Reckless

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Copyright

Wyn regained her senses first

“We can’t do this. Must forget it ever happened,” she insisted, her breathing still labored.

“Forget it? The bloody hell I can forget it.” Garrett took one long stride and reached for her.

Wyn slipped away. “We have to,” she said. “Have to make sure it never happens again.”

“Wyn!”

She evaded him, taking running steps back into the glow of lantern light. She turned as she pulled open the hatch, looking back at him over her shoulder, sorrow and regret clear in her eyes. “It can’t,” she said. “It can’t.”

Before he could stop her or ask for an explanation, Wyn was gone, slipping through the hatch, headed back to the safety of the stateroom she shared with her widowed friend, leaving him alone with the increasing whine of the wind and the echo of longing he’d heard in her voice….

Dear Reader,

This month, we are very pleased to be able to introduce Silhouette Yours Truly and Special Edition author Beth Henderson to our readers with her first historical for Harlequin, Reckless, the story of a young woman, accused of being a jewel thief, who is rescued by a mysterious baron intent on clearing her name. The Literary Times calls Beth Henderson’s writing “fresh and creative,” and we hope you’ll agree.

Rae Muir, whose first book, The Pearl Stallion, made Affaire de Coeur’s Top Ten List for 1996, is back with All But the Queen of Hearts, a lively Western set in Nevada Territory with an unsinkable heroine whose determination and skill in the kitchen finally win the heart of her reluctant hero. Also keep an eye out for Laurie Grant’s new Western, Lawman, the fast-paced sequel to her 1996 release. Devil’s Dare, about a lonely lawman who rediscovers love in the arms of his childhood sweetheart.

And for those of you who enjoy the Regency era, Taylor Ryan’s The Essential Wife is the delightful story of a dashing nobleman who suddenly finds himself in love with the penniless heiress whom he has arranged to marry out of pity.

We hope you’ll look for all four of these wonderful books, wherever Harlequin Historicals are sold.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farren

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Harlequin Reader Service

U.S. 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Reckless

Beth Henderson

BETH HENDERSON

began writing when she was in the seventh grade and ran out of Nancy Drew books to read. It took another couple of decades, and a lot of distractions and pro-crastination, before her first book appeared in print.

That happened in May of 1990, and since that time she has written romantic-suspense, historical, young adult and contemporary romance under a variety of names for a variety of publishers.

Although a native of Ohio, Beth spent twenty years in the West, living in Tucson, Arizona and Las Vegas, Nevada. During that time she sampled a number of professions and has been a copywriter and traffic director in radio, done print display advertising and been a retail department manager. Now returned to her hometown, she is thrilled to be a full-time writer and loves to hear from readers. Her address is P.O. Box 262, Englewood, Ohio 45322, U.S.A.

To my aunts, Catherine Hemme Ocskasy and Marjorie Daniels Schemmel

Prologue

San Francisco, 1879

With the heavy brocade drapes drawn, only a sliver of moonlight entered the room. It was enough to catch the gleam of cut stones and to silver the rich setting as the necklace dangled from the dark-gloved hand.

The thief smiled, a small, self-satisfied curving of the lips, and admired the piece. The diamonds were as clear as water and nicely matched. They had been hoarded away in a vault at the bank for years, nearly forgotten by the family, before Oswin Hartleby had remembered them. His first wife had been a rarity in San Francisco society for she hadn’t cared for ostentation. But Hartleby’s second and much younger bride liked to flaunt his wealth. To please her, he’d spent a fortune having the diamonds made up in a glittering necklace and matching earrings: The gold for the setting had come from his own mines.

Nearly played out mines.

Of course, no one had known that until life with a wife forty years his junior had been the death of old Hartleby. There were some who claimed that, married to the coldly beautiful Hildegarde Keyes, Oswin’s last years had been joyless. It was the young widow who wasn’t smiling now. Hartleby’s will had been read the day before and the news had sped about town, running rampant through the parlors. Oswin Hartleby had left few bequests and astonishingly high debts.

