“Tell me why you’ve been on my case for the past three days,” Jonas ordered between blows. “Tell me what the hell I did to deserve the kind of abuse I’ve been getting around here lately.”
“You’re going to leave,” she accused furiously. “I know you’re going to leave. It’s just a matter of time.”
“So what are you trying to do? Speed up my departure?” He smacked her again.
“Yes.” Verity lost her temper completely and dug her fingernails fiercely into his leg. Enough was enough.
Jonas yelped. “Ouch! Dammit, you little…The blows stopped abruptly. “You’re trying to get rid of me?”
“I just want to know where I stand. I want you to make some kind of decision. I can’t handle not knowing what’s going to happen.”
“Why all the concern about my leaving? You worried about having to advertise for more kitchen help?”
“No,” she shrieked furiously. “It’s not that. I just want to know how much time I have left with you. I love you, you big, dumb, condottiere bastard.”
“Repeat that,” he ordered thickly.
“I said I love you.” Verity wriggled off his thighs and wound up kneeling in front of him on the floor. She shoved her disordered hair out of her eyes and glared at him as she got to her feet. “I realize that fact doesn’t speak well for my intelligence, but that’s the way it is. I can’t seem to help myself. But I have to know when you’ll leave me. I refuse to live in fear from day to day. Can’t you understand that? Maybe I have been pushing you for the past three days. I suppose I was spoiling for a fight. Anything to clear the air.”
“Did it ever occur to you to just ask me flat out what my plans were?” he roared as he massaged his leg where she had left the imprint of her sharp nails.
She blinked uncertainly. “No,” she admitted softly. “I guess I didn’t know how to phrase the question. I haven’t had a lot of experience with handling the beginnings and endings of affairs. It’s a hard question to ask, Jonas. Maybe I didn’t want to hear the answer.”
“For a supposedly intelligent woman, you show an amazing amount of stupidity at times. I’m not going anywhere. I happen to like it here in Sequence Springs, Verity Ames. God knows why, given my present conditions of employment, which include everything from low wages to a difficult boss. But we’ll go into that later. Right now we have something else to clear up. You said you loved me?”
Verity cleared her throat. “Well, yes.” That had sort of tumbled out accidentally in the heat of the moment, she decided. She hadn’t meant to spell it out so plainly. It made her terribly vulnerable and Verity discovered she did not like being vulnerable. Especially not to this man. But she didn’t have much choice.
Jonas was eyeing her assessingly. “What is this? You no longer consider me irresponsible, unreliable, and unacceptable?”
Verity flushed, her palm going surreptitiously to her stinging rear. “I know you a lot better now than I did when I first said that. I’d trust you with my life,” she said simply. “In fact I already have trusted you with it. It’s true you do irritate me from time to time. You’re far too casual about certain matters, including your career. But I know now that if you make a commitment, you’ll fulfill it. If you said you were going to do something, you’d do it.”
“And if I said I intended to stay here in Sequence Springs with you, you’d believe me?” he asked, his voice gentling.
She nodded warily, afraid to acknowledge the hope that was building in her heart. “But I was afraid to ask you for fear you’d tell me you had to leave. If not right away, then soon. I didn’t want to hear it. But a part of me had to hear the truth. I can’t stand not knowing.”
Jonas stopped rubbing his leg and propped his elbows on his knees. He laced his fingers and leaned his chin on his hands. His golden eyes were deep and brooding as he contemplated her. “So you started pushing me, waiting to see what would happen when the blow-up finally came. Well, you found out, didn’t you?”
“No. All I got for my efforts was a beating. That’s not an answer.” She got to her feet and walked toward the window.
Jonas followed, coming up behind her. “That was no beating. That was a display of extreme masculine displeasure. Besides, we’re even. I may never walk properly again. I think you ruined my leg.”
“You deserved it.”
“I never really hurt you and you know it.” He settled both hands on her shoulders and pulled her back against him. He put his face into her tangled hair. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know that,” she admitted reluctantly. It was the truth. She would never have any need to fear this man. He had already given her ample proof that he would fight to the death for her.
“I’m not going anywhere, little tyrant. It would take a nuclear bomb to remove me from your vicinity. I need you, I want you, and it dawned on me a few days ago that I’m in love with you. You should have realized it before I did. You have such great insight into my character.”
“Oh, Jonas.” She turned in his arms, her eyes shining. “Do you mean it? You love me?”
He smiled down at her. “I said it, didn’t I?”
Her smile was shaky with relief. “Then you mean it,” she whispered. She buried her face against his chest. “You wouldn’t lie to me.”
“I couldn’t lie to you,” he said quietly. “We’re bound together, you and I, in a very special way. Maybe whatever holds us together in that psychic corridor links us outside as well. Maybe that’s why I wanted you so badly the first time I saw you. Maybe that’s the real reason I traveled a couple of thousand miles to find you.”
She knew then, with sure instinct, that he was right. “But do you think our psychic link is a strong enough basis on which to build a relationship?” she asked hesitantly.
Jonas locked his fingers in her hair. “I have a hunch it provides a much stronger foundation than most relationships have. Besides, we haven’t got a relationship. We’re in love.”
