Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

He could still feel her uncertainty, her resistance, and said in a teasing voice, “I think you

would look lovely in pink.”

“Pink?” she squeaked, looking up into his grinning face. “With my hair?”

“That’s better.” Without thinking, he quickly kissed her pursed lips. She flushed. Get her mind off you attacking her again, you ass! “How about an emerald necklace, then? To match your sparkling eyes?”

She smiled at that, naturally this time. “You truly don’t mind, Michael?”

“Idiot,” he said, squeezing her. “Now, would you like to ride out to the ocean with me? There are a number of birds I would like to have you identify for me. Talk about ignorant—all I can recognize is a gull and sometimes a cormorant. They’ve got long, skinny necks, don’t they?”

She gave him a brilliant smile and he thought: She’s my wife, she belongs to me, and I want her to be happy. He remembered so vividly that single night when he’d brought her pleasure, the convulsive rippling of her slender body, the soft cries that erupted from her throat, the taste of her. Damn, he wished he could stop thinking about it, forget it. He released her abruptly, knowing that if he continued to hold her, she would feel his hardness. He wouldn’t frighten her. Never again.

He bundled her out of the house before he could be trapped by another patient. He rented a mare for her from Ranger Tyson, the proud new father of another Tyson, and they made their way to the ocean, very slowly, for Jules wasn’t all that used to riding.

“When you go with Chauncey tomorrow, be sure to buy yourself a riding habit, all right?”

Jules pulled her cloak more closely about her. “I’ve never had a riding habit,” she said.

“In royal blue,” Saint said firmly. “Now, sweetheart, what is that damned bird over there on that sand dune?”

“That, I believe,” said Jules with great concentration, “is a snowy plover. And that one,” she said, excitement and fun in her voice as she pointed to another bird, “just might be a wandering tattler.”

He grinned over at her. “I know quite a few wandering tattlers, and they all speak English. You wouldn’t be making that up, now, would you?”

“No, sir. I love the name, don’t you? I’ve really never seen one in the flesh-and-feathers before, but it does look like a bird in one of my books.”

“Books?” he asked. “I don’t recall seeing any.”

She was silent for a long moment, saying finally, “I have two of them. They’re in Lahaina in my father’s house. I had hidden them under my bed and forgot about them in all the . . . excitement.”

“Tomorrow,” he said, “or the day after, we will replace them for you. Also any more books you want. My library is rather meager.” He saw that she would argue with him, and added quickly, “If you see a small plant, maybe it’s a yerba buena, which is, just in case you don’t know something I do, the original name of San Francisco.”

Jules nodded, knowing his intent, and said in a forced gay voice, “I will look. And perhaps we’ll see a Bonaparte gull.”

15

“Now, Dan Brewer is my husband Del’s partner at the bank,” Chauncey was saying to Jules. “We’re trying to find him a wife, but the pickings here in San Francisco are still quite slim. Another gentleman you’ll meet is Tony Dawson, part-owner of the Alta California, another one of those bachelors. You recall that young lady I introduced you to before lunch? The one who treated me like I had the plague, and looked right through you?”

At Jules’s nod, Chauncey continued, “Well, my dear, that is our own lovely Penelope Stevenson. A more snobbish, gossiping, ill-humored female you’ll never meet. Her mother looks like a ship under full sail and her father, Bunker . . . well, he’s jovial enough, I guess. Ah, there’s Lucas with the carriage. I must get home to feed Alexandra now. Would you like to come with me?”

But Jules had just spotted a small bookstore, and remembering Michael’s promise, said, “No, I think I’ll browse a bit more.” She pointed to the bookstore across Kearny Street.

“That’s Mr. Jointer’s shop. You’ll like him. Very well, Jules, I’ll see you Thursday evening. It was such fun, and you’ll look exquisite in all your new clothes.”

Jules thanked her once again, her hand not too steady as she thought about the awful amount of money she’d spent at Monsieur David’s.

“Give my love to Saint.”

Jules watched Lucas, a pirate of a fellow if Jules had ever seen one, help Chauncey Saxton into the open carriage. He was, Chauncey had told her, married to her longtime maid, friend, and housekeeper, Mary. “And therein lies a story!” she’d said, shaken her head, and laughed.

Jules waited on the sidewalk, waving her hand until the carriage was swallowed up in the incredible traffic along Kearny Street.

She gathered up her skirt and began to weave her way among drays, beer wagons, lumber wagons, and myriad types of men, who all stared at her to the point of embarrassment. She remembered Chauncey’s words. “There are so many lonely men. We have more and more women and families moving here all the time, but still so many men have no one. For the most part, you needn’t worry, they’re quite respectful.” And they seemed to be, she saw.

I’ll just see what Mr. Jointer has in stock, Jules told herself. I won’t buy anything, not today. She had reached the shop when she chanced to look up. Her body went rigid. Jameson Wilkes was striding toward her, looking every inch the successful businessman in a dark gray suit. Jules grabbed for the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. She looked blankly at the small sign in the window: “Closed until 2:00.” Oh God, what was she to do?

He saw her. She saw him stare a moment at her, not at first recognizing the girl dressed in the dark blue muslin gown, her wild hair held firmly in place beneath a small bonnet. She knew the moment he realized who she was. He can’t do anything to you, idiot! There are dozens of people about. He can’t do a thing!