Old fool, the thief thought in derision, then grinned widely in amusement. Poor Hildy. Having lost her husband, she was about to lose her precious diamonds, as well. If not to a thief in the night, or hungry debtors, then to her prickly middle-aged stepchildren who felt the exquisite set should remain in their care.

The stones shimmered in the thin ray of moonlight. The necklace was a gaudy trinket in many ways. It reeked of new money, lacking the taste that came with inherited wealth.

It was much admired in San Francisco.

If, by some chance, the widow didn’t weep for it, there were a good many other covetous women in the city who would.

The necklace dropped into a dark bag with a slight tinkle of sound and was joined by the matching earrings. There was little else of interest in the jewelry box to add to the cache. Although they’d been married nearly five years, Hildy had received promises from Oswin rather than more baubles. The thief closed the lid quietly and walked silently to the window. More moonlight spilled into the room, outlining the dark-clothed form as the drapes were parted. If there had been another in the room they would have seen a figure of average height but little else. A silk mask covered the lower section of the thief’s face, a cloth cap disguised both the color and length of the robber’s hair. A shapeless sack coat and baggy trousers hid any trace of build. To all intents and purposes it had been a shadow that had retrieved the diamonds from the wall safe in Hartleby’s house.

If any of the sleeping residents heard a sound in the master suite, they put it down to Oswin Hartleby’s ghost Now that he was gone, his young widow had moved her personal belongings to a more cheerful room down the hall.

The thief moved quickly, letting the drapes fall closed, returning the room to its peaceful slumber. Outside the night grew attentive to a shadow’s needs. Tendrils of fog stretched from the sea to shroud the moon. When the veil was complete, the thief slid from hiding, hastening to take Hartleby’s diamonds to their new home.

Chapter One

The slap echoed in the parlor.

A lone beam of sunlight shone through the bow window, falling on the intense young couple who stood frozen in the center of the room. It burnished the pale flaxen locks of the woman, and brought a brighter sheen to the rose fabric of her afternoon gown and the multilayered train that spilled away from it across the fading patterns in the Oriental rug. The man’s dark-suited back was turned away from the day, his expression temporarily masked by shadows and the tawny, rather rakish side whiskers that framed his lean cheeks.

The woman was the first to recall her lines, words she had heard other women speak, words she had never thought to utter, especially to this man.

“How dare you,” Winona Abbot rasped. Her hand stung sharply, a physical reflection of the blow Deegan Galloway had dealt her ego.

“I love you,” he answered simply. “I made a mistake and…”

“A mistake!” Wyn swung away from him. Crossing the room, she snapped open the pocket doors. Moments ago they had turned the front parlor of her family’s Nob Hill mansion into a private haven for lovers. Now that same sanctuary felt like a prison that confined Deegan and her in each other’s company.

“You don’t understand, Wyn,” he said.

She wheeled back to face him, the rich fabric of her train whirling with the motion. “Oh, I understand only too well. It was never me you cared about, Deegan. It was my dowry. After all,” she snapped, her usually soft tone harsh with sarcasm, “there is so much a man can accomplish with a quarter of a million dollars.”

He stood his ground on center stage, the imprint of her hand still clear on his face. “With you it was never the money, Wyn. Never.”

If he meant to pacify her with the compliment, the effort was a failure. Her deep green eyes, dark lashed and mysteriously foreign against her fair coloring, flashed with indignation. The delicate curve of her chin tilted upward in a challenge. “So you admit it You are a fortune hunter.”

Deegan drew a deep breath, the air hissing through his clenched teeth. “I wish to God I knew who told you about Leonore Cronin.”

There was a part of her that wished she had never learned of his perfidy, as well. But she had, from Leonore’s own lips. “Did you think she and I didn’t travel in the same circles, Deegan?”