“But is it really love?” Verity persisted thoughtfully. “I believe you when you say you think you’re in love with me, but maybe you’re just misinterpreting that sense of being psychically linked to me. Maybe there isn’t any word for the kind of connection we share, so you’re willing to label it love but in reality it could be…Mmmmph.”
The last of her lecture on the subject of the reality of love died beneath Jonas’s forceful kiss. He didn’t release her mouth for a long time, not until she had gone soft and compliant in his arms. Then he slowly eased the kiss until his lips were just barely brushing hers. He murmured softly:
“My lady has for too long sworn that no man’s will would bind or bend her.
But I have braved the thorns that guard her secrets.
I claim the victory and the treasure.
Now think it’s time my lady learned the art of sweet surrender.”
“Where do you get that awful Renaissance poetry you’re always quoting?” Verity asked admiringly as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
Jonas laughed with wicked triumph as he picked her up and carried her down the hall toward the bedroom.
“I make it up as I go along,” he told her.
“I was afraid of that.”
She pulled his head down to hers so that she could kiss him with the thoroughness he deserved.
THE END
Excerpt from Gift of Fire
by Jayne Ann Krentz
Chapter One
“This entire plan,” Verity Ames announced, “is a really stupid idea. When it came to giving out common sense, the good Lord obviously overlooked you two. Or maybe he just overlooked men in general.”
She glared across the table at the two men who sat opposite her. One was her lover and one was her father. She loved them both but right now she could cheerfully have strangled them. That she could be so fond of a p
air of chauvinistic, bullheaded rogues probably indicated a serious character flaw in her.
“Now, Red, just calm down. I’ve told you there’s absolutely no reason to worry. It’s gonna be a cakewalk. No sweat.” Her father’s teeth flashed from the depths of his bushy, graying red beard, and his aquamarine eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Emerson Ames, part-time author and full-time adventurer, was a big man with a huge appetite for life in the dangerous lane.
Verity had gotten her flaming hair and curiously striking blue eyes from him. Emerson had raised her single-handedly after her mother’s death, and he’d seen to it that his only child grew up with a thorough, if eclectic, education, and the ability to take care of herself. One of the things Emerson had not managed to instill in her, however, was his unquenchable desire to wander the far corners of the earth. Verity valued home and hearth.
“Don’t try to reassure me, Dad. I’ve listened to the whole scheme and I still think it’s stupid and risky. Samuel Lehigh got himself into this mess. Let him get himself out of it. There’s no need for you and Jonas to get involved.”
“Lehigh’s in real trouble this time, Verity. He needs help. He needs someone he can trust,” Jonas said. He extended one arm with unconscious grace and picked up the glass of vodka in front of him. That smooth, masculine grace was an intrinsic part of Jonas Quarrel, a manifestation of the quiet power within him. Verity imagined it was the kind of power one might have seen in a sixteenth-century Renaissance nobleman—a civilized savagery.
Although he had the grace and power of a Medici, Quarrel certainly did not dress like one. Tonight he wore his usual attire—blue denim work shirt, jeans, and scuffed boots. The leather belt around his waist was supple from years of wear. While he did not dress like a Renaissance aristocrat, Quarrel did possess the unique talents of a Medici or a Borgia. He was, in other words, equally capable of quoting poetry or wielding a dagger.
He was definitely overqualified for his present job, Verity thought wryly. Jonas Quarrel was one of the few dishwashers around with the right to put Ph.D. after his name. His field of expertise was Renaissance history; specifically, the weapons and strategies of that era.
He was not a handsome man, but men of power and grace have never needed to depend on anything as superficial as masculine beauty. Whenever she looked into the depths of his eyes—eyes the color of Florentine gold coins, filled with intelligence and the shadows of ghosts—the last thing on Verity’s mind was how Quarrel rated on a scale of one to ten. He could seduce her with a touch or a look. She was deeply, passionately in love with him.
And now he was getting ready to leave her.
“Lehigh wouldn’t have asked for help if he didn’t need it,” Jonas continued reasonably in his rich, dark voice. “He made it clear on the phone that Emerson is the only one he can trust to handle the ransom payoff. Emerson has no choice. He has to go down to Mexico to deal with the kidnappers. Do you really want your father to go alone?”
Verity had realized hours ago that she had lost the battle, but she struggled on hopelessly. “The Mexican police can deal with the situation.”
Emerson shook his head. “Come on, Red, I raised you smarter than that. The last thing Lehigh can afford is to have the cops brought in, even if he could trust ‘em not to take the ransom and run. And let’s face it, when you’re dealing with the upholders of law and order in Mexico, you’re playing with a stacked deck. No, old Sam knows this has to be handled privately.”
“And there’s absolutely no one old Sam can call on to handle the payoff besides you?” Verity asked suspiciously.
Emerson gave a huge shrug. “No one he can trust.”
“That certainly says a lot about old Sam’s lifestyle and choice of friends, doesn’t it?” Verity muttered. “Imagine living to the ripe old age of eighty and not having another person on the face of the earth he can call on in an emergency.”
