York, the Renegade: A Loveswept Classic Romance

  “No,” Sierra said quickly. “I don’t want any trouble. He has friends …” Those friends were already pushing their chairs away from the table, she noticed frantically. “Let me down. This is my problem, not yours.”

  Beattie skidded to a stop before them. His eyes were filled with malice. “Give her to me.”

  “No.”

  She had become a bone to be fought over by two bulldogs, she thought half hysterically. It would have been funny if the air hadn’t been charged with such menace.

  Beattie took a step closer, reaching for her.

  “Deuce.” York’s voice cut sharply through the suddenly quiet room. “Take her. And, for Pete’s sake, watch out for her.”

  She was being thrust into another pair of arms. Deuce’s this time. This was crazy. She felt like a product on an assembly line. She heard Beattie’s violent curse as Deuce turned away. “Stop,” she said. “Let me down, Deuce. I have to—” The room exploded behind her, and she strained her head back to see what was happening.

  Fists were flying, chairs breaking, curses being shouted. She caught a glimpse of York’s savagely joyful smile as he closed in on Beattie. “No,” she whispered. She was suddenly struggling wildly in Deuce’s arms. “Why are you doing this? York will be hurt. I have to get to him.”

  “York said to take care of you,” Deuce said. Then, as she continued to struggle, he added testily, “Will you stop that? I’m no Hercules like the Delaneys, you know. How can I be expected to manfully whisk you out of here if you won’t cooperate?”

  “Do you think I’ll leave here when they’re killing each other back there?”

  “Obviously not.” He sighed. “All right, we’ll stay.” He set her on her feet, then dropped to his knees, jerking her down with him. “We’ll compromise. Come on.” He crawled beneath a table, pulling her after him. “I discovered a long time ago the best place to be in a barroom brawl is under something. You can see what’s going on, and hopefully no one can see you.”

  “But I don’t want—”

  “Here or outside.” Deuce’s voice was clipped and utterly decisive. “You’ll only distract York and possibly get him hurt running around out there. Which is it?”

  “Here,” Sierra said with a sigh. “But I can’t see very well.” There was a discordant tinkle as someone or something was thrown against the player piano. “There were only Beattie and his three friends against the Delaneys. Now everyone in the room is fighting. How did that happen?”

  “It would take hours to explain the philosophy of the domino effect as illustrated by a barroom brawl,” Deuce said lightly. “I considered writing a book about it once, but—”

  “Beattie’s down!” Sierra clutched Deuce’s arm excitedly. “I see his face lying on the floor beside that pair of black boots.”

  “Only his face?” Deuce murmured. “Interesting. York must have been a tad more upset than I thought.”

  “You know what I mean. I don’t see York. Shouldn’t the fight be over now?”

  “Sorry, Sierra. It doesn’t work that way. You’ll know it’s over when it gets very quiet.” A table laden with beer glasses crashed to the floor and splintered. “Not yet, obviously.”

  “People are being hurt out there.” She bit her lip. “York or his brothers could be—”

  Deuce shook his head. “I’ve seen the Delaney brothers brawl before. I assure you, they give considerably more punishment than they receive.”

  “There’s always a first time. What if—” She stopped. The chaos had abruptly subsided, and there was only one low thread of sound. Someone was laughing!

  Deuce smiled faintly. “Rafe. Come on, I guess it’s over.” He took her arm and helped her from beneath the table.

  York, Burke, and Rafe were standing by the bar and, as far as Sierra could tell, they were the only ones left standing. The room looked as though it were the product of a nightmare: broken glass, overturned tables, chairs, men lying unconscious on the floor or sitting up looking around dazedly. She heard a man groan and looked up to see the blond man who’d been at Beattie’s table sprawled on the stairs. Melanie’s girls were clustered on the second floor balcony looking down at the wreckage in stunned disbelief.

