but had been presenting herself as Miss Jade O’Bannon. Everyone thought she’d come to America directly from Ireland, a distant relative of his late wife. He insisted there was nothing to worry about, candidly suggesting, “You’d be better off pretending you never even knew Colt Coltrane, that there never was a marriage.” Jade silently agreed, but knew her heart would never permit such absolute denial of so great a love. They mutually agreed that Bryan would continue to present her to everyone as Marnia’s cousin, so as not to raise eyebrows over their spending so much time together and to ultimately lessen the shock when they married. Marnia’s parents were dead, he pointed out, so there was no reason for anyone to contradict their story.

Love and Dreams

Within herself, Jade dealt with her pain over Colt by instilling the firm belief that the past was no more than a dream remembered. Memories, both good and bad, only brought misery; therefore, she commanded herself each time her heart began to ache, it was best not to think about any of it, to think only of her present life and her future…and the man who was trying so very hard to make her happy. Although Jade was disinclined to make any immediate arrangements, they did decide that when a date was finally set, they’d just slip away for a private ceremony. They both liked the custom that public announcements were marked by brevity, with more emphasis given to the bridegroom’s social status than the bride’s. “We need to keep things in good taste,” he reminded her one day. “After all, there are those who’ll say I didn’t wait the proper length of time before remarrying, but,” he added sarcastically, “chances are they’ll forget I ever was married, the way you’re procrastinating.” Jade had grown used to the way Bryan could sometimes be acerbic, knowing it was a way of getting his point across. She ignored it, as always, changing the subject this time to the matter of finances. It was, she knew, unheard of at that time for a woman to own anything separate from her husband. She did not think it fair, however, and wanted it understood that when they did marry, she would retain her financial independence. Bryan was agreeable. He even set out immediately to research and advise her on various investments so she would have knowledge of options besides having her money sit idly in the bank. With an understanding of their relationship, and that they would marry when, as Jade put it, the time was “right”, she then turned all her energies, both physical and mental, into moving into her new home. It was an exhausting, time-

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consuming job, for she insisted on doing all the shopping herself. Bryan urged her to call in a decorator, but she refused, saying it was something she wanted to do as it helped move her even further away from the ghost of the past. Seeing it that way, Bryan said nothing more on the subject. For the sake of propriety it was decided that if she were to reside at a hotel in the city while preparing the house, she should hire a woman to be a combination secretary, companion, and chaperone. The young woman they selected, Miss Lita Tulane, had migrated from France with her family, had some experience, and seemed well bred and intelligent. The two got along well, and Lita was always eager to accompany Jade on her almost daily shopping jaunts. Jade ignored “The Ladies’ Mile”, the popular fashion district from Eighth Street to Twenty-third Street on Broadway, and instead became a familiar face among shoppers in the district around Sixth Avenue and Thirty-fourth Street. There she found a myriad of shops and a large selection of imported furniture, antiques, bric-a-brac, art, and decorator pieces. Expense was no consideration. Jade never bothered to ask the price of anything. Marble, gilt, crystal, paintings, sculptures—she knew she was probably overdecorating in splendor and opulence but did not care. She was determined to have one of the most grandiose houses, if not the most grandiose, in all of New York. Lita, however, came from a somewhat impoverished background and constantly gasped at such extravagance. The day Jade bought four cut-glass, fivelight chandeliers of crystal and gold, fitted for electricity, Lita dared to peek at the price tags and was so shocked she staggered backward and would have bumped into a fifteenth-century Tuscan marble bust of the Infant St. John the

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Baptist, costing four times as much, and sent it crashing to the floor, had Jade not caught her arm and righted her in time. “I am so sorry,” Lita later apologized. “It’s just that I’ve always had to spend what money I had so carefully, it makes me dizzy to think of anything costing that much.” Jade assured her there was no reason for her to be embarrassed, but felt the need to justify her own extravagance. “You see, Lita, I grew up in a wealthy family, and I suppose I could say I’m used to having everything I want, but that’s not why I’m spending so much money redecorating my house. I can’t explain it but please understand when I say that I’ve learned that material things in life aren’t really important, and maybe that’s why I don’t mind spending the money, because the money no longer means anything to me.” Lita gave her a strange look, nodded that she understood, though Jade knew she didn’t, and she wasn’t going to explain herself further. How could she? How could she make anyone understand that when something was lost, taken away, something so precious that money could neither buy it nor replace it…well, when that happened, money means nothing, because not many things do in the wake of the pain. And yes, despite all her efforts to run from it, the pain was still there. It came in the night, in her dreams, and she was helpless. Awake, she learned to control her thoughts, but sleep rendered her defenseless to her haunted heart. One of the reasons she cared so for Bryan was his tender perception of her moods. So many times she felt as though she were in mourning again, only this time it was not for the death of her husband, but the death of a dream, which was, perhaps, even more difficult to endure. But fortunately, her life became so busy that there was little time to dwell on heartache, and, of course, there was Bryan; it seemed she loved him more with

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each new day. He was so like Colt in so many ways, yet he had his own, distinct personality and style that she found captivating. New York society was busy, exciting, and demanding, and once Bryan was able to persuade her to join him in attending various “subdued” functions, such as those for charity, where his presence would not be regarded as disrespectful to his wife’s memory, Jade began to receive her own invitations to galas. At first she declined, but then prominent matrons began to call on her, and she suddenly found she liked the role of hostess. Delighted over Jade’s popularity, Bryan presented her with an ornate silver tray, which, he explained, was to be placed on the Moorish walnut side table that stood in the small receiving foyer of her hotel suite. “The calling cards the ladies are leaving are piling up, and this is the proper way to collect them.” She stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then asked, “But why do I want to save them? I’ve told Lita to throw them away, but she keeps forgetting.” “I doubt that’s the reason. She’s worked for prominent families before and no doubt knows that you’re supposed to collect the cards in a tray and leave them sitting out for others to notice. It’s a symbol of how popular you are.” She started to tell him she didn’t really care and frankly thought it wasn’t anyone else’s business who had called earlier, but instead, thanked him for the tray and remarked that she found a lot of the local customs boring. “I know you do,” he empathized, “and so do I, but the fact is, like it or not, we’re a part of those customs—me, by birth; you, by migration. Frankly, I’m proud that all the prominent ladies like you so much, because that means when we’re married, we’ll be invited to all the important parties, and I’m sure you’ll develop into one of the leading hostesses of New York.” She was still unimpressed. “But is it necessary? I mean, in Russia I was part of the Imperial Court yet enjoyed more the company of friends who weren’t.”

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He laughed at the incredulity of such a question. “That was Russia, sweet Jade. This is New York. And I assure you that coterie acceptance and social leadership are very necessary to being happy here.” Jade did not agree but said nothing more. One evening he came to take her to dinner and was delighted to see an invitation from Mrs. Arista Astor Cummings to a “waffle party” at her home overlooking Central Park. Waving the gilt-edged card in the air, his eyes shining with pride, he happily exclaimed, “I don’t believe it! Do you realize how many people would give their eyeteeth to be invited to one of her parties? I didn’t even know you knew her. When did you meet?” Jade thought a moment, then leafed through the ever-growing pile of calling cards in the silver tray. Finally holding one up, she tonelessly said, “I think it was two weeks ago. She was here with some other ladies.” A frown touched her forehead. “I remember, because Lita and I were about to go shopping, and Lita came in and told me I had visitors. I asked her to convey my regrets and explain they’d have to come back another time because I had plans, but she had a fit, said it wouldn’t be proper!” Bryan was quick to defend Lita. “Ladies go calling uninvited and unannounced, Jade. It’s the custom all over the city, and the sign of a good hostess that she be prepared to receive them. Thank God Lita knew that.” Jade stared at him, aghast. “In a hotel, for heaven’s sake? Surely I’m not expected to be prepared with tea and crumpets for a crowd at any given moment! As it was, when they came, I had to send Lita downstairs to the dining room and have a tray prepared.” His eyes flashed with reproach. “Well, you won’t have to do that again. I’ll have a complete tea service delivered first thing tomorrow, and I’ll make

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arrangements with the dining room for you to have everything you need delivered fresh every day—tea, coffee, cream, pastries—” “Bryan, really…” she protested, but he waved away her objections. She went on to say she couldn’t understand why he was so excited over Mrs. Cummings’ party, then asked hopefully, “Does this mean you’ll come with me? It’s not a charity function, and that’s all we’ve been to.” “As far as I’m concerned, my period of mourning is over,” he said firmly. “If society thinks I have to adhere to a timetable before I can start to live again, that’s just too bad. It’s been nearly a year…long enough. Time for me to get on with my life. “Besides,” he added with a mischievous wink, “it wouldn’t do for me to allow my late wife’s distant cousin to gad about New York unescorted, now would it?” “Of course not,” she smilingly agreed, then urged, “Tell me what a waffle party is.” He explained it was just what the name implied. A type of sweet cake, baked in a special iron, was served, topped with a fruit or chocolate sauce. Then parlor games were played. Actually, Jade preferred more sedate gatherings, or cozy, intimate little dinner parties. To her chagrin, she quickly discovered that big, elaborate dinner parties were the vogue, with upward of perhaps a hundred guests. She supposed when the time came for her to host one, she’d hire someone to direct it, although Bryan said that once she moved into her house, she would need to hire an entire staff of at least a dozen people, maybe more, to take care of such a huge place. Hearing Bryan’s description of Mrs. Cummings’ party, she yawned for emphasis, then said, “It sounds terribly boring. Why do people want to go?”

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“Because it’s an honor to be invited. She’s blue blood. Prominent. A descendant of the Astor family, and in New York, that opens all doors. She can have any kind of party she wants, and people will go. It doesn’t matter that waffle parties haven’t been popular since the middle of the century. She can get away with having one. Actually,” he added wryly, “I think she has them periodically to show off the quaint dozen or so mahogany waffle tables she inherited from old John Jacob Astor himself.” “Well, I think the whole structure of New York society is confusing,” Jade said, sighing. “The more money a person has, the higher they’re regarded. Like Mrs. Cummings. Because she’s rich, people want to go to her parties, even though they know beforehand they’re going to be bored silly. “And I thought royalty in Europe was the pinnacle of society,” she added, laughing. “Why, the difference is that in Europe it’s the aristocracy that rules, and here it’s the plutocracy.” “That’s not altogether true, Jade,” Bryan said. “Actually, the study of New York society is quite interesting. I should know,” he wryly pointed out. “I think my mother spent a lifetime pursuing it. “For instance,” he went on, “after the Civil War, people came here from all parts of the country. Huge fortunes were made, and suddenly it was the newcomers to the ranks of the rich who set up standards of their own. Up till then, things were conservative, with unwritten laws as to what was considered proper or improper.” Jade listened, enraptured, as he told of how the old social stalwarts had been amazed at the behavior of the new regime. The newly rich people, from every state in the country and from every class, moved in and took over the social life in New York, setting a fashion of extravagant display and luxury, unbridled excesses that completely upset previously conceived ideas of right and wrong.

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Until then, it had been considered the height of vulgarity to spend money lavishly on unnecessary luxuries, simply for the sake of making a display and exciting the envy of others. Quiet, unostentatious hospitality had been the character of each household, and the wit and education of the hosts—not the size of their bank accounts—had been the standard of excellence. But all that changed drastically. Knowledge, education, good breeding, and so forth were not prerequisites for leadership among the wealthy; the hostess who could spend the most money on entertaining was the one to be most highly regarded. The newcomers were happy doing this, since all they had to their credit was money, certainly not background and family heritage. When he had finished, Jade was silent, thoughtful. “What’s wrong?” he prodded. “We both fit in. We’ll be accepted by every distinguished family in New York, and people will vie for invitations to our parties. So why do you look so unhappy?” She shrugged, as though it didn’t really matter. After all, she had been grudgingly tolerated by her royal Romanov cousins, and she supposed she should be used to never being accepted because of the person she was inside. Trying not to sound hurt, she told him, “Mrs. Cummings invited me only because she heard the story we told about my having studied in Russia, even though I’m from Ireland.” “Well, what does that have to do with anything?” Bryan asked impatiently. She gave a brittle laugh. “To her, being Russian means knowing how to waltz. You see,” she rushed on to explain, “I remember now that she asked me if I could waltz, and when I said of course, she got very excited, went on to tell me how it was a Russian, a young man attached to the Russian legation in Washington, who introduced the waltz to some New York ladies, and now it is all the rage, replacing the stately minuet. No doubt she’s having this party not

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only to show off the Astors’ mahogany waffle tables but to get me to teach her staid old friends the new dance that’s sweeping the country.” “And can you?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in challenge as he smiled down at her. She stared at him frostily for a few seconds, then snapped, “Of course. There’s not a dance in Europe I can’t do.” The smile became a grin that was almost taunting. “Then why do you want to open a dance studio just to teach ballet? Show off your talents at Mrs. Cummings’ party, and you’ll have all the ladies beating a path to your door to teach them how to waltz and do every other kind of dance you know.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and then, as his idea took hold, Jade felt her heart begin to pound excitedly. Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck to hug him with grateful enthusiasm. “Oh, Bryan, what a wonderful idea—I love you for it!” Gently, he unwound her arms to fold her in his own. Looking down at her with all the adoration that lived in his heart, he whispered huskily, “I’m going to make you love me for lots of reasons, princess, and right now I’m afraid we’re going to be late for dinner, because I’m going to give you another one.” She did not resist as he lifted her up and carried her from the parlor and into the bedroom, closing the door soundly behind them.

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For Mrs. Cummings’ party, Jade chose her favorite dress, a green-and-white French satin she’d designed herself and had made by a wonderful seamstress she’d discovered in a tiny shop on Fifth Avenue. The neckline was high and ribbed with finger lace imported from Belgium, and the yoke to her bosom was of translucent chiffon, spotted here and there with tiny seed pearls set in green embroidered petals. The waist was nipped in tightly, and it made her feel very proud not to have to wear one of the tightly constricting corsets of whalebone. A wide band of green velvet ribbon encircled her waist, and a large bow was tied in the back, with streamers falling all the way to the floor. The skirt, with its twenty yards of material, billowed down in tiers of graduated shades of green, each edged in the same precious lace of the neckline. She wore her hair in a pouf, with waves cascading about her face. She liked the latest style but thought it a bit plain for evening and added a ribbon of pearls among her cardinal-red tresses. When Bryan arrived, well dressed in a dark blue coat, white pants, and shiny leather buttoned shoes, he raved over her appearance. “You’re beautiful, Jade. God, you really are a princess.” He bent to kiss her hand in playful homage, then wistfully remarked, “It’s a shame we can’t tell everyone who you really are—a Romanov, straight from the Imperial Court of the Czar. Maybe we’ll do that once we’re married.”

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The happy glow that had surrounded Jade like an aura evaporated all at once. More and more, Bryan was saying things like that, and it was starting to annoy her. “Why should we?” she said, her voice edged with resentment. “You said yourself people seem to like me, and that means they like me for who I am—not what I came from. Let’s just leave it at that.” A shadow fell across Bryan’s eyes, and his own voice was tense. “What’s wrong, Jade? It’s not like you to be so sensitive.” She turned away, back to the mirror in the foyer, and plucked absently at the lace brushing against her throat. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting tired of feeling like I’m on display all the time, constantly trying to impress people. I want to be me, the way I really am, and not put on airs and do things I really don’t want to do…go places I really don’t want to go, just because it’s…“ she paused, made a face at him in the mirror, then tartly quipped, “… the proper thing to do!” He glared at her incredulously. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! It’s an honor to be invited to Mrs. Cummings’ party. I told you that. Are you saying you don’t want to go? Seems all you want to do lately is work on the house, and that’s not proper for a lady.” “What?” She whirled around to face him, stunned. “What did you say? Not proper? To choose the way I want to decorate my own house?” Hotly, he replied, “To choose the decor, yes, of course. That’s perfectly all right, but Lita told me you were actually working yesterday—hanging wallpaper, for God’s sake, and—” He took a deep breath of disgust, then coldly accused, “She said you were wearing men’s clothing!” At that, Jade exploded. “Let me tell you something, Bryan Stevens! In the first place, I don’t have to justify what I do to you or anybody else, and I’ll thank

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Lita to stop her gossiping, or so help me, she’ll find herself looking for another job!” Bryan stared at her in amazement; he’d never seen her so angry. “Yes, dammit, I did work on my house,” she fumed. “I showed the paperhanger how I wanted the pattern of the wallpaper hung in a particular alcove because I wanted a different effect there, and I borrowed his helper’s coveralls to do it because I didn’t have anything else to wear except a long dress. And do you know something, Bryan?” Jade-green eyes flashed with red and gold sparks of fury. “I liked those coveralls. I went to a men’s store this morning and ordered several pairs—because I like working around the house! And I’ll work around the house any time I damn well please! So there!” She looked up at him with cheeks flushed angrily, hands on her hips, feet apart in a defiant stance. For a moment, Bryan was speechless, astonished. Then he gave a contemptuous nod of his head. “Perhaps we’d better just stay here this evening. I don’t know if it’s advisable to take you to a party, the mood you’re in.” “The mood I’m in,” she echoed, sputtering in wonder. “What about the mood you’re in? And who do you think you are saying you don’t think it’s advisable to take me out? I was the one invited to the party. Not you. And just because I don’t want you putting me on display like—like a Dresden doll, you start criticizing me for doing something I enjoy—like hanging wallpaper, for God’s sake, in my own house, and—” “I bought the house,” he interjected coolly, pointedly. “I should think that would give me the right to express my feelings.” Jade felt an icy wave of indignant ire and at once turned toward her desk, where she kept her checkbook. “I might’ve known sooner or later you’d throw that up to me. Well, we’ll just take care of that right now. I’ll write you a check

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for the full amount, and then if I want to climb up on the roof and nail shingles, it won’t be any of your business.” “Jade, stop it!” Bryan grabbed her, whirled her around, held her viselike in his arms “I don’t want it like this, and neither do you. Now, let’s both calm down before we say things we’ll regret later.” She tried to twist from his grasp, but he held her tightly. “You’ve already said some things you should regret, Bryan.” Abruptly, he released her. “Maybe you’re right,” he curtly conceded. “Maybe I’m the one who’s in a bad mood. Waiting around for you to make up your mind to marry me doesn’t exactly make me all charm and grace. Even my secretary is griping about the way I’ve been lately. You’re driving me crazy, Jade, and you know it,” he added angrily. “That’s not fair. You know it’s not a matter of my having to make up my mind—it’s a matter of deciding when.” “Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a crooked smile on his lips. “That’s not the way I see it.” “Well, that’s the way it is.” She walked briskly out of the parlor and into her bedroom, returning with a white fur cape, which she held out to him to drape about her shoulders. “Do what you want, but I’m going to the party.” Grimly, he declared, “Not without me, you aren’t!” They did not speak during the hackney ride to Mrs. Cummings’ home, an imposing brownstone surrounded by an ornate black wrought-iron fence, overlooking Central Park. A butler admitted them, and as they stepped into the gleaming parquet-floored foyer, Bryan caught Jade’s hand. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Let’s have a nice evening, and we’ll talk about it later, all right?” Jade thought he sounded sincere, looked at him, and decided maybe he really was. She smiled, squeezed his hand. “Okay. We’ll have time to fight later.”

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“There’s no need to fight,” he murmured against her ear as Mrs. Cummings made her way through the other guests toward them. “Just set a wedding date, and I’ll be fine. No more bad moods. I promise.” Jade laughed, adoring him when he was like this. She was about to let him know she was no longer angry when Mrs. Cummings descended upon them. She was wearing an elegant silver brocade gown encrusted with a fortune in pearls and diamond chips amidst the netting and lace. Even her hair was adorned with huge gems and bands of expensive pearls. “My darling,” she cried, clutching Jade’s shoulders and kissing each cheek in turn. “Oh, I’m delighted you could make it. You’re like a breath of fresh air among us old fogies, Miss O’Bannon.” “Do call me Jade,” she directed, then turned to Bryan. “I believe you know my escort, Bryan Stevens?” “Oh, I’ve had the pleasure.” Mrs. Cummings smiled at Bryan. “It’s so nice to see you out once more. I hope you know how all of us shared your grief, and—” “Yes, yes,” he cut her off impatiently. “I recall you sent a very kind message. Now, then, could we see your lovely home? Meet the rest of your guests?” Jade nodded to ladies she knew, politely shook hands in introduction to their husbands, but was actually more interested in studying the house. She was not surprised to see that Mrs. Cummings was a typical wealthy Victorian matron who abhorred empty space anywhere in her home. She had stuffed every room from floor to fanlight with a collection of wicker rockers, lamps, cushions, coat racks, china cabinets, umbrella stands, plaster busts, and countless knickknacks. Jade viewed her objets d’art as too conservative or old-fashioned for her liking, but she did marvel over an Aubusson rug and a Dutch marquetry longcase clock.

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As they entered the third parlor, walking past the rows of tiny, square mahogany tables, Mrs. Cummings noted Jade’s interest and asked, “Do you collect antiques also, or do you just like to look at them?” “Both,” Jade replied simply, smiling to herself at a statue covered with a cloth. She knew “proper ladies” covered their nude statues when they had guests, to guard against anyone’s being offended. She’d bought several herself but had no intention of ever draping them. Mrs. Cummings’ voice took on a special note of pride as she gestured at the tables. “You’ll be interested, then, to hear about my waffle tables. They belonged to a relative of mine, you know—John Jacob Astor himself.” Jade’s and Bryan’s eyes met in quiet amusement, but they politely listened, appearing dutifully impressed. Then they were shown to their own little waffle table and seated with a couple Jade did not know. The woman held out her hand and crisply said, “Hello. I’m Mrs. Geneva Stokes, and this is my husband, Edgar. Bryan…” She nodded to him. Jade sat down, groaning inwardly. The woman’s syrupy crocodile smile, her narrowed, malicious-looking eyes—she reminded her of someone, but Jade couldn’t remember who, only that it had to be someone she hadn’t enjoyed being around. Edgar Stokes was turned sideways, elbow propped on the little table as he puffed on a smelly cigar. He grunted when introduced, then turned his attention back to the conversation at the next table. A waiter set a plate before them, and Jade looked down and saw her first waffle—a heart-shaped crispy cake with little square indentions baked into it. It looked delicious, and she reached for a silver pitcher of raspberry sauce to pour over the top, as she saw how Bryan was dolloping his from a bowl of cherry preserves.

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Geneva Stokes airily commented, “Arista makes it her personal quest each summer to buy up all the choicest fruit in New York so her cook can make up these preserves and syrups for her little waffle parties. No one else bothers anymore,” she added with a carping little snicker. Jade was quick to remark, “Well, I’m glad she does bother.” She’d just taken her first bite. “It’s delicious. A nice change from all those dry cookies and crumpets everyone else serves.” A devoted cookie-and-crumpet server, Geneva Stokes stiffened. “Well, waffle parties are outdated,” she said tightly. “Cookies and crumpets aren’t.” “A pity.” Jade met her frosty glare with one of her own, inwardly chastising herself for taking such an instant dislike to the woman. Whom did she remind her of? Jade racked her brains but could not remember. Geneva laid aside her fork, took a dainty sip of tea, then folded her diamondladen fingers beneath her pointed chin and began her interrogation of Jade. “I’ve heard that you’re a distant cousin of Bryan’s late wife.” Bryan glanced up sharply. “How are you related?” Bryan interceded, “It’s very distant. We met when I went to Ireland while in mourning to visit Marnia’s relatives there.” “How nice,” Geneva murmured, as though she really didn’t think so. “And she came back here with you to see you through your grief? Very kind. But don’t you have family there that you miss, my dear?” Jade shook her head, enjoying her waffle but not the conversation, and so was not going to add anything more to it than she could help. She was, however, surprised to hear that Mrs. Stokes knew of her having hired Lita. “I understand she’s very competent. She used to work for a friend of mine.” Jade did not miss the way her eyes seemed to glitter with pleasure, and she made another mental note to have a talk with Lita about her gossiping. No doubt

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she was friends with other household servants in New York, and Jade wasn’t about to have her passing along tidbits about her. Someone came up to the table to speak to Edgar. Geneva joined in that conversation. Jade noticed Bryan looked uncomfortable. He had eaten only half his waffle when he got to his feet and whispered he was going to join some of the men outside for a breath of fresh air and the favorite drink of American men— beer. He’d told her earlier that Mrs. Cummings didn’t allow spirits in her house, so it was understood the men would slip outside to imbibe. “Hurry back,” she told him, sending a firm message with her eyes that she didn’t like being left alone with the unpleasant Mrs. Stokes. He nodded, smiling with understanding. Jade was about to excuse herself to go and speak to a lady she recognized at another table, someone she enjoyed talking with when she’d visited in the past, but the person speaking with Geneva and Edgar walked away, and Geneva picked up her conversation before Jade could escape. “It was such a tragedy for poor Bryan, losing his son. It’s nice that you were able to leave your own country and come over here to help him rebuild his life.” “A double tragedy,” Jade corrected, sensing she was deliberately omitting Marnia’s name all of a sudden. “Well, true,” she said reluctantly, the hint of a deprecating smile on her lips, “but I suppose you know they weren’t as happy as people thought.” Jade blinked, wondering if she’d heard right. “Whatever makes you say that? Bryan loved Marnia very much. They were very happy together.” “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Geneva gave an airy wave of her hand. “I’m sure they loved each other. I mean, they seemed happy in that sense, but you must understand that once they married, Bryan was unofficially dropped from

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the Social Register because Marnia didn’t come from a proper background and was never truly accepted.” This time Jade blinked in disbelief. “What did you say?” she asked with raised eyebrows. Geneva’s laugh was nervous, sharp, and brittle. “Why, my dear, you’re related to her, so I’m sure you’re aware that her father was the caretaker for the Stevens estate. It wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven, as society and class go. As I said, anyone who ever saw Bryan and Marnia together knew they were very much in love, but friends of Bryan’s parents knew how dismayed they were that he’d married beneath him. He’d never admit it, of course, but the truth is, Bryan was quite unhappy to find himself excluded from the guest list of the finer families of New York.” If what Geneva Stokes said was true, Jade thought, it explained why Bryan was always pushing her to climb the social ladder. He’d missed being invited to all the really big and worthwhile parties, and he wanted to be included again— with her. Geneva took on an expression of deep sympathy and regret as she whispered, hand going to her throat, “Oh, dear, I hope I haven’t hurt your feelings. Why, reminding you that Marnia Stevens came from a family of the lower classes is indirectly saying the same of you, and that was not my intent.” “No, I suppose not,” Jade was able to retort with acid sweetness. “After all, you and I both were invited here tonight, weren’t we? And I understand only the crème de la crème is invited to one of Mrs. Cummings’ waffle parties.” Geneva’s eyes widened with awareness. Her attempt to put Jade in her place had been thwarted. “I—I suppose that’s true,” she stammered nervously. “But I never meant—”

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“Oh, I know you weren’t trying to be unkind, Mrs. Stokes,” Jade interjected in a tone that belied her sincerity, “and I certainly realize I haven’t been altogether accepted into the rigid society of New York, that I’m merely being ‘scrutinized’, but let me assure you I’m not really concerned about it. The people I’ve met before tonight have seemed quite nice, and I don’t think they care that they don’t know anything about my family. They seem to like me for me, and that makes me very happy.” She laced her fingertips beneath her chin; mimicking Mrs. Stokes’ pose, eyelashes fluttering. “But you know,” she went on, “I was just thinking what a terrible waste of your time it is to be invited to these little waffle parties. You said yourself they’re so outdated. Maybe I should tell Mrs. Cummings how you feel, and that would clear two seats for another couple next time who might enjoy such delicacies.” Geneva Stokes’ mouth fell open, and she could only stare at Jade, aghast. Leaving her that way, Jade murmured, “Excuse me,” and got up from the table. She was about to go in search of Bryan and suggest that they leave, but Arista Cummings saw her walk across the second parlor and called out, “Jade, there you are! I was waiting till you’d finished eating.” She came closer to say that she’d purposely had the guests in the main parlor served first, and now they were finished and the room had been cleared. A string ensemble was taking its place, she happily informed her. “Now we’re ready for you to give us lessons in the waltz!’’ Before Jade could say anything, Mrs. Cummings whirled about and dramatically clapped her hands. When she had everyone’s attention, she announced with a flourish, “I want all of you to know how thrilled I am to have a very special guest tonight—Miss Jade O’Bannon of Ireland.”

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There was a spattering of applause, but Mrs. Cummings frowned, never liking to be interrupted when she was the center of attention, and waved her arms for silence once more. “Miss O’Bannon, as you probably all know, is a distant relation”—elation left her voice as she gradually approached a sober note—“of the dear, departed wife of Mr. Bryan Stevens.” Jade followed the gesture of her hand, her nod, to the direction of the foyer. Bryan was standing there, glowing with pride, and suddenly Jade was struck anew by Mrs. Stokes’ allegation that he’d been miserable over his ostracism from society due to his marriage. Was he now looking so happy and lofty because it appeared he was once more included, thanks to her? No, she knew that instinctively Bryan loved her and was merely delighted people liked her. That’s all it was…all it could be. She would not allow herself to think otherwise. Mrs. Cummings then led Jade to a cleared space in front of the musicians. She was wondering how to begin when a man politely called out a request. “Miss O’Bannon, explain to us first, please, what kind of dance this is. A lot of us have never heard of it.” Deciding that was a wonderful way to start, she quietly told the story of how the waltz could be considered a revolutionary dance. “Young people,” she explained, “have always led the way in creating new forms, and those who lived through the French Revolution, it’s believed, looked to dance as a way to unleash deeper emotions and satisfy the needs of both body and soul, as well as to mobilize more vital and dynamic expressions than those permitted by the more sober rules of the minuet. “Thus,” she went on with a sweeping smile at her rapt audience, who’d formed a half circle around her, “the waltz was born, but, strangely, it was of German origin. It was the poet Johann von Goethe, by the way, who wrote in his novel Die Leiden des Jungen Werther, back in 1774, ‘Never have I moved so lightly.

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I was no longer a human being…to hold the most adorable creature in one’s arms and fly around with her like the wind, so that everything around us fades away.’” A pleasant round of soft laughter filled the room. She asked the musicians whether they could play Tchaikovsky’s “Serenade for Strings in C Major” and was pleased to be told they could. “Very well. Now, if Mr. Stevens will be so kind as to serve as my partner, I’ll show you the basic steps.” Bryan stepped forward, beaming, and Jade positioned his right arm to encircle her waist, as her left hand lightly touched his shoulder. Then, her right hand against his left, she explained, “Basically, the waltz, which comes from the German word wälzen, which means ‘to revolve’, consists of a step, a slide, then a step, in three-quarter time.” An elderly woman, round glasses perched on the end of her nose and held to her neck by a long pearl necklace, suddenly gasped in disapproval. “Shocking! Absolutely shocking! For a man and woman to embrace each other so closely in public is scandalous.” Jade blinked in disbelief. Bryan stifled a laugh. Mrs. Cummings dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand and a cry of disgust. “Really, Constance, you can be an old fogey sometimes. This is the nineteenth century. You’ve got to think modern!” “Humph!” the old woman grunted, shuffling forward with an equally archaic man doggedly following. “I’ve lived too long for anybody to tell me what is and isn’t proper. I’m leaving. I’m not about to stand here and watch such shameful behavior…but thank you for your hospitality,” she ended sarcastically.

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Mrs. Cummings nodded, eyes stormy. “As you wish, Constance.” She nodded to Jade to continue. Accordingly, Jade gestured to the musicians to begin. With the soft, sweeping rhythm of the strings surrounding them, she and Bryan began to move in step. At first Bryan was unsure of himself, stumbled a bit, but soon was gliding about the floor with ease. The onlookers broke into spontaneous applause when they finished, and at once Jade found herself surrounded by people asking for private lessons. Bryan looked on approvingly as she explained how she was contemplating opening a dance studio to teach not only the waltz but the ballet as well. Suddenly, in midsentence, Jade glanced up to see a woman walking toward the front door, almost surreptitiously. Her voice trailed off as, for some reason she could not then explain, her senses seemed to freezes The woman was not only behaving strangely, she also looked familiar…but who was she? Jade had been struck by the same feeling earlier when she’d encountered Geneva Stokes. And then it came to her, like a door slamming in her face to knock her backward in time. The ship. The dining room. Triesta Vordane. She called her name. The woman turned, her face a mask of sheer terror, and she nearly knocked someone down as she bolted out the front door to disappear into the night. Jade hurried after her and was almost out the door when she felt a hand tightly squeeze her arm to restrain her. Through the giant roaring that had begun in her ears she heard Bryan’s angry hiss, “Stop it! What do you think you’re doing?”