“I thought,” he said, “that you would understand when I did the girl a kindness…”

Wyn’s brows rose at the inappropriateness of the term.

Deegan plowed on as if he hadn’t noticed, “…and danced attendance on her last night. She looked so miserable sitting with the chaperons along the wall. I merely asked her to dance.”

“I see. And was it then or on a previous occasion that you poured honeyed love words in her shell-like ears?”

She noticed Deegan had the grace to look embarrassed at hearing his own words thrown back in his face. How many times had he praised her own beauty using the trite phrase? How many times had she fallen happily into his arms, her maidenly reserve melted by his murmured praises of her charms?

At twenty-five, Wyn had thought she knew the wiles of men well enough not to make herself a fool over one of them. She had been wrong.

Wyn turned her back on Deegan, unwilling any longer to gaze on his handsome features. She had believed she loved him and yet had never been sure of him, never trusted him. That being so, the pain of his deception should not be this sharp. Wyn rested her brow against the highly polished molding around the door. “Oh, Deegan,” she whispered in anguish, “tell me true. Was this gallant behavior begun before or after you discovered Leonore’s father made his fortune in Nevada silver? Did you know she is his sole heir?”

When he didn’t answer immediately, her heart broke a little more.

“Wyn…” Deegan took a step toward her, his hand touched her shoulder.

“Don’t.” She didn’t want him to lie to her anymore, wouldn’t tempt him to do so for the sake of a relationship that, for her, no longer existed. Wyn straightened her shoulders, gathered her courage. “I think it would be best if you left.”

Deegan’s hand fell away. “You aren’t being fair to me, Wyn,” he said quietly. “I love you. You love me. I would think you’d be pleased that I played Galahad for your little friend.”

Played Galahad. Is that what he called the hours he’d spent with Leonore? According to the desolate girl, he had called on her with flowers, had whispered tender words, had squired her on rides through the park, had in every instance shown that he was courting her. In Leonore’s eyes Deegan had done everything except formally ask for her hand. Earlier that day when they had both chanced to visit the same home, Leonore had burst into tears when Wyn was teased about her own relationship with Deegan Galloway. Flinging the accusation that Wyn had set out to steal her fianc#233;, Leonore had run from the room, leaving an embarrassed silence behind her.

“Please, Wyn. Forgive me,” Deegan pleaded softly.

How could a woman forgive unfaithfulness? It was the ultimate insult and Deegan had compounded it by being unfaithful to two women at once.

Surreptitiously Wyn regarded him, her gaze dispassionate. Once she had thought his brown eyes to be beautiful, an almost feminine feature in his otherwise masculine face. But now there was a desperation in them when they met hers. Rather than eliciting tenderness and compassion, the emotion hardened Wyn’s heart. Leonore had looked that way before fleeing earlier that day. Wyn would never forget that moment, or the man who had caused the younger woman such pain and disillusionment.

“I think you’d better go, Deegan,” Wyn said.

Long after he’d collected his hat and stormed out of the house, Wyn continued standing at the front window, staring out unseeing over the city, remembering.

They had met at a ball, introduced by her elder brother. Wyn had thought the men were business associates. She certainly saw Deegan at all the Nob Hill parties. She had begun to look forward to his attendance on her, to his tenderly whispered compliments, to his growingly insistent kisses.

She had been so close to succumbing to Deegan’s wishes. He had wanted her. Her, not her dowry, even if she had flung that accusation at him. Compared to the fortune Leonore Cronin would inherit, the sum settled on herself appeared minuscule. Fool that she was, she had thought he cared for her. His protestations of love had been many, always followed by kisses guaranteed to undermine a maiden’s resolve. As she weakened, Deegan grew bolder until she had begun to crave the stolen minutes, the clandestine caresses, with the passion of an opium eater. Wyn grew flushed at the memory of the time they had spent together, longing for what she would no longer have and embarrassed that she had so forgotten herself in sampling those forbidden delights.

