Romancing the West (34 page)

Rome had been stunned by her compassion. Not Seth. Emily McBride was an extraordinary woman. He knew now, without a doubt, that he could be, and would be, faithful to her until his dying day. He’d been humbled and thrilled when she declared her love in front of the Garretts. He ached to tell her his heart, but wasn’t free to do so until he made things right with Athens. As spent as he was, he needed to handle this now. This was a big city. Surely he could track down a twenty-four hour telegraph operator.

Midway down the hall, he ran into London. The man motioned him into the study, closed the door. Rome and Boston had already retired. London sat behind his massive desk, massaged his temples. “They’re holding Claude for twenty-four hours, but unless Emily presses charges--”

“She won’t.” Seth braced his hands on hips and swallowed a curse. “You heard her. She forgave him.”

“You could probably talk her into--”

“I’m not going to manipulate her.”

“Bellamont runs a successful winery. He’s not going to tuck tail and run to a new town. Unless Emily moves--”

“Those plans might already in motion.”

London shot him a look. “Rome told me about Athens’s proposal. My brother means well, but in this case he’s misguided. Does Emily know his intentions?”

Seth shook his head. “He penned a proposal, but I haven’t given it to her. I wanted to clear up that blackmail business first.”

“Do you have it on you?”

“Yeah.” “May I see it?”

Seth jerked the folded letter out of his jacket pocket, passed it over the desk.

Without reading it, London tore up the proposal and deposited the pieces in a drawer. “Emily thinks Paris sent you,” he said. “Why don’t we leave it at that.”

Seth glommed onto his thinking. Nothing would be gained by making Emily privy to Athens’s notion of a marriage of convenience. Knowing her sweet heart, she would feel some guilt about leaving Zach and Zoe without a mother. Not that she would marry Athens. She’d never marry without love, which she’d proven more than once. But now she’d found that love. With Seth. His pulse raced at the thought of making it legal. “I need to get word to your brother.”

“Already done.” London lifted a dark brow. “I trust I won’t have need of a shotgun.”

“You’re a bossy son of a bitch, Garrett.”

“That a problem for you?”

Seth grinned. “Not at the moment.”

As tired as she was, Emily couldn’t sleep. She lay in the dark, heart hammering, mind churning. Twice she’d declared her love for Seth, the second time in front of Rome and Boston. He’d yet to return the sentiment. He cared for her, of that she had no doubt, but perhaps not enough to pursue a romantic entanglement. He accomplished what Paris had asked of him. He’d vanquished her troubles. Tomorrow he’d probably head back to Arizona Territory.

She burrowed under the covers and squeezed back tears. She’d cried more tonight than all her nights put together. She’d feel better tomorrow, she told herself. Maybe.

The door creaked open and Emily squinted at the backlit silhouette. “Seth?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re all right. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I’d feel better if you stayed with me.” If this was their last night together she wanted a lifelong memory.

“I’ll bring in a chair and sit with you until you fall asleep.”

“I’d feel better if you lay next to me.”

“Em--”

“Please.”

The pause was so long, she feared rejection. Her heart ached as badly as her head. But, at last, he moved into the room and took off his boots. She watched him peel off his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt. She resisted the urge to put on her glasses for a clearer view. She’d seen him without his shirt before. The glorious image was branded on her brain. She held her breath, wondering if he was going to shuck his pants. She’d definitely need her glasses for that. It was hard enough to see in the darkened room.

He disappointed her by climbing into bed with his pants on. He didn’t crawl under the covers with her either.

“You left the door open,” she whispered.

“I know.”

Her disappointment vanished when he pulled her back flush against his front. Even with the blanket between their bodies, she could feel the heat of his skin. He encircled her waist with his arm, pressed his groin against her rear, and curved his thighs against hers. Spooning, she thought they called it.

She wiggled against him, sighed.

He groaned, and she realized that something had come between them. She smiled in the dark, thinking this was a boner-inducing embrace. Definitely something to remember.

After a long wonderful minute she rolled over and faced him. “You were right about Mr. Bellamont. Thank you for letting me confront him. Thank you for being there with me.”

He smoothed her hair from her face, his fingers skimming her skin and fanning desirous flames. “You’re an amazing woman, Em. I’ve never known anyone like you, and that’s a fact.”

Her heart beat so hard that it bounced around her chest and into her throat. She longed to know his heart, his intentions, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She’d exhausted her new courageous streak an hour ago. “The bond,” she said. “I guess it wasn’t artistic.”

“Guess not.”

“Because, well, you’re not a writer.”

“Nope.”

“You’re a lawman.”

“Disappointed?”

“Scared.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Seth Wright and I’m Emily McBride.”

“Yeah.” He cradled the back of her head and softly kissed her lips. “And I won’t have it any other way. I love you, Em.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “You do?”

“Very much.”

“Really?”