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She looked up at him, stunned at his tone, even more bewildered by the furious expression on his face, the way his eyes were narrowed, mouth set in a grim, tight line. “Why, I know her,” she told him incredulously. “From the ship. Her name is Triesta Vordane, and she and her daughter sat at the table with Colt and me, and—” “Stop it!” he growled through clenched teeth. “Someone will hear you.” She blinked in confusion. “So what if they do?” “We’re leaving. Go outside. I’ll make our excuses.” He gave her an almost rough shove as he turned, back to the parlor. Jade hurried on out, glad for the opportunity to continue her search for Mrs. Vordane, but was not truly surprised that she was nowhere to be seen. By the time Bryan joined her, she’d worked up quite an anger for him and the way he’d behaved. Sensing her fury, he snapped, “Save it till we get to the hotel so the driver won’t have gossip to spread tomorrow.” Holding her arm firmly, as though at any moment she might run away, he guided her to the hackney. Once they reached her suite, Bryan again warned her they had to watch what they said lest Lita, asleep in one of the bedrooms, might wake and hear. Jade had calmed down somewhat, realizing why he’d reacted as he had, but was still indignant. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that sooner or later I would run into someone from the ship? We met lots of people in just a short period of time, Bryan.” He shook his head. “You’ve got to pretend you don’t know who they are if they remember you, and walk up and call you Mrs. Coltrane, you just give them a blank look and tell them your name is Miss O’Bannon…hopefully, soon you

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can say Mrs. Stevens.” He gave her the boyish grin that usually managed to melt her heart but this time had no effect. “So I’m supposed to lie?” she coldly asked. His smile faded. “If you don’t want people to know about the past, yes.” “Sometimes I wonder if it matters.” “So do I, but unless we want people to find out you really aren’t kin to Marnia; that, for all intents and purposes, you’re married to someone else who thinks he’s legally married to another woman, then…” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “We lie.” Jade was having doubts about the whole charade and realized she had been since it all began, but it had just seemed simpler to go along with it than dwell on the past. Now, however, she was even more unsure. She attempted to explain to Bryan about Triesta. “She was the woman who sat at the table with me and Colt, and I’m sure she recognized me, but why would she run away like that? I don’t understand.” Bryan shrugged, and Jade thought the gesture a bit forced. “Who knows? Who cares? She’s probably just a strange old bird, like the one who walked out because she thought the waltz was disgraceful.” He gave a short laugh in an attempt to lighten the moment. Jade did not share his humor, and he abruptly fell silent. Suddenly she asked him, “Didn’t it ever occur to you that I’d run into Colt one day?” At once a cold, angry shadow descended on his face. “No. Why should it? You told me yourself he never cared for parties and socials. It’d be very rare if it happened, and if it did, he’d probably act like he didn’t know you to keep from being embarrassed, and you’d be wise to do the same.”

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He turned toward the sideboard, which he’d had the hotel stock with liquor. Taking out a bottle of brandy, he murmured, “I think I need a drink.” Jade was engrossed in her thoughts. Why did Bryan seem so angry? So defensive? Perhaps it was time to be honest about everything. She couldn’t help thinking anything was better than worrying about encountering someone who might expose them. It would, she knew, certainly be better to settle the matter of her marriage to Colt before entering into one of questionable legality with Bryan. She said as much. He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind, then abruptly asked her if she had. “No,” she snapped, “but I think it’d be best if we just brought everything out in the open.” He gulped the rest of his drink and slammed his empty glass down as he lashed out furiously. “Maybe better for you, but not me. I’m the one people would condemn for having an affair with a married woman when my wife is hardly cold in her grave. You, they’d pity!” Jade gasped at such an idea. “Who’s to say we’ve had an affair? Bryan, for God’s sake, sometimes I don’t think I know you at all.” “What other reason would we have for having lied about who you were?” he argued. She stifled the bubbling indignation she was feeling and attempted to reason with him. “We don’t have to tell everyone all our personal business, Bryan. We don’t have to tell anyone anything. No one needs to know I’m not a distant cousin of Marnia’s, just as no one has to know I’m married to someone else. I’ll just go to Colt and let him know I am alive and tell him we’ve got to quietly divorce so that his marriage to whoever he’s married to will be legal…so that his child—” she paused, swallowed, quelled the sudden lurch of heartache before

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continuing, “—will be legitimate. Then,” she finished with a sigh, “our marriage, when it takes place, will be legal.” Bryan stiffened, straightened, seemed to grow taller with each word she spoke, till he towered above her with eyes bulging and lips trembling with rage. “You mean before our marriage takes place, don’t you?” he accused. “Admit it! You want him back! Tell the truth. I think I’ve known it all along, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it. You think if he finds out you’re alive, he’ll leave his wife and run to you. My God, Jade, where’s your pride?” he challenged in wonder. “What about the baby they’re expecting? And what about me—the way I’ve looked after you, cared for you, loved you? Can’t you think of anybody but yourself?” “No, you’ve got it all wrong,” she was quick to deny. “You’re not listening— ” “Oh, I’m listening all right, and I’m telling you, Jade…” With hands clenching and unclenching at his side, nerves throbbing in his jaw and neck, he bit out his ultimatum. “If you go to him, you’d better hope he does want you back, because I’ve got my pride, even if you don’t know the meaning of the word, and as much as I love you, I won’t take you back after you’ve made a fool of yourself and all of New York is talking about you!” She stared at him uncertainly. Surely he didn’t mean what he was saying. Quelling her own anger at his attempt to intimidate her, she tried to explain once more. “I only want to see him, Bryan. Talk to him. I never said anything about asking him to take me back…never said I wanted him back. Oh, why are you acting like this? It’s so childish!” With a deep moan, he reached out and grabbed her, crushing her against him as he devoured her with his eyes, his lips. “Goddammit, woman, don’t you realize how much I love you? This is tearing me apart, and I can’t go on like this.

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I love you too much, and I’ve got to know you’re mine, all mine.” He kissed her, mouth harsh, bruising, then withdrew, released her as he furiously declared, voice quivering with emotion, “No other man could love you as much as I do. You’re my life, my world, my reason for living—but you’re torturing me with your indecision, and I can’t take it anymore!” He turned to the door, and she could only stand there, staring at his retreating back. What could she say? He’d just laid down his rules, and she couldn’t abide by them. Not now. She’d made her decision to confront Colt; realized, finally, that that was the only way she’d ever know true peace, for she was tired of all the lies, the pretense. At the door, he suddenly turned to look at her, and she thought in that instant she’d never seen so much pain and anguish mirrored in the face of another human being. Tone guttural, unnatural, lips twisted as though suppressing a scream, he grimly said, “You know, when I found you, clinging to that bobbing crate in the rolling ocean, I only had a couple of days left to live. As I’ve told you before, I was on my way to my island to end my life because there was nothing left to live for. I’d lost my wife my son, my reasons for waking each morning, drawing each breath.” He paused, tears suddenly glimmering in his eyes as he gave a sad, pitiful little laugh. “Oh, God, I thought I’d hit the bottom of the pits then, but that was nothing to how I’ll feel if I lose you. I’ll be waiting for you to come to me and say you’re ready to be my wife, but don’t wait too long, Jade, because if I can’t have you, I’d rather be dead.” “Bryan, wait—” He did not heed her call but continued on his way, slamming the door with finality after him.

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She felt the tempest birth within her, for he had ignited provoking questions she did not know how to answer. Was he right? Did she secretly hope that once Colt learned she was alive, he would throw away the life he’d made since believing her dead and run to her arms? Was that the real reason she’d shied away from setting a wedding date? She had no answers, knew only that she felt a sudden void in her heart with Bryan’s angry, wretched departure. Just then Lita came out of her bedroom, sleepily rubbing her eyes. “What was all that about? Sounded like the two of you were fighting, and—” “Lita!” Jade coldly interrupted her. “You forget anything you overheard. It’s no concern of yours. Now, good night,” she curtly dismissed her. Lita frowned, turned away as she mumbled, “Whatever you say, but Mr. Stevens is such a nice man…can’t understand how you’d let him leave so angry.” Jade went to her bed and lay down, knowing sleep would escape her this miserably tormenting night, for in her brain, her heart, was a maelstrom of uncertainty. Colt. Bryan. She admitted to loving both, in different but equal ways; wondered, painfully, which one she’d choose if there was a choice. Suddenly her eyes fell on the ring Kitty Coltrane had given her on her wedding day, and she knew, with a wrenching jolt to her heart, what that choice would be. But it was too late.

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Chapter Twenty

Once her anger had subsided a bit, Jade realized that not to make a decision was, in itself, a kind of resolution. A cowardly way, perhaps, but she wasn’t about to let any man control or manipulate her, no matter how much she loved him. She thought about selling the Riverside Drive house and giving Bryan his money back. Without him, it meant nothing. She could get an apartment, but with one and a half million people in the city needing homes, she knew that might be difficult. However, if a vacancy developed in the beautiful eight-story Navarro Flats bordering Central Park, that would be ideal, and meanwhile, the situation with Bryan might be resolved. If he couldn’t realize she had to have time to decide about the future, well… She ordered herself to try not to think about it. After the waffle party, Jade found herself besieged with requests for dance lessons. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to learn to waltz, and several mothers, hearing she’d once been a prima ballerina, inquired about the possibility of lessons for their young daughters. Accordingly, she turned her attention away from refurbishing her home, which no longer seemed so important because of the situation with Bryan, and, instead, pursued the dream of her studio. She found the ideal place on the third floor of a brownstone just off Broadway. Due to lack of funds, it had never been divided into offices and was just a large, empty space which suited her purposes completely. Immediately, she negotiated terms for a lease, then set out to have the room completed for her

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simple needs. She directed that the three walls without windows should be covered in mirrors and had a carpenter build the barres along those walls. Teaching children was one thing, working with adults, another. Perhaps she’d even meet young people like herself, with similar interests, thereby cultivating friendships besides the older ladies whose entire world seemed devoted to attending teas and hosting them. Teas! Jade had come to dread the dainty invitations that arrived daily. Two until five was the time decreed proper, hours she felt were filled with mindless chatter and gossip as dozens of fashionably dressed women vied to outdo one another, constantly worried about being dropped from the Social Register should they commit a faux pas. Sipping tea or coffee, nibbling crumpets or cookies—it seemed such a waste of time. Jade much preferred to fill her days with dance, music, creativity. If it weren’t for the constant turmoil of her personal life, she knew there was no place more exhilarating than New York. When a dinner invitation came from her next-door neighbors on Riverside Drive, Victor and Marietta Winslow, Jade accepted. She’d met them on numerous occasions, and liked them. And Marietta had expressed an interest in ballet lessons for her eight-year-old twin daughters, Hope and Charity. As the carriage turned onto Riverside the evening of the dinner, Jade’s driver called over his shoulder, annoyed, “Lady, I don’t know how much closer I can get. Seems there’s a big crowd out in the street.” Leaning forward, Jade craned her neck to see that the way did look difficult, with carriages, horses, and people milling about, and they all seemed to be congregated in front of the Winslow house. She paid her fare, said she’d walk the rest of the way, suddenly dreading the evening if there was to be a large number of guests.

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As she drew closer, the reason for the situation became evident. Everyone had gathered to look at that still-strange invention called an automobile. This one, Jade saw as she stood on tiptoe, resembled a carriage with no horse, and it had funny-looking wheels. “It’s a Benz-Viktoria,” the man beside her proudly said, showing off his knowledge. ‘It runs on gas and air, and they say it’s got the power of three horses.” Fascinated, she asked how fast it would travel. “They say maybe you can cover the distance of fifteen or twenty miles in an hour. Can you imagine?” “No, I can’t,” she said and laughed, “but I’m getting to the point where nothing amazes me anymore. I read the other day that before the war, your Civil War, I believe you call it, it took about sixty-one hours to produce an acre of hand-grown wheat. Now, with the mere push of a button, it takes only three hours and nineteen minutes.” He stared at her, wide-eyed and openmouthed, and suddenly she realized he was actually offended by her enlightenment. She was forced to remember that to most men, women were to be seen, not heard. Obviously, in his eyes, she was out of place. “I read a lot,” she said with a shrug. “I see.” His eyes were cold. Lifting her chin ever so defiantly, she backed away and moved toward the house, feeling his gaze upon her all the way. So ridiculous, she fumed. Marietta Winslow was standing on her porch, watching the crowd. After exchanging greetings with Jade, she urged, “Do come on in. I’ve special shrimp dainties and a lovely fruit punch for starters, but don’t nibble too much,” she warned. “My cooks have spent all day and most of last night preparing the

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twelve courses to be served. Later, because it’s such a lovely evening, with the promise of a full moon, we’re going to have champagne and berries on the terrace overlooking the river.” Jade left the ogling crowd and followed Marietta into the house. “Mr. Winslow is working late,” Marietta said, speaking of her husband in the proper form all good wives used. Cheerily, she added, “Maybe he’ll give Bryan a ride. They work in the same building. The Stevens offices are just a floor above the bank where Mr. Winslow is president.” Jade made a face her hostess did not see. Everyone knew Victor Winslow was president of New York Commerce Bank and Trust. There was no need to mention it, but she was proud. So be it. “Bryan won’t be joining me tonight,” Jade quietly informed her hostess. Marietta turned, her disappointment and annoyance quite evident in her sudden frown. “Oh? But the invitation was for you both, and I set a place for him.” Jade firmly defended herself. “Well, I responded for just one. I’m sorry if there has been a misunderstanding.” Marietta Winslow was dying to know why Jade had not invited Bryan but was too much a lady to pry. So, with a resigned sigh, she walked across the foyer, through the double mahogany-paneled doors, and into the long, garishly furnished dining room. Jade complimented her on the lovely crystal-and-gold chandeliers, and she thanked her, commenting, “I know incandescent lighting and electricity are the latest thing, but I still feel candles are much more romantic.” Jade readily agreed, and was glad to see the ornate silver candelabra on the table, with their lovely pink tapers.

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Walking to the other side of the pearwood table, with its grandiose seating for twenty-four, Marietta removed a white place card lettered in elegant black script, Mr. Bryan Stevens, Esquire. Jade felt no regret. After all, she’d made the proper response, and it wasn’t her fault if Marietta hadn’t noticed. Suddenly her eyes fell on another place card, which read, Mrs. Triesta Vordane. Jade forced her voice to be calm, natural, as she softly inquired, “Have you known Mrs. Vordane long?” “Heavens, yes. Too long!” Marietta snatched the card from the table. “And I forgot she’s not coming…sent her regrets at the last moment. Well, at least we can have an even seating for twenty-two. Such a strange lady,” she added with a soft chuckle. It was a real struggle for Jade to appear only vaguely interested. “Really? Why is that?” Marietta detested gossip, but when someone inquired about someone she disliked, she did not shy away from the conversation. “In the first place,” she confided, “no one has ever really liked Mrs. Vordane. She’s a malicious gossip and a very cruel snob. Why, I don’t know, because she came from trash, I hear. Anyway, her husband, may he rest in peace, was a jewel. Everyone adored Franklin Vordane. So of course she was accepted, because of his social position.” A pity, Jade thought sardonically, that the same could not be said of Bryan and Marnia. “We include her in a few things from time to time,” Marietta went on to explain as she called to a servant to remove the place settings for Triesta and Bryan. “Out of respect to Mr. Vordane, of course, but I think this will be my last time. It was rude the way she canceled at the last moment. She had the gall to send her maid for the invitation list, would you believe it? And her maid returned with her regrets. Didn’t say why. No excuse whatsoever. The nerve of

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her! I suppose she saw a name on the list she didn’t like and decided not to come, and that really makes me angry. I can’t think of anyone she could disapprove of.” I can, Jade thought bitterly, but said nothing. Now she was almost certain Triesta had recognized her at the waffle party, then seen her name on the invitation list for Marietta’s and chosen to avoid her. But why? It didn’t make sense. Maybe it was time she started doing a bit of investigating on her own. “Marietta Winslow!” They turned to see a woman standing in the doorway of the dining room wearing a severe dress of gray wool, a small, sensible hat adorned with one tiny black feather perched atop her dark hair. She had a square jaw, a firm-set mouth with crinkles at the corners, and her eyes, though small and disapproving, shone with a slight shadow of amusement, as though she enjoyed looking so severe and condemning. “Are those wineglasses I see?” She pointed an accusing finger toward the table. Jade listened in silent amusement as Marietta attempted to appease Miss Frances Willard, the fifty-four-year-old formidable founder of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union. “Now, Frances, dear,” she began placatingly. “You know our beloved Christ turned water into wine, and it’s socially correct and acceptable to serve wine with a formal dinner.” Miss Willard was quick to fire back a sharp retort. “Our Lord did not have to contend with heathens wanting an excuse to be heathens, and a few nips seem to provide that justification.” Jade and Marietta exchanged smiles.

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“There are no heathens among my guests, Frances,” Marietta said, putting the proper amount of indignation into her tone. “Oh, posh!” Miss Willard said dismissively. “We shall see. But I want the glass removed from my setting, and I shan’t tolerate any abusive behavior from those around me.” “Well, I’m sure there won’t be any. Now…” Marietta attempted to change the subject. “Did you find a place to leave Gladys?” She winked at Jade, and grinned as she explained, “Gladys is Miss Willard’s bicycle.” “Bicycle?” Jade echoed, bright with interest. Frances Willard looked from her to Marietta and snapped, “You really are becoming lax in propriety. You haven’t introduced me to this young lady.” Marietta did so, and Miss Willard seemed impressed, commenting that she’d heard her mentioned with high regard. “Perhaps you’d like to join our Temperance Union.” “I’d rather see your bicycle,” Jade answered evasively. “That’s something I’ve been thinking of getting. It’d be a lot nicer to be able to ride from my hotel to my studio without having to find a taxi every time.” Miss Willard looked surprised. “Oh, really? But it’s being said that you and that nice widower, Bryan Stevens, are going to announce your engagement soon. So what’s all this talk of bicycles and studios? What kind of studio?” Jade took a deep breath of resignation, decided it was time to quell the rumors. “I don’t know where you got that idea, Miss Willard. Mr. Stevens and I are merely friends.” The wiry little lady pursed her lips thoughtfully, eyes twinkling as though she could see straight inside to Jade’s heart. “Well, that’s a shame, my dear, because the two of you make a lovely couple,” she finally said.

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Jade heard a shrill buzzlike sound from another part of the house, and Marietta jumped and exclaimed, “Oh, dear, I’ll never get used to that thing. Every time I turn around, Mr. Winslow is having some newfangled invention installed. Keeps a body scared to death of what will happen next.” A maid appeared in the doorway, curtsied, and politely said Mr. Winslow was calling. Exasperated, Marietta followed her out of the room, wringing her hands and mumbling that that was the only reason Mr. Winslow had a telephone installed, anyway, so he could call and say he was going to be late getting home from the office. Before, he didn’t dare be late, for there was no way of letting her know unless he sent a messenger, and that was a bother for just a short delay, so he made sure he was on time. A butler came to them with a tray of appetizers and glasses of sparkling, cold champagne. Miss Willard haughtily marched out of the room, muttering she’d probably just go home if spirits were to be served. Jade took a glass and wandered through the open doors to the terrace. The Hudson River rolled on so lazily, Jade thought, like liquid silk in the gathering twilight. How much happier life would be if a person could just roll along as easily as the water, not worrying about currents or bends in the way, confident in the knowledge that sooner or later, no matter the obstacles, a peaceful destination would ultimately be reached. She looked across the sloping lawns to her own house. How sad and lonely it looked, as though an invisible cloud of pessimism and hopelessness had descended to smother and stifle any semblance of life. She’d loved it on sight, taken joy in its restoration and refurbishment, but now it no longer seemed to matter.

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Somewhere out there in the sizzling city that was New York, Colt lived. But now another woman received his good-morning and good-night kisses, shared his joys, sorrows, hopes, and dreams…and also knew the wonder and ecstasy of his lovemaking. For a time, she, too, had had another, someone to love away the emptiness. But she’d lost him. Through stubbornness? Pride? Miss Willard, in her innocence, had provoked the anguish of her loss, and by so doing, Jade realized that perhaps she’d only been fooling herself, and the time had come to face reality. Tomorrow, she vowed firmly, she would go to Bryan and talk to him; tell him that, at last, she had stopped living in the past and— “Jade, dear…” She turned at the sound of Marietta’s voice, at once startled by the tone…so mournful…so grim. With a sudden lurch of foreboding in her heart, Jade realized Marietta was crying. There were others gathered behind her; the women were all dabbing at their eyes with lace hankies, and the men looked very stern and equally grim. Icy fingers of dread and apprehension were clawing at her spine, and she reached out to place trembling fingertips against the stone wall surrounding the terrace. Marietta took a step closer to her. “Oh, Jade, darling, I’m so sorry—” she whimpered. A scream was working its way up her throat from the very pit of her soul, and Jade quickly spoke above it, lest it choke and smother all sound. “Tell me! What’s wrong? Why are all of you acting so strange, and why are you looking at me this way? What’s happened?”

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One man, Jade vaguely recognized him as the man she’d earlier offended, rushed forward to put his arms about her. Now he was solicitous…and sad. She did not push him away, knowing instinctively that she would need his support. Finally, Marietta choked out the words. “Oh, God, I hate to tell you this, but there’s a fire…in Mr. Stevens’ building, and…” Her voice caught on a sob, and she covered her face with her hands, unable to continue. Jade’s scream began to bubble forth as she begged for someone to please tell her what was happening, and somewhere through the gray, clutching fog that was descending to mercifully carry her away to oblivion, she heard the man who held her speak, and she shook her head wildly from side to side, as though to do so would repel the horror of his words. “Mr. Winslow said Mr. Stevens is still inside.”

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Chapter Twenty-One

Jade called on every fiber of her strength to stop the world from spinning as she gradually brought herself up and out of the abyss of hysterical surrender. Looking about at the sea of anxiously staring faces, she beseeched, “Will someone take me there…please?” A round of protests exploded, but she was not to be dissuaded. When no one responded to her plea, she rushed from the house, intending to walk, if necessary. Halfway across the lawn, she felt a hand on her arm, shrugged it away, then froze as she heard a man gently say, “Miss O’Bannon, wait. I’ll take you.” Gratefully, she looked up into the compassionate eyes of Marietta Winslow’s nephew, Robert Penrose. “I hope you don’t mind riding in my horseless carnage,” he asked worriedly, as though she might be afraid of the new invention. Had the situation not been so tragic, Jade would have laughed at such a suggestion. Instead, she grabbed his hand and said, “Thank you—more than you’ll ever know.” Oblivious to startled horses rearing and whinnying in terror, they made their way through the streets of New York, and when they were still many blocks from the triangular intersection that was Broadway, Fifth Avenue and Twentythird Street, the air became thick and choked with smoke. Jade did not, could not speak; she could only look ahead to the black haze rising into the silver-blue sky, creating an ominous umbrella of stifling soot.

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Suddenly, they could go no farther. A barricade had been set up by the police department. Officers milled about, keeping the curious onlookers back. “This is as far as we can go,” Robert said, sounding relieved that it was so. “There’s nothing you can do, Miss O’Bannon,” he hated to add. Jade bounded from the vehicle, snagged her skirt on the door, and ripped it free without a second thought. Robert called to her, but she pushed doggedly onward toward the blazing building. A policeman saw her slip through the barricade. “Hey, you, miss,” he shouted. “You can’t go in there! It’s dangerous. Get back behind that line!” Ignoring him as well as others who called to her to come back, Jade ran straight into the smoke-filled air, oblivious to burning eyes and throat. Abruptly, powerful arms reached out to grab her, and she found herself helpless against the strength of the big, black-coated fireman. “Just hold on, little lady. You’ll get yourself hurt. Stay back here. That building could collapse any minute.” “Let me go!” She kicked out at him, but he held fast. Ahead, she could see smoke pouring from every window, flames shooting toward the sky. The air was oppressive with the intangible aura of terror, and the sounds of the firemen and onlookers and bells ringing. She could see the fire engines with their steamdriven pumps, men struggling with the hoses that unleashed water upon the inferno. An old-fashioned bucket brigade had also been set up in a feeble attempt to fight the war of the flames. “Miss O’Bannon! Miss O’Bannon!” Jade turned her head in the direction of the hysterical voice, saw Miss Pearson, Bryan’s secretary. “Let me go, please. I know her,” Jade desperately pleaded with the fireman.

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Gruffly, he snapped, “I ain’t lettin’ you go, miss. Yoru don’t know what you’re doing, and it’s my job to keep you from getting yourself killed.” Just then Miss Pearson reached them, looking in fright from Jade to the burly man who held her. “Where is Mr. Stevens?” Jade demanded. The young woman swayed ever so slightly, closing her bloodshot eyes momentarily as though in prayer; then she pointed toward the burning building. Raggedly she whispered, “In there.” “No!” Jade wheezed against the knotted bubble of hysteria constricting her throat. “No…he can’t be…” Her head hung limply, as though her bones had melted in horror. “He got out, but he went back in,” Miss Pearson rushed to explain. Her voice broke on a sob. “Oh, God, Miss O’Bannon, there’s no way he can get out now.” Jade mustered what strength she had left and gave a mighty thrust, attempting one last time to break the fireman’s grip. When she could not, she exploded, venting painful frustration upon him. “Let me go, goddamn you, and do your job. Get him out of there!” “He’s done for. It’s too late. Now, please, ma’am, if you don’t calm down, I won’t have no choice ’cept to knock you out, bad as I’d hate to hit a woman.” Robert Penrose arrived then. “That won’t be necessary, sir. I’ll take over.” The fireman hesitated, but only briefly, for he had other things to do besides wrestle with a loco female. Handing her over in relief, he said, “Be my guest, mister. You can have her, but I’m warnin’ you, she’s lost her mind, and if you don’t hang on to her, she’s gonna run right into that fire. Just keep her back.” Eagerly, he disappeared into the crowd. The man who was still a stranger to her, despite his kind help, held her tightly.

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It was as though, in that instant, she resigned herself to Bryan’s fate, and her own as well. She stopped struggling. “Why?” she moaned, pressing her face against Robert’s shoulder. “Why did he go back inside?” Miss Pearson shook her head in helpless pity, then told her they had been working late and heard someone shout that the building was on fire. They’d run out quickly to stand side by side on the street, watching as the fire engines arrived. “All I could think of,” she sobbed, “was poor Mr. Stevens, standing there looking at those flames shooting out of the windows, and how he had to be thinking how his wife and little boy died like that. He looked awful, just awful, like at that very moment he wished he was dead himself Then we heard a scream,” she continued, “and we saw a woman at a window on the fourth floor. Everybody started yelling at her to jump, but she just stood there screaming, begging for help. Nobody did anything. I remember hearing a fireman standing nearby saying it was hopeless…nobody could get inside, and then all of a sudden Mr. Stevens just ran across the street and into the building before anybody could stop him.” Jade shuddered and thought she was going to be sick as the image of Bryan in the flames danced before her numbed brain. If… The word paraded before her mind. If only they hadn’t fought. Then they’d have been together, he wouldn’t have been working late…wouldn’t have been in the fire… If only she’d found the strength to make that final leap from past to future, they’d be planning a wedding…maybe even be married… And Bryan would still be alive.

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She stumbled through the streets, oblivious to the acrid odor that seemed to tag behind her like a taunting demon. She thought of other nights she’d walked the same avenues, with Bryan beside her, hand in hand, enjoying the romantic glow of the gaslights. They’d talked of that elusive future as though it were right there, in their hands, to grasp and hold on to, for it was only when she was alone that Jade couldn’t completely escape her memories. With Bryan, all things seemed possible. Solitude brought back the dreams of another time, another life…another love. Now all of it was gone. Every dream…every hope…every shared heartbeat of a future together. Jade stopped walking, reached out feebly to clutch a lamppost, for her legs felt weak, rubbery. What was left? she wondered. Nothing but tattered dreams, false hopes, and the feeling that she wanted to die, too, along with Bryan…and Colt, who might as well be dead. How ironic that Bryan should die the same way his wife and son had. Maybe he’d secretly wished it to be that way. While she lamented the loss of two loves, so had Bryan in those final days of his life. He’d said without her he had no reason to live. Perhaps he’d gone into that fire with the deliberate desire to die. Jade shuddered, clutched her throat as she fought against being sick right there on the street. The smoke had burned her lungs, tormented her empty, heaving stomach. Her heart felt like a red-hot coal in her chest. Passersby stared at her curiously. Several asked if she needed assistance. She waved them away, needing to be alone in her stupor of grief. Suddenly there was a loud noise amidst cries and shouts that were quickly drowned out as the sound became louder, building to a massive explosion.

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Whirling about, she opened her mouth in a silent scream of horror as the burning building collapsed in a shower of ashes and smoke and bricks and dirt. It was over. All of it. Jade felt the clutching hands of oblivion tempting her once more, and this time she did not resist. She welcomed the peace of that black, yawning pit and wanted to sink into its endless depths and never return. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she began to lose her hold on the lamppost. Just as she felt herself slipping away, gentle hands reached out to catch her, hold her, and she dizzily cried, “No, no, let me go, please—” “Never, princess…I’ll never let you go.” In dazed disbelief, she opened her eyes and saw the soot-blackened face of Bryan. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he whispered in anguish, lifting her up into his arms and walking toward a deserted park across the street, where even shadows dared not intrude upon their moment. He set her on her feet, and she could only gaze at him in wonder, drinking in the miracle of his presence. Gently caressing her face as he devoured her with his eyes, he told her, “I didn’t want to live. I rushed into the fire wanting to die because I won’t live without you, Jade. But God led me to that woman, through all the smoke and flames, and when I found her, unconscious and overcome with smoke, it was as though I found you all over again. All of a sudden I knew I had to live…for you, for us…and I lifted her up into my arms and God showed me the way out, through the smoke and down the back steps, and then I collapsed. I guess I was out for a long time, and when I finally came to, I went into the crowd and I saw Miss Pearson, and she told me you’d been there, pointed the way you’d gone.”

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He managed a lopsided grin as he ran loving fingers through her hair. “I’ve found you again, and this time, I won’t ever let you go.” Jade wrapped her arms about his smoke-drenched shirt. “Not ever,” she whispered huskily. She strained to see him in the darkness. “Make me your wife, Bryan,” she urged feverishly. “Make me yours forever.”

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Since they had already agreed they preferred a private wedding ceremony, Jade was delighted when Bryan suggested they be married on the yacht, then sail immediately for the Isle of Jade. Jade told him how, during their brief period of estrangement, she’d rented a place for her dance studio, wanting him to understand that when they returned, she’d go on with her plans to teach. He agreed wholeheartedly, but gently warned, “Remember, it’s just a little hobby, darling. You’re going to be busy with our life, and you know I’d like to start a family as soon as possible.” Jade frowned but said nothing. No, she hadn’t known he wanted to start a family quickly. They’d both agreed they wanted children, but nothing was said about when. She’d just presumed it would be a while because she wanted time not only to develop her dancing school but also for them to just be together, the two of them. Well, she’d been lucky so far; perhaps she would continue to be. Certainly she didn’t intend to get pregnant if she could help it. Bryan confided their wedding plans to Miss Pearson, who would take care of his office as efficiently as she had when he went away after Marnia died. He was surprised, when he asked if Jade had properly instructed Lita Tulane on her duties, to learn she’d let her go. “But why? You need someone to look after things. What about the work on the house? Won’t the workmen be going ahead with the plans? Lita will need to keep an eye on them.”