The future of which she had dreamed would no longer become a reality, for with Deegan went her last hope. While her friends had found mates and married, she was still alone, a spinster, on the shelf, overlooked or forgotten when it came to love.

The truth was difficult to admit. She was an acclaimed beauty, an heiress. With those lures to attract a mate, why had she not been able to find a man who drew her?

Even Deegan, handsome and charming as he was, hadn’t managed to do that. She had been tempted…only tempted.

The sun slipped into the western seas unnoticed. The sky grew dusky and lamps came to life in the nearby homes and along the sloping streets. Unseen, a maid came to attend to the gas jets in the hall, only to creep silently away from the parlor rather than disturb Wyn. It was only when the front door swung shut and impatient male footsteps sounded in the entryway that Wyn came out of her reverie.

“What the devil are you doing in the dark?” a man’s voice demanded.

Wyn turned from the window at the first bark of her older brother’s voice. “Oh, hello, Pierce. Back already?”

He tossed aside his hat and fumbled for a match in the pocket of his coal black frock coat. “Already? I stayed at the shipping office an hour later just trying to catch up on various matters. I’ve got a train to catch tomorrow, if you recall.”

The match scraped to life. A moment later the room was filled with the soft glow of light. Pierce adjusted the gas jet on the wall then dropped full length onto the plump cushions of the sofa. “Don’t you know it’s damn cold in here, Wyn?”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

He glanced at her, a frown of concern drawing his dark brown brows together over his straight patrician nose. “Not coming down with something, are you, Ace?”

Wyn shrugged. “Do you want a fire?”

“Lord, yes. But first, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing. I’ve just been thinking.” Wyn gathered her narrow skirts and sank companionably to the floor near him. “Do you still need financing for the new ship?”

Pierce pushed off one shoe then the other. The sound of each falling was hollow against the tongue-and-groove wood flooring. “Let’s just say the bank is anxious. They’d like a payment since we’re running behind schedule on building the Nereid. Are you going to light a fire, or do I have to do it?”

“I’ll do it. Have you got another lucifer?” He fumbled in his pocket again and passed her a match. Wyn leaned forward on her knees to light the fire. It had been laid on the hearth earlier by a maid in anticipation of the damp San Francisco evening. “Just how much does the bank want?”

“More than I feel comfortable discussing,” Pierce admitted. Although he had become titular head of the Shire Shipping Line in the past year, Wyn knew her brother had moments when he doubted his ability to run the family business.

The flame caught the tinder and ate greedily along the underside of a log. Wyn sat back on her heels and leaned one arm along the sofa cushions where her brother lay stretched out. “On my last birthday, you and Pop arranged for me to have some money of my own,” she said.

“Your dowry, Ace. Besides, you’ll need it to reel Galloway in.”

“Mr. Galloway has proven to be a cad,” Wyn said tightly.

Pierce sucked in air between his teeth. “Worse than me, huh?”

“Infinitely worse than you.”

He shook his head sadly. “Damn, and I thought I held the record. I guess you found out about the mouse.”

“Leonore Cronin? Yes, I did. Do you mean to tell me, you knew he was courting her and didn’t tell me?”

Pierce snorted. “La Cronin didn’t have a chance against you, Ace. And so I told anyone willing to give me odds on the outcome.”

Wyn sighed. “If you had a wager on it, I can understand why you didn’t drop a hint. What was my standing in this particular race?”

“Hell, you were the favorite, of Galloway and of the betting books.”

“Thank you for the kind compliment, brother dear,” Wyn murmured, her spirits beginning to return. Having the matter reduced to the level of a sporting event put things in a different perspective, making it appear ridiculous for her to continue railing against fate.

“I’m sorry I lost you your wager.”

Pierce sighed deeply. “You know I’ve always been a rotten gambler. Let’s hope I’m a better businessman.”