“How do you think he got to the ripe old age of eighty?” Emerson drawled. “Not by trusting the wrong people, that’s for damn sure.”
Verity gazed at Jonas for a long moment. He sipped his vodka quietly and looked back at her, his eyes steady and intent. She knew there was no point in arguing any further. She had been trying to talk them out of the venture since Lehigh’s call on the restaurant phone yesterday morning.
It wasn’t so difficult to accept her father’s decision. Verity was accustomed to Emerson’s restless, adventuring ways. But when she thought about Jonas going away, she could feel a knife twisting deep inside.
“What about your writing, Dad?” she tried, knowing it was a futile attempt. “You said you had a deadline for that first futuristic western. You’ll miss it if you go chasing off to Mexico.”
I can probably get an extension,” Emerson replied easily. “But if the editor doesn’t want to give me one, he can shove it.”
Verity winced and turned to Jonas. “You were just starting to make some real progress in learning how to cook. I had great hopes for your lentil stew. The customers love it.”
Jonas’s mouth crooked slightly at one corner. “When I get back you can finish giving me cooking lessons.”
Verity put both palms flat on the table. “So,” she said, accepting the inevitable with bad grace, “when will you be leaving?”
Jonas studied her for a moment. “Tomorrow morning. Early.”
Verity nodded. “Well, good luck. Tell Sam Lehigh I said hello.” She pushed herself to her feet abruptly. She was dazed at the implications of having lost this battle. If this was not the end, it was surely the beginning of the end.
Perhaps it would be better if Jonas made the break a clean one. Then again, maybe it would be infinitely harder. The thought of never seeing him again filled Verity with despair, but the idea of having him drift in and out of her life over the next fifty or sixty years was equally hard to accept. The vision of a lifetime filled with uncertain farewells and greetings almost overwhelmed her.
Dammit, I’m getting maudlin, Verity thought as she swept a couple of glasses off a nearby table. She walked through the empty restaurant and into the kitchen of the No Bull Cafe, angrily blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.
This wasn’t like her, she never cried. She was irritated by her unusually emotional reaction. What was the matter with her? She had known that sooner or later it would come to this, that one day Jonas would succumb again to the restless spirit that had driven him for years before he had met her.
Verity had tried to prepare herself for this day, but now that it had arrived she realized she had done a poor job of protecting herself. She was shockingly vulnerable. She had surrendered far too completely during the past few months, given too much of herself to Jonas. He had taken everything she was able to give, and now he was casually walking out.
Granted, he would probably return. But she couldn’t be sure it would be because of a bond of love. She wouldn’t have even that much satisfaction. If and when Jonas came back, it would be because of the psychic bond they shared. He needed her for a unique reason. Lately Verity had begun to wonder how much longer he would need her even for that.
Jonas Quarrel was rapidly taming his strange talent for psychometry, which had once threatened to turn him into a killer or at the very least drive him insane. In Verity he had discovered a way to control his trips into a dimension where violent moments from the past were frozen forever in a mysterious time corridor.
Yes, she thought as she placed the glasses into the sink, Jonas would drift back to her as long as he needed her help to understand his dark, powerful ability. But if he ever got to the point where he could control it by himself, he might take off and never return.
Or the end might be far more final, Verity reflected as she turned off the kitchen lights. Jonas might simply wander off on an adventure one day and get himself killed.
Either way, she could look forward to a lot of time
alone.
Well, maybe not completely alone, she thought uneasily. She touched her stomach lightly. There was no need to panic. Lots of women skipped periods occasionally. Stress and anxiety could play strange tricks on a woman’s body.
Verity picked up her favorite leather bomber jacket and opened the back door of the cafe. The February night was bitterly cold. There were patches of ice on the path that led from the cafe to the two cabins nestled in the trees a short distance away. She picked her way carefully toward the cozy little cottage she’d been sharing with Jonas since shortly after his arrival last fall.
It was going to be a long, cold winter.
A heavy silence descended on the two men left sitting at the table in the empty restaurant. Jonas listened to the door close behind Verity and wondered how long that hollow sound would haunt him. Then he reached for the nearly empty bottle of vodka.
“She’ll be here when you get back,” Emerson said. “Verity’s not going anywhere. She’ll be right here waiting for you.”
“Christ. I didn’t think she’d take it this hard,” Jonas muttered. “I expected a few fireworks at first, but I thought she’d simmer down eventually and be reasonable. Dammit, you’d think we were leaving for a year instead of a few days.”
Emerson eyed his companion thoughtfully. “If you want out, just say the word. I should be able to handle this on my own.”
“Don’t be an ass. It would be pretty stupid for you to go up against three men alone when you’ve got backup help available. You know damn well it isn’t going to be a simple matter of handing over the ransom the way you told Verity. They’ll kill Lehigh if they can get away with it. Much simpler and neater for them that way.”
“Yeah. I’m sure Lehigh considered that when he chose me to pick up the cash and deliver it.”
“At least he managed to convince the kidnappers that you were the only guy on the planet who could be trusted to handle the exchange.”