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“I thought it best we just hold off on everything till we get back,” Jade told him. “I want to be there to personally oversee their work, and meanwhile, we’ve got the regular household staff to look after the usual things.” “No, darling, no,” Bryan argued. “We need to keep them working so the house will be ready when we get back. What about our reception? Everyone will expect us to have one. It’ll be our formal debut in New York society as a married couple, and that’s important, you know, and--” “There’ll be time for that later,” she interrupted him, not wanting to continue the conversation. He sounded so desperate, she thought with a wave of pity. “We’ll have lots of time for parties later, Bryan. It’s the studio I’m worried about. I sent some of the workmen over there. I’d like to get it opened as quickly as possible.” She did not miss the shadow that crossed his eyes, the way his mouth suddenly tightened, and she wondered if they were on the brink of another argument. But then the moment passed, and he gave her a small, controlled smile. “As you wish, my dear, but I think it’s very important we have the reception as soon as possible after we get back.” “We’ll see,” she conceded. “Maybe we can have it in a ballroom of one of the nicer hotels.” She could sense he didn’t like that idea but immediately changed the subject to other matters. She went on a quick shopping spree and bought a new wardrobe especially for the island. Most important was her wedding dress. Choosing a simple design of pale strawberry chiffon, with a high lace collar and fingertip sleeves, she felt it was quite lovely and appropriate. It was the first week of June, and their wedding day was heralded by brilliant blue skies, tiny dancing puffs of clouds, and a warm, gentle breeze that

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conspired with the golden sun to cause the harbor’s surface to glisten as though dappled with thousands of diamond chards. A minister Jade did not know waited on deck with Bible in hand. Bryan informed her, as they made their way up the short gangplank, that he was Malcolm Pridgen, a Methodist minister of one of New York’s largest churches. “Everyone who is anyone is married by the Reverend Pridgen,” he whispered, lips pressed against her ear. “I wouldn’t have had anyone else.” “Did he perform the ceremony for you and Marnia?” Jade could not resist asking. “No,” he reluctantly explained. “We had a service in a church she’d attended in the Hudson Valley.” He squeezed her hand, made his tone light as he asked, “Do we really need to talk about her today of all days? I haven’t asked you about your wedding day with Colt,” he pointed out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Just then Walt Gibbons came up on deck from below and saw them. Rushing across the deck with arms outstretched in welcome, he was overcome with joy. Shyly kissing Jade’s cheek, he cried, “You just don’t know how happy I am to see this day, Miss Jade. I knew all along the skipper wouldn’t rest till you married him, ’cause you’re the image of his sainted wife, and—” “Gibbons, please!” Bryan snapped waspishly, then turned away abruptly lest he say more. He went to the railing, gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Walt was at once contrite and embarrassed. “Oh, Lordy, I’m sorry. Me and my mouth…” “It’s all right, Mr. Gibbons.” Jade patted his shoulder. “Just leave us be. And don’t worry about Mr. Stevens. He knows you didn’t mean any harm.”

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Walt walked away, picking his way over the riggings, shoulders slumped, and she immediately went to Bryan. “Please, darling, don’t be upset. He was only trying to be kind.” Bryan drew in a long breath, held it, let it out slowly, then looked at her in adoration. “I know, princess, I know. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did, but I just love you so much, and I don’t want any memories of the past to shadow this day—I’ve waited for it too long.” “Then let’s begin our day,” she said brightly, “and our life together.” They began to walk, arm in arm, toward the Reverend Pridgen, and Bryan kept his eyes upon her every step of the way. As Jade took the final steps toward her future, a maelstrom of emotions churned within. Bryan adored her. This she knew without a doubt. He was a good man, would make a wonderful husband and father, but something was nagging at her, making her pensive, and she had a good idea what it was. Marriage to another man was breaking the last link to that emotional umbilical cord that tied her to Colt. And, try as she might, there was still the impulse to hold on, to cling to the past, but oh, dear God, how self-defeating, how unfair to both of them. She told herself that once she was married, everything would be all right. There’d be no need to look back. Bryan interrupted her inner argument. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze locked upon her as though mesmerized. “The way the sunlight seems to sprinkle your hair with gold dust…and the reflection of the sea in your eyes makes them shine like the dancing waters of the Caribbean at dawn.” He caught both her hands, kissed each in turn, his entire body trembling with what he was feeling. When Jade repeated her wedding vows, it was only with great effort that her mind did not travel back to another time, another wedding day. Bryan loved her,

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she repeated silently over and over, and that’s what counted. He loved her, and they’d be happy together. After the ceremony, Bryan opened a bottle of expensive champagne, and the three of them shared a toast and several glasses. Then the Reverend Pridgen wished them well, promised to attend the reception Bryan would hold upon their return, then disembarked, leaving them to their honeymoon cruise. Jade would have liked to stay on deck to watch the skyline of New York as they sailed out of the harbor, but Bryan was too eager that they be alone. He closed the door to their cabin, locked it, and began to loosen his tie, eyeing her possessively all the while. He gestured to the strawberry gown she wore. “Take it off, but don’t get it mussed. I want you to wear it at our reception. I want you dressed just as you are now, so people can see what a lovely bride you were.” Jade turned from him, and as she began to fumble with the fastenings of the dress, she wondered why tears were stinging her eyes. Then her heart disobeyed the decree of her mind that she no longer look back, for suddenly she remembered how she and Colt had not cared that everyone at their reception might think them wanton, libidinous, drunk with desire. They’d been too much in love to worry about other people’s thoughts or opinions, yet now she was oddly embarrassed, too aware that the crew knew exactly what was going on in this cabin. It wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, and she hated herself for allowing such tormenting thoughts but couldn’t help it. She was still furiously fumbling with her dress when she felt Bryan’s nimble fingers push hers away. “Let me,” he said in a voice thick with desire. “You’re more anxious than I realized.”

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She stood rigidly, helplessly, as he deftly removed her dress. Oh, dammit, she silently cursed, they’d made love before, many times, and she’d welcomed his passion. Why, then, did she now feel that her blood had turned to ice? He turned her to face him, and she saw he was already naked. As he brushed against her, she realized he was hard with his own hunger. She did not, could not, speak. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see, but he took this as a gesture of solemnity for the hallowed moment. He removed her lacy undergarments almost ceremoniously. When she was naked, he clutched her shoulders tightly and pulled her against him, parting her lips with his tongue in a kiss deep and probing. Then he commanded, “Look at me, Jade.” Reluctantly, she obliged, feeling an uncontrollable shudder travel through her like cold waves upon a beach. His gaze moved up and down her body, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His hands caressed her like a sculptor lovingly tracing a rare and precious work of art. “You belong to me now, Jade. You are my wife. Mrs. Bryan Stevens. And we’ll be the toast of New York. No one will ever treat either of us as anything less than royalty.” She could not help swaying ever so slightly. Oh, why did she suddenly feel so revulsed? “So now, my precious…” He lifted her in his arms, laid her gently, tenderly, on the bed. Abruptly, he parted her thighs, and without a kiss, without foreplay, entered her with such force that she screamed aloud. Only then did he cover her lips with his as he brought himself to quick release. Then he rolled onto his side and laughingly apologized. “Oh, Jade, I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just that I’ve wanted

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to make love to you as my wife for so long that I’m afraid I lost control. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.” She merely looked at him in wonder. It was as though she had been violated by a stranger. This man who held her, whose gold wedding band she now wore on her finger, was no one she’d ever known before stepping into this cabin. Where was the man who’d seemed to adore her, worship her? Treat her with such reverent respect? This alien person regarded her as property, mere chattel. Bryan got off the bed, stretched and yawned, put on a robe. Jade reached for a blanket rolled at the end of the bed. Nakedness suddenly made her feel quite vulnerable. “I’m going to get you something to eat.” He smiled down at her with a triumphant, possessive smile that she found offensive. At the door he paused to wink. “After you’ve eaten and had a nap, I’ll make it up to you for being so selfish.” He blew her a kiss. “I love you.” When he left, Jade turned her face into her pillow and let the tears flow. Surely this was all just wedding-day jitters. Bryan had always been so gentle, so kind. This new arrogance was merely his own reaction to the anxiety of getting married. Soon they’d be their old selves, in the warm and complacent relationship that had led her to agree to be his wife. Yet even as she consoled herself, her eyes fell on the ring she wore on her right hand, the ring that Kitty Coltrane had given her the day she married her son. It gleamed in the buttery rays of the sun, and as she stared down into its brilliant prisms, it was like staring into a picture book of the past. She could see Colt, hear him, feel him, and with each roll and pitch of the yacht’s belly against the chopping sea, painful stabs of memory assaulted her heart. Furiously, she jammed her hand under the pillow. She kept the ring only because it had belonged to Kitty, and she’d truly loved and admired her. It

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wasn’t right for a memento to provoke such anguish now. This was her wedding day, and all her thoughts were supposed to be focused on her new husband, her new life. For long moments, Jade lay very still. The tears stopped. Her breathing became even. She was satisfied that she was in control. Only then did she withdraw her hand from beneath the pillow and allow herself to contemplate the ring once again. Strangely, she realized doing so gave her comfort.

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Chapter Twenty-Three

The island was even more beautiful than Jade remembered. Standing at the bow beside Bryan, his arms lovingly and possessively wrapped around her, she trembled involuntarily with emotion as the huge jadestone came into view. Bryan was equally moved. “The Isle of Jade,” he observed proudly. “Has any man ever paid a greater tribute to the woman he loved?” The servants were delighted to see them, ecstatic when they heard they’d married. The news spread rapidly, and friends on the mainland immediately planned elaborate parties to honor them. There were so many socials given that Bryan and Jade seldom had time for the long moonlight walks they’d revered on her first visit, but they did manage many morning strolls along the pink-tinted beaches. The flowers of the island were in their glory, and the hillsides and landscape were alive with the colorful blossoms of red bougainvillea, golden-yellow mahonias, brilliant lemon forsythia, and fragile, dainty silver bells. Jade thrilled to see how her herb garden had flourished—thyme, mint, parsley, garlic, rosemary, sage, all were growing in profusion. And around the house were fragrant roses of every kind and color as well as beds of callas, tiger lilies, and bright yellow viola. At dawn one morning, Bryan woke her with a kiss and an urgent plea to get up. “Just throw your robe on. We’ve got to hurry to our special place to greet the sun!”

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Like naughty children, hand in hand, they ran laughing into the fading blueblack sky toward a watermelon horizon. The air was warm, sweet, and as they made their way through a field of fragrant lavender-blue plumes, Jade eagerly breathed deeply of their heady perfume. Overcome with the glorious beauty of the world around her, she dropped Bryan’s hand to stop and fold her arms across her bosom and whirl round and round in the middle of the lavender meadow. Then, lifting her arms above her head, as though reaching to the very heavens in homage, she cried, “Oh, Bryan, the Garden of Eden couldn’t have been lovelier.” “Nor could Eve,” he murmured, a tremor moving through his body as he thought how much he adored her. Quickly, he moved to wrap his arms around her and kiss her till they were both breathless and shaken. Gasping, overcome with the sheer wonder of their existence, they hurried on toward the coral cove, the narrow path lined with orchid trees laden with silky, dramatic pink blooms. At their feet were borders of starry-bright heather blossoms, and white, red, and pink spirea. They reached the pink sand, the crystal-clear water lapping at their bare feet. Beyond and straight ahead, the sky was a milky blend of dark blue and purple with a silver streak proclaiming the glorious approach of the sun. Bryan tore off his robe and nightshirt and ran into the water. “Come on,” he beckoned to Jade as she stood watching and laughing. “Let’s swim to the sun!” “You’re mad!” She shook her head, grinning. “Yes! Mad about you, so go with me, because I can’t live without you.” Bursting with happiness, Jade took off her robe, then her gown, and plunged into the cool, clear water. Bryan held out a hand, and she grabbed it, and together they waded farther and farther from shore until they were waist-deep in the water. Then they began to swim, with sure, strong strokes, their eyes meeting

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in a silent exchange of love each time their faces bobbed up from the water. At last, a few hundred yards out, they rolled over onto their backs, faces toward the rising sun. With legs and arms spread-eagle, they allowed the gentle current to rock them as the sweet morning breeze kissed their naked skin. Finally, by tacit consent, they swam slowly back to shore. Then Bryan carried her beyond the beach where he placed her in a caressing bed of fragrant, silky ferns. “Oh, how I love you,” he whispered, stretching out beside her. He kissed every part of her, slowly, languidly, wanting to savor the touch and taste and scent of her delicious flesh. In turn, her fingertips danced across his broad, muscular back, and she curved herself against him, arching her back to get even closer. At last, aroused to fever pitch, she begged, “Take me, Bryan, please—” And he entered her, gently, rhythmically, allowing the undulations of her hips beneath him to set the pace for his movements. Afterward, they lay side by side, spent, silent, enraptured. They swam once more before retrieving their clothes and heading back to the house. “I never knew I could be so happy,” Bryan said as they left the cove, hand in hand. Jade lifted his fingers to her lips. Even as she did, she felt a wave of guilt over her inability to utter a like proclamation… The days melted together to become weeks, and all too soon, a month slipped by and they knew they had to return to New York and their lives there. As they sailed into the harbor on a humid and hot day, Jade’s mind was filled with mental notes of all that needed to be done. She stared at the nearing

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skyline but didn’t really see it as she thought of how exciting it was going to be to see her studio. “Jade, darling…what’s wrong?” She felt Bryan’s hesitant touch as he stepped up beside her at the railing. Self-consciously, she gave him a nervous smile; she’d been in another world, her world of dance, oblivious to everything about her. “I’ve been calling you from the other side of the boat for almost five minutes. You just stood here like a zombie.” “I’m sorry. I guess I was woolgathering. We’ve had such a lazy month, and now all of a sudden we’re going to be busy as bees, and—” “The reception.” He grinned knowingly. “You were thinking about that, weren’t you? Well, so was I. I’ve even made notes,” he laughed, as though embarrassed to admit it. Jade’s heart went out to him. The last thing on her mind was having a big party. In fact, she hadn’t even thought about it since their somewhat tense discussion before they were married. “As soon as we’ve had a chance to catch our breath, let’s go pick out the grandest ballroom in New York, talk to the best caterers, hire the finest musicians,” she conceded amiably. He didn’t say anything, just held her against him. After a moment, she pulled away to look up at him and was puzzled by the mysterious, almost mischievous expression on his face. Hesitantly, she asked if anything was wrong, and he just grinned lazily, eyes twinkling, and assured her everything was wonderful. It was nearly noon when they finally dropped anchor. Leaving the crew to take care of unloading their trunks and sending them on later, Bryan hurried Jade ashore and into the first taxi he could find. Settling back against a smooth leather seat, she adjusted her wide-brimmed hat with its side sweep of ostrich

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feathers and prepared to enjoy the ride through New York to the hotel. Then she heard Bryan give the driver the Riverside Drive address. “No, dear,” she corrected him. “We can’t go there. It isn’t ready to move into, and I had all my personal things sent to the hotel a long time ago, remember? I kept the suite when we left so we could just move right in.” He said nothing, and she saw he had that strangely mysterious look on his face again. He signaled to the driver to be on his way. Jade was annoyed. Despite the excitement of arriving home, she was exhausted, and the last thing she felt like doing was going to the house just to check on things. There was a skeleton staff there, for heaven’s sake. All she wanted to do was get to the hotel and take a nice, warm bath, order tea, then sleep the rest of the afternoon. With an exasperated sigh, she complained, “There’s no need to go all the way to the house, Bryan. Please have the driver take us to the hotel.” He patted her hand, gave her a patronizing smirk. “You’ll understand when we get there, my dear. Just relax and enjoy the ride. New York is lovely this time of year, isn’t it?” He looked beyond her at the sweeping view of the waterfront as they headed into the mainstream of the city. “No, it isn’t,” she snapped angrily. This was just too much. Of all the times for him to play some silly little game! “It’s hot and dirty, and so am I, and I’d like to just relax, not go all the way to Riverside Drive to look at a house that’s technically closed up, for God’s sake.” He turned his head to the other side of the carriage, observing the view from that angle, and said nothing. In turn, Jade folded her arms across her chest and stared straight ahead, tight-lipped and annoyed.

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When the carriage stopped in the driveway, Jade did not move. Bryan stepped out, offered his hand to her, but she shook her head and coolly said, “Go and see whatever it is you came to see. I’ll wait here.” “Oh, Jade, stop acting like a baby!” he scoffed, abruptly reaching inside to grab her around her waist and roughly pull her out. Straightening her hat once more and jerking down the hem of her short blue cotton jacket, she hissed between clenched teeth, “Bryan Stevens, if you don’t stop behaving like a fool, I’m going to get my own taxi to take me to the hotel, and you can find someplace else to spend the night!” He chuckled. “Well, my angry little bride, I can assure you we’ll be sleeping together tonight. As a matter of fact, we’ll be sleeping right here—in our new home.” She stared at him, bewildered, as he paid the driver. Then he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her up the steps to the front door, which swung open as they approached. Several of the servants appeared to cry in unison, “Welcome home!” then stepped back with slight bows to wave them on inside. Jade felt a shiver of apprehension. Something strange was going on, something she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like very much. She did not have long to wonder. As soon as she saw Lita Tulane standing midway up the curving stairway, a smug and proud expression on her face, Jade knew even before her disbelieving eyes began to sweep about the foyer to take in the unfamiliar wallpaper, paintings, statues, and other decorative pieces she’d never seen before—and certainly never selected. With all eyes upon her, Jade walked into the grand parlor to the left, as large as a conservative ballroom, and great splashes of anger began to wash over her. The room had been completely redecorated—the walls in a pattern of bright red

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roses and pale green leaves, the complete opposite of the one she’d chosen: tiny white lilies interspersed among delicate ivy. Thick velvet draperies hung in swags at the window—heavy, ugly. She’d planned light and airy sheers to catch the slightest breeze from the river in the summer, changing to heavier brocade in the fall. Staring down at the floor, she saw the Tabriz carpet she’d selected and shook her head in instant horror. The fine piece was to have gone in the master suite; it certainly didn’t belong in a room meant for the heavy traffic of people. All about her were pieces of furniture she had never seen before; chosen, of course, by Lita Tulane. She felt Bryan’s touch and cringed as he whispered against her ear, “My welcome-home surprise to you, my precious.” Then he said in a hearty, booming voice that denoted how impressed he was with himself, “It was all planned carefully in the last few days before we got married and left. I rehired Lita because she agreed to oversee the work on the house and take care of all the details for our reception this Saturday night. You don’t have to lift a finger, darling, just sit back and enjoy it all, like the true queen you are!” “Everything is taken care of—food, drink, an orchestra, flowers,” Lita announced proudly. “We’ve had acceptances from every one of the hundred and twenty-five invitations that were delivered along with the announcements the day you were married. It took a lot of work, but I was happy to oblige,” she added, seeking praise. “You’ll be properly rewarded,” Bryan assured her. “Now that my beautiful bride has seen how efficient you are, she’ll never let you go. You’re a marvel, Miss Tulane. Isn’t she, dear?” he prodded Jade. Jade continued to stand mute…and angrier than she’d ever been in her whole life.

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Sensing she was not enthralled, Bryan quickly pointed out, “If you don’t like some things, you can always change them later. The main thing was to get everything ready for the reception so we could have it as soon as we got back.” It was only with great effort that Jade was able to hold her head high and walk in silence, stiffly, from the room and, upstairs. She looked straight ahead, not wanting to see anything around her. Her teeth were so tightly ground together that her jaw ached, but she was determined not to lose control in front of the servants or Lita. Bryan was right behind her. “Jade, darling, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy over your surprise? Lita’s worked awfully hard, and I thought you’d be pleased. Tell me what’s wrong.” She made it to the master suite, took one look at the garish wallpaper Lita had selected, and as soon as Bryan was inside the room, slammed the door so hard that a vase she hated on sight teetered on its pedestal. Drawing in a deep, ragged breath, hands on her hips, eyes squinted furiously, Jade stared up at him and said in a ragged whisper, “How could you? How could you do this to me? How could you go behind my back and rehire Lita and then give her complete rein to decorate my house? Bryan, I didn’t think you were capable of being so deceitful, so…so goddamn audacious and presumptuous!” His face paled slightly before her assault. “I…I thought—” “You weren’t thinking of a damn thing except your damn reception,” she accused, whirling about and starting to pace up and down the room, waving her arms in frustration. “Look at it! Just look at the furniture, the draperies, the paint and paper. I can’t believe any of this.” His own ire was rising over her ungratefulness, as well as her unladylike cursing, and he snapped, “It isn’t the end of the world. You can change all of it.”

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“Before your precious reception?” She turned abruptly to challenge him. “Is there time in the next two days to rip all of this—this exhibition of poor taste out of the house so people won’t think I’m responsible?” “It’s not that important.” “Not important?” she echoed incredulously. “That’s strange, coming from you, Bryan. Sometimes I think that’s all you care about—what other people think. Isn’t that the reason you planned all this? Because you wanted to have a party to show off the minute we got back so people wouldn’t be offended by our not having a fancy wedding and inviting them? Dear God, Bryan, I can’t believe you’d do such a thing.” He watched her as she went to stand at the window and stare out at the rolling river beyond. Feeling contrite, he moved to slip his arms about her waist. “I’m sorry. Truly, Jade, I am sorry. I guess I just wasn’t thinking. I believed I was doing us both a favor. If it means so much to you, we’ll postpone the reception, no matter what anyone thinks, and you can redecorate the way you want.” Jade said nothing. He nuzzled his lips against her cheek. “I love you so much,” he said wretchedly, “and I’d rather die than hurt you. I’m so sorry.” Jade sighed, turned in his arms. She looked up into his eyes and saw how miserable he truly was. Finally, she said, “I know you meant well, Bryan. There’s nothing to do but make the best of things.” At once he brightened. “Then you aren’t angry?” “Let’s just say I don’t want to talk about it anymore, but please don’t ever go behind my back and do something like this again.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I promise.” Then he murmured, “Let’s make up the best way,” and started to kiss her.

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“No!” she cried, pushing him away. “I don’t feel like making love now. Just leave me alone for a while, please.” Bryan stared at her in angry silence. Frankly, he thought she was overreacting. He’d done her a great favor, and so what if Lila’s taste didn’t suit hers? The main thing was, they could move straight into the house, have a reception right away, and later she could do things to her own choosing. To cause such an uproar, well, he didn’t think she was being fair. Maybe, he mused spitefully, she needed to be reminded of just how fortunate she was to have a husband like him…how what she considered deceitful was nothing compared to what her precious Colt had done to her—or what she thought he’d done to her, he silently corrected with malicious delight. He went to the door, opened it, then dramatically paused before saying over his shoulder in a mock-sympathetic voice, “By the way, I didn’t tell you before now, but maybe this is the right time, when you’re doubting my feelings for you…” She eyed him coldly, suspiciously. “Well, go on,” she snapped irritably. “What other surprises do you have for me?” He feigned a look of compassion and pity. “Just before we left, the detectives told me Colt’s wife had a baby. Premature, they say, but healthy. I thought you should think about that while you’re so angry at me, and maybe you’ll realize what true deceit is.” Jade reeled as though struck. She’d known that sooner or later this moment would come, yet actually hearing the news was shattering. “Bryan, what was it?” He shrugged. “Does it matter? A son. She had a son.” He walked out and closed the door soundly behind him, leaving her with her anguish and, hopefully, the ultimate appreciation and awareness of the wonderful future he’d given her as his wife.

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Chapter Twenty-Four

Even though the anger was still smoldering inside, Jade decided nothing was to be gained by arguing further. Bryan had said he’d thought he was doing her a favor, but he could not understand how sometimes he made her feel absolutely smothered. It seemed he was determined to remove every possibility or obligation from her control or concern, leaving her with not a care in the world except her roles as wife, hostess, and, ultimately, mother. That might be fine for some women, and most of the wives she met appeared perfectly content to be no more than an extension of their husbands, but she wanted an identity of her own. After all, in Russia, despite her wealth and social position, she’d managed to have a very successful career. The sooner Bryan realized she was no featherbrained fluff, the better off they, and their marriage, would be. The reception was held as planned and went quite well. Grudgingly, Jade had to admit, but only to herself, that the food and drink Lita selected were acceptable, and the orchestra good. She refused, however, to allow the house to be opened beyond the grand parlor and the formal dining room. Instead, she opened up the French doors leading to the sweeping veranda with its view of the river and directed the party there. Lita made a pretense of apologizing to her, saying she was only following orders from Mr. Stevens. Jade knew Lita gloated over being rehired, and was tempted to fire her again, then decided to let her stay on. After all, she was competent, and Jade had no intentions of ever letting her have such control again.

Love and Dreams

Things went smoothly until the Monday after the reception, when Jade responded to Bryan’s query as to her plans for the day. She told him she was going to her studio to see how work was progressing. “I’m really looking forward to it, too,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to go before now, because of the reception, and I can hardly wait.” They were in the glass morning room, having a second cup of coffee after breakfast while enjoying the lovely view. As soon as she spoke, Bryan abruptly set down his cup with a clatter, and the tense, disturbed look she knew so well came over him. “I was going through the mail yesterday,” he remarked coolly, “and I saw an invitation to Mrs. Jacobah Huffstedter’s tea at two this afternoon. Are you going to attend after you leave your studio?” She shook her head, poured herself another cup of coffee from a delicate Derby fluted, pear-shaped coffeepot, made a mental note to tell the cook the delicate antique was for special occasions, certainly not for every day. It was far too valuable. “And why not?” Jade glanced up sharply. The topic was too trivial to dwell on, and she blinked herself back to the present. “What? I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else.” “I asked why you aren’t going to Mrs. Huffstedter’s tea,” he snapped impatiently. “Her husband happens to be a very important business client, and she’s also an important social leader. I was hoping we’d get an invitation to her annual Christmas ball at the Yacht Club, but if you ignore an invitation to a tea, she’ll blackball us for sure.” He glared accusingly across the table. Jade shrugged. She would never understand why Bryan was so tense about such things. “Well, I’ll just tell a little white lie and send Lita with regrets that I have a headache.”

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“Someone might see you out. Too risky. I’d appreciate it if you’d make an effort to go, Jade. After all, it’s expected, and while we’re on the subject of the studio, I’m beginning to wonder if you should pursue it.” Incredulously, she stammered, “Wh—what? You can’t be serious! Why, dancing is my life, and teaching is my dream!” She sat back in her chair to stare at him in disbelief that he could even suggest such a thing. He laced his fingers together, stared through the window at the sloping lawn, the river beyond, then, with a smirk, queried, “How can you dance when you’re carrying a child?” “I’m not pregnant, Bryan, and I’ll worry about it when the time comes. I thought you understood, that you shared my dream.” His smile was patronizing. “Dreams have a way of yielding to reality, Jade, and the reality is that you’re my wife now, and you have responsibilities. One of them is to involve yourself socially. I want you to attend that tea.” Jade knew it was as close as Bryan would probably ever come to giving her a direct order; because they both were well aware of her aversion to dominance by anyone. Yet she had to admit she held his happiness in regard as well, and if it meant so much to him, then she’d yield. “Very well,” she finally told him, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll make an appearance, but I can’t promise when, because you know it’s not always possible to get a hackney when you want one.” The tension was gone, and he looked at her gratefully. “Maybe it’s time we bought a carriage just for you, perhaps one of the new ‘horseless’ carriages?” he suggested. “I’m not ready for that,” she laughed. “We’ll consider the four-legged kind, all right?” Later in the morning, after Jade had inspected her studio, delighted to find all going well, she was walking down a side street just off Broadway when a new

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shop caught her eye. A strange apparatus hung above the door that she recognized as a relative of “Gladys”, Miss Frances Willard’s bicycle. Curious, she went inside, and a proud-looking little man came from behind a counter to welcome her with a sweeping bow. “Good morning, miss. Welcome to Buster Ranahan’s Bicycle Emporium. I happen to be Mr. Ranahan, but you can call me Buster.” Jade laughed. He was such a pleasant person. “I’m Mrs. Bryan Stevens,” she introduced herself. “That’s my dancing studio opening just a few blocks away.” He nodded sympathetically. “Then you’ve as hard a row to hoe as I, ma’am, because dance schools are about as strange to folks around here as my bicycles.” He motioned her to follow him. “I’ll be honest with you, I don’t have any interest in learning how to dance, but I’ll make you a good deal on one of my new machines just the same. All the ladies are loving them, they are, once they get over the newness. Now take this one…” He displayed a model, which he explained was the newest diamond-pattern frame. It had two medium-sized wheels of equal diameter. “It’s called the ‘safety bicycle’ because of its stability and braking power. It’s much better than the oldfashioned, high front-wheeled type, the one called the ‘ordinary’. I’ve got some with solid rubber tires, but this one has the new ones—they’re called ‘pneumatics’, invented in Europe by a Belfast veterinarian, and everybody says these’ll make the ‘ordinary’ a thing of the past.” “I like this model. Is it hard to learn to ride?” Jade asked. “Come on, I’ll show you!” He was beaming. A lovely lady like her, seen riding one of his bicycles, was sure to be good for business. Jade was wearing a blouse of pale blue linen with just a tickle of ruffles at her chin, a long skirt, and a short fitted jacket of matching dark blue cotton. Her hat was a pancake design, a revival of the Warreau fashion, trimmed with bright,

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artificial pansies. White gloves and white, high-button leather shoes completed her outfit. She’d decided she looked casual enough to visit her studio, but sufficiently elegant for Mrs. Huffstedter’s tea without having to return home to change. As she whimsically stared at the bicycle, however, tempted to try to ride it, she wondered whether she dared take a chance on getting her clothes mussed. “Well, whatcha waitin’ for?” Buster Ranahan urged. “She’s just waitin’ to be ridden, and I’ll bet you can do it just fine.” The temptation was too great. Jade hoisted her skirt, swung her leg up and over, realizing, of course, some people would be shocked at the sight of her ankle showing, but frankly, she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she follow Buster’s instructions. He stepped beside her to hold up the bicycle, one hand on the middle of the bars, the other behind her on the tiny pear-shaped leather seat. She began to push down one foot at a time on the little square pedals, laughing aloud as the machine moved forward, Buster walking alongside, still holding on to the bicycle. She moved her feet faster, then rhythmically, and all of a sudden he let go, stepped back, and triumphantly yelled, “Okay, Mrs. Stevens, you’re on your own. Just stay balanced, and you’ll do fine—” Laughing nervously, she clung tightly to the bars, awkwardly peddling, attempting some kind of cadence; then, suddenly, with a wobble to the left and a wobble to the right, the bicycle tipped, spilling her to the ground. Buster rushed to help her up. “Are you hurt? Oh, you was doin’ so good, but everybody has to take a fall before they get the hang of it…long as you aren’t hurt.” Jade allowed him to help her stand, then gently pushed him away as she smoothed her skirt, not really caring that her skirt was dirty in places—she had fallen in love with the bicycle. It meant freedom. She could ride from the house

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to the studio and back, all over New York. No more worrying about hackneys or such. Glowing with happiness, she reached out and clasped Buster Ranahan’s hand gratefully. “I’m just fine and dandy, and you’ve just sold a bicycle, sir!” She paid the price he asked, and he obligingly tutored her in the vacant lot for perhaps another hour. Then, when she felt proficient enough, she gave him a hearty wave, took off down the alley that led back to Broadway, and headed for Mrs. Huffstedter’s tea. Jade knew people were staring as she breezed by them, for she had a broad grin on her happy face. She was exhilarated. She felt so free, so uninhibited. No matter that her ankles showed, or that her hat blew off as soon as she’d raced out onto the street. Mr. Ranahan said she was a natural—adapting to riding like hummingbirds to nectar. She liked the wind in her face, the feeling that she seemed to be flying. Most of all, though, she liked being independent. Mr. Ranahan had told her to be wary of horses, carriages, pedestrians, other bicycles, so she slowed her pace. Next weekend, she promised herself, she’d ask Bryan to take the wonderful machine up to their Hudson River Valley estate. She could ride as fast as she liked on the winding country roads and not have to worry about anything getting in her way. Maybe Bryan would want to buy one for himself, and they could ride together. Oh, she was so excited she wanted to shout it to the world, but, instead, waved to people as she passed. Some smiled; most, however, shocked at seeing a young lady wheeling through the city, ankles exposed, just gaped, openmouthed and disapproving. It took almost a half hour to make her way through town to Mrs. Huffstedter’s elegant East Side home, and Jade was a bit tired, but too intoxicated with joy to care. She rode right up the sidewalk, to the bottom of the narrow brick steps leading to the front door. She was late, by perhaps two hours,

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and some of the ladies were starting to leave, but she’d told Bryan she’d make an appearance. Guests rarely stayed longer than it took to sip two cups of tea, nibble three cookies and one little frosted cake, and digest a few choice tidbits of gossip. Jade recognized Mrs. Adabelle Jenkins and her aunt, Miss Sophia Baldwin, as they came down the front steps. Both were too stodgy for her taste, and so she didn’t mind shocking them a bit. “Greetings, ladies,” she called, swinging off the bicycle and carefully leaning it against the wall. Gesturing to the machine, she exulted, “Beautiful, isn’t she? Miss Willard calls hers Gladys, but I haven’t decided on a name for mine yet. What do you think?” She flashed her best pixie grin. Miss Sophia frowned and gave a disapproving sniff. “If you ask me, I’d call it disgraceful. The very idea—a lady such as you, showing your legs that way!” Jade’s glow did not dim. “Why, what a terrible thing to say, Miss Sophia. I thought if Miss Willard could do it, so could I!” “Humph,” she snorted. Mrs. Jenkins chimed in with her own grunt of disdain. “Everyone knows Miss Willard is eccentric. It’s expected of her!” With a twirl of their parasols, they breezed on by. Jade covered her lips with gloved fingertips, stifling a giggle. She went on up the steps and was about to knock on the door when it opened abruptly. Two more women appeared; one was Mrs. Huffstedter, saying goodbye to a guest…and the guest, Jade realized with a chilling flash of recognition, was none other than Triesta Vordane! For an instant, Jade could only stand there, dumbfounded. She knew who she was, yet so preoccupied with her newfound pleasure was she that it took a

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few seconds for it to dawn on her. Then she blurted, “Mrs. Vordane. My goodness, it is you.” Triesta stiffened, her eyes growing wide with…what? Fright? Tension? Surprise? Jade could not be sure. “Surely you remember me from the ship. There was an accident, but I’m fine, and—” Triesta began to tremble, slowly at first, like someone coming down with a chill, small quivers that rapidly grew into violent shudders. Her mouth worked silently, nervously, as she struggled to speak, and all the while she was gripping the wrought-iron railing behind her, attempting to work her way down the steps, away from Jade. At last she was able to find her voice and crackled the denial, “No, no, I don’t know you.” Mrs. Huffstedter, who had been curiously observing, suddenly became alarmed at the way Triesta was behaving. “Whatever is wrong? You’re so pale. Don’t you know Mrs. Stevens? She just returned from her honeymoon, and—” “Of course she knows me, but not as Mrs. Stevens,” Jade interrupted, then spoke to Triesta. “You must re member me. The ship? We sat together. You and your daughter and I, and…” Her voice trailed off and she gasped with the sudden awareness of the consequences of what she was about to do. Everyone thought she’d come to New York from Ireland, where Bryan had met her as a distant relative of Marnia’s. If she kept on talking, Mrs. Huffstedter, along with the other ladies gathering behind her, was going to realize it was all a lie and that she wasn’t who she’d said she was. Oh, what was she thinking to stir up the dregs of the past? With a quick shake of her head, she apologized, hoping her own terror was not obvious. “Forgive me, I thought you were someone else. I guess we don’t know each other after all.”