  Melanie herself was descending the staircase like a vengeful Valkyrie. “York, what the hell do you mean doing a job on my place? You come in here busting—”

  York raised his hand. “What the insurance doesn’t cover, I’ll pay. It was worth it. You’d better send for the doctor. I think he has a little minor patching up to do.”

  “The three of you look like you could do with a little patching yourselves,” Melanie said as her gaze drifted from battered face to battered face.

  “We’ll tend to it at home.” York turned and caught sight of Sierra. His smiled faded. “And we are going home, Sierra. I don’t think Melanie is going to risk this happening again.”

  Melanie shook her head regretfully. “It was a mistake. I knew a house had to be one way or the other. I’m sorry, Sierra.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” Sierra said huskily. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. If there’s anything I can do to help clean up.…”

  “You just run along,” Melanie said. “We’ll take care of it.” She sounded the faintest bit nervous. “I’ll even have one of the girls pack up your clothes and have them sent to you. There’s absolutely no need for you to stick around.”

  “All right.” Sierra turned to York. “I’ll come with you, but nothing is really settled, you know. We have the same problem.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” York started for the door. “At the moment the only thing I’m interested in is going home and getting in the shower to steam some of the sting out of these bruises.” He grinned back over his shoulder at Burke and Rafe. “There are only two bathrooms at the house. Do we draw straws to see who has to wait?”

  Rafe looked shocked. “Really, York, you know Mother always told you that guests go first. I’m surprised at you.”

  “And the eldest always takes precedence,” Burke drawled. “The two of you can fight it out for the other bathroom.”

  York shook his head. “Why do I have a feeling that I’m going to come in last again?”

  “You didn’t come in last in the fight tonight,” Burke said gravely. “Every time I see you as strong and as tough as Old Nick, I want to shout or pray or …” His voice trailed off. “Oh, what the hell. Let’s get to those showers.” He strode past York and pushed out the swinging doors.

  York and Rafe followed more slowly, and Sierra could hear Rafe’s low laugh as he clapped York affectionately on the shoulder. She turned to Deuce. “What was that all about?”

  He shrugged. “York will probably tell you about it later. There’s nothing to be upset about. He and his brothers are very close, but they don’t mean to shut other people out. It just happens.”

  Sierra looked after them wistfully. “I’m not upset. A little envious perhaps. That must be a wonderful feeling.”

  Deuce nodded. “You’re not alone. I’m sometimes out in the cold too.” He smiled. “Now shall we toddle on home and bandage the wounded gladiators?”

  She grinned back at him and fell into step as he strolled toward the swinging oak door.

  Sierra placed the piece of raw steak carefully on Rafe’s eye. “I’ve always wondered if this really did any good,” she said. “Wouldn’t an ice bag do just as well?”

  Rafe grinned. “Probably. However, traditions must be observed. We Delaneys are great ones for traditions.”

  Sierra glanced across the kitchen table where Deuce was carefully applying antiseptic to the shallow cut over Burke’s right eye. “You seem to have fared a great deal worse than Burke. All he has is the bruise on his cheekbone and that cut.”

  “I fight harder,” Rafe said complacently. “I’m surprised Burke wasn’t under that table with you and Deuce.”

  Burke made a sound that fell somewhere between a growl and a snort. “You mean, you’
re more reckless. How many times have I told you that fighting is a science?”

  “This eye isn’t too bad,” Sierra said. “but your nose is going to look like an elephant’s trunk for a day or so, Rafe.” She frowned. “Do you think it’s broken?”

  “More than likely. It’s been broken twice before, so it’s prone to fractures.” He flinched as she carefully put a bandage over the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think it’s too bad. The last time it hurt a hell of a lot more than this.” He glanced at Burke. “Did you notice that all York got was a cut lip?” He grinned. “I told him he must have done some fancy dancing to protect that classy profile.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t get the other eye blackened,” Burke said. “York appeared to be a bit uptight before he went upstairs to shower.”

  Rafe nodded. “I think he restrained himself because my bruised and battered condition was earned in his cause.”

