Gift of Fire

  She had wanted to be asked properly, he realized. She had wanted to be married for her own sake, not simply because there were extenuating circumstances.

  But he wasn’t marrying her just because of the baby. He knew that, even if she didn’t understand.

  Why in hell hadn’t he thought about marrying her last month? Jonas wondered in disgust. The answer was simple: last month he had taken everything about their relationship for granted. It hadn’t occurred to him to formalize things, for the simple reason that everything was working out just fine. He had assumed that Verity was happy too, at least until she had started subtly withdrawing from him.

  Jonas wondered how long she would hold his bad timing against him.

  The phone rang just as Verity reached the bedroom door. Her hand on the knob, she turned around to watch him answer.

  Jonas grabbed the receiver. “Quarrel here.”

  “Did I call at a bad time?” Caitlin Evanger asked politely. “You sound upset. I can call back.”

  Jonas reached for a pen and paper. His eyes stayed on Verity’s face. “Now is fine. What have you got?”

  “Tavi and I turned up nothing on all but one of the names you gave me,” Caitlin said. “But we found a file on Preston Yarwood.”

  Chapter Ten

  Verity let go of the doorknob and moved back across the room. She knew who was on the other end of the line, and she could tell from Jonas’s intent expression that Caitlin had found something of interest. She leaned over the bed to watch as Jonas wrote down Preston Yarwood’s name.

  “Yarwood?” Jonas was all business now. “How long ago? Who did the testing? Which tests? Are you sure? The whole battery, or just the initial workup? Okay, okay, I’m listening.”

  There was silence on Jonas’s end as he stopped talking. Verity could hear the thin sound of Caitlin’s voice rattling off information, but she couldn’t make out the words. It was several minutes before Jonas hung up the phone with a brisk “Thanks.”

  As the receiver clattered into place, Verity looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

  Jonas sat on the edge of the bed, adding a few final notes.

  “The only name that turned up in the old department records was Yarwood. He was tested in the lab during the same time I was going through my tests, although I never ran into him.”

  “Yarwood has psychic talent? Real talent?” Verity was startled.

  Jonas shook his head. “No. But he was totally convinced that he did, and he demanded to be run through the standard tests time after time. According to Caitlin, the lab researchers finally had to tell him they weren’t going to waste any more time on him, no matter how much he contributed to the department. He claimed the tests were faulty. He believes in his own talent.”

  “A lot of people who are into the psychic thing believe their own talent,” Verity mused. “A few coincidences, a couple of dreams that could be interpreted in a variety of ways, and presto, they’re psychics.”

  “Yarwood is in that category, according to the lab report Caitlin found. Some lucky guesses, a good sense of intuition, smart enough to reason through matters and leave other people wondering how he reached his conclusions. And above all the useful skill of being able to convince others he’s whatever he says he is. But he couldn’t fool the machines or the Vincent researchers. Yarwood has all the talents of a successful con man, but no psychic ability. That’s not the problem.”

  “What is the problem?”

  Jonas looked up from his notes, his eyes thoughtful. “Caitlin says there’s an entry on one of the reports stating that Yarwood might be dangerous under certain circumstances.”

  “Dangerous? I don’t believe it. He’s not the type.”

  “There were a lot of psychologists involved in the testing at Vincent,” Jonas said slowly. “I remember them. Always looking for an abnormal psychological pattern to parallel the paranormal development. There was a strong theory that people who tested positive for psychic talent would test weird in other ways. I was a walking testimonial to that theory.”

  “Nonsense. You’re a perfectly normal person.” Verity said instantly.

  He gave her an odd smile. “I love it when you immediately jump to my defense, in spite of all the evidence.”

  “What evidence?” she demanded.

  “I nearly killed an innocent man.”

  “Not because you’ve got a warped psychological profile,” she insisted. “Only because your talent is so strong, and you hadn’t learned how to control it.”

  “I’m not sure the shrinks would fine-tune their analysis that far, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Speaking of confidence, if you have so much of it in me, why don’t you take a chance and marry me?”

  For a second Verity could not think. “We’re discussing Preston Yarwood,” she finally pointed out. Jonas and his one-track mind! The last thing she wanted to talk any more about tonight was marriage. The business with Yarwood made a good distraction. “What made the lab people think he was dangerous?”

  “Something to do with his, and I quote, ‘inability to let go of his fantasy obsession.’ “

  “In other words, he really believed in his own talent. I don’t think that makes him dangerous, Jonas.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Jonas slapped the notepad down on the table. “I wish Caitlin had turned up information on some of the others.”

  “Why? What is it you’re looking for?”

  “I’m not sure. I just have a feeling that I ought to know more about those people.” He was silent for a moment. “You know, the Warwicks claimed that Yarwood got my name from the editor of that history journal. But if Yarwood was being tested at Vincent College while I was going through the program, he might have heard about me there. Why not mention it?”

  “Perhaps because he didn’t hear about you there.” Verity smiled gently. “Maybe he was there before you became notorious.”