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“No, no, I guess not.” Triesta actually laughed, almost bordering on hysteria in her relief. She backed down the steps, babbling, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stevens, but I really do have to be getting along.” She reached the sidewalk and almost broke into a run in her haste to get away. Jade stared after her, confused. While she herself acknowledged she had a good reason for not wanting exposure, what could possibly be Triesta Vordane’s motivation? Perhaps her daughter, Lorena, had told her how she’d confided her problems to Jade; how she’d run away to Europe with a man and was being taken home against her will. If that were the case, then it was logical Triesta feared Jade would spread the juicy gossip. That theory made sense, and Jade was able to brush aside the incident for the moment and turn in greeting to her hostess. “Is that yours, dear?” Mrs. Huffstedter pointed to the shiny red bicycle. Jade followed her gaze proudly. “You can’t know how wonderful it is until you try it, and—” “That’s just what I intend to do!” With childlike glee, Jacobah Huffstedter hurried down the steps. “May I, dear?” she called out, and without waiting for permission, climbed on the machine. Delighted, Jade quickly gave her instructions. A few of the ladies spilled from the house onto the street to observe and, hopefully, be allowed to ride also. There were some, Jade noted, who hung back, their faces cold masks of disapproval. Those soon left, but the women who remained neither noticed nor cared. The afternoon passed so quickly no one was aware of the time until Horace Huffstedter arrived home from work and gasped at the sight of the usually prim and poker-faced friends of his wife jumping up and down on the sidewalk

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begging for their turns on the strange new two-wheeled machine people called a bicycle. He was even more astonished to see his wife leading the pack! “What’s going on here?” he shouted, and at once, they all turned on him, anxious to share their wonderful discovery. By the time Jade wheeled her way home, dusk was falling. She wasn’t surprised to see Bryan standing in front of the house. She knew he would be worried, and regretted not having called him. But then he saw her, and the bicycle, and his look of relief instantly dissolved into the same pinch-faced visor of reproach she’d seen often that day from others who disapproved. “What in the world?” He ran toward her. “Jade, have you lost your mind? Your ankles…your legs…” He reached her, grabbed her about her waist in an attempt to drag her in the house quickly lest the neighbors see, but Jade gripped the handlebars tightly. “Bryan, stop it!” she protested. “Let me go! Don’t—” Then she lost her balance, and they both went tumbling to the ground in a heap, along with the bicycle. When Jade scrambled up, she took one look at the twisted spokes of the front wheel and screamed, “Oh, Bryan! Look what you’ve done! You’ve ruined it!” “Good!” He struggled to his feet, kicked out at the bicycle. “I can’t believe you’d do something so foolish. Now let’s get inside before someone sees you!” She strained against him, trying to stand her ground as she resisted his tugging. Her eyes narrowed to slits of resentment. “Like Jacobah Huffstedter?” “Huh? What?” He blinked, then nodded. “Yes, of course. She’d think such a thing disgraceful.” With a mighty jerk, she yanked away from him, ran back to kneel beside her bicycle for close scrutiny of the damage. He stared after her, bewildered.

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Turning to glare up at him angrily, she continued her tirade. “And Elisa Pomeroy? Claudia Whitfield? Jerusha Ledbetter? We don’t want any of those ladies to see me riding my wicked bicycle, do we?” “Of course not. Now please come in the house.” Deciding the damage wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought and Buster Ranahan could fix it good as new, she stood, wiped her hands on her already dirtied skirt, and faced Bryan defiantly. “Let me tell you something—I taught every one of those ladies how to ride my bicycle this afternoon, and first thing tomorrow they’re buying one for themselves, and we’re talking about starting a riding club.” Then she started toward the house, stomping as she went. “In fact,” she whirled around to tartly inform him, “you’d better get one for yourself, because we’re all planning to take our bicycles up to the Valley next weekend and do some riding together there.” “Ridiculous.” He doggedly trailed after her, shaking his head. “The silliest thing I’ve ever heard of.” But he didn’t protest any further, because he knew when she had her mind made up about something, nothing could change it. Besides, he thought with a warm smile, she looked rather cute on her bicycle. He might just buy one, too; despite his conservative and somewhat Victorian ideas and opinions, he had to admit he found his wife’s rebelliousness, at times, quite stimulating.

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Bryan was not as enthused as Jade over her discovery of the bicycle but had to admit it was in keeping with her personality of a free spirit. However, he did preach moderation. “One of those little three-wheel tandem tricycles would be better for you, or we could get a quadric-cycle and ride together.” “I love my two-wheeler,” she stubbornly insisted, “and if you’d try it, you would, too.” They had gone together to Buster Ranahan’s shop to have Jade’s machine repaired, and after he assured her it would be good as new by the weekend, she began cajoling Bryan to buy one for himself. He said he’d think about it. “But if you’ll do it by this weekend, we can ride together with everyone else,” she persisted. “It’s the rage, Bryan.” She turned to Buster for corroboration. “Tell him. Tell him how everyone is riding, touring.” The store owner was only too happy to oblige. “That’s a fact, sir, and thanks to the little lady here, I’ve almost got more business than I can handle. Everybody wants one for that party up in the Valley.” “Please, Bryan,” Jade implored, squeezing both his hands as he looked down at her in adoring amusement. “Go ahead and order your bicycle, and we’ll have it delivered upstate with mine, and then we can buy two more to use here in the city. Please!”

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He laughed softly, nodded to Buster. “All right. Pick out what you think I’d like and send it up, with two more to our house here.” He gave him his card for delivery and billing purposes; then he and Jade left to shop together for the coming weekend. The gala was being hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Leland Hayes, because relatives of Mrs. Hayes were visiting from Holland, and that was a good excuse for a lavish time. The festive weekend was to begin Saturday morning with a breakfast on the beach at the bottom of long, narrow steps down the bluff of the riverfront estate. Sailing had been planned for the afternoon, but once word spread about Jade’s idea for touring the countryside on bicycles, everyone wanted to join in the adventure. The biggest event, however, was the grand ball set for Saturday night. Jade and Bryan had planned to leave early Friday morning, but on Thursday evening Bryan said she’d have to go on without him. “I heard today that an important client is arriving in New York on steamer from London tomorrow,” he regretfully explained, “and I’ve got to show him the courtesy of meeting him and taking him to dinner and getting him comfortably settled in a hotel. This is his first trip to America, so he doesn’t know his way around. I’ll just come up Sunday morning for the day. You go on as planned and take Lita with you for company.” Jade didn’t want to take Lita, but she didn’t relish the idea of traveling alone, so she reluctantly agreed. Jade felt the reason Bryan pushed Lita to go places with her was so Lita could report to him everything that went on. Well, riding her bicycle was the one newfound freedom Jade intended to preserve at all costs…without scrutiny.

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The Hayes mansion was situated on a high bluff about three miles north of the Stevens estate. It was three stories, built of stone, with a sweeping veranda fronting the road and the river. Manicured evergreens lined the wide driveway, and on each side were apple orchards. On one side was a large garden, complete with shrubs artistically and dramatically trimmed to resemble animal shapes, fountains, and several goldfish ponds. It was here that for lunch Saturday, whitelinen covered tables had been arranged so guests could feast on poached fish, sliced turkey, roast beef, assorted fresh vegetables, fruits, and endlessly flowing lemonade, as well as champagne and fine wines. Jade had her carriage driver unload the bicycles at the main road so that she could pedal into the driveway herself. As she approached, guests already gathered saw her and began to cheer and applaud in welcome. When she reached the picnic site, they surrounded her, excited over the planned ride, and she happily saw there were about three-dozen brand-new bicycles leaning against trees, shrubs, marble benches, or just gingerly placed upon the grass. Cornelia Hayes came over to petulantly declare how disappointed she was that she hadn’t known about the bicycling till it was too late for her to have one sent up from New York. “I’m so jealous, I could die! Everyone is more excited over riding with you than they are about the ball tonight.” The afternoon was warm, with a buttery-gold sun smiling down from crystal-blue skies, as the riders happily climbed aboard their bicycles and, some wobbling, some falling but getting right back up again, followed Jade from the estate and out onto the country road. As she led the way, Jade lifted her face to the sweetness of the wind and could not help laughing out loud with sheer happiness. How far she’d come, she thought wistfully, proudly, to arrive at this moment. She had everything a woman could want—a husband who adored her, two beautiful homes, wealth,

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the respect of everyone who knew her, many friends, and soon, her own dance studio. Why, she thought with a silent shiver of delight, she was really and truly happy! The only reason she had to look over her shoulder was to gaze back at other happy souls following, not to cry over past disappointments! It was a wonderful, wonderful feeling, and she offered a personal prayer of thanksgiving for such a glorious blessing. They were in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains, and despite their enthusiasm for their new adventure, the riders opted not to strain themselves against the steep roads, so instead they pedaled around the Finger Lakes hill area. Still, the experience proved arduous, and a few began to turn back. But then Mr. Hayes, along with several others who’d been forced to stay behind due to not having a bicycle, arrived amidst cheers in a wagon laden with jugs of cool lemonade, sugar cookies, and sandwiches made from leftover turkey. Even though it hadn’t been so long since lunch, everyone was hungry; few were used to so much exercise at one time. Several riders begged to ride back on the wagon, abandoning their bicycles to be fetched later by Hayes’ servants. Most, however, like Jade, were having too good a time to give in to fatigue. Finally, everyone agreed it was time to call it a day and return to make ready for the gala ball that evening. Jade left her machine at the Hayes house and gratefully rode home in the carriage she’d arranged to call for her at an appointed time. Lita met her at the front door of the mansion, clucking with disapproval to hide her jealousy over having missed the fun. “I can’t believe how late you stayed. You’re going to have to hurry to be ready on time, and look at your hair! Dry as dust after all that wind.”

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Jade waved away her comments, headed for the stairs and the master suite that had finally been completed under her direction. It resembled none of Marnia’s original designs. Lita hovered nearby, prodding her to hurry. She was to be included as a sort of chaperone and was practically shaking with anticipation at an evening among the rich elite of New York and the Hudson River Valley. She’d bought her own gown, even though Jade had kindly offered her one of hers as they were nearly the same size. Lita had declined, wanting something more conservative. Jade had saved her favorite dress for the ball. It was made of silver satin, with a billowing skirt. It was designed so that when she danced, and the skirt swished about, merely a trace of the pink satin lining could be seen amid the frothy lace petticoats. The bodice dipped low, but not provocatively so, and the sleeves were mere lace ruffles across her shoulders, matching the frilly lace cummerbund that was fashioned with a full bow and streamers at the back. But the beauty of the creation was the exquisite crusting of black pearls and tiny diamonds across the bosom. Worth a fortune, Jade thought it the prettiest dress she’d ever seen, except, of course, for her Russian wedding gown, but now she regarded all those memories as an illusion…and not worth remembering. There was time to wash her long red hair, allow it to dry on the terrace in the river breeze. Then she fashioned it herself, in sweeping poufs about her face, caught and held in place by diamond brooches, these accented by white pearls. When they had married, Bryan had given Jade a carved rosewood case, lined in white satin, which contained all the fine jewelry that had belonged to generations of Stevenses women. She knew Marnia had worn some, if not all, of the gems, but told herself it didn’t matter. Marnia was dead—and so were all the other women who’d adorned themselves from the box. For the ball, she chose emerald-and-diamond drop earrings, with matching choker and bracelet.

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As she was taking the pieces from the box, she saw a large solitaire diamond ring set with rubies and pearls. She withdrew it, was about to slip it on, then squeezed her eyes shut at the sight of Kitty’s ring on her finger. Despite her happy glow, despite her conviction that the past no longer mattered, she could not, for some unexplained reason, remove that ring from her finger. She closed the lid on the jewelry, and on pensive reflections. Even though Lita would be relegated to the sideline with other companions, personal maids, and chaperones of unescorted ladies, she was nonetheless ecstatic and talked incessantly on the short drive to the Hayes estate. Jade was only too happy to have her leave her side to enter by the servants’ entry to the rear, while she was admitted through the main entrance. Arriving fashionably late, Jade was at once smothered by touring zealots, anxious to either chat about the enjoyable afternoon or ask when the next ride could be scheduled. She found herself somewhat of an unofficial leader of a new club of sorts, and rather enjoyed it. She just wished Bryan were there to see, and hear, so he could catch the cycling fever, too. The magnificent entrance foyer of the Hayeses’ home was larger than most people’s entire houses. The floors were of imported Italian marble, with huge columns that, for the evening, had been adorned with vines of climbing roses. In the center was a huge fountain from which sparkled the finest champagne. Strawberries, cherries, and blueberries floated amidst the frothing bubbles, and delighted guests gathered around to refill their glasses. Jade helped herself, glad that most of the Hayeses’ friends did not frown on imbibing. Beyond the foyer was the main ballroom, also with marble floors and columns. An orchestra was situated in front of the open French doors leading to the terrace, so that music could also be heard outside.

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The air was heavy with the sweet perfume of the thousands of blossoms that had been imported from all over—gardenias, magnolias, lavender, lilacs, sweet peas, carnations. Regal ladies in elegant gowns seemed electrified, their spectacular jewelry sparkling and glowing as though given life by the magnificent crystal chandeliers overhead. The night was dazzling, and Jade wished over and over again that Bryan could have been there to share it all with her, for she felt terribly alone despite the genial people about her. Cornelia Hayes did not merely have platters of food set out in offering as had been done with breakfast and lunch. The evening called for much more fanfare, and she provided it with a signal to the orchestra for a dramatic drumroll that brought everyone to silent attention. Then a parade of waiters in garish red satin uniforms began to enter the ballroom, each carrying a huge round tray on which the most sumptuous food had been prepared by special chefs hired just for the occasion. In honor of her guests, and her homeland, Cornelia featured Dutch cuisine: erwtensoep, thick pea soup with spicy sausages; rolpens, a dish of minced beef; hotchpotch, a meat and vegetable stew; as well as smoked eels, fried sole, and Zeeland oysters. For lighter appetites there was the popular Dutch snack called uitsmijter, an open sandwich with a fried egg on top of cold meat, and a very exotic dish the Dutch people had imported from India called rijsttafel. Twenty waiters were needed to bring out all the side dishes that went with it, such as egg rolls, shrimp, chicken cubes, fried noodles. To tempt the dessert lovers, delicious Deventer gingerbread was offered, with fruit fritters called poffertjes.

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And, of course, in honor of the Dutch people’s favorite food, there was cheese of every kind. When the fare had been properly assembled, the waiters stood back in one long line and gave a unanimous sweeping bow, and the room vibrated with a thundering wave of approving applause. After everyone had his fill, Cornelia sought out Jade to ask that she give her waltz lesson. “If I’m not imposing…” Cornelia said almost apologetically. “I mean, I feel as though you’re the hostess, because you’ve been doing all the entertaining, and I don’t want you to feel put upon.” Jade laughed and assured her that she was enjoying herself immensely as a guest. Cornelia led her toward the orchestra. “I’m sure you all know Mrs. Stevens…the newly married Jade O’Bannon Stevens,” she added with a meaningful chuckle. The air rang with a chorus of approval, and Jade felt a rush of warmth. She was liked. She knew that and was pleased, and not just for the sake of social acceptance. People genuinely seemed to like her for herself since they knew nothing of her background, and this meant a great deal to her. “…and you all know of her many talents,” Cornelia was saying. “Not only is she teaching us to ride bicycles…” She paused to enjoy the approving laughter. “But she’s also a very wonderful dancer. She’s going to be opening a studio in New York quite soon, but tonight she’s consented to gift us with a display of her skills.” She gestured to Jade, and again, applause and cheers broke out as she humbly, proudly, stepped forward.

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Jade gave the same little explanation of the waltz as she had at the waffle party, then asked for a partner, and for the orchestra to play. Everyone was in a festive mood, and each time a waltz would end, another gentleman would step forward begging for his turn, while couples joined together to imitate the popular new dance. Finally, after nearly an hour of constant whirling and swirling about the ballroom floor, Jade maneuvered herself and her partner toward one of the doors to the terrace, so that when the music ended, she was able to say, “Thank you, thank you,” to her partner. “Now please, I must have a moment for fresh air…” and she disappeared into the night to momentary freedom. The night was warm, and she was tired, and it was so refreshing to walk across the sweeping terrace. She went to the farthest point from the house where the rolling river appeared as liquid silver beneath the moon’s kissing glow. She’d been alone only a few moments when she heard a man discreetly clearing his throat somewhere nearby, to politely let his presence be known. She remained perfectly still and did not turn, hoping he would take the hint, but then she heard him speak. “Mrs. Stevens.” She cringed, but only slightly. After all, it was a party, and she knew she should be grateful for so much popularity. She turned around with a gay swish of her silver satin skirt. “I hope you aren’t wanting to dance, because I’m so—” Jade felt as though she’d been struck by lightning. Every nerve in her body was electrified for an instant, then seemed to turn to jelly. Her breath came in quick, ragged gasps as she struggled against the constricting pressure in her chest. She closed her eyes, opened them, knew she was not dreaming. It was Colt who stood only a few feet away, a strange but warm smile on his handsome face.

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He started to come closer but hesitated as he realized she suddenly looked terrified. “Did I startle you, Mrs. Stevens?” Jade’s eyes narrowed. Why was he being so formal? Very well, she at once decided; if this was the way he wanted to play the occasion of their first encounter, so be it. Tightly, evenly, she bit out her reply. “Yes, you did.” He cocked his head to one side, puzzled as to why she seemed so angry— defensive, almost. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your dancing. Mrs. Hayes was right. You’re a very talented lady, but I can see you want to be alone. Forgive me for intruding.” His smile faded, and with a curt nod, he turned on his heel and walked back toward the house. Jade blinked, unable to believe what had happened. “Coltrane!” She heard a man’s voice amiably call out as he stepped through the door from the terrace. “How’s that new son of yours—and his mother?” She winced with pain, hearing the ring of pride in Colt’s cheery response. “They’re great. Both of them. Mommy missed not being here tonight, but…” His voice disappeared within the noise and music. A great shudder spread through Jade, beginning with her toes and moving all the way up, rendering her gratefully numb against the rolling nausea birthing within. Dear God, she whispered as salty tears trailed down to her trembling lips, how could he pretend not to know her? That, she acknowledged painfully, was the cruelest blow of all.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

The rest of the evening ended in a blur. She immediately sought out Lita, complained of a headache, and left the party. That night, she lay awake unable to sleep, torn between anguish and anger. She acknowledged that, in the back of her mind, she’d always thought— maybe “feared” was a more apt description—that sooner or later she’d encounter Colt socially. True, he’d never cared for parties and such, but perhaps he’d married a woman who did, and he was associated with a prominent family through his employ—the Vanderbilts. She’d more or less steeled herself for that eventuality; had vowed to be cool, remote, immediately removing herself from the situation without a hint to anyone who might be around as to why the atmosphere was tense. However, she’d never dreamed Colt would just pretend not to know who she was. How could he have been so humiliating? Especially when there had been no one else about at the time? They’d been completely alone on the terrace. They could have talked, settled everything as to the roles they now played in life, agreed on anonymity and mutual behavior on the occasions when they unexpectedly ran into each other. So why had he chosen to hurt her? She’d never done anything to deserve that kind of treatment from him. When the sun rose, Jade had not slept a wink. A glance in the mirror told her she looked terrible! Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Her skin was sallow, and constant rolling and tumbling in bed had left her hair a tangled mess. With Bryan coming out early, she got up to see what she could do with herself lest he

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ask questions she didn’t want to answer. She had no intention of telling him she’d seen Colt. Not yet. Not until she decided what she was going to do about it. And the more she thought about what she should do about it, the angrier she got. How dare he? So what if he had never loved her as she’d believed? Did he have to twist the knife deeper? Denigrate her as he had? By the time Bryan arrived, just in time for the quiet little lunch she’d planned for the two of them on the veranda, Jade’s mind was made up. She had swallowed against the bitter bile in her throat, had complete control of her anger, frustration, and yes, her pride. There was only one thing to do, one way to handle the situation, and that was head-on. She was going to find Colt, see him, talk to him, and ask him what the hell was going on! Bryan never suspected the volcanic turmoil within her, for Jade was able to smile, chat amiably and happily about the weekend thus far. He regretted not having been there earlier, was more than eager to accept the Hayeses’ invitation for the afternoon and evening, and quite willing to leave as soon as they’d finished eating, at Jade’s suggestion. Jade had plans…plans that made her feel a wee bit guilty because, in a way, she was using Bryan…using him to remind her that she no longer needed Colt, for any reason. She boldly led her husband upstairs to their bedroom, where she easily held him a willing captive for the next several hours as her passion seemed insatiable. Early the next morning they returned to New York.

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When Bryan left for his office—a new one a few blocks away from the building the fire had destroyed—Jade immediately found the address for the Vanderbilt office. It was a long ride from home, situated all the way across town, and it took her nearly an hour to get there by bicycle—the only form of transportation that afforded her absolute freedom from Lita. By the time she arrived, she was exhausted, and sought a bench beneath a shady tree to catch her breath before going into the impressive stone building. Finally, she made her way in, heart pounding not from the arduous ride but from the apprehension over the impending encounter with a man she once loved but now coldly loathed and resented. The reception room was beautifully furnished with bright floral sofas, pedestal tables with huge vases of fresh-cut roses, and tasteful paintings on the walls. Soft white drapes hung at the window, and the overall atmosphere was pleasing, not stuffy or crowded as were so many offices. A young woman with bright blue eyes and a broad smile of greeting sat at a large receptionist’s desk. “Good afternoon. May I help you?” “I’d like to see Mr. Coltrane, please. I don’t have an appointment, but—” “Oh, Mr. Coltrane isn’t in,” the receptionist chirpily informed her. “Can someone else help you?” Jade’s sharp “No!” provoked raised eyebrows. The girl’s gaze flicked over Jade curiously. “Mr. Coltrane’s never in. He stops by once in a while, but I don’t make appointments for him. He’s never officially come to work here yet, and…” Her voice ebbed as her curiosity increased; then she sharply probed, “Just what is the nature of your business with Vanderbilt Enterprises?” Jade had sensed her growing hostility, knew she had to tread softly or it would be a wasted trip. Pasting the same artificial smile on her face that the

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receptionist had at first presented, she glibly began, “Oh, I’m not here on any business. You see, I used to know Mr. Coltrane in Europe. I’m a friend of his parents and I was visiting here and they told me to be sure and look him up.” The receptionist seemed relieved at such a simple explanation. “Oh, I see. Well, no doubt you heard about the accident?” she asked, suddenly all compassion and sympathy. Jade struggled for composure. “Yes, but I thought he was all right now.” Glancing around anxiously as though someone might overhear, the young woman seemed enthused to be able to share thoughts she’d had to keep to herself. “Well, don’t say I’m the one who told you,” she said in a hushed tone, “but I don’t think he’s all right, and neither do the Vanderbilts. That’s why they keep telling him to just take more time off. He has these headaches, you see—” “Headaches?” Jade repeated. “Yes, because the way I heard it, he got quite a blow on the head. They thought for a while he wasn’t going to make it, you know.” “No, I didn’t.” Jade shook her head, feeding the girl’s desire to gossip. “I guess they kept the full story from his parents because they’re getting on in years. His father hasn’t been well. I had no idea it was so serious.” “Oh, yes, it was,” the girl breathed excitedly, eyes glowing with the excitement of being the one to tell her. “He got hurt on the ship on the way over here, they say, got hit on the head real hard, and for a long time he was unconscious. But he still has headaches, like I said, and the Vanderbilts just prefer he keep on resting till he’s completely okay. Besides, he just became a father for the first time, so he doesn’t even stop by anymore to see if they do want him to start work. He doesn’t need the money, anyway.” Jade stared at her, not sure of what to say next. “Didn’t you know about the baby?” the receptionist gloated.

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“No,” she lied. “I haven’t been in contact with the Coltranes in a while. I’ve only been here a few weeks…just got around to looking up their son…” She then quickly decided to take advantage of the girl’s pride in giving out firsthand information. “Why don’t I go to his house, take a gift for the baby, and meet the whole family,” she said brightly. “Just give me his address, and I’ll be on my way.” The girl did not hesitate, for she felt important having a hand in setting up a reunion of friends. She scribbled the address on a piece of paper and handed it to Jade. “Be sure to give Mr. Coltrane my regards. He’s such a nice man.” Jade stared down at the exclusive Central Park address. “Yes,” she said evenly, a chill of loathing moving up and down her spine. “Yes, such a nice man…” Jade made her way across town once more, oblivious to everything but the fact that she would soon be face-to-face with the wretched bastard who’d made a fool of her. As she approached the house she sought, situated back from the street and surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron fence, Jade shuddered with ironic bitterness to think how many times she’d passed by this very home, going to and from teas in other houses, never knowing that Colt lived here. There should have been some kind of vibration, she thought angrily; a sudden roll of thunder or an earthquake, something to warn her such a treacherous soul was nearby. Leaning her bicycle against the fence, she retied the ribbons of her flowerbedecked straw bonnet. She stared up at the regal white house with its wide front porch, the columns devoured by the remains of summer morning-glory vines, stained-glass windows in the austere turrets of each corner of the second floor. She knew she would probably encounter the new Mrs. Coltrane, but so what? Let her know the truth. Let her suffer as Bryan had suffered. Why should

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she be so gently padded from the realities of life? Why should she live happily ever after, with her adoring child and wonderfully loving husband—while Jade was relegated to being treated like a stranger by the man who’d once held her body and soul in the palm of his hand! With a deep sigh of resolution, she walked purposefully up the brick sidewalk, up the narrow wooden steps, then lifted the brass ring of the door knocker and let it clang loudly. As she waited, she glanced about at the pretty, cast-iron porch furniture, the potted palms, the carved wooden swing. In the yard, beneath the shading arms of a spreading oak, there were more of the popular cast-iron pieces, these painted white—a round table, four chairs, several benches. Finally, from inside the house, she heard footsteps clattering, a breathless voice tinged with annoyance calling, “Yes, yes, I’m coming. I’m coming…” The door opened and a plump, middle-aged woman in a long white muslin dress and apron peered out, obviously annoyed at the unexpected intrusion upon the household. “You want something, ma’am?” the maid asked. “Mr. Coltrane,” Jade said in a squeaky tone that sounded alien. “I’d like to see Mr. Coltrane.” “He isn’t here,” the woman told her. “You can leave your card.” She made ready to close the door. Jade put her hand against it. “When will he be back?” “I don’t know.” The maid stared at her hand, frowned. “If you don’t want to leave your card--” “Where can I find him?” “He’s up in the Valley, visiting. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got a new baby in the house, and we’re terribly busy around here, and I—”

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“But I must see him!” Jade did not move her hand on the door, also wedged her foot between. “Just tell me where he’s visiting, and I’ll go there.” I’ve come this far, she silently, furiously screamed, and I’m not turning back till I find him… The maid’s eyes narrowed. “How about seeing Mrs. Coltrane instead? I can tell her you’re here, if you’ll give me your card,” she added pointedly, hinting Jade was being socially ignorant. “No, I don’t want to see her.” Suddenly a curious and irritable voice rang out from somewhere within the house. “Annabelle! What’s going on down there? Who is it? You’re letting in flies, keeping the door open that way!” Abruptly, the door flew wide open, and Jade found herself staring into the face of Triesta Vordane! “What…what are you doing here?” Triesta gasped. Jade was equally astonished. Had she been given the wrong address? No. Surely not. The maid had just asked if she cared to see Mrs. Coltrane. So why was Triesta Vordane there, seemingly right at home? Jade stiffened, felt anger, suspicion clutch her throat, her neck, move on down her spine to hold her up against the impulse to turn and run away. “What are you doing here?” she heard herself challenge. Annabelle’s eyes suddenly bulged angrily. “Well, just who do you think you are, asking a question like that?” she snapped. “She happens to live here, and I think you’re rude, and you’d best leave before we call the police.” “Enough, Annabelle.” Triesta, pale, mouth a grim, set line, put a slightly trembling hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle push. “Back to the kitchen. I’ll handle this.” Like the rapidly turning pages of a novel caught in the wind, Jade was reading the plot fast and furiously. Colt had married Triesta’s daughter! Lorena

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Vordane had wasted no time in preying on Colt’s vulnerable condition due to his physical injury and his mental grief. She had snared him like the steel jaws of a bear trap, quickly becoming pregnant, trapping him with responsibility. Jade and Triesta locked eyes, both angry, both icy with defiance. “How did you find me?” Triesta demanded when the maid reluctantly retreated and had moved out of hearing range. “I wasn’t looking for you,” Jade retorted hotly. “I was looking for Colt. I saw him this weekend, at a party, and he pretended not to know me. I wanted to find out why, and now I know—he was ashamed!” “Go away!” Triesta hissed menacingly. “You get out of here, and don’t you come back. You dare come around here again trying to make trouble and you’ll be sorry.” Jade lifted her chin, blinked back tears of fury. God, she’d expected anything but this! “I didn’t come to make trouble,” she frostily informed her. “I came to talk to Colt, to ask some questions, but now I don’t have to, because I’ve got the answers.” She took a step backward, preparing to leave. “You sure do,” Triesta snapped, lips working furiously as her eyes squinted to menacing slits. “Now I’m telling you to get out of here, and I mean it. Keep your mouth shut, and no one will be hurt. Bryan Stevens is a fine man, and Colt is happy, so you’ve got no reason to try to come nosing around here.” Jade turned away. Now she knew why Colt had pretended not to know her. It was his way of letting her know that that was the only way it could be. No matter that she was really alive. No matter that they once had loved each other, had been man and wife. Each had a new life now, a new future, and the only way to accept what fate had dealt them was to pretend they’d never known each

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other at all. Perhaps, she decided with a sinking feeling of resolution, it was best that way. “Mother, what’s going on?” Jade had reached the bottom step, but at the sound of the other voice, she whirled about to see the pale, startled face of Lorena Vordane staring down at her. “Oh, God, it’s her…” she whispered. “Oh, no…no, it can’t be. She’s dead—” Jade watched, astonished, as Triesta Vordane grabbed her daughter by the throat and violently pushed her back into the house. Before the door slammed, Jade heard her cry, “Keep your mouth shut! Just keep your mouth shut, you hear me—” Several moments passed as Jade stared in muted wonder at the closed door. Dimly, she was aware that a woman next door had heard the commotion, walked onto her front porch, and pretended to be watering her geraniums. Slowly, woodenly, Jade finally turned, stumbled on down the sidewalk to where she’d left her bicycle. So, she dazedly mused, Lorena had not known she was alive. Her mother hadn’t told her. Neither had Colt. But why Lorena? Why had Colt married her? He hadn’t been attracted to her in the least, had listened with quiet amusement as Jade recounted the girl’s confession of running away to Europe with a young man, brokenhearted to have been forced to return home with her mother. Why, then, would he have turned to Lorena Vordane in his grief? What was also astounding was how he could ever have consented to live in the house with Triesta Vordane when he had found her as unpleasant as Jade had. Jade mounted her bicycle, started to ride away, then noticed that the curious neighbor had slowly made her way down her steps, pretending to pull stray weeds as she moved up the sidewalk, no doubt just trying to get closer.

