The Bad Ass Brigade (35 page)

Keeping a surreptitious eye on the other end of the table, he was gratified to see that the only person who looked less happy to be there than Ana was her brother Kai. Gabe was saved from an argument with Penelope and the grey-haired battle-axe as to which dressmaker was the most expensive by the discussion emanating between Ana and the young man to her left. He realized that he had misjudged the foppish -looking fellow next to her, appropriately named Peter Harcourt the Third. Gabe knew men’s clothing and jewelry. He estimated that the pale would-be suitor sidling up to Ana was wearing a small fortune on his back and around his wrist. No question he was a wealthy aristocrat — with all the pretentious mannerisms Gabe despised. The two of them exchanged enough knowing glances to establish that they were rivals. It was just a matter of time until they took each other on. Given the snob’s appearance, Gabe sensed that, to his regret, their altercation would be verbal, not physical.

In a lull in the conversation, he overheard Peter say to Ana, “I rarely see you at these parties, Miss Li. Where have you been hiding?”

Her response was short, cutting. “I haven’t been hiding. I despise parties.”

A dead silence greeted her vehement response.

Aware that everyone at the table was listening to their exchange, Peter made the mistake of trying to salvage his pride.

As though convincing a misbehaving child to eat her vegetables, he gave Ana an unctuous smile. “I see. Perhaps that is because you have not been seated by the right man.”

Ana lifted her chin and stared at Peter, a gesture that Gabe now knew signaled an attack. He wasn’t disappointed.

In a sweet voice she said, “You are correct. I never have been.” Then as if to drive in the knife she added, “Including now.”

Penelope’s gasp was echoed by a dozen others around the table.

Gabe grinned to himself. Damn, the little spitfire is as smart as she is rude. At least she recognizes slime when she sees it. Penelope’s gasp, a warning salvo to Chao, confirmed that she did not share Gabe’s appreciation of her niece’s bad manners.

Up to this point, Penelope had been drooling over Gabe, drawing him into one trite conversation after another. Her mannerisms were driving him crazy. He wondered if she really did not know how off-putting they were. Twirling her wineglass with gnarled fingers while affecting a pretend pout at his curt replies, she looked like the archetypical bad witch in children’s fairy tales.

As if to cover for her disreputable niece and the insult to the wealthiest of the suitors she’d brought in to annoy Ana, Penelope turned to Gabe, her question a blatant attempt to change the conversation.

“Tell me, Gabriel, you must miss Boston as much as I do. How have you managed to survive in this uncivilized part of the country?”

Gabe smiled at her, but his words were brusque. “To the contrary, Penelope. I am pleased to be as far away from Boston as I can be.”

Penelope flushed at his abrupt retort with a disbelieving mutter, “Really… well… I never….”

Stepping into the uncomfortable silence, the older man sitting next to the battle-axe gave Gabe a confrontational once over.

“Let’s hear more about you, young fella? Did you say your name was McKenna?”

Gabe allowed a slight smile to cross his lips.

“I didn’t say. But, yes, my name is Gabriel McKenna.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “McKenna, huh? Any relationship to the senator?”

