“For God’s sake, he was your uncle!”
“He was an animal with an obsession for young women and money, or so I soon learned. He said if I screamed, he’d claim I’d lured him into my bedroom…and the maids and everyone would hear and the gossip would spread and I’d be disgraced and so would my mother. I’d just turned seventeen and had never…” She shuddered at the memory.
Mitch kept a firm grip on her. “It’s all right, Emma. I’m going to call you Emma from now on, because that’s your name and you should be using it. And don’t be ashamed of what happened. That bastard should die for it. It’s bad enough that he was older and stronger and violated you to begin with, but to have it be his own brother’s daughter…the man deserves something worse than death.”
“Don’t let go of me.”
“I wouldn’t think of it. I’ll hang on to you as long as you want me to.”
Emma closed her eyes. “I couldn’t tell my mother about it. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe how it happened—that she would believe Alan’s version of it. I didn’t want her to hate me. Then Alan sent me to a finishing school for six months. I think he wanted to get rid of me for fear I’d have the courage to tell. I’m sure while I was gone he made life hell for my mother. When I came home she seemed so…broken and unhappy. She gave me a key to a safe-deposit box and told me the necklace was in it and to never tell anyone—that it was mine forever. I think she was afraid by then that Alan would kill her. Not long after, he got drunk and they had another big fight. He pushed my mother down the wide staircase the led up to the bedrooms. She broke her neck in the fall.”
She stopped, the tears coming then. “I started to pick her up,” she managed to choke out, “and her head fell back grotesquely. It was horrible…my own mother…dead in my arms.”
“Damn.” Mitch sighed. “I know the feeling.”
“And you were just a little boy. I’m so sorry, Mitch. You have your own horrible memories. When you first told me about your mother, I was struck by the fact that we’ve both watched our mothers die violently.”
“At least in my case, I didn’t have to deal with someone like Alan Radcliffe afterward. Tell me the rest of it, Emma.”
She took several deep breaths first to control her tears. “Alan told me I’d better go along with his story that it was an accident. He said he’d tell people I pushed her myself, that I had been after his affections and was jealous of my mother and wanted her out of the picture. He said he had connections, that he could have me sent to prison, that if I tried to tell the truth, no one would believe my story. He’s such a powerful man, Mitch…and he does have connections in the right places. I believed I really could go to prison. He said I would, if I didn’t tell him where the necklace was. He was getting desperate for money. I refused to tell him. He grabbed me and dragged me upstairs and threw me on his bed and forced himself on me again, saying he’d have me every night if I didn’t tell…and there was my mother, still lying dead at the bottom of the stairs.”
“My God, I’d like to get my hands on that man.” Mitch crushed her closer.
“The next two days were busy with reporting my mother’s death and holding her funeral. Alan put on a great show as the mourning husband, and every time the prosecutor came around, Alan gave me that dark, menacing look that said I’d better not tell the truth or he would turn it all against me. I knew he could, so I decided to run away. I felt I had no other choice. I was afraid he’d have me arrested anyway, because he was so angry that I wouldn’t tell him where the necklace was.
“The night of the funeral, I looked through the newspaper, trying to figure out where I could go, looking for a job. I just wanted to get out of that house, but then I realized that if I went anywhere in New York, he would easily find me. It had to be someplace far away. Then I saw a little article about how women were needed out West as cooks, laundresses, waitresses, wives… ‘Come to Alder, Montana,’ it said. And then I realized some little mining town way out West was the last place someone like Alan would ever dream of looking for me, so as soon as he left on business the next day, I packed as fast as I could. I found some money in one of Alan’s drawers, and I took it because I knew I’d need it. I took the key for the safe-deposit box and went and got the necklace. I discovered my mother had put a lot of money in the safe-deposit box along with the necklace. I think she knew for a long time that I might end up needing it, so I took that money, too, along with the necklace, and I headed west and never looked back.”
Emma finally turned onto her back, looking into Mitch’s eyes, seeing he truly understood and cared. “By now Alan is probably so angry that he’s told a huge lie to the prosecutor in New York. They’re good friends. He might even have a warrant for my arrest if I ever come back to New York State, for murder and what he’ll probably call theft of his money—and of the necklace, which he’ll consider his, because it belonged to my mother and now she’s dead.”
Mitch leaned down to kiss her gently. “Did you honestly think I would believe you killed your own mother?”
“I couldn’t be sure. You’re a man. Maybe you’d believe I really did throw myself at my uncle.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Emma, I’ve known you all of three weeks, and I’d never believe a thing like that. I’m betting no one back in New York would believe it either. Alan Radcliffe took advantage of your youth and your ignorance of men. He used brutality and threats to make you believe whatever he wanted you to believe.”
Emma was surprised that she didn’t mind him holding her the way he did. “But he’s rich and powerful, Mitch. He knows all the right people and he always gets his way, and I was so scared you’d send me back to New York or that he’d follow me here. I’m still scared he’ll find me.”
Mitch rested on his elbows, kissing her eyes, her cheeks. “I hope he does follow you here. This isn’t New York, Emma. This is Montana, my jurisdiction. Here I’m the one with the power. He’ll have me to deal with if he shows up here!”