  “But it wasn’t his cause,” Sierra said. “It was mine. I can’t tell you how terrible I feel that you were even involved, much less hurt, because of me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Rafe smiled gently. “Don’t worry about it. These things happen.” His dark gypsy eyes were suddenly twinkling. “According to York and Burke, they happen to me more often than to either of them, but don’t you believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Burke said. He looked seriously at Sierra. “And don’t have any regrets on my account. I needed what happened tonight. I’ve been under a hell of a strain lately, and that explosion provided me with a much needed release.”

  “Some release.” Sierra’s smile was a little shaky. “You both could have been seriously hurt.”

  “But we weren’t,” Rafe said cheerfully. “And it was a damn good brawl.”

  Deuce stepped back from Burke and capped the antiseptic. “That’s as good as I can do. Do you want a Band-Aid over it?”

  Burke shook his head. “It will be better to let the air get to it.”

  “Right.” Deuce glanced at Sierra inquiringly. “Did you take care of that cut of York’s before you went upstairs?”

  “No.” She lowered her eyes. “Will you do it, Deuce? I think I’ll go to bed. I’m very tired.”

  “Sure.” Deuce nodded with understanding. “Why don’t you run along right now? One brawl is enough for tonight.”

  She smiled sadly. “There won’t be a brawl. We just have to come to an understanding, and I don’t want to involve Rafe and Burke any further in my problems.” She turned back to the Delaneys. “Will I see you in the morning?”

  Rafe shook his head. “I have to get back and so does Burke. We’ll be leaving at sunrise.”

  “Then I’ll say good-bye as well as good-night now. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to know both of you under more serene circumstances.”

  “Another time,” Rafe said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  She made a face. “I doubt that’s true after all the trouble I’ve caused you, but it’s kind of you to say it.”

  Burke smiled. “Well, you have to admit that a situation like this has a tendency to strip off all the superficialities of a relationship.”

  She nodded. “Yes, it does. Thank you again for catching me. Even Papa Marino couldn’t have made a better catch.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Burke lifted a brow. “I assume this Marino is one of your old vaudeville friends York told us about.”

  “Acrobats.” She became very still. “York must have gone into my past history very thoroughly with you. This wasn’t just a casual family visit, was it? York sent for you because of me.” She held up her hand when she saw both hesitate. “You don’t have to answer that. I don’t mean to make the situation any more awkward for you than it is already.” Her cheeks were flushed as she turned away. “I’m just sorry York thought it necessary to—” she gestured helplessly with one hand. “I’m just sorry, darn it.” She almost ran from the room toward the stairs, half blinded by tears.

  “Sierra.”

  York was standing on the landing of the stairs. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his eyes were dark with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “So much trouble,” she whispered brokenly. “You shouldn’t have done it, York. I told you I couldn’t stand being a charity case. You shouldn’t have …” She pushed past him and leaped up the stairs.

  He stared after her, half tempted to follow her. He was experiencing again that agonizingly poignant pain of empathy. They were both on edge right now, and it would be better to let a little time pass before they tried to talk. Heaven knew, his own emotions were in tatters tonight, and if he followed her to her room, he would probably end up doing exactly what he’d been trying to avoid.

  He looked up at Rising Star’s serene countenance. “Were you this much trouble to Joshua?” he murmured. “It’s no wonder the poor guy never married again.” He stood there a minute longer before turning and descending the rest of the stairs.

  Deuce had broken out the brandy in truly generous and clearly unmedicinal quantities and handed York his glass as soon as he came into the kitchen. “Mind that lip,” he warned. “This alcohol will sting like the devil.”

  It did sting, but it was worth it. York downed the brandy and held out his glass. “More.”

  Deuce obliged. “I’m obviously not going to have to put antiseptic on your wound as Sierra asked me to do. If you continue imbibing like that, your cut will not only be clean, it will be sterile. I’m not saying what it’ll do to your head, however.”