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“Hello,” Jade called, managing to sound cheery and bright despite the misery within. “Your yard is lovely.” The woman, elderly, probably in her late sixties or go, looked at her suspiciously as she walked to her gate. “Thank you,” she responded slowly, then bluntly asked, “What was Triesta screaming about this time?” Jade shrugged, not about to appear offended by her nosiness, for she was going to use it to her advantage. “I don’t know. I was just asking directions. I’m looking for…“ She paused, groping for a name the old woman wouldn’t recognize, then cried, “Miss Lita Tulane. Do you know the family?” The woman shook her head. “’Tweren’t nothing for Triesta to yell at you about. Guess she don’t get much sleep with the new baby and all.” She turned to go back, disappointed there was nothing more spectacular to hear about. “Does she always get upset so easily?” Jade innocently called. The old woman turned, nodded knowingly. “Oh, yes. She’s a mean one. Nobody likes her. She hasn’t spoke to me in ten years, but I don’t care. I’m just happy for that daughter of hers. Lorena always was a sweet thing, and I’m glad she finally got herself a decent husband. Seems like a nice man. I see him out in the yard once in a while, and he always smiles and waves. It’d be best for him and her both, though, if he’d get ’em a place of their own. Livin’ with Triesta Vordane has got to be miserable.” With a disgusted shake of her head, she padded up the steps and disappeared inside her house. Jade thoughtfully registered the information. Why? Oh, dammit, why a lot of things? she silently cried, feeling sick to her stomach. Furiously, she began to pedal away, wanting to get as far from the house as possible. What difference did it make who he’d married, she asked herself, or how it had come about? The point was—he belonged to someone else, and so did she,

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and he had a baby, and she had a husband who adored her, and if Colt could look her straight in the eye and pretend not to know her, then fine. She could live with that. Or could she? her heart coolly taunted.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Despite her resolve that life had to go on, Jade continued to be plagued by unanswered questions. Yet with each passing day it became easier to look forward, not back, and each time thoughts of Colt came to mind, it became easier and easier to push them aside. After all, she had a life—a good life—and she was also moving full steam ahead with the studio and the dancing she’d loved as long as she could remember. Bryan still found it difficult to hide his deep resentment over the studio opening. He felt Jade was neglecting their social life, and in some ways, their marriage. “You’re never home when I get here,” he complained the third night she was late. “And you never want to have people over, to entertain. When’s the last time you called on anyone for tea, or had anyone call on you?” She could not remember, didn’t care, and said so, much to Bryan’s distress. He delivered his discourse with barely concealed anger. “I know you love to dance, darling. I know you want to open a studio to teach. But you also have to remember that you’re a married woman now, and you’ve got obligations, not only to me and our marriage but to our friends and society in general. I’m told you leave here every morning right after I do, and you’re gone all day— supposedly at that infernal studio.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s got to stop. You’ve got to put yourself on a schedule and make time for other things, Jade. You’re really making me unhappy.” “I don’t mean to,” she assured him with all honesty, “but you have to understand I’m my own person, Bryan, and there are other things important to

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me besides teas and parties. I don’t think you’re being fair by saying I’m neglecting you or our marriage. I may be a bit late for dinner, but that’s not going to last much longer—just until the recital. We’ve got our evenings together after dinner, but you seem to waste the time nagging at me,” she added caustically. Bryan continued to be annoyed, but Jade was not about to have this particular dream thwarted. He’d see, she told him wearily each time he complained; it would all work out once she opened the studio and did maintain a schedule. At last, the studio was ready. The mirrors were in place, as were the polished barres. The floors were in prime condition. Dressing rooms were painted and papered, with privacy drapes. Tall, gleaming windows were cleaned to afford as much sunlight as possible. The walls were painted a light peach, trimmed in pale green. Jade’s office was an alcove hidden behind a privacy screen and many potted plants. After addressing nearly fifty invitations herself, Jade handed the very first she’d done to Bryan, with a personal plea to attend. “It’s to be a tea dance,” she explained. “At two in the afternoon Wednesday. Refreshments will be served, and I’ve got a violinist to play for me to dance. I’m showing off the studio as well as the dances I plan to teach, but mostly I’ll be dancing ballet,” she stated proudly. “You’ve never seen me perform, Bryan, and I’d like you to be there.” As much as Bryan loved Jade, her dancing was a part of her life he could not share, a part he knew he could never possess. Call it jealousy, pride, resentment, whatever, he’d have no part of being a spectator to the one thorn in his rose of happiness. “I’ve got a business meeting,” he declined curtly, waspishly.

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Jade was hurt but didn’t say anything. It was a lie, she knew, but so be it. Sooner or later he’d realize that dancing and her studio held no threat, that it was just an extension of her that she needed in order to have an identity of her own. On the morning of the tea dance, Jade did not go down to have breakfast with Bryan. She’d pretended to be asleep when he’d awakened. She was afraid she might break down and ask him one more time to attend, and that would be begging—something she wasn’t prone to do. She’d invited him. He’d declined. No need in chewing an old bone. She had designed her own costume of pink satin and lace, with a knee-length tutu skirt. She also adorned herself with jewels, as was the fashion of ballerinas. She swept her long red hair back from her face in a sleek chignon, then settled a wreath of tiny silk rosettes and pressed lace and ribbons as a kind of crown. The tights she’d ordered from Paris had finally arrived, as well as the precious points shoes with their wide span of satin ribbons which she expertly wrapped about her ankles to mid-calf. She was going to give a recital from two of her favorite ballets—the role of the White Cat from The Sleeping Beauty and then the saucy L’Ombre, which featured many tricky toeholds and intricate moves that would truly illustrate the beauty of ballet. Later, she would change from pointes to simple slippers in order to illustrate the waltz. Lita was there, of course, to help with serving and greeting guests. Again and again she begged Jade to teach her basic steps and was assured she could become a student, despite her age and lack of experience. Almost everyone invited had accepted, and a half hour before the appointed time, Jade was delighted to see the studio was crowded with guests. Excitedly she realized that if even half of those attending signed up their children, or

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themselves, for various classes, she’d have to find assistants to help—or Bryan would have legitimate cause to complain of neglect. Jade and Lita were standing behind the privacy screen of her office, peering out at the crowd, when Lita suddenly gasped, “Oh, heavens, why did you invite her?” Following Lita’s wide-eyed gaze, Jade saw Mrs. Geneva Stokes. “I seem to run into her everywhere I go,” she said with a shrug. “It’d be a social slap not to include her.” “She’s a vicious gossip.” Jade agreed. “Well, watch what you say, then. That’s the only way to be around her kind.” “Look, more flowers!” Lita squealed. Jade saw a delivery boy coming through the door, and he seemed weighted down with the largest arrangement of yellow roses she’d ever seen. “I didn’t order roses,” she murmured incredulously, lips curving in a warm, grateful smile, “but obviously Mr. Stevens did.” She made her way across the crowded room, not liking to show off her costume, but anticipation over reading Bryan’s card was too tempting. She showed the delivery boy where to place the flowers, right next to the stage, then tore open the envelope. Beside her, Lita exulted, “Oh, they’re gorgeous, just gorgeous. Maybe this means he’ll come after all.” Jade blinked back happy tears and whispered, “Maybe so.” But then she was staring, furious at the scrawled message on the card. It could not be so! My dear Mrs. Stevens… Her disbelieving eyes scanned the note. Please accept this floral offering as an advance apology for attending your tea dance uninvited. I heard about it and could not stay away. Thank you in advance for your understanding and forgiveness. Sincerely, John Travis Coltrane.

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Somewhere, far, far away it seemed to Jade, a violin began to play the sweet, lilting music of Tchaikovsky. Lita was looking over her shoulder at the card. “Who’s that? Who’s John Travis Coltrane? I don’t think I know him…” Suddenly she snapped her fingers. “Oh, yes, I do!” She was so eager to remember she did not notice the way Jade’s fingers began to shake so badly that the card fluttered to the floor. “He married Mrs. Triesta Vordane’s homely daughter, Lorena, while they were on a holiday in Europe,” Lita went on in a rush. “I remember how surprised everyone was when they got back and said Lorena was married, especially to such a handsome man. I mean, she isn’t very pretty, and Mrs. Vordane is such an unpleasant sort. Everyone was sure Lorena was doomed to spinsterhood.” She paused to giggle, bent to pick up the note after realizing Jade had dropped it, then pondered, “I wonder why he wanted to come here?” Jade ignored her as she glanced about anxiously, every nerve in her body taut. Dear God, why would he do such a thing? Why did he want to torment her so? Was it to get even for her having gone to his house? Well, she’d just have to find him, tell him she was sorry, that she’d play according to his rules, pretend she didn’t know him, had never known him, if only he’d go away and leave her alone. This kind of thing she just couldn’t tolerate. “My dear, aren’t you going to entertain us?” Jade glanced up to see Mrs. Stokes watching her with a curious gleam in her eyes. Good heavens, her panic probably showed on her face, and she could see that Lita was staring at her, also puzzled by her behavior. Quickly, she scanned the room once more. Colt was nowhere to be seen. In fact, there were very few men in attendance at all. She counted five. Mrs. Stokes touched her arm, leaned forward to solicitously, nosily, inquire, “Is something wrong, dear? Is there something I can do?”

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Jade made herself take a deep breath, lift her head, and declare, in a sure, even tone, “No, of course not. What could be wrong? I’m going to dance now.” She started walking toward the little area she’d roped off for a stage. It was a mean, cruel trick, she decided. Colt had sent the flowers and the note to upset her, perhaps to make her lose concentration and dance terribly—all to punish her for daring to go to his home. Fine. It had almost worked, but not quite, because she’d be damned if she’d let it ruin her performance. One thing was for certain, though—he’d never have to worry about her bothering him, his so-called wife, or hateful mother-in-law ever again. Besides, she entertained the delicious thought, having Triesta for a mother-in-law was surely retribution of a kind anyway. Jade took her position in the middle of her improvised stage, and a polite hush fell over the crowd. As the music filled the room, Jade slowly raised her arms and began to dance. When she finished, the room exploded with applause, and Jade made a sweeping curtsy for her audience. Then she announced that the studio was officially open and was accepting applications for students as young as six years of age, as old as fifteen, for ballet, but all ages would be accepted for waltz and other ballroom dances. Again there was applause, and she escaped to one of the dressing alcoves where Lita waited with a long velvet robe to cover her costume. As bad as she hated to ask, Jade, hoping her voice sounded disinterested, inquired, “That man who sent the roses, Mr. Coltrane…did he show up?” Lita thought a moment, then shook her head. “Nobody else came in, so I don’t think so.” Jade breathed a sigh of relief, pushed the velvet curtain aside, and stepped out to greet her guests. They surged forward to congratulate and praise her, and

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then, after sipping tea, nibbling cakes and cookies, began to leave. Jade found herself wanting them all to go, yet dreading the time when she was alone, for the memories would come back to haunt, she knew. “Mrs. Stevens…” Jade heard the familiar voice just behind her and was benumbed. She was no longer aware of the woman who’d been talking to her about enrolling her eightyear-old daughter in classes, for her mind, as well as her heart, seemed to be frozen in time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Colt stepped around to stand beside her. She was dimly aware of his polite nod to the woman she’d been speaking with, and suddenly she felt vulnerable, her emotions exposed for all the world to see. “Well, I’ll get in touch with you about Abigail.” The woman moved away, anxious to have more cake. “I hope you don’t find me presumptuous.” Jade looked up at him incredulously. Good grief, what kind of sick joke was he playing? Why was he torturing her? Dimly, dizzily, through the thick fog that was slowly engulfing her, suffocating, squeezing, she acknowledged he was as handsome as ever. The warm steel-gray eyes framed by thick dark lashes, the firmly chiseled features of his face, the familiar way the corner of his mouth turned up as he grinned, almost mockingly. God forgive her, but she actually had a fleeting memory of how that sensuous mouth felt when he’d kissed her. What was wrong with her? She should be screaming at him, hating him, demanding an explanation for his torment but instead was assailed with burning memories of past desire. He was staring down at her curiously. Why? Surely he knew what she was feeling. Yet he stood there so expectantly innocent.

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He raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to one side. “My God, you really are angry, aren’t you? I’m terribly sorry. I meant no offense.” Shaking his head in shameful contrition, he rushed on to say, “I guess I did have my nerve, inviting myself, thinking the roses would smooth things over in case you were offended.” Jade could hardly speak but managed to croak the demand, “Why? Why did you come here? Haven’t you done enough to me?” He blinked emitted a nervous chuckle, murmured, “I don’t know what you mean. I wasn’t aware I’d done anything to you.” “The other night…” She spoke hoarsely, between clenched teeth, after glancing about to make sure no one could overhear. “At the Hayeses’ party. You came up to me on the terrace, pretended you didn’t know me…” “What?” he echoed, laughing once more, for he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Mrs. Stevens, I’m sorry.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m afraid I have to admit I do lots of strange things sometimes. I know it’s not an excuse, but I had an accident awhile back, and sometimes things just get confusing, but I wanted to speak to you the other night, because I found you so beautiful, and you reminded me of…” his voice trailed off, and he actually took a step backward, away from her, as though suddenly burned, “…someone I thought I knew, though I can’t remember. It was your dancing. Maybe you remind me of a dancer I once saw somewhere. “Well…” He gave a lopsided smile, shrugged, face slightly flushed with embarrassment. “All I can do is apologize again. I didn’t realize you’d be so angry.” Jade felt as though she’d been hit full in the face by a drenching of ice water. Their eyes met, held, and, dear Lord, she knew, somehow, in that bonechilling instant, that he was not putting on an act. He really and truly did not know who she was!

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“Well…” He nervously twisted his dapper straw hat in his hands. “I guess I shouldn’t have come. I did want to see you dance, though, and I’m glad I did, even if you are angry.” He flashed the old devil-may-care look that always thrilled her, then spun on his heel and left. Lita appeared at her side as if by magic. “He did show up.” She shook her head, staring after him. “I still don’t understand what a man like that sees in Lorena Vordane.” Jade stiffened, snapped, “Lita, sometimes you forget your place.” She walked back into the dressing room, needing to be alone. Now she was more confused and baffled than ever. Colt really did not know who she was. He’d mentioned an injury, how sometimes he did strange things. Was that what had led him to marry Lorena? But no matter if it was; if he didn’t know who she was, then perhaps he didn’t even know he’d been married before. Perhaps, she contemplated with a lump of constricting fear in her throat, he didn’t even know who he was. What was she going to do about it? What could she do about it? Did she even have a right to pursue this? Maybe not, she argued with herself. After all, they each had their own lives now, were committed to other people. But surely she had a moral obligation to find out the truth, didn’t she? She couldn’t just walk away and not find out what had really happened to him. She owed it to him, to herself, and yes, whether right or wrong, she knew she owed it to their love…and the dreams they’d once shared. Bryan. Above all, Bryan was her friend. And she felt the sudden need to talk to him, to share all the strange feelings and doubts and frustrations. He’d be a shoulder to lean on, and he’d no doubt agree she should get to the bottom of whatever

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was going on. After all, she fondly recalled, he was the one who’d insisted on hiring a private detective agency to learn the truth. That evening, Jade instructed that dinner be served in the master suite, “with champagne ready to be poured the second Mr. Stevens gets home.” She took a long, leisurely bath, had a glass of brandy to ease her tension. She wanted a totally relaxed atmosphere, because if Bryan mistook her anxiety for anything other than what it was, well, he was jealous enough of her studio without suspicions of nurtured feelings for Colt adding to it. She had just finished brushing her hair, long and loose, to fall around her shoulders when Bryan arrived. She was wearing his favorite leisurely ensemble—a gossamer white gown with matching satin robe, edged in delicate lace and tiny pink bows. She padded across the room to greet him with a hug, a kiss, and a whispered “Oh, Bryan, I’m so glad you’re home.” He smiled, pleased but suspicious. Removing his coat, then cravat, he accepted the paisley smoking jacket she offered. “How’d the recital go?” he asked, after the usual small talk about his day. Bursting to tell him everything, Jade was about to begin when a servant arrived with dinner trays. Anxiously she waited while their places were set on a white-linen-covered table by the window overlooking the river. The delicious smells of roast chicken, fresh-baked bread, and spiced apples filled the air. Bryan noticed her nervousness and asked, “Is something wrong?” “No, no,” she said, deciding it would be best to wait until after they’d eaten to tell him about Colt. So instead, she launched into a description of the successful recital and tea. Finally, after Bryan had eaten his fill, while she’d barely picked at her food, and he seemed properly mellow with coffee and cognac, Jade settled onto the

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cushions of the window seat. Tucking her feet beneath her, she drew in her breath, let it out slowly, offered a silent prayer for the right words, then said, “I’ve seen Colt.” Bryan had been in the act of lifting his cup to his mouth, but upon hearing her declaration, dropped it with a clatter and a hot slosh of liquid in the saucer. “What did you say?” he gasped, turning pale. Jade swallowed hard, repeated, “I’ve seen Colt.” His voice was ominous. “Where? When?” “First, at the Hayeses’ party,” she said quietly. “Then today, at my recital.” He glared at her, tight-lipped, grim. “You invited him to your studio? Why?” Quickly, she shook her head. “No, no, you don’t understand. He doesn’t even know who I am. It’s so sad, Bryan, really.” She went on in a rush to tell him everything, about the conversation on the Hayeses’ terrace, the roses he’d sent to smooth over his inviting himself to the recital. Finally, she repeated, “And he doesn’t know who I am, Bryan. Something strange is going on. I don’t think he even knows who he is.” Bryan had begun to relax as she spoke, and very gently said, “Well, what did you expect, Jade? That he’d go charging up to you in front of everyone and shout how glad he was to hear his first wife isn’t dead? Think about it, my dear.” He flashed a sardonic smile. “He’s not a stupid man. He’s remarried, has a new baby, and he’s not going to jeopardize all that and cause a lot of gossip. It’s easier to pretend he doesn’t know you. And you’d be wise to do the same.” “You’re wrong, Bryan. Colt isn’t pretending. I thought so, too, at first, but today, at the studio, he looked me straight in the eye, and I could see he wasn’t putting on an act. He really doesn’t know me.” Bryan’s laugh was patronizing. “Come now, Jade. It has to be an act. Why else would he show up at your studio? No doubt to let you know, once and for

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all, this is the way he’s going to handle any future social encounters. I think it’s a wonderful idea. I commend him for it. So why are you upset?” Teeth clamped together in frustration, she bitingly repeated herself. “Because I don’t think it’s an act. I think he’s really and truly suffering from amnesia of some kind.” She leaned forward, hand outstretched imploringly. “I need your help, Bryan, because I think we should find out what’s going on.” He did not take her hand. “Have you lost your mind? I don’t care what’s going on, and neither should you. We’re married, for God’s sake. Coltrane is a part of your past, and dammit, I’m not going to tolerate you chasing around asking a lot of questions that no longer concern either one of us and get a lot of gossip started.” He had begun to pace around the room, suddenly whirled and hotly announced, “I’m going to hire security guards to make sure he doesn’t come around anymore. Now that I think about it, he might be suffering from some kind of brain damage, not safe to be around. Maybe he does remember you and wants to make trouble. I’ll see that he doesn’t.” He balled his hand into a fist, shook it at her. Jade was stunned, horrified by Bryan’s reaction and behavior. She’d expected understanding, compassion; certainly not what she was observing. “He’s not a lunatic,” Jade coolly said. “And I don’t need bodyguards. I wanted your help, but it’s obvious I won’t get it.” “I won’t help, and you aren’t going to pursue it. Leave it alone, Jade. I’m your husband. You’re my wife, and that’s an order.” She stared at him, aghast. “That’s right.” He nodded firmly. “An order. The first real order I’ve ever given you. And by God, you’re going to obey me, or I swear I’ll take you to the island and leave you there. I’ve worked too hard, too long, to get where I am…to

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have the kind of marriage we’ve got, the social acceptance, and I won’t see it destroyed because you aren’t able to forget the past!” He went to the door, opened it, paused, and turned to look at her, eyes flashing with anger. “I mean what I say.” His voice was raspy. “Stay away from Coltrane, and he’d better stay away from you. I love you, Jade, more than my life, and I won’t lose you, and I swear I’ll kill anybody who tries to take you from me!” “Bryan, you don’t understand. Listen, please…you aren’t going to lose me— ” He closed the door on her plea, went into his bedroom, where he never slept; he always slept in her room, in her bed. But not this night. As for Jade, she knew she’d never know another moment’s peace until she learned exactly what had happened to Colt.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next morning, Bryan was already seated at the head of the table and did not glance up from the newspaper he was reading when Jade entered the breakfast room. Jade sat down, quietly said, “Good morning.” He did not respond. Fine, she thought, unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap. If he wants to give me the silent treatment, let him. Two can play this game. She drank her coffee, juice, ate two slices of toast. Bryan remained behind his newspaper, ignoring her. When she had finished, she reached over and gently pushed down his paper and informed him of the decision she’d made during the long, haunted night. “I think it would be best if I went up to the house in the country for a few days.” He glanced at her with only mild surprise, then, as he considered it, began to slowly nod, first to himself, then to her. “Yes, I think that would be wise, Jade. Take Lita and enjoy yourself. You need the rest, after all the work you’ve done on the studio. I’ll try to get up this weekend, but I can’t make any promises. Business is booming. Seems like everyone wants to get into yachting these days, and it’s getting harder and harder for me to get away.” He went back to reading his paper and did not see the fire in her eyes as she resentfully contemplated him. She hated the way he treated her like a willful child, so indulgent, so patronizing. She hated that almost as much as she hated the way he was so smothering; she felt, at times, like a dainty Dresden doll

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whose only function was to sit on a shelf for people to admire. That’s what Bryan wanted her to be—an adornment—to him. He loved her, yes. No doubt about that. But he loved her as a child loves a toy. He wanted to play with her, then put her back on the shelf; or direct her like a puppet in a show, to entertain others, to make him look good—the proud owner of such a fine possession. Even though she cared for him deeply, was grateful for all he’d done for her, Jade was not going to be his little mindless marionette. As for what to do about Colt, well, that was one of the reasons she was going to the country—to sort out all her thoughts and decide the best course of action. She went upstairs to pack, and it wasn’t long before Lita came in to happily offer assistance since she was ready to go herself. Jade felt herself bristling, kept her back turned so the fury on her face would not be seen. She hated the way Bryan and Lita seemed to constantly conspire behind her back. Pretending not to know what Lita meant, Jade innocently asked, “Ready to go where?” At once, Lita sputtered, “Why—why, to the country, of course. Mr. Stevens told me to pack my things, that you and I—” “No!” Jade couldn’t keep the ice from her tone but still didn’t turn around, continued putting things in her valise. “You‘re staying here, to work at the studio.” “What for?” Lita cried. “To register students, of course. I certainly can’t have a grand-opening tea dance and then close the doors for a few days, now can I?” Pasting a pleasant look on her face, Jade turned. “Well, can I?” Lita looked uncertain…and disappointed. “But Mr. Stevens said—” “You don’t work for Mr. Stevens,” Jade curtly reminded her. “You work for me. He rehired you to take care of the house while we were away, and I let you

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stay on as a kindness, Lita, so you take your orders from me, and right now they are to remain here and keep my studio open daily.” She turned back to her packing, could feel Lita’s burning gaze of belligerence. Finally, she heard her emit a furious sigh of exasperation, then stalk from the room. Jade left the house immediately, knowing Lita would be on the telephone to Bryan to let him know what had happened. He might come rushing home to argue, and she didn’t want a scene. By noon she was at the country estate, grateful to be alone. However, as was the custom, she sent Mr. Jenkinson, the caretaker, with a message to the Hayeses to let them know she was in residence for a week or more, extending to them an open invitation to visit. In turn, he came back with a formal invitation to a dinner party they were having on Saturday night. She accepted, not because it was expected, but because she genuinely liked Cornelia Hayes. She also told her housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkinson, that when she did the marketing to make sure she had provisions for tea should anyone drop by. Jade drank in the solitude, the sweetness of the country-fresh air, the lassitude of the river rolling before the mansion’s sweeping lawn…but only in her waking hours did she experience such serenity. Dream time brought anxiety, unrest, for that was when Colt’s lost and lonely face swam before her, as though miserably reflecting that peace had escaped him for all time. Jade spent much of her first two days in the countryside riding her bicycle, then decided to take out one of Bryan’s prize Arabian stallions. Though it had been a long time since she’d been riding, her early years of training served her well, and she was instantly at ease. Reveling in the wind in her face, dappled sunlight teasing from leafy branches above, she rode the trails for endless hours. Now and then she would

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stop at picturesque bluffs overlooking the river, dismount and rest and contemplate her future in the whispery clouds of the cobalt sky. Finally, after four days of soul-searching, she admitted to herself what she had known all along: she had to conduct her own investigation into Colt’s situation if she was to know any solace in her life. Bryan had forbidden it, but his opposition was not to be considered. In the long run, he would benefit most, because until she resolved whatever obligations she had to Colt’s welfare and well-being, she could not give herself completely to her marriage. It was not, she truthfully acknowledged within, a matter of whether or not she still loved Colt. It would probably be ludicrous to think she could ever entirely lay aside the wondrous feelings she’d had for him. But he belonged to another now, right or wrong, illegal or legal, just as she did. And in Colt’s case, there was an innocent baby involved, and she was neither homewrecker nor heartbreaker. All she wanted to do, felt she had to do, was find out the truth. Bryan sent word, along with his displeasure over her not taking Lita with her, that his work would keep him from joining her for the weekend. Jade didn’t really care, and after several days of solitude, except for conversing with the servants, welcomed the evening at the Hayeses. It was a warm night, even though a slight hint of autumn was in the air. She chose a pale lavender gown of soft, thin velvet. The sleeves were capped, the lines of the dress delicately trailing down her chest to provocatively curve her bosom before dropping straight to the floor in the sleek Empress Josephine style she adored, though it was no longer considered high fashion. Mr. Jenkinson drove her to the estate, and when she inquired from the Hayes butler as to when he could call for her, was told Mr. Hayes had said he’d see her home. She dismissed him, then went inside the beautiful house.

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Cornelia was waiting in the foyer to warmly greet her, then draw her on into the smaller receiving parlor as she explained the dinner party was not large. Jade remarked worriedly that she hoped she did not unbalance her seating since Bryan could not come. “Oh, no,” Cornelia was quick to inform her. “In fact, you balanced things— made a nice, even dozen. I had invited a young man who’s visiting his wife’s family’s home up here, but she couldn’t come with him because she just had a baby, and…” It was as though an iron vise settled over Jade, shutting out all sound. She could no longer hear Cornelia Hayes speaking, for, as they entered the parlor where the other guests were sitting around on plush divans, sipping champagne, Jade was deaf and dumb to every sound and sight in her midst—except for Colt. He stood as she entered, first among the other men, and he came forward, gray eyes shining with warmth. “Jade, dear.” She felt Cornelia Hayes touch her arm, and she forced herself from her embryo of isolation to see that Cornelia was staring at her, bewildered by her sudden state of paralysis. “I’m sorry.” Jade forced a laugh. “I was so impressed by the beauty of your home, as always, and I wasn’t listening.” The pretense worked. Cornelia beamed proudly. Then she announced her and introduced the other guests, leaving Colt for last. “And here is our other solitary soul tonight, Mr. John Travis Coltrane, but his friends know him simply as Colt,” she affectionately pointed out. He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, then softly said, “We’ve met. Mrs. Stevens kindly allowed me to attend her recital, and she was as beautiful a dancer as she is a lady.”

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Jade realized he was devouring her with his eyes and caressing her with his voice. Afraid the others might notice, she drew back her hand quickly. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Coltrane, and I’m glad I was able to keep you from being the odd man at the table.” She looked at Cornelia. “If I might have a glass of champagne, maybe I can catch up with everyone.” She prayed no one would see the way she was trembling. Colt politely obliged, turning from her, and Jade immediately sought the company of another couple she’d met previously. When Colt returned with her drink, she thanked him, pointedly turning her back so he was not included in the intimate circle. She did not mean to be rude, intended, to speak with him later, in private, but she didn’t trust herself in front of these people. Jade could feel Colt’s eyes upon her, like a hungry cat watching an unobtainable mouse. She winced when she heard one of the ladies inquire of him, “How are your wife and that precious baby?” His response was proud as he described how his son, although born early, was growing like the proverbial weed, cooing and laughing, the delight of his eye. She did not miss the cool, offhanded way he spoke of Lorena, merely remarking that she was ‘‘fine”. At last a black-coated servant appeared in the doorway to announce dinner was served. Everyone began to move in the direction of the dining room, and Jade pretended to be absolutely engrossed in listening to Mrs. Wilhelmina Strover’s glowing account of a trip to visit her spinster sister all the way down in New Orleans, Louisiana. All the while she prayed she’d not be seated anywhere near Colt. Then she saw the place cards and knew it was not her lucky day: they were seated opposite each other. Oh, why was he here? she fumed inwardly. She knew she wanted to see him, talk to him, but at a time and place of her choosing…not in front of people who were always anxious to latch on to some new bit of sensational gossip about their social peers.

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Her curiosity over why he was here was, somewhat assuaged when they were being served the appetizer, and she heard Cornelia say, “I’m so glad you let me know you were staying at the Vordane house, Colt. I always like to include neighbors in residence when I’m entertaining, but sometimes I just don’t know who’s about till it’s too late. Next time, perhaps Lorena and the baby can come, too.” “Well, I don’t know about that,” he remarked as though it really didn’t matter. “Lorena likes to stay in the city, and I prefer the country.” Someone, Jade was not sure who, asked him, “Have you started work with the Vanderbilts yet?” She listened intently as she heard him explain that he wasn’t sure whether he would, because his headaches weren’t much better, and he really didn’t need the job anyway. Cornelia leaned over to Jade to whisper, “Poor man. The way I heard it, there was a bad storm at sea when he and Lorena were on their way home from Europe, and he fell, took a nasty blow on the head, and ever since he’s had problems—dizzy spells, headaches. Such a shame. They were on their honeymoon, too.” Hearing that, Jade could not resist asking Colt, “Where did you meet your wife, Mr. Coltrane?” With a shadow of vagueness, he replied, “Paris. We met in Paris. We were married there.” Jade was even more confused. He sounded like he was telling the truth, as though he actually believed what he was saying. But how could he think he’d married Lorena in Paris? Nothing made sense.

