Microsoft Word - Jenny dreamed (28 page)

Jenny sat before her mirror now, checking her hair-style one last time. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dev dawdling over the buttons of his ruffled dress shirt as though they had all the time in the world. What was wrong with him lately? It was almost as if he'd erected some kind of wall between himself and her. With a frown, she turned her gaze back to the mirror. It seemed that the only communication left to them any more was the closeness they shared at night when he would pull her into his arms and make love to her.

Even that was not what it had been; Dev had become demanding, overly dominant, as though he was obsessed with the idea that she must realize she. was his possession, his property.

Had she caused the growing rift between them? Jenny brooded over the possibility. Wasn't she also obsessed with an all-consuming desire to finish this business of finding Rodrigo and, once and for all, putting him out of her life? How happy she and Dev would be now if Domingo Alazar had not made that fateful sighting of the supposedly dead Rodrigo! But he had, and the event had changed their lives; she could do nothing now but follow the lead to whatever conclusion it came to.

Suddenly Dev was behind her, his hands caressing her bare shoulders as his gaze met hers in the reflection.

"I have a better idea for tonight, than attending this social Adam thinks is so important, Jenny." He bent his head and his lips touched her throat, his breath teasing warmly at her ear as he whispered, "Why don't we stay home and have our own party, just the two of us, eh?"

The regret in Jenny's voice was very real as she shook her head and refused the offer. "I'm sorry, darling ... I would love to, more than anything I can think of, but," she raised her hand to touch his cheek, her eyes pleading with him to understand, "I agree with Adam. He and Wynn Courtland have tried every avenue of persuasion to secure our permits for the interior. Nothing, not even the bribe to the governor of Guayana, has worked. If attending one of Presidente Blanco's social functions will do the trick, then it's a sacrifice we must make."

"Then make it alone!" Dev snapped, brushing her hand away before he turned and stalked across the room.

Jenny stared at him, feeling guilty that her attitude had caused his brusque rejection yet angry that he didn't understand why it was so very important to her to get everything settled. Where was the understanding he'd always shown her ... where was the Dev she'd come to love? Still loved, even if he didn't think so.

Unfortunately Jenny's temper overrode her guilt. "If that's the way you feel, Dev, you can stay home!" she retorted, angrily pushing aside several bottles on the dresser top to find her perfume. She grew even more furious when her quick, jerky movement caused her to spill half of the bottle's contents onto the lace covering of the table. "I thought you wanted to advance our efforts as much as I. Right now I don't think you care about anything but yourself. Since Adam was planning on taking us to the affair, he can serve as my escort!" It was too late to save much of the costly perfume, and Jenny jammed the stopper into the bottle, grabbed for the black lace mantilla, and carelessly flung it across her shoulders.

Dev stared at the floor, his mouth set in a grim, straight line, and he didn't raise his head, even when the hall door slammed behind Jenny. Within his head he had a mental image of Jenny at the ball, surrounded by amorous Latin lovers, not to mention the attention Courtland would pay her without Dev to hold him off.

A half-hour passed by, then another fifteen minutes before Dev broke the silence of the room with a curse and slammed his fist onto the arm of the chair. He'd be damned if he'd stay here, imagining what could be happening, tormenting himself with jealousy! He rose and quickly dressed. It wasn't too hard to hail a passing hansom cab, though the Spanish Isa had been teaching him came out a bit awkwardly. He managed to convey the idea that he was to be a guest at El Presidente's ball this evening, and the driver nodded enthusiastically, repeating in equally labored English that he would take him to General Blanco's residence.

The stately and regal residence of Venezuela's president sat back from the street, surrounded by tall acacia trees, its many, wooden-grilled windows emitting a warm, golden spill of light as the elite of Caracas mantuanos, the so-called "mantle-bearers" of its Creole aristocrats, gathered to enjoy another of their leader's always lavish evenings of entertainment. The cab driver's effusive and awed "Gracias, Senor ... muchas gracias!" told Dev that he had paid too much for the short trip from the house, and as the liveried doorman escorted him inside, turning Dev over to the head steward's care, he had even more reason to regret the fact that he had not chosen to accompany Jenny and Adam to the ball.