  “Yeah. Possible.”

  “That’s all the information Caitlin had?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Then,” said Verity, “I will head off down the hall. Send out a search party if I’m not back by morning.”

  “Verity?”

  “Yes, Jonas?” She turned once again at the door. “Think about it.” It was a soft-voiced command. Verity didn’t have to ask what it was he wanted her to think about. She opened the door and stepped out into the carpeted hall.

  The hall light was out. It reminded her of the night she had returned to her cabin in Sequence Springs and found the deck light off. It was not a pleasant memory. There were no cracks of light under the other doors. Either she and Jonas had this floor all to themselves, or the other guests had already retired for the evening. Well, that should leave the bathroom free.

  Verity pulled her robe more snugly around her and leaned a little on the cane. She didn’t have to lean much, she realized. Her ankle was almost back to normal. She thought of Oliver Crump and his poultice and crystal. Of course, mildly twisted ankles healed quickly. There was no reason to attribute her rapid cure to Cramp’s abilities.

  There was enough street light coming in through the window at the end of the hall to enable Verity to distinguish between the door marked LADIES and the one marked MEN. A lot of the places she had lived in during her younger years hadn’t bothered with such niceties.

  She still remembered one nasty encounter with a drunk who had followed her into a down-the-hall bathroom years ago. Her father had heard her screams and come running. The only thing that had saved the drunk from being beaten to death was the arrival of several other tenants. They had pulled Emerson off the man not because they felt any sympathy for the drunk, but because everyone liked Emerson and no one wanted to see him jailed for murder.

  Verity decided she had no good memories of places where the bathroom was down the hall. Give her a Sheraton or a Hilton
every time.

  She opened the door of the ladies’ room and found that the light was off in there, too. She began to get nervous, then anger set in. This had gone far enough! For the price she and Jonas were paying, they deserved decent lighting in the bathrooms. She would go wake the manager. Resolutely, Verity started to back out of the bathroom.

  She sensed the man’s presence behind her a split second before an arm in a heavy wool sweater wrapped around her throat. There was a faint, smoky scent on the wool. The adrenaline of fear flooded her veins, and she opened her mouth to scream. Her cry was cut off by a hot, damp palm.

  Verity started to struggle desperately, throwing herself from side to side. It was useless—the man was much stronger than she was. He was overpowering her quickly, dragging her out into the hall and presumably toward the staircase. A jolt went through her sore ankle as it struck the side of the door and Verity’s fingers clenched instinctively around the handle of her cane.

  The cane!

  Without stopping to think, she lashed out with the hardwood cane, seeking any available target. She struck her assailant’s leg and heard a sharp intake of breath. The hand around her throat then tightened, choking her ruthlessly.

  She rammed the cane backward, aiming for a vulnerable spot. The end of the stick struck somewhere in the man’s midsection, and she heard him gasp. Before he could recover, she rammed again, hoping to hit his groin.

  “Bitch!” The word was spoken violently but was almost inaudible as the man released Verity and doubled over in pain.

  Verity immediately began to swing the cane again, this time going for the man’s head. He dodged and charged blindly for the stairwell.

  Verity was screaming the house down even as her assailant hit the stairs at full speed.

  “Jonas! Jonas!”

  A door slammed open down the hall and Jonas came running toward her. He hadn’t stopped for his pants, she noticed. His lean, hard body gleamed like that of a naked warrior. All he lacked was a sword and shield.

  “Verity, what happened. What the hell’s wrong with the lights in this place?” He reached for her and pulled her tightly against him. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

  “The stairs,” she managed. “He went down the back stairs. He tried to grab me when I went into the bathroom. Had something over his head, a stocking cap, I think. Wool sweater.”

  “Dammit! Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.” She was shaking but she was all right. “He’s getting away, whoever he is, Jonas.” She wrenched free of him and hurried to the window. When she peered out into the darkness at the street below she saw no sign of anyone.

  “He’s probably long gone, but I’ll take a look.” Jonas raced back to the bedroom and reappeared a moment later in his jeans and boots. He started down the stairs, taking them in twos and threes, and nearly collided with the manager and his wife.

  “What’s going on up here?” the wife demanded anxiously. “So much noise. Is everything all right?”

  “No, everything is not all right,” Jonas shot back as he bounded past them. “Some joker just tried to grab my wife. I’m going to see if I can find him. Call the cops.”

  The woman stared in confusion at Verity as her husband switched on the stairwell lights. “I beg your pardon, my dear. Didn’t realize you were married.”

  “A slight misunderstanding,” Verity murmured, not bothering to explain who had misunderstood whom.

  “This,” said Verity in an aggrieved tone an hour later, “reminds me of what happened the other night back in Sequence Springs. At least I was armed this time.” She hoisted the cane triumphantly. “And I didn’t sprain my ankle this time, either. For these small mercies, I am grateful. Boy, do I hate places where the bathroom is down the hall. You can have cute and quaint anytime. I’ll take luxury and convenience.”