Penelope jumped in now back on solid ground. She simpered, “Oh, I thought everyone knew. Gabriel is Senator McKenna’s son.”

~~~

From the other end of the table, Ana looked up. She was as surprised as many of the others at this latest cannonball. What intrigued her most was Gabe’s clear discomfort. Rather than responding to Penelope’s gushing announcement, he simply nodded and looked down at the table.

The gruff old man persisted, “I knew your father some years ago. Still pokin’ his nose into every kind of business, legal or not?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen my father in some time,” Gabe responded coolly, as if to end the conversation.

Ana felt Peter come to attention. He had been silent since she nailed him with her put-down, but now he was staring at Gabe with a glint in his eyes.

“Rory McKenna? Well, well. That is quite an association. You may have moved away from Boston, but stories about your father certainly have not. Tell me, Gabriel. Is there a woman left on the east coast that he hasn’t bedded?”

In the uneasy silence that settled over the table, Ana watched Gabe put down his fork, pick up his napkin, and wipe his mouth as though removing an unpleasant taste. He shifted slightly and settled back in his chair. His eyes were cold, hard, when he turned to Peter, but a smile caught the corner of his mouth.

“I wasn’t aware that he limited himself to the east coast.”

A spattering of nervous laughter from the men at the table greeted his response.

Ana saw Peter clench the edge of the table, his fingers white with the effort. He glared at Gabe, who was leaning back, an easy nonchalance marking his demeanor. Only the hard glint in his eyes, a python confronting a field mouse, spoke to the tension he must be feeling.

“What about you, McKenna? What do you do?” Peter asked, his voice sharp, devoid of any semblance of courtesy. “I heard you’re a U.S. Marshal.”

Gabe nodded. “I was, some time ago.”

“Your father get that position for you? It’s not easy to become a marshal. I understand it take connections, and oftentimes a healthy bribe under the table as well, to get those marshal spots.”

Gabe’s cool tone held the undercurrent of a threat. “It’s easier than you might think, Peter. The best connections are the willingness and ability to shoot a man dead at forty paces or if you prefer a knife over a gun, slicing him to death.”

Peter paled, then replied with a sniff. “My goodness, you
have
left your Boston ways behind.” Glancing at Penelope, whose expression was stony at best, Peter continued, “I don’t know, Penelope, I think your consort is more uncivilized than you might think.”

Penelope looked as stunned as everyone else at the table.

Ana was surprised when Peter refused to quit, just kept pushing.

Glaring at Gabe, he said, “What kind of work do you do now that you’re not a marshal?”

Gabe quirked a brow. “What comes my way.”

Peter didn’t hide his disdain. “Humph, I suppose living off your inheritance allows you not to work.”

Gabe leisurely glanced around the table, and grinned. “Hmm, if that were true, and it is not, I would appear to be in good company.”

There were a few guffaws and Ana looked up in time to see her father nod and exchange a wink with Gabe.

Ana was intrigued by the interchange. Peter’s anger was palpable and even though she despised Gabe, Ana was glad he’d put the pompous fop in his place.

At that moment, Molly and several other maids entered with trays of deserts. Ana watched Molly make a beeline for Gabe. Even across the table, she could hear the husky familiarity in the hussy’s voice as she sidled up to him.

“Sir, canna I be gettin’ you any of these sweets to polish off your dinner?”

Gabe started and then frowned. “No, thank you. I have had quite enough.”

The Chinese butler, who had been with Chao’s family as long as Ana could remember, stepped between Gabe and the impudent maid. Nudging her aside, he asked in a quiet professional tone, “Perhaps more wine, sir.’

Gabe gave him an appreciative nod. “Yes, that I will definitely have more of.”

~~~

Gabe took a sip of wine and caught Ana glaring at Molly. Seeing the darts flying across the table, he grinned to himself. He didn’t know if the missiles were intended for Molly or for him. Probably, he thought, for both.

As Molly made her way around the table offering the sweets, she came to Ana. Apparently unaware of the hostility radiating from her mistress, the brash girl asked in her sugary brogue. “Will you be havin’ some of these ‘binyets’, Miss? They are tasty.”

“Did you make them?”

Molly started at her mistress’s crisp tone. “Yes, Miss, I did. I made them meself just this morning.”

Glancing at the slight redness encircling Molly’s wrists, Ana asked, “With your bare hands?”

Molly looked confused then responded. “Uh, yes, miss. With me bare hands.”

Ana’s eyes flashed. “Then I don’t want any. Thank you. Leave please.”

Gabe choked on his wine, struggling to squelch his laughter. Wiping his eyes with his napkin, he smiled at Ana, but she just flushed and looked away. At that moment, Peter took the bottle of wine from the butler and offered to refill Ana’s glass. Ana shook her head and jumped up, knocking her chair to the floor with a noisy clatter. She paled, then shook her head and ran for the door.

Chapter 6

Ana clung to the balcony railing, wanting to scream, but afraid she might cry. For the moment she was trapped. The veranda door was the closest exit from the dining room and the quickest way to make her escape. At least now she could breathe. She would wait for the rest of them to leave the table, then sneak up to her chambers. One more minute at the dining room table would have done her in.