He had no invitation, and there was a few minutes' fuss as the steward and butler tried to decide how to handle the situation without offending Dev. Dev mentioned Warrener's name, and a servant was dispatched to find him. After only a few minutes' wait, Dev was rescued by an apologetic Adam. "Glad to see you're feeling better, m'boy," Adam said, and when Dev gave him a puzzled look, explained, "Lady Jennifer said you'd been taken ill ... a cold, isn't it? A nasty time of the year for one, but then you look like you're recovering!"

"Thanks," Dev replied dryly, musing over the excuse Jenny had given for his absence. "Ah ...

speaking of Lady Jennifer, where is my dear wife now?" They had come to the entrance of the ballroom, and couples were sweeping past them in a blur of bright colors.

Just as Adam was about to say that he'd lost track of her, Jenny whirled by, gracefully dancing to the lively beat of a polka. Wynn Courtland held her, his sandy-haired head thrown back in laughter at something amusing Jenny had said. "Well, how ... fortunate," Adam commented, taking in the way DeV' was staring after the couple, his chin set obstinately, the ticking of a pulse in his throat indicating he was upset. That was all he'd need, for Jared's son-in-law to upset the apple cart by taking a punch at Courtland. He was one of the few men capable of handling the search, who knew the terrain and spoke the native dialects as well as Spanish and English.

The dance was only half over. To head off trouble before it broke, Adam suggested Dev come to the refreshment table and have a drink With him. "Come on, Devlan, I'd like to hear more about how you and Jennifer met." He threw his arm around Dev's shoulders, diplomatically guiding him away from the trouble spot. When they each had a drink in hand, he found a quiet place for them to stand, out of the way of the crowded dance floor, and confided that he'd once been in love with Jenny's mother. Dev listened to Adam with only a pretense of interest. So far his temper was in control, but he was working toward an eruption of all the anger and frustration that had been building since they'd come on this ridiculous search for a dead man. What, he wondered, had Jenny said to make Courtland laugh? What kind of things had the man been saying to her? Was this their first dance or one of many they'd shared? The idea of Courtland having his arms around his Jenny, his wife, made Dev burn with a need to hit out at ... something. But even if he eventually got over his anger, Dev knew that if he caused a scene here, in front of everyone who was someone in Caracas society, Jenny would never forgive him. "Do me a favor," he asked now, making an excuse that he'd misjudged his "cold" and wasn't feeling well again. "Don't tell Jen-" His voice broke off suddenly in mid-sentence and Adam frowned as he followed the direction of his stare. The music had stopped, and Jenny and Courtland paused by the open doors leading to a garden-patio lit by hanging lanterns. Just as Adam glanced over, they made an exit, Jenny fanning herself briskly from the exertion of dancing, Courtland bending his head to say something to her. Dev found his voice again, trying not to betray the bitterness that was strangling his throat. "Don't tell my wife I was here," he continued, placing his glass on the tray carried by a passing servant. "I'd rather she continued to have a good time."

Adam managed to mumble an understanding reply, telling him to go home and take care of the cold, but his expression was worried as he watched Dev stalk off down the hall. There was no doubt in his mind that Jennifer would eventually find out. The young man she'd married was trouble looking for a place to happen. The only thing Adam could hope was that Dev didn't pick a fight in a place where he was outnumbered.

Outside, Jenny found the cool night air, scented by the many night-blooming tropical blossoms, a refreshing change from the stuffy atmosphere of the crowded ballroom. Still the cool air did little to quell the hot resentment that had been building during the course of the evening. The kid sale of her satin-slippered foot tapped on the red tiles of the courtyard, its beat of irritation successfully hidden by the yards of voluminous cream-colored damaskin that made up her skirt.

The dress had been the envy of many a well-tumed-out young woman at tonight's affair.

Jenny had arrived in Caracas with no formal gown, but she had engaged the most exclusive seamstress in the city to produce one of Jenny's own design. Two straps of black velvet braid secured the sleeveless bodice and trimmed the low, V-cut neckline, leading the viewer's eye to the tempting curves of Jenny's full, swelling bosom and further, to a waist that was fashionably slender without the need of a constricting whalebone corset.