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The meal passed in a blur for Jade, and then Cornelia directed them to the parlor for dessert and coffee. Jade maneuvered herself across the room from Colt, as far away as she could get, but still, he continued to watch her every move. Finally, she decided it was late enough that she could ask Mr. Hayes to see her home without being rude. He nodded obligingly, and she bid her goodbyes to Cornelia and everyone else, then left to go and wait for the carriage at the front entrance. A carriage drew up at the bottom of the steps. She took the arm of the butler as he politely aided her in getting inside. She was about to express her appreciation to Mr. Hayes for seeing her home when suddenly she gasped. It was not Mr. Hayes but Colt who held the reins. “Why…” she asked in a feeble croak, hand moving to clutch her throat. “Why are you doing this to me?” He popped the reins, guiding the team of horses quickly into the night lest she leap from the carriage and refuse to ride with him. “I want to talk to you, Mrs. Stevens,” he said woodenly. “I want to know why you’re afraid of me.” “Afraid?” she echoed, then forced herself to lie, “But I don’t even know you.” He turned to look at her, and she saw that his face, illumined by moonlight, was etched with misery and despair. “Afraid,” he repeated, “or angry. Whichever. I want to know why. What have I done to you in the past that I can’t remember? And I can’t remember it, you see…the past…” For an instant, hearing the way his voice broke, Jade thought he was about to cry, but he quickly recovered, stiffly, to brusquely continue. “I’m drawn to you, and I don’t know why. That first night I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and when you danced, a strange feeling came over me that I’d known you before. Then, when I

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saw you go out on the terrace and went out to introduce myself, you looked at me as if I were a ghost. You turned as white as one yourself. I’d like to know why.” “I…I don’t know,” she lied, hedging, because she couldn’t be sure he was really telling the truth. Maybe Bryan was right. Maybe he did have an injury to his brain that had turned him into a lunatic. Maybe she was in danger. A sudden chill moved up and down her spine. She was alone with him, out on a remote country road. If he suddenly went berserk, there, was no one to hear her scream. She was even more terrified when they reached a narrow dirt path that curved from the main road to an overlook where people went for the breathtaking view of the winding river below. “Why are you stopping here?” she demanded. “I want you to take me home. Now!” She raised her voice. There, in the quiet solitude, the moonlight spilling downward to paint them in an eerie silver glow, Colt turned to look at her, really look at her, as though trying desperately to see inside her very soul. And as he stared hard at her, Jade saw that something was happening in his eyes. A shifting. It was like movement in a subtle kaleidoscopic pattern that was composed of bits of smoked glass, all the same beautiful gray color. And she knew. Beyond all doubt. In that instant, she knew that he was not lying, not pretending. In a small, choking whisper, she said, “You really don’t know who I am, do you?” He shook his head. “And we aren’t leaving here till you tell me why I’m supposed to.” Jade was flustered, confused, could not bring herself to tell him, did not dare. Not yet. Not until she had all the answers. “You have a wife, a son,” she said tightly, pointedly. “Don’t you think it a bit improper to be here, alone with

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another woman—a married woman, at that? Don’t you think we’re inviting gossip and scandal?” He grinned, that lopsided grin that had thrilled her the first time it was directed at her. “I think you’d better know something, Mrs. Stevens…Jade,” he said with a curt nod of dared familiarity. “I may be married, but there’s some reason I’m drawn to you, and I think you feel the same way, though you’re scared to admit it. That’s why I had to see you again.” He told her that he had returned to the studio and learned from the woman working there that she had gone up to the Valley, so he had followed. “I heard the Hayeses were having a dinner party tonight, and I figured you’d be there, so I got myself invited. And to answer your question, I don’t give a damn what people think.” Oh, God, none of her resolves mattered now, Jade thought miserably. All those painful, anguished hours when she’d sworn never to think of him again, to push away for always and always the wondrous, soul-trembling memories of the happy moments they’d shared, the love that smoldered between them. No, none of those things mattered now, because he was here, sitting so close she could feel him against her…reach out and touch him if she dared, and it was Bryan who so rapidly faded from mind and existence. Suddenly she was reaching out with trembling fingertips…to actually touch the one and only man who had ever really and truly set her soul, and body, on fire. Abruptly, with a moan deep and low in his throat, Colt pulled her against him, lips bruising hers with a searing kiss. Jade could not resist, did not try, and melted against him, reveling in the wonder she had thought lost to her forever. When at last he released her, his eyes burned into hers, and his breath upon her face was hot, ragged. “I don’t know who you are, but I know I’ve kissed you before, held you before…made love to you…

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“And, goddammit,” he swore fervently just before his lips claimed hers once more, “I’m going to do it again…”

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He drew her from the carriage, then took her hand in his and led her to a grassy knoll where night birds sang their plaintive melodies amidst the chorus of the whispering black river below. He pulled her down beside him to the bed earth provided. The moon, as though endeavoring to give them privacy, discreetly slipped behind a silver cloud. A thousand diamond star shards twinkled their approval against the backdrop of a mystical velvet sky. “I don’t know who you are,” Colt whispered, gathering her in his arms tenderly, possessively, “I only know I’ve loved you before…” Jade made no protest, could not deny the cry of her heart. She felt no hesitation, no guilt, for this was the man to whom she truly belonged, and always would. She wound her hands about his broad shoulders, caressing his skin, holding him close. His lips sought and found hers, and as they melded together in a burning kiss, his hands moved deftly to her clothing. Feeling an urgency, a desire unleashed she’d thought tamed by another, Jade worked with him till she was naked before him. He raised up on one elbow to gaze down at her, murmuring, “Lovely…so lovely.” His lips found hers once more, while his hand traveled downward in a teasing descent. He caressed the slimness of her waist, the swell of her hip, and the flatness of her belly. Instinctively, her hips arched against him as fire licked at her veins in familiar, uninhibited response.

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“Take me,” she begged shamelessly, nails raking the hard flesh of his back as she urged him onward. “Take me, Colt, please—” He moved to mount her as the moon dared to slip from behind cover to cast an ethereal glow upon their naked, perspiration-slick bodies. “I’ve loved you before,” he huskily proclaimed once more. “I don’t know where or when, but I’ve known this joy before…but never since.” He entered her, and Jade moaned with delight at the deliciously fierce assault. Time reverted, and there’d been no ’twixt and ’tween those wondrous falling-in-love days they’d known in Russia, France, and the honeymoon splendor spent cruising the seas on the Imperial yacht. This was heaven, this was now, and Jade prayed the moment would never end. Together they left the world, soaring into the realm of ecstasy. When they finally drifted their way back to earth, Jade knew this was where she belonged…but was suddenly and painfully aware she had no right to remain. The visit to paradise was an illusion—she could not take up permanent residence…did not have the right. This was all they could ever have, and it was this reality that brought tears to her eyes. Colt held her tenderly against him as he urged, “Tell me who you are. Tell me when, where, we loved before.” “You tell me something, Colt. Tell me all about your marriage, how you came to marry Lorena Vordane.” His sigh was one of deep vexation, and he rolled away from her to lie on his back and stare pensively into the night. “What can I tell you? I know only what I’ve been told—that we met in Paris, where I was visiting my family. We fell madly in love. We got married. Then, when we were coming here, on our honeymoon, there was a bad storm at sea. I fell. Something struck my head. I don’t remember anything,” he finished miserably.

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Anxiously Jade wanted to know, “What do your doctors say—about the possibility of you getting your memory back?” He gave a helpless shrug. “Oh, they don’t know much about this kind of thing. Maybe I never will, and then maybe I’ll wake up one morning and remember everything. Who knows?” He rolled over onto his side to place his arm across her waist and gaze down at her lovingly. “I’d reached the point I didn’t care. I mean, I do have a son, and since he was born, he gives me some reason for living. Lorena and I—well, to be honest with you, I can’t figure out why I would ever love someone like her. She’s sweet, kind, and she’d make somebody else a wonderful wife—but not me. The feelings just aren’t there. Anyway, as I said, I’d reached the point I didn’t care. I accepted my life for what it was.” His smile in the faint moonlight was bittersweet. “But then I saw you, and everything turned upside down. I was driven, like a man gone mad, to find out who you were, and even though I still don’t know that, I know I did love you before, and now I’ve got to know how I could have ever let you go. And how did I wind up married to Lorena? How did I get from there to here? You can tell me, Jade, please…” He searched her face in desperation for some kind of answer to his torment. She closed her eyes, struggling for the wisdom to say the right things, but so many other thoughts were crowding her mind—such as why did Lorena tell him they had been married in Paris? And what was behind her scheme to trick him? When Jade had talked with her on the ship, she’d claimed to be madly in love with the young man her mother had made her leave. And hadn’t Bryan said he thought they’d married after arriving in New York? Just what, exactly, did the Pinkerton report say? She recalled with annoyance that he’d snatched it from her

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hand, wouldn’t let her read it herself. Why? What was he hiding? And what was Lorena hiding? Jade asked another question. “Your family in France. What do you hear from them?” He was puzzled by her inquiry. “Did you know them? Is that where we knew each other before? Paris? You have a slight accent, but I don’t distinguish it as being French. A mixture…” “Russian and Irish.” She saw no harm in telling him that much, then suddenly decided she didn’t have to tell him the whole story, just enough to soothe his desperation. “We were lovers in Europe, Colt. We knew each other there. A long time ago. I met your family.” He grinned, relieved. “Then I’m not losing my mind. I did know you before, but why—” “Your family,” she prodded again, wanting to skirt the other subject. “What do you hear from them?” “Lorena takes care of all the correspondence with them, and she says they’re fine.” He went on to explain lest she think him uncaring where his family was concerned. “You see, reading and writing seem to provoke my headaches, so I let her handle all that.” How convenient! Jade thought. Suddenly Jade sat up straight as yet another question assailed her. Were Colt and Lorena really married…or had Lorena just told him they were? Had there even been a ceremony? If so, why the lie about Paris—because the wedding damn well could not have taken place there! So many, many unanswered questions! Colt sensed her sudden anxiety. “What’s wrong? What are you thinking?”

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Jade knew she had to be very, very careful now. She did not want to answer any of his questions, or ask any more of her own, until she saw that Pinkerton report for herself. Finally she told him it had all been a shock, seeing him again, that she wanted time to think things over. “After all, we’re married to other people now, Colt. What we’re doing is dangerous.” He reached out and pulled her down beside him once more, raining kisses over her face, her throat, her breasts, her belly, as he feverishly, fervently avowed, “I don’t know why I let you go. I had to have been the world’s biggest fool, but I tell you one thing, my love…if this is all we can have, then so be it, because I won’t lose you again…whoever you are.”

He took her home so late that all the servants were asleep, and the next morning Jade excitedly rode her horse out early to meet him in the woods. They had agreed that no one could know they were seeing each other. Their relationship had to be kept secret at all costs. Jade further confessed she did love him but would not discuss the future. Dear Lord, how could she worry about the future when she couldn’t understand the present? They were together all day, and that night Jade waited till the servants slept, then sneaked outside to where he waited on his horse. She rode behind him to their secret bluff overlooking the river. There, lying on a blanket he’d brought, they made love eagerly, as though they could not get enough of each other. Then, when exhausted, they spent the rest of the time trying to fit the pieces of Colt’s past together with Jade’s. He told her the first memory he had was of waking up in a hospital in New York. “They tell me I was laid up for a long time—a couple of months. Blinding

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headaches. Dizzy spells. All I knew was that I was married. Lorena was a complete stranger, but I was aware she was always there, beside my bed, during the times I’d come and go from consciousness to the black pit where I seemed to want to stay. Then I started staying awake longer and longer, and one day they said I could leave the hospital. By then Lorena knew she was going to have a baby, and I guess she got that way on the ship. Anyway, I don’t remember that, either. In fact…” He paused to laugh with a touch of bitterness. “I can’t remember ever making love to her.” “But now?” Jade dared to ask. “Since the baby—?” “She moved into the nursery when I came home from the hospital,” he told her, “and she’s stayed there since after Andy was born.” “Andy?” Pride was evident as he declared, “Andrew Matthew, after her grandfather. Lorena adored him. The estate up here was built by him, but it belongs to Mrs. Vordane now, like everything else,” he added grimly. “So!” she teased, happy with what Colt had told her. “Now we know the reason you claim to have been so drawn to me. Your wife closed her door, so you were just looking for any woman to satisfy your male urges, weren’t you?” He did not laugh, did not find her teasing humorous. He put his arms around her and pulled her so close against him she could hear the fierce pounding of his heart as he vehemently cried, “That’s not true, dammit, and you know it. You know things you aren’t telling me, Jade. You and I loved once, and we loved hard, and we loved strong, and something terrible tore us apart. You know what that something was, and by God, sooner or later you’re going to tell me.’’

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He was holding her so tightly she had to struggle against him to breathe, and, shaken by his ferocity, his nearness, she feebly affirmed, “Yes, one day I will, but not now. There are things I’ve got to do first…before I have that right.” “Then do them,” he said, almost savagely, “but for now, show me how you once loved me…”

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Chapter Thirty

Jade found herself in the first painful quandary of her life. Colt begged her to tell him the truth; she could not. He said they had to find a way to be together forever, but how could they when there were so many hearts, so many lives involved? Bryan had never harmed her or hurt her, only loved her. Colt could not say Lorena had ever been cruel. And what about his child? So could they just walk away from people who loved them to selfishly be together? They could not, at this point, say yes; they also knew, beyond a doubt, that they could not turn from each other. When she returned to New York, body and lips warm with the memory of Colt’s caresses and kisses, Jade felt no guilt or sense of betrayal—only sadness…sadness to contemplate the maelstrom that each of their lives had become. The true torment came from wondering why it had all come to pass…and, by God, she intended to find out. Bryan was not home when she arrived on that Wednesday, and Lita arrogantly told her he had gone to Philadelphia on business and wouldn’t be back until the weekend. It seemed to please her to be able to say, “He wasn’t at all happy that you didn’t come back after the weekend, deciding to stay a few extra days, and he also didn’t like your not taking me with you.” “Well, that’s too bad,” Jade murmured, moving on to leaf through the stack of invitations that had arrived during her absence. “How did things go at the studio?”

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To Jade’s delight, Lita told her fourteen students had registered at the school during her absence—four adult couples for the waltz, and the rest were interested in ballet, which she was happiest to hear. Thursday morning, Jade rose early and left the house before anyone else was up and about so as to reach Bryan’s office before Miss Pearson arrived, and have a chance to look for the Pinkerton file. It was easy to let herself in, having found his keys in his bureau drawer. The building was quiet, deserted, and she speculated she had at least an hour to prowl about before anyone would arrive. Bryan’s private office was as neat and orderly as he was. There were no papers on his desk, so she turned first to his file cabinets. Leafing through those, she found nothing but business records. Then she went to his desk and began to rummage through the drawers, careful to put everything back as it was so he wouldn’t know anyone had been through his things. Still she found nothing. A glance at the giltwood cartel clock on the wall warned time was running out—it was nearly nine, and Miss Pearson would be coming in at any minute. She was about to leave when her eye fell on the large painting on the wall behind Bryan’s desk. Of course! She rushed toward it, remembering the safe there. He had opened it one day, taken out money to give to her because the banks were closed. She slid the painting to one side; her heart leaped at the sight of the round metal door, but sank once more when a quick yank on the handle told her it was locked. A combination, too, and she had no idea where it would be written. Damn, damn, damn, she cursed under her breath. The file was nowhere else to be found. It had to be in the safe! Just then she heard a sound from the outer office. She turned and through the frosted pane of Bryan’s door she could see the shadow of someone entering.

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Miss Pearson. Jade froze. What possible excuse could she use for being in Bryan’s office at such an early hour? Then, miraculously, Jade offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving to her guardian angel for blessing her with a quickly fabricated alibi. Hoping her expression looked properly agitated, she walked straight to the door, flung it open, and, to Miss Pearson’s wide, surprised eyes, breathlessly announced, “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. Honestly, Bryan can leave at the most inconvenient times!” Miss Pearson was at once solicitous. “Oh, what’s wrong, Mrs. Stevens? What can I do?” Jade anxiously waved her into Bryan’s office, feigning exasperation as she lied, “There’s an important paper connected with my studio that I can’t seem to find, and I’ve turned the house upside down. The only place it can be is in the safe, and I’ve forgotten the combination, and I can’t wait till he gets back.” She gave a helpless shrug. “I just hope you know it.” “Oh, of course!” It had worked. When the safe door was opened, Miss Pearson stepped back but made no move to leave Jade alone, and Jade had no intention of looking for the file in front of her. Airily, she motioned her to the door, said, “Thank you, thank you, but run along, dear. This is a personal matter…” She let her voice trail off pointedly. Bryan’s secretary took the hint. “Oh, of course. Just take your time. I’ll be outside if you need me.” “Oh, Miss Pearson,” Jade called shortly. She turned expectantly.

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Conspiringly, Jade grinned. “Let’s keep this between us girls, all right? I don’t want Bryan knowing what a featherhead I am. Might make him feel indispensable, you know.” Miss Pearson laughed knowingly. “Of course. I understand, and I won’t say a word. I may not be married, but I know how men are,” she added in camaraderie. Alone, hands trembling, Jade began to search through the papers in the safe. There were stock certificates, deeds to property, the usual business things. Then, in the very back, she found what she was looking for—a brown envelope scrawled with a single name that screamed out at her: COLTRANE. Feverishly, she withdrew it. Her knees began to buckle with the immensity of the moment, and she backed toward Bryan’s chair, eased herself down, breath coming in slow, even gasps. It was sealed, but that made no difference. Picking up a silver letter opener from the desk, she slit the envelope across the top, then took out the folded papers inside. She began to read, and slowly, like the creeping, crawling legs of a giant spider, a web of fury descended. Bryan had known everything! John Travis Coltrane, read the Pinkerton report, reportedly married to one Lorena Kathleen Vordane in Paris, France, August, 1893. Jade pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples as she stared down at the papers. “I don’t believe it,” she hoarsely whispered. “I just don’t believe it. Why? Dear God, why?” She read on, eyes widening ever more. The Pinkerton detectives had reported that Colt had been injured on board the ship, though they had been unable to ascertain the details of the accident. Checking hospital records, they found that when the ship had docked in New York, Colt had immediately been taken by ambulance to a private hospital where he had remained for

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approximately two months. During that time he had regained consciousness, but confidential interviews with one of his doctors revealed the diagnosis of amnesia due to a severe blow on the head. He was finally discharged to the care of his “wife”, and his prognosis was listed as “Unknown at this time”, which meant, Jade knew, that the doctors would not speculate as to whether Colt would ever regain his memory. She clenched her fists and pounded the desktop, hot tears of rage stinging her eyes. Bryan had known! She had no doubt as to why he’d kept the information from her; he knew that if she learned the truth, she would not have married him, and she wouldn’t have, by God. She’d had moved heaven and hell to reclaim her husband! No matter that Bryan’s motive was his love for her. She realized now that all along she’d never made any decisions in their relationship based on her love for him; it was always her awareness of how much he loved her. In the wake of discovering how deceitful he’d been, it was hard to remember ever loving Bryan in any way. No matter what the future held with Colt, one thing was clear: it was the beginning of the end of her marriage to Bryan. With rage ringing in her ears, Jade made her way past Miss Pearson and out of the building, the file clutched in her hand. Over on the street, she quickly decided to go to the private hospital mentioned in the report and speak with one of Colt’s doctors. She arrived at the hospital just before noon. It was situated at the top of a knoll—a stone and wood building of Tudor design. The driveway was lined with meticulously sculptured evergreens, and the entire area was surrounded by a high stone wall. The front gate, of ornate wrought iron, was closed, and a boredlooking guard sat in a little cubicle to one side.

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He did not return her greetings of a good afternoon, but instead crisply informed her, “Visiting hours aren’t till two, madam.” She presented her most beguiling smile. “Oh, I’m not here to visit a patient. I’m only in town for the day, and it’s very important that I speak with one of the doctors.” He regarded her skeptically. “Which doctor?” She randomly named one of the three from the report. “Dr. Compton. Dr. Iredell Compton.” He shook his head. “Sorry. He’s in Vienna. Won’t be back till maybe November, I hear.” Jade stiffened, cast aside the coaxing charm, became assertive. “Then I’ll speak with Dr. Nicholas Georgaide or Dr. Peter Grenovich. My good man”—she lifted her chin to give him a condescending look—“I told you that I’m only here for one day, and I have important business with one of those doctors. Now if you don’t admit me through this gate, I warn you, you’ll regret it.” He muttered under his breath that he had other things to do besides, argue, then got up and opened the gate, motioned her inside, and went back to his cubicle. She hurried up the driveway and entered the hospital through an archway, then heavy wooden doors. A pinch-faced nurse in white looked up at her coolly. “Yes? May I help you? Visiting hours aren’t—” “Till two. I know,” Jade brusquely finished for her. “I’m here to see either Dr. Georgaide or Dr. Grenovich about my brother, who was a patient here awhile back.” She went on to tell the story she’d made up on her way over, that she was visiting from France, her name was Daniella Coltrane, and she wanted to inquire about the present condition of her brother, John Travis “Colt” Coltrane.

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The nurse nodded as she spoke. “Yes, I remember Mr. Coltrane—a very handsome man, very charming. Everyone here regarded him highly. You just wait here a moment, and I’m sure one of the doctors will be happy to talk to you.” She disappeared behind a swinging door. Jade glanced about the room, noted with disinterest that it was furnished elegantly. Just being there, she realized, in the place where Colt had lain so very long, needing her, wanting her, and thinking Lorena was her, filled her with unbearable pain. And all the while she’d been so near, could have been there to see him through those anguished hours. Oh, damn Bryan, she thought with gritted teeth and clenched fists. She only hoped she could keep from him that she knew of his deception until she decided exactly what to do about it. And damn Lorena and her mother for their part, too. She looked forward to the day she would deal with them! At last the door swung open, and the nurse introduced Dr. Grenovich. “I think we’ll be more comfortable in my office, Miss Coltrane.” He beckoned her to follow him. He had a kind face, compassionate blue eyes, and Jade felt at ease with him as she sat before his desk and repeated her lie about being Colt’s sister. “What I want to know, Doctor…what the family wants to know is the truth about my brother’s condition, his chances for full recovery. His wife”—she nearly choked on the word—“is rather vague.” He leaned back in his chair, templed his fingers in contemplation. “Has she had her baby?” Once more Jade felt a tightening in her throat. Nodding, she affirmed, “Yes. A boy.”

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“That’s nice,” he murmured in the tone people use when they don’t really care but feel the need to be polite. “She was very preoccupied with her condition, as I recall.” Jade detected a touch of sarcasm, did not have time to dwell on it, for he went on to say that he was glad to finally hear from some of Colt’s family. “How is he really, Doctor? He says he still has dizzy spells, headaches—” “I told Colt that comes from trying too hard to remember,” the doctor interjected tersely, frowning. “He should just relax, not think about the past but concentrate on the present—the future—and maybe one day it will all come back.” “Will it?” she anxiously asked. “Who can say?” He shrugged apologetically. “Sadly, we know so little about these things. All I can tell you is that your brother took a very hard blow to his head. He’s lucky even to be alive. The injury may or may not be permanent, but either way I see no reason to be concerned about his overall physical condition. As I told Mrs. Coltrane, the main thing is that he stay calm and relaxed, so that if there is some pressure inside we don’t know about, it won’t be aggravated.” Jade tensed. “Pressure…?” Again he shrugged apologetically. “As I said, we just don’t know much about head injuries. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more.” She bowed her head, closed her eyes lest he see the distress surely mirrored there. “Are you telling me, then, that my…brother should be kept calm, should not hear any news that might upset him?” “If possible.” He regarded her curiously. “Why? Is there some disturbing family news you feel the need to tell him? An illness…a death?” he asked hesitantly.

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She shook her head, then got up to go, afraid that she was going to burst into tears any second. He walked with her, back down the long hallway to the front doors, again assured her there was a possibility Colt could regain his full memory but warned, “Frankly, the longer he’s like this, the less we expect a change. Just tell your family to be grateful he’s even alive.” She murmured her appreciation for his time, was about to step outside when he suddenly asked, “By the way, do you have a sister?” “No.” “And you say your name is Daniella?” he murmured thoughtfully. She tensed, nodded. “Strange.” “Why?” “Oh,” he said offhandedly, as though it really didn’t matter, “I seem to recall that when your brother was comatose, he kept calling the name Jade.” Her blood ran cold. She sucked in her breath, stood before him paralyzed with anguish to envision such a pitiful scene. “I asked Mrs. Coltrane who that was,” the doctor went on, “and she said it was his sister. Oh, well.” He brushed away the curious thought. “I must’ve been mistaken. Have a pleasant trip home, and if I can ever help you, let me know.” He shook her hand, and if he noticed it was as cold as ice and trembling, he said nothing and went back inside. Jade hurried on down the driveway, lost in thought…lost in hate and resentment for everything and everyone who had caused such misery in her life…and the life of the man she loved with all her heart. She might not be able to risk telling Colt the truth, but one thing she vehemently vowed: she was not going to give him up without a fight.

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It was better, she swore, to be his lover, his mistress, anything, than to lose him again.

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Chapter Thirty-One

Jade counted the hours and minutes until her rendezvous with Colt in Central Park on Friday. She had been bicycling only a quarter of an hour when she saw him, and her heart skipped a beat. He was leaning against a fountain, bicycle propped against a nearby tree, and as she rode toward him, his face lit up as though struck by a sunbeam. Grateful no one was about, Jade parked her bicycle and forced herself to slowly saunter toward the fountain, as though merely taking a rest from riding, not to meet him. They stood a few yards apart, darting glances about to make sure no one else was around. Colt stared toward the water flowing from the vase that a fat bronze cherub held over the fountain. “God, how I’ve waited for this moment,” he whispered raggedly. Jade swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Oh, Colt, you don’t know how much I love you.” “Why?” He closed his eyes against the fierce inner turmoil. “Why in God’s name did I ever leave you? I can’t imagine a time when I didn’t love you. Tell me, Jade, please. It’s driving me crazy. What happened to us?” “I wish I could,” she said. “But too many people are involved now, Colt. Let’s just be thankful we found each other again.” “Thankful?” He scornfully chuckled. “Thankful to be tortured by not being able to remember how I could ever have been so foolish as to let you go? Now I

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know why I don’t feel anything for my wife. I never got over you, Jade. I never will. And I don’t even remember loving you.” He shook his head in misery. God alone knew how desperately Jade wanted to tell him the truth. Instead, she told him the only story she’d managed to conjure up that he might accept. “Colt, we had a bitter fight. We broke up. A long time ago. We went our separate ways, and now we’ve found each other again, but there’s nothing we can do about it except grab what moments together we can.” “I don’t want to just settle for an illicit affair,” he said wretchedly. “Do we have any options? Are you prepared to leave your wife, your newborn son?” He did not flinch as he firmly declared, “Yes, I am. And I’ll see to it Andy grows up knowing me, loving me, just as I love him, but I have no qualms whatsoever about leaving Lorena.” He gave another bitter chuckle. “Frankly, I don’t think she’d even care.” He walked toward her, no longer cautious, for he felt the sudden need to touch her, hold her. He gripped her arms and made her look up into his distraught eyes. “I had a dream, Jade…a dream about us. And it was like seeing a play, with me and you as the stars. You were dancing—a ballet. So many people were watching you, admiring you, applauding. The theater was beautiful, decorated in blue and gold.” She bit down on her lip to hold back tears as she listened to him describe the magnificent Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg. He was having a flashback, and, she wondered in desperate hope whether it was a sign his memory might be returning. She dared not speak, knew it best to let him continue, to spin out the cobwebs of his memory. “I walked down the center aisle toward you as though in a trance. I was hypnotized by your beauty. I gave you a rose…and a ring was tied to the stem

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and—” He froze, eyes wide as he stared down at her hands, focusing on the pearl and emerald ring on her right hand—the ring his mother had given to her on their wedding day. He said in wonder, “But it wasn’t this ring. This ring…” he repeated, awed. “Something about this ring…” His eyes narrowed. He dropped her hand, turned to lower himself to sit on the fountain wall as he shook his head, pressed his fingertips to his temples. “Colt, are you all right?” Jade asked anxiously. “Please, don’t press yourself to remember.” “Where did you get that ring?” She saw no harm in telling him. “Your mother gave it to me.” “Of course.” He grinned up at her. “That’s why I remember it, but I don’t remember her,” he added sadly. He went on to admit that was why he let Lorena take care of all the correspondence with his family, because it would be difficult to write to people he didn’t know; he was afraid they’d sense something was wrong and he wanted to keep them from worrying. Lorena had told him his father was not in good health, that his sister had been in a very delicate condition. It was best no one know of his situation as it would serve no useful purpose. “See? I’m remembering a little. So tell me, did I walk down the aisle of a grand theater and give you a ring?” “You did.” She let out her breath in a soft sigh. “We were engaged.” He straightened, took her hand. “One day I’m going to remember everything, and when I do, I’ve got a feeling I’ll have all the answers I need to straighten out the mess I’ve made, of my life. Till then, I guess you’re right. We’ve got to be grateful for what we have.”

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He led her to a clump of thick shrubs, pushed aside leafy branches to move to a small clearing within. There he put his arms around her and kissed her till they were both breathless and shaken. When he finally released her, he demanded, “Tell me when we can meet again, somewhere private, where we can really be together the way we want to be, have to be.” “It’s taking such a chance.” “I don’t give a damn,” he snapped angrily. “We’ve got to find a way to see each other, Jade. I’m not giving you up. How many times must I tell you that? Now, I may be suffering from amnesia, but I’m not retarded, and I’m not going to put up with this mystery much longer. Something, I don’t know what, is keeping you from telling me everything, and I’m trying to be patient, give you time to work out whatever it is within yourself, but I can’t—won’t—go on like this much longer. If you love me—” “Oh, God, how I love you!” she cried, flinging herself against him. “My studio. We can meet there.” “When?” Jade’s mind feverishly raced ahead. Bryan was due home sometime during the weekend, but she wasn’t sure exactly when. “Telephone me Saturday around noon at my studio. If Bryan hasn’t come back from Philadelphia, I’ll be there to answer, and you’ll know to meet me there at eight that night. If I don’t answer, then you’ll know he is back and I can’t get away.” “So then when will I see you?” “You would have to call me Monday morning, and we’d try to arrange something then.” He pulled her tighter against him, and she felt the hardness of his desire, felt her own hunger stirring, knew she had to pull away or she’d give in and succumb to the longing, no matter that they were in the middle of Central Park.

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She kissed him one more time, whispered, “Saturday,” then reluctantly stepped from the bushes. Glancing about, satisfied no one was around, she went to her bicycle, mounted, and rode away. Colt waited a few moments, then made his own way out. Neither of them saw the woman step from behind the thick trunk of a tree next to their sanctuary. Smiling in malicious triumph, Lita mounted the bicycle Bryan had bought her so she could follow Jade, and pedaled after her.

Jade gave thanks for two blessings that Saturday when she left for the studio: so far Bryan had not returned and now she did not look for him till Sunday, and Lita was nowhere around. She arrived at the studio close to eleven and decided to work out at the barre for a while. After a half hour of that, she began to practice some basic steps she would be teaching beginners. Lost in her own private world of her beloved dance, Jade did not hear the door open, did not know anyone was present until she heard a disdainful snort and stopped her whirling to stare, agape, at Triesta Vordane. She was wearing a dark brown jacket over a light brown dress. Her hat was wide and covered in black netting and framed her hard-featured face. With a sneer, she scoffed, “Well, now, what do you call that, little miss prima ballerina— the dance of a whore?” Jade had been up on her toes but came down with an ungraceful bounce. Her eyes narrowed. “What did you say?” “I asked if that is called the dance of a whore.” She smiled with mock innocence. “That is what they call women like you, isn’t it? A whore? Or maybe

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you prefer to be called trollop, or Jezebel. My, my, you hussies go by so many names, don’t you? And don’t play innocent with me. I know you’ve been sneaking around meeting Colt.” “All right, Triesta,” Jade said coldly, bristling with anger. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m glad you are, because you saved me another trip to your house.” “Really?” Triesta raised an eyebrow, unruffled. “I thought I made it clear I don’t want you at my house!” “I want to know why you and your daughter lied to Colt, why you let him think he was married to her—married in Paris, for God’s sake—when he was already married to me and didn’t even know her!” Triesta’s expression of haughty amusement did not waver. “Don’t concern yourself with anything in the past, my dear. What you do need to be worried about is, your present situation, and what you’re going to do when your husband finds out you’re having a sordid affair with my son-in-law.” “You crazy old fool!” Jade screeched, aghast at her audacity. “Colt isn’t your son-in-law, and you know it. So how can I be having an affair with my own husband?” Triesta smirked. “Having two husbands is not legal.” “You’re a good one to talk about legalities. Your daughter has an illegitimate baby, for God’s sake!” For the first time, Triesta struggled for composure and snapped, “Don’t you dare say such a thing.” She took a menacing step forward, but Jade did not retreat, so she moved no farther. “I came here to tell you to get out of Colt’s life, or not only am I going to tell Bryan Stevens what a whore his wife is, I’m going to tell everyone else. You’ll be ruined.”

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Jade didn’t like that threat but countered with one of her own. “Do that. And I’ll tell Colt everything.” Triesta’s laugh was forced, and she nervously sputtered, “Why—why, you wouldn’t dare. Are you so stupid as to think he’d believe you? That he would leave his wife and son for you?” “Lorena is not his wife!” Jade sharply reminded her. “And what about the Coltranes? What have they been told? They were at Colt’s real wedding, you know, his wedding to me! And they sure as hell know it wasn’t in Paris, to Lorena!” Now Triesta’s laughter was genuine, ringing with triumph. “Why, my dear, the Coltranes think you’re alive and well. They’ve no reason to think otherwise, because Lorena signs her letters to them as you. Since Colt never sees the mail and hears only what we care to tell him, he doesn’t know, and neither do they.” Jade shook her head in wonder. “You are truly mad!” Triesta’s grin faded, and the angry mask descended once more. “No, I’m not mad. I’ve thought of every detail, and you aren’t going to spoil it. Your showing up alive is a misfortune I hadn’t counted on, but it’s a trivial matter, because you’re going to get out of Colt’s life. You are going to firmly tell him you cannot see him again—and you won’t—or believe me, Jade, I will tell Bryan—and everyone else.” “Why did you do this to him?” Jade asked. “I had my reasons.” “I want to hear them!” “And I told you not to concern yourself with anything except staying away from Colt. Leave him alone. Leave all of us alone, or I promise you, you’re going to be sorry.”