  “I just wish to hell I could have gotten my hands on that creep.” Jonas was prowling the small room, pacing up and down in front of the window as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He had not found the assailant in the wool sweater. Whoever it was had vanished into the cold, wet night.

  The police had been polite and efficient. They assured Verity and Jonas that they would check passengers on the ferries and keep their eyes open as they patrolled the island. They stood a good chance of finding the culprit, they said. It was a small community with limited access. Unless the guy had his own boat, he would have to use the ferry. Of course, there was always the possibility that the assailant was local. The police reluctantly admitted that there had been a similar situation just last month. A tourist had been raped at a resort on the other side of the island, and the man had not been caught.

  “So you’ve got some guy running around this place who likes to hunt lady tourists?” Jonas had challenged angrily.

  “I didn’t say that, sir,” the officer had replied very politely. “I just said there was an incident last month at a resort. It’s possible the two incidents are related. That’s all I’m saying at the moment. We’ll look into it.”

  “You do that,” Jonas had growled, with a menacing look. Verity knew he was furious with himself for not having caught the assailant.

  “I should never have let you go down the hall by yourself,” Jonas said now. “I should have walked you to the bathroom.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jonas. There was no reason on earth to think I was in any danger just going down the hall. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “That’s twice in a matter of days that you’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Jonas glared at her. “How come you’re so damn unlucky lately?”

  Verity unconsciously patted her still-flat stomach. “Good question.”

  Jonas was across the room in two strides. He grabbed Verity’s wrists as he crouched in front of her chair. “For Christ’s sake, Verity, I wasn’t talking about the baby.”

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Neither was I.” And she hadn’t been. Belatedly she realized what her protective little pat had implied.

  “Honey, I know it must have been a shock to discover you were pregnant, but it’s going to work out. You’ll see. We’re both adaptable. We can handle it.”

  “One of us doesn’t have much choice but to handle it,” she observed dryly.

  “We’ll both handle it.” His voice was flat, his words unequivocal. “Verity, we’re in this together, you and me. And don’t forget it.”

  She touched the side of his hard jaw and thought about the fact that he was the father of her child. She remembered how certain she had been of what she was doing that first time she had gone to bed with him.

  Intellectually she had known back then that there were going to be problems and uncertainties, because in many ways it had seemed obvious that Jonas was not the right man for her. But paradoxically, on another level Verity had been certain he was the one she had been waiting for all her life. And she knew she would not have picked any other man to be the father of her baby.

  “I won’t forget. Jonas.”

  He tugged her into his arms and sat down on the edge of the bed, cradling her carefully. “You’re sure you’re all right? That bastard didn’t hurt you?”

  “I did more damage to him than he did to me, believe me. Me and my trusty cane.”

  “How could you get into so much trouble just going down the hall to the bathroom?”

  “It’s a knack.”

  It was drizzling the next morning when Jonas and Verity checked out of the Harbor Watch Inn. The slate-gray skies stretched beyond the horizon, promising rain for the foreseeable future.

  “I caught the weather report on the radio while you were taking your shower,” Jonas told Verity as they walked through town toward the marina. “There are a series of storms coming in from the Pacific.”

  “Hope the villa is
waterproofed.” Verity stopped in front of a small grocery store. “I think I’ll pick up a few groceries. Maggie Frampten’s pantry is a bit limited.”

  “I don’t want you volunteering to play chef for that bunch.” Jonas’s expression was stern. “We’re supposed to be consultants, not household help.”

  “Yes, but we have to eat, don’t we? You want to subsist on mashed potatoes for the rest of the week? I’m just going to pick up a few things. Won’t be a minute.”

  He glanced down the street. “All right. I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to see if I can find a newsstand,” he said vaguely.

  Verity eyed him curiously. She could have sworn he had made that up on the spur of the moment. “A newsstand?”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He handed her the umbrella and loped off down the sidewalk.

  Verity watched him from the shelter of the umbrella. She liked that new fleece-lined jacket on him, she decided. But then, she liked Jonas in almost anything. Or nothing at all. With a faint smile she went into the grocery store.

  Twenty minutes later she was waiting for Jonas under the store awning, three large bags at her feet. Jonas came around the corner, took one look, and groaned.

  “Who’s going to carry all those sacks and my duffel bag back to the launch?”

  “Now, Jonas, don’t be difficult. I’m sure we can manage. Here, you take the duffel bag and one sack. I’ll carry the rest of the groceries.”

  “What about your cane?”

  Verity tucked it under her arm. “I don’t need it anymore,” she said, realizing even as she spoke that it was the truth. “The ankle’s a bit tender, but that’s all. I think Oliver Crump’s poultices worked. Or maybe it was the effect of the crystal.”

  “I think your ankle got better all by itself,” Jonas muttered, picking up a bag of groceries. “No need to go looking for psychic explanations. Watch your step.”