“At first I worried I wasn’t the right man for you.”

“And now?”

“I’m convinced I’m the only man for you.”

“I agree,” she croaked.

He thumbed away her tears. “For a writer, you’re pretty stingy with words just now, hon.”

She heard the smile in his voice and smiled back.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He chuckled and framed the side of her face. “Damn, Em. Don’t you want me to get down on one knee and propose proper like? Don’t you want me to woo you with a poetic declaration of eternal love?”

“Consider me wooed.” She snuggled closer. “Are you going to wear pants to bed after we’re married?”

He tucked her head into the groove of his strong shoulder, spoke close to her ear. “I’m going to sleep in the raw and so are you.”

“I’m having some pretty erotic thoughts just now. I saw these pictures--”

“Have mercy, hon.”

She smiled against his neck. A blissful haze enveloped her. She couldn’t ever remember feeling this happy. Fatigued as she was, her mind whirled with several different future scenarios, all of them involving her warrior poet. “Seth?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“The one hundred different ways I’m going to make love to you.”

She couldn’t wait. “Only one hundred?” she teased.

“I might have to consult your book after that.”

In spite of her exhaustion, her body tingled with sexual awareness. “I’m thinking we should get married tomorrow.”

“After tonight, the Garretts won’t have it any other way.”

By inviting him into her bed, she’d sealed their fate. “You don’t think I--”

“I’m exactly where I want to be.” She released a relieved sigh, kicked off the covers and threw her leg over his in a bid to get closer.

“Em?”

“Hmm?”

“As soon as your lip is healed, I’m going to give you an orgasm-inducing kiss.”

Her stomach fluttered as she boldly nipped his earlobe. “Consider me healed.”

T
erritory of Arizona

A
thens was convinced he’d never enjoy another sound night’s sleep for as long as he lived. He’d wired Heaven the previous day, early afternoon, asking Seth for a progress report.
If the VIP is reluctant,
he’d written,
cancel the mission.

By nightfall the wire remained unanswered. Athens lay awake for hours obsessing about Emily and Kaila and his unknown future. Leaving it to fate chafed because fate was not his friend. For the first time in three years, he whispered a prayer.

Just before dawn, he drifted off to sleep. Suddenly, he was a performer in the circus. A brightly garbed, smiling idiot juggling two ornery children, eight hot-headed Peacemakers, and one sassy Englishwoman. The gig was challenging, but a
bona fide
thrill.

He scanned the applauding audience, a sea of blurry faces, save for one. Jocelyn. Smiling and cheering him on.
“I’m so proud!”

Heart pounding, he jerked awake and saw Parker. “Jesus!” Athens bolted upright in bed. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Only a couple of minutes, sir.” He pushed open the curtains, welcoming rays of dawn into the dim bedroom. “I knocked, but you were sleeping like a rock.”

He threw off the covers, swung his feet to the floor. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Telegram.”

His head snapped up. “From Wright?”

“Your brother.”

“Which one?”

Parker handed him three folded papers. “All of them.” Athens’s heart raced as he opened each one and read.

SETH AND EMILY ARE SWEET ON EACH OTHER. THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.--BOSTON

JOCELYN WOULDN’T WANT YOU TO MARRY FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN TRUE LOVE. THINK ABOUT IT.--ROME

DON’T MAKE ANYMORE LIFE DECISIONS UNTIL I GET THERE. THE DESERT SUN’S COMPROMISING YOUR JUDGMENT. BY THE WAY, SETH’S IN LOVE WITH EMILY. I GAVE HIM MY BLESSING. YOU CAN THANK ME LATER.--LONDON

Athens catapulted out of bed. “What are you standing there for?” he barked at Parker. “Help me pick out something to wear.”

“The occasion, sir?”

“I’m going courting.”

Wh
at about this one?” Emily pointed to a picture in the ancient scholarly treatise on sexual enjoyment. “The
Stag!”

Using his forearm, Seth dabbed sweat from his brow then slid on his spectacles and examined the exotic position. “He’s standing and bearing all her weight.”

“So? You’re strong enough.”

“We’re on a moving train, Em. I don’t have that kind of balance. Pick another one.”

“It looks so interesting.”

“That’s what you said about
The Knot!”
She giggled. “So now we know you’re not as flexible as I am. But look. You don’t have to get all bendy with this--”

“Pick another one.” Smiling, he brushed aside her tousled hair, kissed her damp neck, and fell back on the sleeper bed. His wife’s adventurous streak knew no bounds. They’d only been married two weeks and she’d already exhausted a good portion of his love-making arsenal. He was one lucky son of a bitch. Although if they kept up this pace, he’d be dead by the time they reached Phoenix.

He grinned thinking there were worse ways to go.

The train rocked and chugged across the tracks, carrying them toward what Emily considered to be her first real adventure. A lengthy stay in the rugged southwest.