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Jade was undaunted. Defiantly she said, “I’m going to talk to Lorena and hear her side of the story. She talked to me on the ship, told me how you were making her return with you against her will, how you followed her all the way to Europe, hiring two ruffians to go with you to beat up the man she ran away with—the man she did love and wanted to marry.” “Don’t you dare try to see her.” “Then tell me how you persuaded her to pretend to be married to Colt when she was in love with someone else.” “Very well,” Triesta said finally, frostily, “I’ll tell you, though it won’t do you any good, because you can’t undo what’s been done.” She then went on to recount how, when Colt was injured, the crewman who’d found him assumed Lorena was his wife because she was there. Regretfully, he had told her her husband was dead. Lorena had been stunned, shocked, did not think to correct him, and when it was discovered Colt was actually alive, but unconscious, she remained by his side as a concerned friend and, unintentionally, was thought to be his wife. “Lorena is so naive and stupid sometimes,” Triesta sneered. “She was so upset by your supposedly being washed overboard and killed, and there was Colt near death, that she went into some kind of stupor and paid no attention to anything going on. I took over, as I always have to do, and by the time we reached New York, the only people in authority that mattered presumed she was you, and I let them go on thinking that. Once we got Colt into the hospital and Lorena realized what I’d allowed to happen, she made a feeble protest, but I made her agree to let it go on.” Jade shook her head, dazed by such madness, whispered, “Why? Why would she allow you to do something so insane?”

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Triesta all but snarled, “Because I told her if she didn’t, I’d send her to a convent for wayward girls and pay them to keep her there till she rotted. Pretending to be married to Colt was a viable alternative. Heaven knows, I’d been trying for ages to marry her off. It certainly wasn’t in my favor to have a spinster on my hands.” She flashed a gloating grin. “It’s worked out well. Colt is good to her, and he adores the baby. That was a plus I hadn’t counted on—that she’d get pregnant right away. “In fact”—she paused for effect, wanting to twist the knife a little deeper— “she admitted she got pregnant while Colt was convalescing in the hospital, a few days before he was discharged. She got right in the bed with him, right there in his hospital room, and—” “Stop it!” Jade screamed, covering her ears with her hands and swinging her head from side to side. She did not want to hear it, for that had to have been around the time he’d lain there in a stupor calling her name. Had he, in his dizziness, thought he was making love to her? Triesta was satisfied she’d gotten her point across. “You must realize that there’s nothing you can do except forget him. You’ve got a nice husband now, from what I’ve heard about him, and you should be grateful. If you continue to chase after Colt, you’ll only succeed in making a lot of people unhappy.” She walked toward the door, paused to say, “I realize that Lorena isn’t as beautiful or exciting as you, Jade. And I also realize that even if Colt doesn’t find out who you really are, he might be tempted to leave her for someone like you. But even if Lorena is no competition, I think you’ll have to agree I am…” Jade watched, mutely, as Triesta swung the door wide open and left, When she’d gone, Jade could only collapse in a heap on the floor and let the tears wash over her.

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At that moment, she wished she had died in the angry sea, never to know such anguish and pain in this world. The telephone rang. Jade moaned, lifted her head to stare with bleary eyes at the instrument. It continued to ring as Colt would not give up hoping she was there. Finally, she knew what she must do: see him one, more time to tell him it was over. She would tell him what she had decided in these tragic moments as the dream had ended. She was going back to Russia, back to her family, her people. She struggled to her feet, lifted the receiver, did not utter a greeting but instead raggedly whispered, “Nine. Tonight.” She hung up the telephone, moving in a daze to dress and leave the studio. When the door closed behind her, Lita stepped out from behind the curtain of the dressing alcove at the farthest end of the studio. Things were, Lila thought and smiled with satisfaction, working out far better than she’d hoped!

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Chapter Thirty-Two

When Jade arrived home, she found Bryan sitting in the glass sun porch. He did not look up as she entered but continued his unseeing vigil into the outer world beyond. “Good afternoon,” he said tonelessly. She removed her gloves with quick, jerking movements. “How long have you been back?” she asked stiffly. “Apparently since right after you left this morning, according to the servants.” Then he turned to face her, eyes cold, accusing. “Where were you, Jade?” Her gaze flicked over him contemptuously as she sat down on the divan opposite. He repeated, “I asked where you were, Jade.” She remained silent and continued to stare at him. His mouth was an angry, set line. “Very well. If you don’t tell me where you were this morning, suppose you tell me why you chose not to come back from the Valley when you said you would.” Still she did not speak. He lifted his hands and slammed them angrily against the arms of his chair as he leaned forward. “You’ve been acting funny ever since you ran into Coltrane. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you’re my wife, and I want some answers. Now.” She bestowed a frosty smile. “You’re wrong, Bryan. I’m not your wife and I never was, because our marriage wasn’t legal, and you know it.”

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His head snapped back in surprise. He hadn’t expected this. “What are you saying? Of course our marriage is legal. I told you that your other ceremony was in a foreign country, and—” “It doesn’t matter.” “In the eyes of God—” “In the eyes of God,” she sneered. “In my eyes, you’re a contemptible scoundrel.” He reeled as though she had slapped him. Slowly, menacingly, he got to his feet to tower above her. In a deadly voice, he commanded, “I think you’d better explain yourself, woman.” Jade also rose, though the top of her head hardly reached his chin. “You’re the one who needs to explain, Bryan…explain why you lied about what was in that Pinkerton report.” Obviously, he’d not expected that, either, and he swung around to go to the small liquor cabinet set against one wall. “Why—I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered, hedging. He filled a glass with Scotch from a crystal decanter, downed it in one gulp. “I saw the report, Bryan. I went to your office and tricked Miss Pearson into opening your safe, and I read with my own eyes how the detectives told you everything—about Colt suffering from amnesia, how he was reportedly married to Lorena Vordane in Paris—which you knew wasn’t possible,” she added testily. “You kept all that from me because you knew I’d never marry you if I’d known the truth about Colt’s condition.” He decided it was useless to lie. “So? Can you blame me? I was willing to do anything to get you to marry me.” He whipped about to look at her in abject misery. “Surely you can’t hate me when my only motive was love.” Her expression told him she could.

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He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “When I got the report, he’d already been discharged from the hospital and was living in the Vordane house as Lorena Vordane’s husband.” “You should have told me.” “Why? What could you have done about it?” “Oh, Bryan, don’t be ridiculous. You know what I would’ve done—marched over there and claimed my husband, my real husband—the one I’m still very legally married to. But you manipulated me into thinking he never really loved me and that was the reason he could marry so quickly after I was supposed to have been killed. You got me so fired up and furious that I married you as a kind of vengeance. Only it wasn’t a real marriage, and we both know it. Just like Colt isn’t legally married to Lorena. We are still married to each other!” He stared at her thoughtfully fur a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe so,” he said flippantly, then went on to confidently point out, “but there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it, my dear, except hurt a lot of people. Including Colt. He thinks he’s married to Lorena. And she’s given birth to his son. You can’t change that. All you’ll succeed in doing is stirring up trouble and scandal.” Jade knew all that but was not about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. She regarded him coldly for a moment, then said with finality, “I’m leaving you.” His eyes widened for an instant, and then he laughed off the incredulity of such a possibility. “You know I’d never allow that to happen, Jade. And why would you want to? We were happy before all this. This trouble has come up quickly and can end just as quickly. We’ll just forget about it and go back to the way we were before.” He set his glass aside, crossed the room to attempt to take her in his arms, but she slapped away his reaching hands. “No, Bryan, we can’t go back to the

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way we were, because all of that was based on a lie. I could never trust you again. And I can’t forgive you for what you did.” Furious, he cried, “You said yourself Colt doesn’t know who you are. How can you go to him and tell him all this? Turn his life upside down, ruin his son’s life?” “I’m not going to,” she said simply. “You’re right, Bryan. I can’t undo what’s been done, but I don’t have to live my life with a man who’s so selfish and egotistical he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. I’m leaving you, but not to pursue Colt. He’s gone to me forever. I’m going to do what I should’ve done long ago. I’m going home!” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm, fingers digging painfully into her flesh as he yanked her so tightly and close against him she could feel his furious breath on her face. “You weren’t thinking about Coltrane all those nights you moaned with passion in my arms, Jade,” he boldly challenged, his eyes burning into hers. “Can you forget that? Can you so easily toss aside all those beautiful memories of our time on our island? No! You can’t deny you loved me when our sexual relationship was so wonderful!” She laughed up at him. “Oh, Bryan, that doesn’t prove anything. You don’t have to be madly in love with someone to enjoy sex. All that proved was that we enjoyed each other.” He stared down at her as though seeing a stranger and gasped, “That’s no way for a lady to talk!” Again she laughed. “When it comes to good sex, Bryan, there’s no place for a lady!” She walked out.

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He screamed after her, “I won’t let you. I’ll stop you, Jade. I swear it. You’re my wife, and you’re just upset, but when you calm down, you’ll see how crazy you’re reacting to all this…” She kept on going, and he heard her footsteps clattering through the house, then disappearing upstairs. He picked up his glass and smashed it against a wall. “Mr. Stevens…” He turned at the sound of the timid voice, saw Lita peering hesitantly from the door that led to the lawn. Annoyed, he growled, “Yes, what is it?” She stepped inside, clenched her teeth to suppress the triumphant smile that was making the corners of her mouth twitch, then began, “There’s something you need to know…”

Jade locked herself in her room, strained to push a larger dresser against the door. She had no intention of arguing with Bryan further. Her mind was made up, and for the first time since the nightmare had begun, she was confident of the future. She was going home, and no one would stop her. She had also decided it would be less painful for Colt if he didn’t know her plans. She’d see him one more time, love him for one more time…to remember always and ever…and then she’d leave America. Her plans were simple, but she knew she’d have to keep them secret—Bryan might try to stop her. Right now he thought she was just angry, was confident she’d calm down later and accept things as they were. It was that kind of arrogance that had brought all this about, she fumed. So she’d be careful. Monday morning she’d take her money from the bank, then hide out somewhere until she could book passage to Europe.

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A short while later Bryan knocked on her door, called to her, “Please, Jade. We need to talk about this.” She did not respond. He went away, returning an hour or so later to announce dinner was being served. Still she did not answer. She heard him sigh loudly, say he’d have a tray left outside her door. “We’ll talk tomorrow, when you’ve had time to think about how foolish you’re being, Jade. You can’t throw away what we’ve had together.” She bit back a caustic retort, thought how ironic it was she’d been unable to forget happy memories with Colt yet now found it difficult to remember any with Bryan. That, she realized, told her where her heart and loyalty belonged! Cursing because waiting until dark would make her late meeting Colt, Jade impatiently counted the minutes before she felt secure in sneaking out without being seen. She dared not go through the house. Her litheness and dexterity from so many years of dancing helped as she easily made her way down the trellis outside her window to drop gracefully to the ground below. Then she hurried through the shadows to her bicycle, mounted, and pedaled furiously toward the city proper and her studio. No one was about, and she let herself in at the ground floor, rushing up the stairway. Before she even reached the landing outside the door to her studio, she could hear footsteps quickly ascending behind her but felt no panic, for she knew, with a tremulous skip-beat of her heart, that it was Colt. She had just inserted the key in the lock, twisted the knob, when he grabbed her from behind. Nuzzling the back of her neck with warm, eager lips, he whispered huskily, “Where’ve you been, princess? I’ve been waiting over an hour. I was afraid something had happened and you couldn’t make it.”

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Jade blinked back tears of joyful remembrance. He’d called her princess. Did he somehow remember that was his pet name for her, or was it a casual endearment with no specific meaning? She dared not ask. She turned in his arms, eager for his kiss. He lifted her in his arms, moving inside, closing the door with his foot. The room was dappled with light rising from streetlamps below. He could see to make his way across the room, to where a sofa was positioned against one wall. Laying her down gently, he began to remove her clothing. “I’ve got to have you, little one. Now. I can’t wait any longer. I’ve thought of nothing else except how wonderful it is to be with you. I can’t imagine ever wanting another woman more.” When she was naked before him, he bent to kiss each nipple to taut erectness, his tongue moving down to savor her china-white skin, glistening in the milky light from outside. “It was always this good for us, wasn’t it?” He smiled down at her fondly as he stood to unfasten his trousers, then straddled her there on the sofa. “Yes…” she gasped in ecstasy. “Yes, it was always good, and we never got enough.” And then there was no need for words. With great tremors, they clutched each other, both moaning and crying aloud with the awesome splendor of their love. Afterward, Colt trailed a fingertip down her cheek. “I had another dream, my precious. This time it was about a beautiful lady with bright golden-red hair and sparkling violet eyes, and a man who looked just like me. I think it was my mother and father.” “It was,” Jade said, eager to hear more.

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“I thought so. I talked to Lorena about it, described the people in the dream, and asked if she knew who they were. She wouldn’t talk about it—said I shouldn’t be thinking about things like that because it gives me a headache.” “Does it?” He drew in his breath, let it out slowly, trailed his, finger down to dance about her still-taut nipples. “Sometimes,” he admitted, “but I can’t let that stop me. I’ve got to keep trying to remember, and it seems my dreams are trying to tell me something. “There was something else,” he continued, and his voice had an edge to it. His gaze locked on hers. “I had a dream about a wedding, and you were dressed in white.” Jade stiffened. Too far. He was going too far, too soon. She tried to sound nonchalant as she proclaimed, “You dreamed of your wedding to Lorena.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mentioned it to her, and she looked funny. The truth is, I’ve wanted to ask her about you…and why I know you—” “But you can’t!” “I know that. I can’t risk her finding out I’m seeing you. Not yet. Not till we make our plans, but I wish I could, because she’d probably slip and tell me something. She gets so nervous when I start asking questions about the past. Did you two know each other before? When you knew me?” “Vaguely.” “Before or after I married her?” Jade felt the creeping shadows of danger. This was to be their last time together, only he did not, could not, know it, and she dared not give him any fodder for future torturous attempts at remembering. “It doesn’t matter,” she said finally, unable to keep the anger from her voice. “Stop thinking about it, Colt. We can’t undo what’s done.”

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She pulled out of his embrace and began to dress. Reluctantly, Colt reached for his own clothes. “That was you in the wedding dress.” She turned sharply to stare at him, felt an icy chill move over her. “Are we divorced, Jade?” He looked straight at her, demanding an answer. “Is that why I’m so drawn to you? Because we were really married but stupidly got a divorce? I’ve a right to know the truth, and I intend to have it. I was set to ask Lorena this morning, no matter the consequences, but when I got up, she was gone. Her mother said she took the baby and went away to visit relatives somewhere in New England…wouldn’t say where. I’ve got a sneaking feeling she left because of the questions I’ve been asking lately.” He went over to her, gripped her shoulders, and gave her a frustrated shake. “Something’s going on, Jade! And you’ve got to tell me what it is.” With more misery than she’d ever known in her life, Jade blinked back tears as she looked up into his dear, beloved face. “Oh, Colt…my dear, sweet Colt. I wish I could explain everything, but some things are better left alone.” “Yes…” came a snarl from the shadowy doorway that brought both of them leaping to their feet. “Like other men’s wives!” Bryan emerged from the darkness into the light, and he was pointing a gun. “Coltrane,” he said raggedly, menacingly. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you that fooling with another man’s wife can get you killed?”

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Colt quickly stepped in front of Jade, shielding her as best as he could. “Who the hell are you?” Bryan laughed, a maniacal sound, as Jade told Colt who he was. She struggled to move from behind him, but he wrestled her back as she shouted, “Put that gun down! Have you gone crazy?” In a quiet, dread tone, more ominous and frightening than if he’d screamed, Bryan said, “You knew I was crazy a long time ago, Jade…crazy in love with you…and I swore I’d kill anyone who tried to take you away from me.” Colt, unnerved but trying not to show it, held out his hand in pleading. “Listen, Stevens, put down the gun and let’s talk. Peacefully.” Bryan raised an eyebrow. “Talk? What’ve we got to talk about, you cocky bastard! I find you here, with my wife, and it’s quite obvious from the looks of both of you what you’ve been doing. I’d say all we have to talk about is which one of you I should kill first.” He spoke through gritted teeth. With her face pressed against Colt’s back, Jade whispered as loudly as she dared, “Please. Let me handle this. Please.” Colt shrugged away her request. “Let her get out of here, and you and I’ll settle this.” At that, Bryan threw back his head and laughed long and loud, but he held the gun unwaveringly, not giving Colt the chance he was looking for to jump him and wrestle it away.

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“Colt, please,” Jade begged once more. “Let me try before someone gets hurt. Please…” Her nails dug into his back in desperation. “All right,” he growled over his shoulder, “but stay behind me.” “Bryan, listen,” she began, “don’t do anything foolish. We can talk about it, and—” “Oh, Jade, shut up,” he ordered. “Get over here by me, or I swear I’ll kill him.” Colt snapped. “Don’t move.” “Don’t try to be a hero,” Bryan sneered. “If you don’t let her go, I’ll put a bullet where it’ll do the most good—to keep you from chasing other men’s wives.” He pointed the gun at Colt’s crotch and snickered. Suddenly Jade made her move, leaping to one side. Colt tried to stop her, but Bryan fired, the shot zinging between the two of them. Jade screamed, stumbled forward, and Bryan grabbed her and slung her roughly behind him, where she went sprawling to the floor. Colt froze where he stood—helpless for the moment. Bryan pointed the gun at his head. “I’m going to tell you once, and once only.” His lips were curled back over his teeth in an ominous snarl. “Get the hell out of here. Now! Don’t ever try to see my wife again or I’ll kill you. And I’ll be within my rights to do so.” Colt looked at Jade, and she waved him toward the door. “Go, please. He’s insane. He’ll kill us both if you don’t do as he says. Just get out. Now.” Colt turned desperate, anguished eyes on Jade as she scrambled to her feet. Uncertainly, he said, “I can’t leave you here with this lunatic—” “You have no choice!” Bryan waved him toward the door. “Out. Now.” Colt stood there, lips moving, but no sound came. He knew he had no chance to wrestle the gun away for fear that Jade might get shot in the process.

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For the moment, he had no choice but to retreat. Pointing an unwavering finger at Bryan, he raspingly warned, “I’ll go. But if you harm her, I swear—” Bryan fired. The bullet landed between Colt’s feet. “You’re not in a position to issue ultimatums. Now get out of here before I change my mind and kill you.” Colt walked out, sending Jade a silent message with his eyes that he’d somehow find a way to see her. She sensed his meaning, turned away, feeling wretched, not caring in that moment if Bryan did kill her, because she knew it was the last time she would ever see the only man she could ever love. Bryan stepped to the window to look down on the street and make sure Colt was really going. Then he put away his gun and grabbed Jade by the elbow to steer her from the studio. “Take one last look,” he said hatefully. “It’s the last time you’ll ever see this place.” Fearfully, Jade asked what he meant. He jerked her roughly along down the stairs. “I’m taking you to the one place where we had peace, happiness, where you loved me…where we should have stayed. Because it was only here, back in civilization, that we started having problems. We are going,” he said with absolute finality, “to the Isle of Jade!” They reached the street. He looked about, made sure Colt was not lurking, then led her toward his carriage…which he’d driven himself. Ungraciously, he shoved her up into the seat, then slid in beside her and popped the reins over the horses’ rumps. Fear had gradually been overshadowed by raw fury, and Jade turned on him in a frenzy. “You can’t do this, Bryan! You can’t just kidnap me, make me, a prisoner!” “Shut up!” he screamed at her. He raised his hand as if to slap her, and she shrank from him. He shook his head in self-loathing, his voice breaking as he whispered, “My God! My God…look what you almost made me do! I’ve never

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hit a woman in my life, never shot at a man, and you nearly caused me to commit murder.” “Don’t try to make me feel guilty, Bryan. It won’t work. None of this would’ve happened if you had told the truth. I haven’t done anything wrong.” “You let that bastard make love to you!” he accused. She stared at him incredulously. “We had every right. He’s my husband, Bryan. Not you! You and I were never legally married!” “Does he remember being married to you?” “No, but—” “Then as far as he’s concerned, he’s having an illicit affair, cheating on the woman he thinks is his wife with the woman he believes is the wife of another man. I’d say that makes him a no-good scoundrel, and I should’ve ended his worthless life. But no matter. You’re never going to see him again, and I don’t have to live with his blood on my hands.” He sent the horses into a fast trot. Jade stared straight ahead, unseeing, as her brain whirled in a frenzy of plans. As soon as they reached the house, she planned to leap down and run inside, barricade herself within, and call the police. When they arrived, she’d tell them she was being kept against her will, and they’d make Bryan let her go. Then she would go to a hotel and hide there till she could book passage to Europe. God, it hurt so bad to think she’d never see Colt again, but what choice did she have? There was no way she could tell him the truth now, and no way she could risk seeing him after Bryan had proved he was capable of mayhem. It was sad, heartbreaking, but all she could do was run for her life! They reached the house, and Bryan directed the horses up the driveway, where he’d left the gate open. He took them to the carriage house in the rear where recently installed electric lights shone from within.

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Jade made ready to make her move. Bryan slowed the horses, entered the building, reined them to a halt. Now! her brain commanded. She leaped from the carriage, turned toward the doors, then gasped and stopped short as they quickly slammed shut. Bryan was still in the carriage, so who…? Lita leaned back against the closed doors and smiled. “You!” She nodded. “Did you really think I’d stand by and watch you betray a wonderful man like Mr. Stevens?” she asked smugly, beaming as Bryan alighted to walk over and pat her shoulder gratefully. He turned to grin at Jade. “Smartest thing I ever did was rehiring her when we left on our honeymoon. She’s been invaluable, keeping me informed as to your goings-on. She’s very loyal—to me!” Jade looked from one to the other, feeling sick in her soul. Oh, she had realized Lita watched every move she made, but she’d chalked it up to just being nosy, had not really thought Lita had been ordered to spy for Bryan. “You sneaky little bitch!” she hissed. Lita stiffened, and Bryan patted her shoulder once more. “Now, now, don’t let her get you riled. It’s time to take care of her.” They advanced toward Jade, and she retreated, but found herself backed up at the rear wall of the carriage house with nowhere to go. She screamed, and they laughed at her, said the servants had been given the weekend off. They were too far from the neighbors for them to hear, either. “You can come along quietly, or we’ll have to get rough,” Bryan said, walking stealthily toward her. He held a coil of rope. Lita carried a large rag. Jade tried to run, to make her way around them to get to the doors, but they leaped on her simultaneously, and she didn’t have a chance. Bryan quickly tied

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her hands behind her back as Lila furiously, roughly, stuffed the rag in her mouth. They did not take her to the house as Jade had hoped, where she might have some chance to escape. Instead, they carried her to the small tack room of the carriage house and locked her inside, in the dark. For a few moments, she screamed against the gag and struggled to free herself, then fell silent as she realized they were still outside the door, talking. She pressed forward to listen and heard them arguing. “But you said if you found out she was being unfaithful to you, you’d divorce her,” Lita was whining, and it sounded as though she was crying. “She’s my wife, Lita. You have to understand that,” Bryan explained. “But you said you wouldn’t want her anymore if she was cheating,” she sobbed. “And I spied on her to prove it to you, because I always knew she wasn’t good enough for you, didn’t appreciate you for the fine man you are, and now that I did, you tell me you still want her! I don’t understand!” He sighed wearily. “I can’t expect you to, my dear, because you don’t understand the whole story, and it’s too complicated, too personal. Just know that I appreciate all you’ve done for me, and I intend to see you’re well compensated.” Oh, it was so clear now, Jade thought. Lita had been jealous, had wanted Bryan for herself. Bryan had known that and used her anyway. “Now, stop this, Lita!” Bryan was brusque, annoyed. “You’re just making things worse.” “You could take me to Bermuda with you. I could work for you there, help you keep an eye on her. You know she won’t stop trying to escape.”

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“That wouldn’t work. Things will be tense between Jade and me until she understands how much I love her and learns to appreciate that love. You’d only complicate the situation, tempting me…” He was placating her, Jade realized with contempt. He’d used her and was now tossing her aside. “Now then,” he went on, sounding smug, satisfied that he’d got his way. “You just keep a watch, make sure Coltrane doesn’t come nosing around, while I go see that the yacht is ready. Then I’ll come back for her.” Petulantly, Lita said, “And leave me behind.” “With lots and lots of money,” he reminded her cheerily. “You’re going to live like a queen on what I intend to give you, and you’ll be so busy buying pretties you won’t even think about me. Now be a good girl and go up to the house and pack some of her things!” She continued to argue, and their voice faded as they left the carriage house. Jade leaned against the wall, slowly slid downward to a sitting position, struggling against her bonds…struggling to think of a way out of her predicament. Bryan had been gone perhaps ten minutes when she heard a noise that brought her abruptly out of her desperate meditation. She struggled to stand, every nerve alert, poised, ready should there be a chance for escape. With a soft grating sound, the door swung open, and the lights from the carriage house outlined Lita as she stood staring into the dark tack room. “Don’t you try anything,” she warned. “I’ve got a knife.” Jade saw the glint of steel. Lila commanded, “Step out here…where I can see you.” She did as she was told.

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The gag was jerked from her mouth, and Jade gulped in mouthfuls of fresh air. She icily met the glare of her enemy and with a toss of her long cardinal-red hair cursed, “Damn you, Lita, for the traitor you are!” Lita sneered and boldly touched the tip of the butcher knife to Jade’s chin. “Now I find that strange, Mrs. Stevens—you calling me a traitor! You’re the sinner here. Adultery is something no one can forgive, especially in a woman. A man, well, people might turn their noses up for a time, but everyone knows men are such animals. But a woman? A wife? Ah, you’re a whore now, and I hate you for the way you’ve hurt Mr. Stevens…” Her voice rose to near hysteria. “He’s been so good to you. He didn’t deserve this. He deserves the love and loyalty of a fine Christian woman—” “Like you,” Jade intoned brashly. Lita lifted her chin. “That’s right. I could make him happy, and I will make him happy, because I’m going to get rid of you, and then he’ll turn to me.” “If you kill me, you’ll go to prison, and then you wouldn’t have a chance to make Bryan happy.” Jade spoke calmly, but she was trembling with fear. “No?” Lita’s mouth curved in an insolent smirk. “Who’s to say I murdered you? I can always tie lots of horseshoes to your ankles and throw you in the river, and your body would never be found. I’d just tell Mr. Stevens you escaped, and he’d believed me.” “And what if he didn’t?” Jade challenged. “What if my body were found, and you were charged with murder? You think you’d stand a chance with him then? Oh, no. You’d wind up in jail, and he’d hate you.” “Never!” Lita hissed. “If you want Bryan,” Jade went on, “you’re going about it the wrong way. And I want to help you any way I can, because I don’t want him anymore. I realize now I never did. All I want to do is go back to Europe.”

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Lita was suspicious. “What about Mr. Coltrane? Aren’t you in love with him?” Jade forced a laugh. “No, he was just a diversion, but then his wife’s mother heard about our affair, and now Bryan knows, so there’s nothing for me to do but leave sooner than I’d planned. All you have to do,” she said slowly, carefully, “if you want Bryan for yourself, is let me go. Tell him I escaped, and I promise you, he’ll never know you had a hand in it. He’ll look for me for a time, but he won’t be able to find me, and sooner or later he’ll give up and turn to you.” “I…I don’t know.” Lita shook her head worriedly. “It’s taking a big chance.” Jade cried, “What do you have to lose? Once his boat sails, then it’s over. He’ll be gone to you forever, because he’ll find a way to keep me prisoner on that island. You’ve come too far, Lita.” She paused, gave her a moment to contemplate what she’d just said. “You went to Mrs. Vordane, didn’t you? And told her about me and Colt? And you spied and found out we planned to meet at my studio tonight, didn’t you?” “Yes! I followed you to the park, saw you meet him, and heard most of what was said. Then I went to Mrs. Vordane, and…I sold her the information.” Jade was incredulous. “You sold her the information? Dear God, I would’ve paid you to keep silent.” Lita then admitted she had been hiding in the studio that morning when she came. “I told Mr. Stevens your plans to meet Mr. Coltrane there. It was right after you had a big fight. I didn’t hear what it was about, just knew you were terribly angry. So I went in and told him about your affair, because I thought if I did, he’d turn to me only he didn’t, as you already know,” she added shamefully. Jade tried to hate her but could not. She was only a poor servant who thought she had a chance to be the wife, or mistress, of a wealthy man, to have

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riches otherwise out of reach. She had not thought of the painful consequences to others. Suddenly Lita’s eyes shone strangely in the muted light of the electric lanterns. “Turn around,” she said hoarsely. Jade knew sheer panic, sure she meant to stab her in the back. “Turn around,” Lita repeated, “and…and let me untie you.” Jade quickly obeyed, and when her hands were free, she moved out of slashing range of the knife. Lita could see she was still frightened. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll tell Mr. Stevens that when I came out here to check on you, you’d worked the ropes loose and freed yourself. Now, please go, quickly—” Jade darted out of the carriage house and into the night… …and straight into the arms of Bryan.

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Jade’s lips parted in a silent scream of terror as he looked down at her in the faint moonlight and coldly declared, “I expected something like this. That’s why I came back.” Just then, Lita ran out, saw Bryan, froze, and began to hysterically babble, “Oh, Mr. Stevens. Thank heavens! I—I came to check on her, and she was gone, and—” Jade was struggling, and all Bryan’s concentration was on holding on to her as he wrestled her back into the carriage house to bind her wrists once more. He was trying to be as gentle as possible because he did not want to hurt her. Lita followed after them, wringing her hands, not knowing what to do at that point. He would see that the rope had been cut. Bryan finished securing Jade, gagged her again lest someone hear her furious screams. Then he picked up the rope she’d been tied with earlier, examined it in the light, and turned to Lita in disappointment. “I thought I could trust you.” She began to cry. “I’m sorry. I just thought if I let her go, then you—” She could not finish, and there was no need, for he knew her motive. “Well, I’ll just have to take her with me now, though I didn’t want to until I was absolutely sure the yacht was ready. I have no choice because I can’t trust you with her.” He shoved Jade into the tack room and locked the door, then went to get the carriage. Lita ran after him, begging his forgiveness, but he brushed her aside, too angry, too tired, to listen. He had other things on his mind besides worrying

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about the hysterical railings of a money-hungry servant girl—like how to make his wife love him instead of hate him. And, oh, dear God, he loved Jade, worshipped her. He would use every resource, every power, to put the warm glow of love back into those beautiful eyes. And God help anyone who got in his way.

Bryan maneuvered the carriage as close as possible to where the Marnia was docked. Even though it was the middle of the night, he was afraid someone might see Jade tied and gagged, and try to interfere. He had to trust his crew not to ask questions. Monroe Burton was standing on deck. He recognized Bryan and hurried down the gangplank. “We’re almost ready. It was short notice, and we’ve done, the best we could, and—” He fell silent at the sight of Jade, a rag stuffed in her mouth, wrists tied together. “What the hell is going on?” Bryan snapped, “None of your business, Burton. Just carry her on board for me as quick as you can before anybody sees her. Lock her in our cabin and then tell the crew we’re leaving right away, and if they aren’t ready, they damn well better get ready fast.” Monroe laughed uneasily. “But, sir, she’s your wife, and—” “No matter!” Bryan glowered at him. “She’s reluctant to take a vacation. More than that, you don’t need to know. Now will you follow my orders?” He nodded, then lifted Jade in his arms. He hurried up the gangplank and stepped onto the yacht just as Walt Gibbons appeared. He took one look at them and yelped, “What in thunderation do you think you’re doing, Burton? What’s she tied up like that for?”

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He rushed forward, trying to take Jade from him, but Monroe resisted. “Stop it, you old fool. I’m just following orders.” Bryan, who had been taking down some personal belongings he’d hastily thrown in the carriage, heard the commotion and bounded up the gangplank. “Burton, get her below before you wake up the whole harbor. Gibbons, stay out of this.” Walt stood his ground, not liking the situation at all. “I will not—not till you tell me what’s going on.” Bryan irritably warned, “Stay out of this!” Walt Gibbons had never been a man to be intimidated, nor did he mind sticking his neck out to help someone if he liked them, and he liked Miss Jade. A lot. She had always been kind and nice to him, and he’d felt protective toward her. Seeing her so helpless now, obviously being taken aboard against her will, well, he just couldn’t stand back and do nothing. “No,” he said firmly, planting himself in front of them. “I’m not budging till you let her go. That ain’t no way to treat a lady, and if she don’t want to go on this trip, then, by God, I ain’t going to be no party to forcing her.” Bryan glared at him, drew in his breath, nostrils flaring, let it out slowly as he felt a shudder of rage. There was no time to argue. “You’re fired,” he said. “Get off my boat. Now.” Walt could not believe what he was hearing. He had known Bryan all his life, had worked for his father, and the Marnia had never been to sea without him. “You—you don’t mean that!” he cried. Bryan turned and took Jade from Monroe’s arms. “I certainly do. I gave you a chance, but you had to meddle in my business. Get off my boat, I said. Burton, get him off!”