Just when she was beginning to regain her composure, she heard the door open. She felt him, sensed him. She grasped the railing for support, then willed herself to face him. His voice shot tremors through her body.

“Do you always leave the table rudely, without being excused?”

She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sensations flooding over her, stunned at the sight of him. Standing in the moonlight, he was even more beautiful than she had allowed herself to remember. She forced her voice to be strong, cool. “Do you?”

Her knees buckled when he smiled at her. “No. Your aunt rather reluctantly excused me.”

He moved closer to her and his smile widened, “I see we have something in common besides a penchant for barns.” Holding up his hand to stop her protest, he added, “You appear to dislike dinner parties as much as I do.”

She gave her head a vehement shake.

“We have nothing in common!”

Holding her gaze, he dug his cigarette case out of his vest pocket and extracted a cigarette. In the flare of the match she saw the gleam in his dark emerald eyes. She watched enraptured, as he lit the cigarette and puffed on it. Shaking off her stupor, she snapped, “Why are you here?!”

He moved closer. Ana took a deep breath and tried to ignore his powerful smell. The scent of sandalwood flirted with the sweet pungent aroma of his Turkish cigarettes. But the smell that made her knees shake and her stomach clench was a woodsy, wild smell that was totally male.

His smile was soft, seductive. “Because I wanted to do a little more investigation,

test the connection between us.”

She shook her head in disagreement and moved down the railing to put space between them. Trying to break the spell of the moment, she said, “Can I ask you a question”

He nodded.

“Please have the decency to answer.”

He shrugged and gave her an ironic grin. “Of course. Decency has always been my strong suit.”

She ignored his joke and squeezed her eyes shut, to avoid the twinkle in his. “Why are you here?”

“I just answered your question, Princess. But I’ll say it again. I want to see what’s beneath those porcupine quills you wrap around yourself. I’ve been wondering. How far below the surface of this gorgeous woman in her outrageous red dress is that dirty little urchin I met in the barn?”

She trembled and couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “If you had any manners what-so-ever, you wouldn’t mention what happened in the barn.”

He grinned. “That’s another connection we have, Princess. Neither one of us seems to care much about good manners.”

She stammered. “I… I’m not a princess.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek, smiling when she jumped back.

“Ah, but you are. We’ve established that you are not a little girl, and you sure as hell aren’t a boy.” Raking his eyes over her dress, he said, “No, you are indeed a woman.” His voice dropped, became huskier. “It’s more than that. It’s about your spirit, your spunk. Nope, a princess. That’s what you are. A regal little tyrant that has me questioning everything I thought I knew about women. Hmm, yes. Princess. That’s what I will call you from now on.”

She felt his power, his seductive pull. She knew if she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t be able to resist him. She would be no better than Molly or any of the other countless women who’d succumbed to his charms.

Ana drew herself up as tall she could, and forced herself to be strong. Tossing her head, she moved away from him and headed to the doorway. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “You won’t be calling me anything from now on, because I don’t intend
ever
to see you again.”

He leaned back against the railing and took a drag off of his cigarette. His voice was low, with a touch of menace. “Uh, uh. Princess. I’ll tell you when you can go.”

She stopped at the command in his voice, and turned back as if trapped in an invisible net.

He nodded, jerking his chin to a spot in front of him.

“Here, Princess. Come here.”

Horrified at her body’s response to his insulting order, she sputtered, “Why, you arrogant bastard. You… you—”

“Come here, honey.” He reached out his hand and caught hold of hers, pulling her close to him. She struggled to move back, and then for just a moment she promised herself, she rested against his chest. She buried her face in the soft linen of his shirt and sagged against him when she smelled the wild woodsy male smell that was drawing her in like a magnet. Startled, frightened, she leapt back.

He let her go. His voice was soft, crooning.

“Settle down, Princess. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She took a deep galvanizing breath and moved far away from him, backing against the pillar anchoring the balcony.

Reaching for her courage, she decided to try another tack. Her voice was cool, taunting.

“That was an interesting conversation at dinner. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by your behavior, given what I learned about your father tonight.”