Wyn smiled warmly at him. “You are, much to the astonishment of the business community. Tell me truthfully, Pierce. Is the Nereid bankrupting you?”

“Truthfully? Nearly. That’s why I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow to oversee the final construction. It means changing my schedule. I won’t be able to sail on her maiden-voyage as planned. However, a personal appearance on my part now should soothe the bankers. Our Shire cousins are careful administrators in the Eastern office, but they don’t see the Nereid as a necessary expansion of our business.”

“The Shire Line has always carried passengers,” Wyn said. She held her palms toward the fire, suddenly aware of how cool the room had become. “And each year we’ve ordered larger ships to be built.”

“Maybe it’s just me,” Pierce said. When Wyn made a discouraging noise, he laughed. “Okay, it’s the expense. We’ve never gone in for steamships before, and the Nereid is more than just that. She’s a luxury liner, designed specifically for passenger business rather than shipping.”

Wyn stared into the fire and came to a decision. “Pierce, I want you to take my money. All of it.”

He sat up abruptly. “Hell, no!” His stockinged feet hit the floor with an emphatic thud. “I do have my pride, Wyn. Pop and I worked it all out when I decided to take over the Shire office. Rather than divide the company up into shares, I bought each of my siblings out. That money is yours, Ace. It belongs solely to you and your future husband.”

“I’m not going to have a future husband.” Wyn took his hands in hers and gazed up into her brother’s concerned face. “Don’t you see? This is the perfect solution. I do believe in your plans for the Nereid.” At his doubtful expression, she squeezed his hands. “All right, it’s you I believe in, Pierce, in your dreams for the line. I want to invest my money back into it. Think of it as a loan. You can pay me interest, dividends, whatever you want to call it.”

He wasn’t convinced. “And if indeed I do bankrupt the company with this scheme? You’ll lose it all, Ace.”

“Then you can take care of me for the rest of my life,” she assured him brightly. “I’m not worried. The point is, you need to pay the bank something on account and I want to tie my dowry up so that it is no longer a lure for fortune hunters.”

Pierce still looked doubtful. “You haven’t thought this through, Wyn. I know it sounds good to you at the moment. Hell, it sounds like a godsend to me and you know I’m a proven cad who’ll leave you high and dry like I did…”

Wyn pressed a hand to his lips, silencing the grim reminder of the girl he’d nearly wed.

“You won’t let me down, Pierce. I know you won’t. I can’t say the same about any other man and since I can’t, the best thing to do is never marry.”

He removed her hand from where it sealed his mouth. “Don’t gammon me, Wyn. You’re a beautiful woman. There’ll be lots of men who want you whether you’ve got a dowry handy or not.”

A smile crept to her lips. “Are you going to take my money?”

“Hell, yes, I’m going to take it. I’m not that noble. But I’ll do so on one condition only. Since I can’t be there, you’ve got to be the family representative aboard the Nereid for her maiden voyage,” Pierce insisted.

Wyn cocked her head to one side. “Can I take Hildy with me?”

Pierce’s brows rose in mock surprise. “The far-from-sedate Widow Hartleby?”

“She’s on the verge of a decline,” Wyn divulged.

Pierce’s mobile brows snapped together over the bridge of his nose. “Probably more so over the loss of her diamonds than over old Hartleby’s demise. However, since you can’t exactly travel alone—”

“You prude,” she accused.

“Where my sister is concerned? Damn right, woman. I suppose Hildy is a better solution than hiring a companion.

“She’s nearly a pauper,” Wyn said.

“I’ll arrange her passage, but that’s it,” Pierce insisted.

Wyn surged to her feet and, plumping down on the sofa next to him, hugged her brother fiercely. “It’s a deal. You are the best of relatives no matter what the others say.”

Pierce’s frown darkened even more. “And what exactly does the rest of our family say, my dear Winona?”

The bellboy caught the coin, his eyes widening in surprise as he recognized the denomination, and responded by giving the man who’d tossed it a snappy salute.