  “It can’t be any more messed up than it is right now.” He looked at Burke and Rafe over the rim of his glass. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to pressure you to take Sierra. After tonight I realize I couldn’t let her out of my sight, even with one of you playing guardian. I’d be going crazy wondering what the hell she was getting herself into.”

  Burke and Rafe exchanged glances.

  “We thought you’d come to that conclusion,” Burke said. “Your expression when you saw Sierra hanging from that swing was very … revealing.”

  York suppressed a shudder. He didn’t like to think of that moment. He took another sip of his brandy. “I don’t doubt it. I felt as if someone had reached in and pulled out my guts.”

  Deuce looked a trifle pained. “That sounds exceedingly gory.”

  “But accurate,” York said. “Exceedingly accurate.” He lifted his glass in a slight toast to Rafe and Burke. “Thanks for coming; I’m only sorry it was for nothing. I’ll have to work out my own problem.”

  “We’ll always come when you need us, York,” Rafe said quietly. “And we’ll always be here for you.” He paused. “I only hope you’ll still be here for us to come to.”

  York smiled self-mockingly. “You’ve been getting vibrations? I’ve been trying to work my way through it.”

  “If we can help, let us know.” Burke finished his drink and stood up. “Now I think I’ll hit the sack. At least this is one night I won’t have trouble sleeping.”

  Rafe’s curiosity had been intensely piqued. “Are you having trouble—” He stopped. “Never mind. Even if you’d tell me, I’m not sure I’d want to know at the moment. There’ll be time for that later, when I’ve recovered from the memory of that big-eyed nymph flying through the air.” He leaned back in his chair and held out his glass to Deuce for a refill. “Though, in retrospect, it was amusing to see your waif and those weird-looking plaster doves sharing the same perch.”

  “It will have to be considerably further in the future for me to appreciate the humor of the situation,” York said. “You’re not going to bed?”

  Rafe shook his head. “I’m too restless.” His gaze was innocent as he said kindly, “But you and Burke run along. We young bucks don’t need as much sleep as you old geezers. Maybe I can talk Deuce into a game of poker.”

  “Delighted,” Deuce drawled. “I can always count on you to have a sense of humor regarding my little idiosyncrasy. York has been most unreasonabl
e about it of late.”

  “If you make it an all-night affair, brew a pot of coffee for us in the morning,” York said. “I’ll be up at five to drive you to the heliport.”

  “I’ll drive them,” Deuce offered. “You sleep late and rest your battered bones.”

  York shook his head. “I’ll do it. I can sleep anytime, and I don’t see these characters nearly often enough to suit me.” He grimaced. “Besides, it won’t be a chore getting up at dawn. I’ve been restless as hell myself lately.” He caught Rafe’s suddenly alert glance and shook his head warningly. “Come on, Burke. Like the kid said, it’s time we old geezers got to bed.”

  Seven

  Sierra didn’t awaken until late afternoon the next day. It didn’t particularly surprise her since she hadn’t gone to sleep until after dawn. She had still been lying in bed wide-awake when she had heard York’s and his brothers’ footsteps in the hall, Rafe’s low infectious laugh, the slam of the front door, and the roar of the Jeep in the early-morning stillness.

  There had also been a stillness within her by that time. After a night of thinking she had finally come to a realization, an acceptance, and then a decision. That decision had brought peace, and after that, she had dropped off to sleep with no problem. She woke with the same inner tranquillity and contentment, and after she had showered and dressed in her usual casual attire of T-shirt and jeans, she ventured downstairs to find York.

  Deuce was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, and glanced up when she walked into the room. “Well, you certainty don’t appear to be tottering on the brink of nervous prostration,” he said dryly. “In fact, you look to be in a hell of a lot better shape than I am.”

  “I feel fine,” she said as she crossed the room. She opened a cabinet and took down a cup and saucer. “I wish I could say the same for you. Those circles of dissipation under your eyes would do credit to the portrait of Dorian Gray. You look worse than the Delaneys did after the brawl.”