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Walt stared at the knife Monroe Burton had quickly slipped from his back pocket. “You heard the skipper, old man,” Monroe said. “You either go ashore or I’ll feed you to the fish.” Walt knew he had no choice, but he stalled. “I’ve got some personal things below,” he growled. “I’d like to get ’em if you don’t mind.” “All right,” Bryan agreed. “But be quick about it. Burton, stay with him. See that he leaves immediately.” Bryan hurried on down to his cabin, laid Jade on the bed, and promised, “I’ll be back later, darling, and as soon as we’ve sailed, I’ll untie you and we’ll talk.” He kissed her forehead, then quickly closed his eyes. Her contempt for him glowing in her green, green eyes was more than he could bear. He went out, locked the door behind him. Walt Gibbons had gone toward the little crew section, entering his tiny cabin, and Monroe was right behind him. Bryan called to him, and he turned and came back to where his skipper stood, keeping a wary eye on the door Walt had entered. Bryan hissed, “Get one of the other men to go with you when Gibbons gets off. Don’t hurt him bad, but just make sure he’s out for a few hours to give us a chance to be on our way. If we let him just walk away, he’ll head straight for the police, and we don’t have time for that.” Monroe grinned maliciously. “No problem, sir. I’ll see he’s got one hell of a headache when he wakes up probably sometime tomorrow.”

Lita could not sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, sobbing with self-pity because her plan had failed. Mr. Stevens was gone to her forever, gone to his island paradise with a woman who didn’t even want to be with him. It wasn’t fair. Not when she wanted to go so badly. Life, she decided, was cruel. No matter

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that he had kept his promise, paid her nicely for her services. For once, she was not so sure money meant everything, especially if it could not buy the love of the man she wanted. And now, in addition to trying to mend her broken heart and dreams, she had to make a new life for herself. Mr. Stevens had ordered the house closed up, furnishings sold at auction, the property put up for sale. He was not planning to return to New York, had even turned his share of his business over to an associate. Dawn was just starting to creep up on the horizon when Lita got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make a pot of strong coffee. She poured a generous splash of brandy into the coffee, figuring she deserved it. Then she walked out onto the sun porch to stare at the river and contemplate her problems. Someone knocked on the glass door, and she jumped, startled. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of Colt Coltrane. “You’re Miss Tulane, aren’t you?” he said softly. “We met at the studio. I need to talk to you.” Lita began to back away as she nervously stammered, “Go away—go away, or I’ll call the police.” “No, wait,” he protested quickly. “You’ve no cause to be afraid of me. I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to talk to you. I’ve got to see Mrs. Stevens. Get her for me, please.” She shook her head slowly, calming a bit as she realized he didn’t know she was the one responsible for him and Mrs. Stevens getting caught, and he had not come to raise hell with her. It was just her own guilt making her nervous. He was, growing impatient. “Well, where is she?” “I don’t know.” “You work for her. Surely you know where she is at this hour.”

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“Not exactly. Please go.” Colt stared down at the ground wearily, worriedly. Dammit, he had to have some answers. He had been lurking around outside for several hours now, waiting for a chance to see Jade. He might not know just who she was, what she had meant to him in the past, but one thing he did know—he loved her now, and he couldn’t just back off, no matter the danger. He had tried to telephone, but the operator said something was wrong with the Stevens line. She could not put him through, and that had alarmed him even more. He felt he had to do something. Triesta was watching him like a hawk. And she refused to tell him where Lorena and the baby had gone. Strange things were going on. He had to have some answers. Fast. Because he was afraid the pain in his head was going to get worse and worse until his brain just exploded trying to figure things out. He was having more flashbacks, memories of moments with Jade in unfamiliar, exotic places. The pieces of the puzzle were jagged, fragmented, and unseen ghosts were rattling chains inside his skull. So he had done the only thing he knew to do—try to see Jade. If this crazy-acting woman didn’t give him some information, he feared Bryan Stevens might whisk Jade off somewhere and he would never see her again. No matter that he was her husband. Colt wasn’t thinking about the right or wrong of the situation, only that he was driven by something within that he couldn’t understand, knew only that he had to pursue it and find out what was eating at him. He raised red-rimmed eyes to stare beseechingly at Lita. She had backed across the porch, hands clutching her throat, eyes wide with apprehension. “Please,” he begged. “Please tell me where I can find Jade. I think you know. I think you know a lot you aren’t telling…I think you know what this is all about, and if you’ve got a merciful bone in your body, help me. Please…”

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Lila did not know what to do. She felt sorry for him, but Mrs. Stevens had said he didn’t mean anything to her, so she probably wouldn’t want her telling him anything. What could he do anyway? They’d probably sailed by now. “Please!” he all but shouted in his desperation. “Please tell me where she is!” Oh, Lila really felt sorry for him then, because it was obvious he was really upset. Well, she thought with a sigh, what harm would it do if she did tell him? He would go to the harbor, but he wouldn’t find them, and then he’d give up— as she was going to have to do. It was painful when you had to let a dream die, she mused. She told him then about Mr. Stevens’ yacht, how he was taking his wife to his private island somewhere to get her away from him. Colt exploded then, losing all patience. “Where does Stevens keep his boat docked? I can’t run up and down every pier in town looking for it, goddammit!” She lifted her chin haughtily. “I’ve told you all I’m going to. Now I’m warning you—” “And I’m warning you, goddammit!” He jerked the gun from inside his shirt, had planned to be ready should he encounter Stevens. “You tell me where he keeps that boat or you’re dead. And if you lie to me, I’ll be back.” Lita hoarsely told him what he wanted to know…then fainted. Colt sprinted across the lawn to the bicycle he had ridden, because it was easier to conceal than a horse while he prowled around the estate. Now he was even more glad for the two-wheeled wonder machine since he could maneuver it quickly, quietly, through the streets as he made his way toward Battery Park. It was a long way. A hell of a long way. The weather was against him, too. The wind was starting to howl and whip about, making the ride precarious. Thunder rumbled in the skies to the east, and against the angry red light of dawn he could see silver fingers of lightning streak across the heavens. A vicious storm was

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about to break, but he had to get to the harbor, dammit, and if he didn’t make it in time, he’d swim to Bryan Stevens’ yacht—or die trying.

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The rain had started by the time Colt reached the dock. He leaped from his bicycle, running to and fro looking for some sign of Jade or Stevens. Hardly anyone was about, just those checking to make sure their vessels were secured against the storm. Colt spotted a grizzled old man feverishly working to secure his rowboat to a piling. “Do you know where the Stevens’ yacht is tied up? I’ve got to find it.” “Don’t know ’zackly, but the bigger boats all pull in down there in the yacht basin.” Colt turned, broke into a run. The rain began to come down harder, and he was quickly soaked to the skin. He could see four yachts, but no sign of life on any of them. He jumped from the pier onto the deck of the first, quickly looked about, then continued on to the next…and the next…and the next. Finally he stood with the rain coming down in sheets against his face and knew utter defeat. The woman had lied, he fumed. She had deliberately sent him to the wrong place, and by the time he went back to try to scare her into telling him the truth, it would be too late. Stevens would have sailed. He turned his face to the sky and welcomed the cold, slashing rain. The thunder rolled, and the lightning popped, and the wind screamed and moaned… No! That was not the wind moaning! It was a man, and he sounded as though he was hurt.

Love and Dreams

Colt looked about, straining to see in the driving storm, the bushes and weeds on the above embankment swaying wildly in the frenzied winds. Had the sound come from up there? It had to. He took a cautious step forward, heard the sound again, and then he saw the tip of a man’s shoe among the weeds. He hurried up the incline and saw him— an old man lying on his stomach, struggling to lift himself up. Blood was dripping from a nasty wound in his head. Colt knelt beside him and gently tried to lift him in his arms. “Let me help you. I’ll get you to a doctor.” “No time!” the man cried, and with great effort, got to his feet. He looked at Colt in confusion. “Who…who are you?” “The name’s Coltrane. I was looking for the Stevens yacht, but I think somebody gave me the wrong information. Now let me help you to shelter. You could be hurt bad.” “You’re looking for the Stevens yacht? You here to help Miss Jade?” Colt’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you know about her?” Walt Gibbons came alive. His head hurt like hell, but he could stand it. He wasn’t licked yet. “All I know is that Mr. Stevens has gone loco. He brought his wife here all trussed up like a Christmas goose, and when I started asking questions, he fired me.” Every nerve within Colt tensed. “How long ago?” “Hard to tell,” Walt said. “Don’t know how long I was out. I got hit from behind. I guess they wanted to make sure they’d have time to get away, figured I’d go to the police, which I sure aim to do. But it was dark. Maybe it was near two or three o’clock in the night.” Colt swore. “Dammit, they’ve been gone for hours.”

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Walt shook his head, wincing with pain. “No. The boat wasn’t ready to go. Would’ve been another hour or two at least. He gave us pretty short notice to get things ready.” Colt felt a ray of hope. “Then maybe we’ve got a chance. They can’t have gotten far in this storm.” Walt agreed, pointed to one of the smaller boats a few slips up from where they were standing. “Come on. That’s Mr. Herreshoff’s sloop. We can take shelter there. I know him, and he won’t mind.” Once on board, Walt formally introduced himself, then said, “You’ve heard my story. What’s yours?” Colt would only say that he wanted to save Jade. “And you’ve got to help me,” he said firmly. Walt grinned broadly. “I can outsail the best of ’em, and we’re sittin’ on about the fastest sloop in the world. This here is Nathanael G. Herreshoff’s sloop, the Vigilant. It’s a keelboat, but it’s got a centerboard worked through a slot in the lead keel that makes it faster’n hell. With her, we can beat Bryan Stevens to his island if we want to!” Colt reached out and shook his head firmly, feeling confident for the first time in a long time. “I don’t want to beat him to his island,” he tersely told Walt. “I just want to catch up to him and get Jade off that boat. Can you do it?” Walt was already up and making ready. “We need a crew. I know where a few old salts hang out in a tavern nearby. I’ll tell you where it is, and you just go walk in the door and yell that ol’ Walt Gibbons needs help, and they’ll come runnin’. I’ll worry about making it up to Mr. Herreshoff later.” “Don’t worry about that. I’ll buy this sloop at any price he names.” Walt did not doubt that he would—or could—but didn’t think it would be necessary. However, he felt compelled to bring him out of his state of euphoria

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long enough to grimly advise him, “It ain’t safe out there. I want you to know that. We could tip over. I’m not scared. I’ve been caught out in worse blows than this. But you look like a greenhorn to me.” Colt could not help smiling. “I know about storms, Mr. Gibbons. I was in one…once.” He offered no further explanation, and the man politely did not ask for one.

The Marnia pitched and rolled in the churning sea. The rain had abated somewhat, but the winds were still rough, and conditions precarious. Bryan sat beside the bed, head bowed, hands clasped. He had removed her gag, but Jade would not speak to him. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and every so often she would shift her gaze to sweep over him in quiet rage. “Jade, you’ve got to listen, understand.” He tried once more to reach her. “I did what I did only because I love you. I can make you happier than Coltrane ever could. He’s got a life of his own now, and he doesn’t need you. I do.” Still she did not respond. It wasn’t fair, Bryan thought miserably, that she should react this way. He had saved her life, for God’s sake. If it hadn’t been for him, she’d have died, adrift in the ocean. He had taken her to his home, nourished her, held her through her nightmares, comforted her in her grief. He had shared everything he had with her, and she owed him, he thought, ire rising. By God, she owed him something. What he had done had been for her own good, and it was time she treated him with some gratitude and respect. He got up and removed his tweed coat, folded it carefully across a chair. Then he took off his high-button shoes, stockings, garters. Clad only in trousers

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and shirt, he lay down beside her. She did not move. He reached over and caressed her breast through her dress. No response. He might as well have been touching a corpse. Suddenly he could stand no more. With a maniacal scream of rage, he started jerking at her clothes, ripping at her dress. “You’re mine, damn you, and I’m going to have you. You can’t treat me this way. I’m your husband, and you have a duty to honor me…obey me…” Jade merely regarded him with the same sweep of scorn and loathing, and made no move to stop his assault. She had promised herself she would not give him the satisfaction of evoking any kind of response in her ever again. Afterward, he looked down at her and shook his head in horror. “Oh, dear God, what have I done? I’m sorry, so sorry, but I love you so much, and you’re driving me crazy, Jade…crazy. Jesus, don’t look at me like that I can’t stand it.” He covered his face with his hands and stumbled from the bed, leaning against the wall of the cabin as sobs shuddered through his body. Jade took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She did not care how he suffered, but it was not a pretty sight to see, all the same. Suddenly the cabin seemed to reverberate with the sound of harsh pounding at the door. It was Monroe Burton, and he was excitedly shouting, “Skipper, you better come quick. We got trouble.” Jade’s eyes flew open. Bryan unbolted the door and demanded, “What the hell are you talking about?” The ship gave a sudden pitch, and Monroe lurched into the room, grabbed the doorframe lest he fall. His eyes widened at the sight of Jade’s almost nude body, but he forced his mind back to the problem at hand. “A sloop coming up on us fast, and they want us to lay up. Looks like the one that was moored next

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to us in the harbor. Can’t see who it is, but they fired what sounded like a pistol to let us know they want to board.” “Colt!” Jade cried jubilantly, but they did not hear her, because Bryan was already out of the cabin and making his way up on deck as fast as he could, with Monroe right behind him. She struggled to her feet, and oblivious to her shredded gown, she went after them. On deck, Bryan strained against the rain that had started falling in blinding torrents once more. Shielding his eyes with his hands, he looked through the gray fog enshrouding them and could see a boat on the aft port side of them. He strained to identify it, then realized it was Nathanael G. Herreshoff’s sloop, the Vigilant. “What the hell!” he cried. “What do they want?” “It’s gotta be that son of a bitch Gibbons,” Monroe said. “Who else’d come after us and raise hell? They gotta be crazy! We ain’t layin’ over.” He turned to the other crewmen who were clinging to the riggings. “Get the guns from below. They wanna act like pirates—we’ll treat ’em like pirates!” Bryan stared out in silent disbelief. It had come to this, he thought in panic— all because he had dared to fight for the woman he loved. Now innocent people might die, but above all else, he knew there was no way on Earth he could ever make Jade love him again. Or had she ever? Had it all been a dream—on both their parts? Deep in torment, he was not aware that Jade had made her way up on deck and stood but a few feet away. Neither did he see Colt as he came to stand on the bow of the Vigilant.

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And Colt, so mesmerized by the sight of Jade, did not see the storm’s fury tear loose the booms gallow behind him. It came whipping about with the force of a boomerang. Jade screamed a warning—too late. And Walt Gibbons saw, and he also cried out. But Colt had no time to hear or react as the renegade boom struck him on the back of his head with such force that he was flung overboard into the black, churning waters that waited like a yawning crypt. Jade did not hesitate, did not think of the danger of what she was doing. In a flash, she was over the railing, leaping to the water below. Bryan screamed, “No, God, no—” just as Monroe and the others appeared from below with weapons in hand. The crew of the Marnia, preoccupied with the approaching sloop, had been negligent in their war with the sea. They were not prepared for the sudden wave crashing over them, and the yacht tipped on its side, sending the screaming men overboard. Jade hit the water feet first, going under, then fought her way to the surface, coughing and gasping against the splashing salt water. Turning round and round frantically, she searched for Colt. And then she saw him, floating facedown on the crest of a wave like a bit of flotsam. She swam toward him, calling on every ounce of strength within. The struggle seemed futile in the storm’s fury. Walt Gibbons, a veteran seaman not given to losing control in an emergency, barked orders to his men. They manned their positions, kept the sloop afloat, while Walt worked his way to the side. He carried a round life ring attached to a rope. Expertly, he threw the rope up and out, sending the ring to within yards of

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Colt. “Grab it,” he shouted to Jade above the gale. “Grab and hold on, and we’ll pull you in.” With a cry of thanksgiving, Jade’s arms went around Colt, and she quickly maneuvered him onto his back so that life-giving air could reach his lungs. Then, bobbing up and down herself, swallowing more water, she managed to cling to the rope and hang on to Colt at the same time. It was history repeating itself, Jade realized in terror, only this time it was Colt in the water fighting for his life. “Please, God”—she tried to see some sign of life—“not again, God. Don’t let me lose him again—” They were dragged through the foaming sea to the sloop, and one of the crewmen jumped in to aid her, tying the rope around Colt so he could be pulled on board. Then he helped her stay afloat until the ring was dropped back down for the two of them. Suddenly, miraculously, Colt opened his eyes to look about wildly, then turned his gaze downward, to the water, to her. “Jade!” He shook his head as though to clear it, legs swinging crazily as his body was turned around and around in the wind. He fought to see her again, then screamed, “Jade…my wife! Oh, God—” Then his head slumped to one side. Jade shrieked in horror, beating at the water with her fists in protest. It couldn’t be. Dear God, he had remembered. In that one fleeting instant, he had called her his wife, and now he couldn’t be dead—he couldn’t! The crewman yelled for the men above to hurry. Dizzily, Jade felt a rope going under her arms, the sudden jolt of being lifted upward and out of the hungry jaws of the angry sea. And then everything went black.

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Jade opened her eyes to see Walt Gibbons anxiously staring down at her. “Are you all right? Miss Jade, do you feel all right?” Her only thought was instantly of Colt, and she whispered his name. Walt grinned, said he was in better shape than she was. And suddenly Colt was there, kneeling beside her to lift her tenderly in his arms and whisper the words she’d prayed so long to hear. “My love…my wife…” Jade began to cry, so happily…dear God, so happily. “You do remember,” she sobbed. “Oh, Colt, you do remember it all now, don’t you?” He nodded. “Things are still a bit fuzzy, but it’s coming back. All it took was another hard hit on the head, the storm triggering memories of the other one. The doctors said it might happen suddenly like that, and it did. We’re together, Jade, and we always will be. I swear it.” “Please,” she begged as he bent to kiss her. “Please, don’t let this be another dream like all the others.” He drew her close against his chest and held her in the breeze of the waning storm. He pointed to a rainbow, pastel streaks of beauty against the gray sky of the horizon. She followed his gaze, sighed in wonder of such an omen. “It is a dream,” he murmured. “And this time we aren’t going to wake up. We’re going to live in it…the way we were meant to…the way we did before.”

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Epilogue

Jade and Colt hid away for several days in a New York hotel, to savor the miracle of his recovery. Bryan and all his men were presumed lost at sea, and the only obstacle remaining in the way of their resuming a normal marital relationship, other than society’s shock, was reaching some kind of understanding with Lorena over little Andy. “Are you sure you want to go with me?” Colt asked Jade as they prepared to leave the hotel for the meeting he had arranged with Lorena at her mother’s house. “You don’t have to. It might not be very pleasant. You know how her mother is.” Jade fiercely shook her head. “No way are you leaving me behind, Colt Coltrane. I want to be there when those two she-devils start trying to explain why they tricked you.” He hugged her against him, then took a deep breath and guiltily confessed, “As much as I love little Andy, I can’t help wishing he’d never been born into this. Now I’ll always be tied to Lorena, like it or not.” Jade forced what she hoped was confident smile. “After all we’ve been through, darling, we can handle anything—together.” Hand in hand, they left the hotel and went to the Vordane house. Lorena opened the door. Jade noted at once how pale she looked, how drawn. She brushed a strand of straggling hair back from her forehead with one hand, waved them inside with her other. “Come in, please,” she whispered.

Patricia Hagan

She led them into a dimly lit parlor, which Jade thought was terribly depressing, but then the whole atmosphere of the house was like a tomb. “You don’t have to worry about Mother.” Lorena motioned them to sit down, took a chair opposite. “We had a terrible fight this morning, and I told her if she didn’t get out, I would. I am, anyway, as soon as I can find a place. I won’t stay here with her.” Colt looked at Jade, then at Lorena. “Have you got money?” he softly asked. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here, to talk to you about support for Andy.” She had been sitting with her hands folded in her lap, staring down at them. When she heard what Colt said, she looked up sharply. “You don’t have to do that, Colt. I’ve got a trust fund from my father. I’m old enough to get it now, and Mother can’t do anything about it, so I don’t need your money.” Colt looked at her, puzzled. Jade could suddenly keep still no longer. Struggling to hold her temper, she bit out her words. “Let’s stop beating around the bush. Tell us the whole story— why you and your mother took advantage of Colt and made him think he was married to you.” Lorena’s reply was so low, so faint, they had to strain to hear and then had to ask her to repeat it, because they exchanged looks of disbelief that they could have heard right. “I needed a father for my baby.” Colt stiffened, rage boiling within. “What did you say?” Lorena burst into tears and then went on with her hysterical confession. She had become pregnant by the man she had run away to Europe with, and when Colt had been injured, her mother had seized this opportunity as a way to save the family from scandal by forcing her to pretend he was her husband. Either that, Triesta Vordane had threatened, or she’d be sent to a convent to hide till the

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baby was born, then be forced to give him up at birth. Lorena had not wanted that, had wanted with all her heart to keep the one living memory of the man she had loved. So she had agreed. “And now I’m sorry,” she cried, raising swollen, miserable eyes to Colt. “You thought Andy was your son, and I know you love him. I died every time you held him, hating myself for the lie but not able to do anything about it. I was glad, honest to God, I was glad when it all came out. Because now I don’t have to lie anymore. “I know you can never forgive me,” she hoarsely whispered, “but please believe me when I say I’m sorry.” Jade’s heart went out to the girl, for she knew she was telling the truth, knew she’d had no choice but to go along with her mother’s evil scheme or else her baby would be torn from her arms at birth. She could not hate her nor could Colt. But her heart also went out to him, for he could not stop loving a precious little infant he’d thought of as his son for months merely by a few spoken words. She wished she could help, give comfort, but did not know what to do. Finally, Colt cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m sorry, Lorena, but I can’t accept what you’ve told me.” She blinked in surprise and bewilderment. So did Jade. “I thought of Andy as my son from the first moment I held him in my arms. You can’t change that…can’t take it away from me. He’s still my son—in my heart. And if you’re really sorry for what happened, even though I know now it wasn’t your fault, then let me share in his life. Let me help with his support, be a father to him whenever you’ll let me.” He turned to Jade, anxiously asked, “If that’s all right with you.” Jade smiled and vigorously nodded her consent.

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Lorena was smiling, too. “I think,” she said softly, “Andy would like that…and so would I.” Colt and Jade looked warmly at each other, knowing that at long last they had the best of all worlds… The world of love and dreams.

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About the Author

Patricia Hagan might be the New York Times bestselling author of 38 novels and 2500 short stories, but she can also lay claim to being among the vanguard of women writers covering NASCAR stock-car racing. The first woman granted garage passes to major speedways, she has awards in TV commentary, newspaper and magazine articles, and for several years wrote and produced a twice-weekly racing program heard on 42 radio stations in the south. Patricia’s books have been translated into many languages, and she has made promotional trips to Europe, including England, France, Italy, Norway, Greece, Turkey, Croatia, Spain and Ireland. Hagan’s exciting eight-book Coltrane saga, which spans from the Civil War to the Russian Revolution, has appeared on every major bestseller list and is one of the most popular series published in France, never having been out-of-print in that country in nearly 30 years. Born in Atlanta, Georgia, Patricia grew up all across the United States due to her father’s position as a federal attorney, finally settling in Alabama where she graduated from the University of Alabama with a major in English. She now resides with her husband in south Florida where she volunteers as a Courtappointed Guardian Ad Litem for abused children. But of all her accolades and accomplishments, Patricia most of all loves to boast of being the proud mom of a Navy SEAL.

Look for these titles by Patricia Hagan

Now Available: The Coltrane Saga Love and War The Raging Hearts Love and Glory Love and Fury Love and Splendor

Coming Soon: Love and Honor Love and Triumph

From glittering salons in France to the sumptuous world of the Russian Empire, their love knows no boundaries.

Love and Splendor © 2012 Patricia Hagan

Raised by a cruel aunt after her mother’s death, Dani Coltrane is thrilled to be reunited with her father, Travis, and his wife, Kitty, amongst the glittering lights of Paris. But when a surprise inheritance from her mother’s family leads Dani to a hidden cache of art, little does she know that the valuable art holds an even bigger secret—the location of a priceless Faberge egg. Unfortunately for Dani, many would kill to possess this treasure. Russian nobleman Drakar is on a mission to restore his family name. Banished from the courts of Imperial Russia, he knows that if he can only find the location of the egg, all will be restored. But one look at the beautiful Dani Coltrane and his priorities change. Unwilling to give up her hard-fought freedom to any man, Dani simply cannot resist the intense passion she finds with Drakar. And Drakar soon realizes that the greatest treasure of them all is the fiery woman in his arms. Enjoy the following excerpt for Love and Splendor: Paris, 1891 Dani Coltrane gathered her white ermine wrap tighter about her bare shoulders. She had learned long ago that late summer evenings in France could be quite cool, and she had anticipated the chill, just as she had expected that her escort Perrine Ribaudt, would draw her outside to the seclusion of the terrace behind the Paris Opéra.

It was intermission, and she stood waiting for him to return with champagne. Rainbow streams of light spilled through the stained-glass panes of the building’s arched windows. Combined with the silver bath of the full moon above, Dani stood in a rainbow hue. The billowing skirt of her delicate pink gown of watered silk seemed to come alive and breathe, rippling with thousands of glittering sheens and shimmers. Her chestnut hair, caught and held high in cascades of curls by tiny circlets of diamonds and pearls, shimmered like melted gold. She was the personification of beauty. She had inherited her mother’s delicate loveliness, her father’s charm and wit. But as she stood bathed in the magical radiance, she was the mirror of intense, smoldering agitation. Each time Perrine maneuvered her into a situation where he could once again attempt to persuade her to accept his proposal of marriage, she became angry with herself for allowing such a predicament. Kind and handsome though he might be, she had no intentions of marrying him or any of the other would-be suitors who called at the mansion where she lived with her father and stepmother. Love, and marriage, she felt, meant manipulation, subservience, relinquishment of her own will to another human being, and, by God, she had learned her lesson. Never again would she allow herself to be controlled or directed by anyone. She walked to the edge of the terrace and gazed thoughtfully toward the Etoile, at the western end of the Champs-Elysées, with its twelve avenues of light radiating out from what appeared to be the center of a giant star. In the center of that star stood the colossal Arc de Triomphe, one hundred and sixty-four feet high, more than twice the size of the Arch of Constantine in Rome. It had been planned by Napoleon to honor his victorious army.

Turning, she could see the glow of the Place de la Concorde, but nothing to suggest it was once the notorious Place de la Guillotine, splashed with the blood of Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, Lavoisier, and other victims of the Revolution. Lost in a realm of historical scenes before her, Dani allowed herself to be carried back in time to reflect once more upon those painful, miserable years of her earlier life when she had allowed herself to be entirely manipulated by her Aunt Alaina. She recalled the story of how her father, Travis Coltrane, renowned Union cavalry officer and hero of the War between the States, had married, at war’s end, the beautiful and spirited Kitty Wright, who had borne him a son. They had settled on her inherited farmland in North Carolina. Then, several years later, she had been abducted by an old enemy. Travis had traveled across the country to the deserts of the West in search, only to be told she was dead. Attempting to escape his deep, gnawing grief, he had accepted a job as a Federal Marshal and an assignment in Kentucky to quell the violence of the newly formed Ku Klux Klan. Dani knew there was much she had not been told and realized that what Aunt Alaina had told her had been her personal interpretation of events back then. She also knew that her aunt had been romantically involved with her father for a time, but it was her mother, Marilee Barbeau, whom he’d eventually married. Alaina had never forgiven him, had probably hated him with the last breath she drew. Dani sighed, shook her head with pity. Such hatred had to eat upon the heart like a gnawing cancer. How else could her aunt have been so cruel as to create the breach between father and daughter?

When her mother died giving birth to her, her father had already discovered his beloved Kitty was not dead but suffering from amnesia. They were subsequently reunited, and then Alaina had set out to destroy the relationship between Dani and her father and Kitty. She had succeeded. Alaina persuaded Dani to come and live with her permanently. Her father had resisted such a move, but the situation in the household, due to Alaina’s constant interference, and Dani’s subsequent intolerable behavior, became unbearable to everyone. At first, Dani had lived at the Barbeau estate in Kentucky. When Alaina married Count Claude deBonnett, they had moved to Monaco, in the South of France, to live in the deBonnett château. Dani had no memories of a happy marriage between the two, for it was no secret Alaina had married the Count only for his money. Alaina had also taken young Gavin Mason with her to France, the son of the only other man she had ever loved—Stewart Mason. Stewart, Dani was to learn, was another reason her aunt so vehemently hated her father. Stewart had been a leader in the Klan and, in a gun battle, her father had shot and killed him. Alaina adopted his son, and, through the years, Gavin and Alaina succeeded in making Dani quite miserable. Seeking love, Dani turned to the church. She felt all alone in the world. There was no way of knowing then that letters she wrote through the years to her father, and those he wrote to her seeking a reconciliation, were intercepted by Alaina and destroyed. When the Count was killed in a duel, massive gambling debts left Alaina in dire financial straits. Gavin had proposed marriage to Dani, wanting, she knew, to claim whatever she might one day inherit from her father.

She had turned her back on Gavin’s proposals and her aunt’s pleas and joined a strict cloister isolated in the Maritime Alps. Placing her earthly past soundly behind her, Dani looked to a future of absolute servitude to the church. Then, a sudden, unexpected, and forbidden visit from her half-brother, Colt, awakened her to reality. She learned that her father was living in Paris and had divided up his fortune between her and Colt. Not knowing about the money, Dani also had no way of knowing that Gavin Mason had blackmailed a servant girl to pose as Dani and go to America to claim her share. The terrible tale had unfolded as Colt miserably recounted how Briana, the servant girl posing as Dani, had made him believe he had seduced her. Overwhelmed by guilt to think he had bedded his own sister, he had signed over everything he had to her and gone away in shame. It was only later, when he returned, that he learned the family ranch had been sold. Colt followed Briana and Gavin to France where Briana told him of the entire scheme. She had never wanted to be involved, had been blackmailed because of her sick brother, whom she had to support. Eventually Colt, aided by his father, had tracked Mason to the Greek island of Santorini where they recovered the swindled money…and found Mason murdered by one of his own men. Alaina, it was discovered, had died after plunging from a window of the deBonnett château to the jutting rocks below while attempting to murder Gavin Mason’s mistress in a jealous rage. After much contemplation, Dani realized she did not truly wish to be a nun. She left the convent and moved to Paris to get to know the family she had been denied—all because she had allowed herself to be manipulated. Dani felt a warm glow now to think of the happy times shared with her father and stepmother during the past year. Travis Coltrane was every bit as

wonderful as she’d hoped he might be, and Kitty was more like a sister than a stepmother. In fact, it had been Kitty who had helped her come to understand how so many people had been hurt by her inability to make her own decisions, by allowing someone else to interfere in her life. Kitty, Dani had admiringly come to realize, was an independent spirit, yet she was able to love a man while maintaining her own identity. Dani wanted to be just like her. It was also Kitty who had helped her to see that she owed it to herself to live her life to the fullest. There was a fortune already bequeathed to her by her father, and she had the money to do anything she wanted. And the one thing she wanted above all else was independence…to make up for all those lost years. The sound of Perrine’s voice calling her name sharply snatched her from the grasping cobwebs of the past. She turned to face him. Perrine Ribaudt was not only handsome, with dark, curling hair and laughing brown eyes, he was also intelligent. Educated at Oxford in England, he spoke flawless English with only a touch of a French accent. However, if he had not, there would have been no language barrier, for Dani spoke perfect French. They had met at a reception at the embassy. Perrine was being groomed for an ambassador’s post and came from a wealthy, influential family. Dani found him to be enjoyable company and had accepted his invitations to attend various social functions. All she had wanted was a friendship, but then, after they had been keeping company only a few months, he had proposed. She had refused, but he was undaunted and continued his attempts to persuade her to say yes. He held out a glass of sparkling champagne and smiled fondly, dark eyes glowing with his love for her. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, my dear, but the hall was crowded.”

She took the champagne, wishing to hear the silvery tinkle of the bells signaling the beginning of the last half of the performance. If she stayed in Perrine’s company, unchaperoned, for very long, she knew what would happen. She did not have long to wait for the inevitable.