She studied his eyes, wondering why it didn’t frighten her to have him over her the way he was. “You truly believe me?”
“Of course I believe you. I love you.”
He kissed her again, this time on the lips…so gently…and she wasn’t afraid. She felt joy and relief and love. Yes, she loved him. She moved her arms around his neck. “Don’t let him ever touch me again, Mitch.”
“He’ll never touch you again.”
“Say it again.”
“He’ll never touch you, and in a way, he never did. You’ve only been touched that way when you want to be touched that way. And from now on, I’m the man who will be doing the touching, and it will be because I love you and not because I want to hurt you.”
She felt lost in him then as he kissed her again, this kiss much deeper. He moved his lips to her neck. “It doesn’t have to be a terrible thing, Emma, not if you’re in love.” He kissed her again. “Marry me, Emma. I’ll love and protect you forever, and I’ll settle this thing with Alan Radcliffe once and for all.”
He kissed her again, a long, delicious kiss that made her wonder what it would be like to take a man she really wanted. “Marry me,” he repeated. “I want to make you mine, Emma.” A deeper kiss, gentle touches. He had a way of taking away all the fear and ugliness.
“Will you truly marry me?” she whispered.
“I’ll marry you today…right now.”
“But I don’t want to stop,” she whispered. “I don’t want this feeling to end.”
“Then I’ll stay right here and show you what it will be like to be Mitch Brady’s wife…and tomorrow at the picnic we’ll make it legal. By this time tomorrow you’ll be Mitch Brady’s wife, and I’ll protect you with my life, Emma.”
“Please don’t be lying.”
“You already know I don’t lie.”
Another kiss. He had a way of taking command, not through vi
olence but through kisses and the way he touched her. He moved a hand under her skirt and along her thigh in a way that brought out a need she’d never felt before.
Emma closed her eyes. “I want it to be nice, Mitch.”
“It will be, but if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” More kisses. “It won’t be easy, but I never want you to feel like I’m forcing you to do something.”
“No. Don’t stop.” She kept her eyes closed as he pushed up her skirt and slipped her bloomers down her legs, over her ankles. He moved back over her, kissing her neck. She met his gaze and realized he’d really stop if she didn’t want this. She knew by the honesty in those mesmerizing blue eyes that he was sincere and determined and filled with desire. He wanted her in a way that went beyond just having his way with her. It was nothing like what Alan Radcliffe had done to her.
“I never thought I could feel that way about a man.” She sucked in her breath when he touched her in that place Alan Radcliffe had so rudely and violently hurt her. It wasn’t like that this time. Mitch smothered her with the most gentle, delicious kisses while at the same time touching forbidden places with an exquisite expertise that made her want more. In moments she felt the most pleasant, exotic explosion deep inside that made her gasp with want for him.
Mitch moved between her legs, his powerful frame making her feel small and at his mercy, yet she didn’t mind. He reached down and loosened his cotton pants, and the next thing Emma knew, Mitch Brady was inside her. His first thrust startled her and she dug her fingers into his arms.
“Don’t be afraid of it, Emma,” he whispered into her ear.
Their lips met, and Emma felt as though they were one body. Something rippled through her, an intense longing to please him, a hungry desire to be filled with him. He buried himself deep and she welcomed his fullness, amazed at her own eager desires as he moved with a perfect rhythm that took away all her inhibitions. She wanted to pull him deeper, as though taking him into her soul.
She felt Mitch’s life surging into her then, but it was beautiful and sweet, not ugly and unwanted.
He relaxed beside her, and they lay there quietly for a moment.
“Are you all right?” Mitch asked.
“Yes.” She couldn’t get over the fact that he’d actually asked. She kissed his neck. “Please stay, Mitch,” she whispered, shocked at her own words. It felt so good to actually want a man, to feel loved, to be held and protected.
“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”
“I want to undress and be under the covers with you.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I just want you to hold me.”
Mitch sat up and removed his shirt, pants, and underwear, taking his time. Emma sensed that he feared that if he moved too fast, the spell would be broken. He told her to sit up then and she obeyed, letting him unbutton her dress and slip it down to her waist. He removed her camisole, so carefully, as though she were made of china. She lay down and let him pull everything down over her hips, then over her legs and all the way off. He pulled off her stockings, and she blushed at her nakedness, closing her eyes and feeling an unexpected excitement at letting him see her this way. The next thing she knew, they were both moving under the covers and Mitch was gently fondling her breasts. She let him kiss her there, amazed at the passion he awakened in her—daring desires she never thought any man could bring out of her after her earlier terrible experiences. That hell had been replaced by pure heaven. Mitch moved on top of her again, and again she let him inside, wishing they could stay right here the rest of the day and all night and forever.
Twenty-four
Alan Radcliffe moved off his bed and pulled on a silk robe, glancing at the naked beauty lying in his bed. He smiled with satisfaction at the memory of what he’d enjoyed last night with the young Andrea Tate. The girl rubbed at her eyes in groggy confusion, then blinked as she looked at Alan.
“What happened?” she asked. “I feel terrible, and I hurt.”