Draped beneath her waist, an overskirt of matching material formed an apron whose graceful folds were drawn back to a bustle and a long, formal train. A single flounce of black velvet finished the wide, sweeping hem-line, adding just the right touch of softness to an otherwise starkly simple gown. Isa had outdone herself in arranging Jenny's hair, anxious that her mistress should be able to hold her head up with the dignity she deserved. The long, heavy waves of glistening black were drawn up from her face to form a crown of curls, leaving the long, graceful column of her neck exposed. Her only jewelry was a single cameo, threaded on a narrow ribbon of black velvet that circled her throat.

As she fanned herself furiously, letting the pent-up energy of the long, frustrating night escape in the action, Courtland leaned against the garden wall, watching her expression closely, as he had all evening. Jenny found her instinctive dislike for him increasing with each minute that passed while he continued to study her. He reminded her of a wolf, powerfully built, menacing and predatory-a cunning and very cautious animal disguised in the clothing and manners of a gentleman.'

Think of something pleasant, she commanded herself silently. With a wistful smile she thought of Dev, of how she should make it up to him for the way she'd snapped and stomped out of the bedroom in such a hurry. She hadn't paid him the attention he deserved lately. If they had a serious split between themselves it would be her fault. Thus far the evening Jenny had expected would settle their problems had turned out to be a bore ...

nothing beyond the ordinary. Blanco did not want to discuss affairs of state at his home; the evening was a waste. If she had stayed home with Dev, she would have been wrapped in his arms and at least that comfort would have staved off the uncertainty she was feeling now.

Baring a flash of even white teeth, Courtland grinned and interrupted Jenny's preoccupation.

"Dare I think that the sweet, fleeting smile that graced your features a moment past was for me, Lady Jennifer?" For the first time in a while Wynn was unsure of himself with a woman.

The unexpected self-assurance of Lord Bryant's young daughter left him guessing as to his effect on her. Most women found him charming and quite attractive.

"You may dare to think so, Mr. Courtland, but in truth I was thinking of someone entirely different ... as different from you as night is from day!" Jenny replied coldly. He was conceited and vain, this man her father had hired, and Jenny was in no mood to coddle his vanity just because he was important to the expedition.

"You're referring, of course, to the absent Mr. Cantrell," Wynn answered smoothly, refusing to let the haughty tone of Jennifer Bryant's voice stir him to a like response. "I find it surprising that he didn't attend tonight. From what I've seen, the two of you are nearly inseparable." He didn't like Devlan Cantrell, wasn't sure just how much influence he had over Miss Bryant, and fully expected that they would be at each other's throats the entire trip.

"And I find it annoying that you would even speculate about my relationship with Devlan,"

Jenny snapped back, irritably closing her black lace fan with a click. "It is not your place to comment on my personal life," she added, raising her head with a challenge, "and I believe it is in your best interests to remember that at all times . . that is, if we're to get on with the business you've been hired to oversee!"

Courtland nodded with a slight bow that was, at once, deferential and mocking. "I have been put in my place, Lady Jennifer, and will try my humble best to remember my position as your

... employee. Despite the fact that I've never had to work with a woman in command before now, I shall try to adjust." He smiled, partly to soften the sarcasm of his words, partly to show her that he was still in charge, no matter what she might think.

Jenny returned his smile. If they were going to play a game of words to determine supremacy, it would not be she who lost. "Do try and adjust then, Mr. Courtland," she suggested softly. "I would hate to think you'd come all the way from England simply for a vacation. As for dealing with a mere woman ... why not consider it as expanding the horizons of your knowledge? Even the most obstinate mule must learn to budge a little bit, given the proper incentive, of course. And I believe the generous salary you are being paid should be a potent balm for any wounds to your manly pride."

Wynn Courtland was no longer smiling. He was beginning to realize that Jennifer Bryant was not the piece of fluff he'd first considered her. There were brains in that lovely head of hers and a strong, independent will that easily matched any of the gentlemen who'd employed him in the past. "I stand corrected, m'lady, and eagerly await any orders you might have," he retorted caustically.