“You’re fine, dear. You should be happy that you’re a woman now.”
The girl looked down at herself and gasped at the sight of blood on the sheets, then yanked the blankets up to her neck. “What did you do?” She looked around the bedroom. “How did I get here? All I remember is you telling my father you’d see that I’d get home safely after the cotillion last night.”
“And you are safe. And thanks to you, your father has paid me for a gambling debt.”
Andrea blinked against tears that started trickling down her cheeks. “What do you mean?”
Alan’s countenance darkened as he walked closer and grasped a bedpost, leaning close to the girl’s face. “I mean, my dear, that your father owed me enough money to bankrupt himself if he had to pay it. That debt is now paid, so you can go on living in luxury and you can marry any young man of your choosing and go on with life as though this never happened. But if you tell anyone about this—your mother, a friend, whoever—I’ll still come after your father for what he owes me.”
“I will tell!” Andrea screamed. “I will! I will! You…you’ve raped me!”
Alan grabbed a fistful of her blond hair and jerked her head back. “You won’t tell a goddamn soul,” he snarled. “Do you want to end up a whore in the streets? Do you want to end up someone’s maid?”
Andrea winced with pain. “You bastard! You’ve ruined me! You filthy old man!”
Alan kept hold of her hair and also grabbed her forearm with his other arm, jerking her closer and then bending her arm up behind her back with a painful twist. “You aren’t ruined, you little bitch! You’re just a woman now. In fact, when you marry, you’ll be able to show your husband a good time on your wedding night, because I’ve already taken care of the uncomfortable part. Now listen! You aren’t dead. You aren’t even hurt. And you’ve done your father a great favor in keeping the family from poverty! By the time you bathe and dress and go home, you’ll be over this and you’ll realize none of this was all that bad.”
He let go of her, roughly tossing her backward. “Be glad I drugged you so you didn’t have to be awake when I made a woman of you. I would much rather have had you fight me and writhe underneath me and know what it’s like to have a man master your body and soul. But your father and I are good friends, and I decided to spare you that part. Be grateful!”
He drew in a breath to calm himself. He walked over to his closet while Andrea curled into a pillow and sobbed. He pulled on some underwear and pants but left his silk robe on, then walked to a mirror to smooth back his hair. “Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he ordered, heading for the door. “I’ll have a carriage made ready, and my driver will take you home.”
He walked out the door, closing it behind him and wishing he could keep the girl there another night or two, but her father had agreed to only one night, and Alan had accepted that as payment. He headed down the wide, winding staircase that led to the lower rooms of the mansion and into the kitchen, where he asked the cook for coffee and breakfast in his office.
“Yes, sir.”
“Matilda.”
The heavy-set, plain-faced widow turned to meet his gaze, obvious disgust in her tired eyes. “Yes?”
“You do know I spent the night here alone, right?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I need my job, Mr. Radcliffe. Yes, you spent the night here alone.”
Alan grinned and went to his office, sitting down in his large, leather chair. He took a cigar from a silver box and lit it, taking a couple of puffs before going through some bills. He would rather have had John Tate’s money, because he was getting low again, but his taste for young women had overtaken that problem and made him settle for a night with Tate’s daughter. That left him with the eternal problem of paying his bills and still being able to gamble heavily, which he dearly loved doing.
If he could have found his dead wife’s valuable necklace, it wou
ld have been a tremendous help. Not only that, but that damn daughter of hers had stolen some of his money. When Mary died, everything should have gone to him…including her daughter.
Damn Emma Radcliffe! Where in hell was that little bitch? Weeks of searching had turned up nothing. Not only had she stolen the necklace and money, but she’d ruined his plans for keeping her there and giving her everything she might want, as long as he could have her in his bed. How could she turn down the life of a wealthy, privileged woman and run off to who knew where and surely live the life of a commoner?
She was bound to run out of money eventually. Then what? She’d have to work as a maid or a cook…or perhaps sell her body. After all, she was no longer a virgin, so what difference did it make? And if she thought she was going to marry for survival, she’d damn well lose her husband once the man found out she was wanted in New York for murder and theft.
Emma Radcliffe was doomed. That was his only comfort. It might take him a while to find her, but find her he would!
He pulled a cord that rang a bell in the maid’s quarters. He picked up a newspaper and began reading as he smoked his cigar, waiting for Bess to come see what he wanted. He was down to just her, a stableman, and a cook now, which was embarrassing. All his friends had several house servants. He’d given the excuse that with his wife dead and his daughter absent, he didn’t need as much help because he was the only one living in the house. Truth was, he couldn’t afford more than what he had.
Bess finally arrived, bowing slightly. “Yes, sir?”
“There is a young lady upstairs in my bedroom. Help her get cleaned up and do her hair for her. I want her looking perfectly neat and clean by the time she leaves here. I’ll have Pete out in the stables get a buggy ready so he can drive her home.”
“Yes, sir,” Bess answered with a nod. As always, the obedient woman showed no sign of disgust or criticism. She’d even seen Andrea Tate completely passed out in his arms when he carried the girl upstairs to his room, and she’d said nothing. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen such things, but she knew better than to tell a soul.
Desperate Hearts Page 19
