A Secret Fire (Western Historical Romance)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  Lucy’s blue eyes were shaded by dark lashes, and her skin was flawless porcelain. Her figure was petite but still filled with womanly curves, and her dress was fashionable but sensible. Emma smiled as she recalled Thatcher’s description. Lucy was, indeed, as soft and delicate as a daffodil.

  Lucy walked first to Thatcher, hugging him, and then moved straight to Emma. Her heart thudded in her chest as her nerves got the better of her. She fought the urge to retreat into herself, to drop her eyesight down in the presence of such a beautiful woman.

  “You must be Emma,” Lucy said, her smile as sweet as a daffodil, too.

  Emma nodded, returning her smile.

  “I just can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am to finally have the chance to meet you!” Lucy exclaimed, hugging her.

  Emma was taken aback for only a second, but soon all feelings of apprehension left her, and she returned the hug. This girl was perfect for James. “I’m glad to know you,” Emma answered back with a smile.

  James introduced Lucy to the rest of the group and afterwards looked to Thatcher, who had Emma’s arm threaded through his own. He looked at him suspiciously, and Thatcher smiled. “Yep, that’s right, little brother. I’ve finally become a man like you. This here’s my fiancée!”

  James laughed, bounding over to Thatcher and hugging him again as he slapped him across the back. Lucy jumped up and down excitedly, and Eliza and Seth smiled to each other. Emma felt so loved, so comfortable, even in the middle of town!

  The day progressed as the group enjoyed each other’s company in the Marchant Inn, the laughter and mutual conversations being relaxing and cheerful. Emma left the parlor as everyone continued to speak, bringing empty cups and plates into the kitchen. Her eye caught the stars outside, the clouds and rain from previous weeks having finally vanished, so she decided to step out for a minute to see their beauty.

  Stepping down the back stairs, she looked up into the sky, marveling at the tiny, shimmering lights so far above her. How blessed she felt to live such a gloriously happy life!

  Shortly after, the door opened behind her, and she felt Thatcher’s presence. “Don’t want to stay out here for too long, darlin’,” he said, coming up behind her and sliding his strong arms around her stomach. “You’ll catch a cold.”

  His body warmed her from the brisk November air, and she leaned closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Aren’t they just beautiful, Thatcher?” she asked, still looking into the black abyss above her.

  She could feel him nod his head, and she turned her body around, sliding her arms around his neck. “I love you, Thatcher,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.

  “I know,” he said with a wink.

  She laughed, swatting him playfully on the chest.

  “I love you, too, my little wildflower.” He bent down and kissed her lingeringly on the lips.

  Emma felt the truth in his words, saw it in his eyes, and smiled with the joy she felt. She stood on her tiptoes, pulling his face down close to her own, and all other thoughts were lost as she was embraced in the arms of Thatcher, the one she loved, the one who loved her just as much in return.

  Epilogue

  “Look at her hair, Thatcher,” Emma whispered, smiling as she cradled their baby in her arms. “There’s so much of it!”

  “It’s dark and soft, too,” Thatcher said, as he stared at the beautiful girl before them, “just like her mama’s.”

  Emma looked up to Thatcher and smiled as he stretched forward, kissing Emma’s forehead. He was kneeling down next to her as she sat in the rocking chair in the front room of their small home. She watched as her husband’s large hand smoothed down the baby’s fuzzy hair.

  They remained silent as they stared at the sleeping infant, still marveling at the miracle that had come into their lives only a few weeks before.

  Emma could hardly believe everything that had happened in the past year. It seemed to have gone by in a whirlwind, but she was grateful for where she was at that moment in time and for the things that had transpired for her to be there.

  Thatcher had purchased a large portion of land the day before James had returned with his wife, and once the newlyweds were settled in Thundercreek, Thatcher had enlisted James’s help to construct a house for himself and Emma before the winter came. It was built sooner than James’s had been, much to Emma’s relief, and the two were married after a week of its completion.

  Although her new home was much smaller than what she had been used to, Emma wouldn’t have it any other way. She relished in the joy she felt at not having to clean and take care of the large Marchant Inn any longer, though she did stop by every week to lend a helping hand to Eliza, who was usually busy chasing her feisty one-year-old around the house.

  The town of Thundercreek remained mostly the same, only a few new people moving into the neighboring settlements. Mrs. Tilman still gossiped, but no one paid much attention to her except for her Nancy Jane, who had since turned twenty-years-old and was still unmarried, despite her frequent attempts to capture the young men around town.

  The girl hadn’t spoken to Emma since she’d fallen into the watering trough. Emma had seldom seen her in town, but when she had, mother and daughter Tilman, still glued to each other’s sides, would move to the other side of the street before they would have to walk near Emma.

  Emma didn’t mind, however, nor did she heed the constant rumors they spread through town about her. Thatcher had taught her to have confidence, among many other things, so she had grown to realize that it didn’t matter what other people thought about her, just what she thought about herself.

  Besides her occasional visits to town, Emma stayed mostly near her home, pleased to finally have a place of her own and a man to stand by her side and love her like nothing else in the world.

  Emma and Lucy were adapting well to their new farm lives, and even the brothers were beginning to enjoy themselves as they no longer had to move from town to town on cattle drives all summer long.

  The first season of plowing, planting, sowing, and watering day after day had been taxing, but once harvesting season came, the families rejoiced to finally see the blessed results of their labors.

  And then, later that year in the early winter, little Jenny, named after Emma’s mother, had entered into their lives. And what a blessing that little girl had already been to them!

  As Emma sat there with Thatcher, the fireplace warming their comfortable dwelling and a blanket draped across her knees, she sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the heavens. How happy she was with her life! How happy it made her that she and Thatcher had been able to grow and overcome so many obstacles to be together, happier than either could have imagined.

  As she perused every inch of their child’s soft face, she noted the way her lips mirrored Thatcher’s and how her dimples were visible even without smiling. The child was definitely theirs.

  “She’s quite the looker,” Thatcher said. “I’ll have to get my shotgun ready.”

  Emma looked over to see his eyes wrinkling at the sides, and she smiled. “We’ve a bit more time ’fore that happens, I think.”

  She winked at Thatcher, and he moved his strong arm around her shoulder. They again stared at little Jenny and beamed as they saw the infant smile sweetly in her sleep.

  Long moments later, Thatcher took Jenny into his arms and laid her down to sleep in their room, leaving the door propped open so they could hear if she started to fuss.

  Emma stood when he came back into the room, his arms reaching out to her.

  “Come here, little wildflower,” he said, pulling her up from the chair and embracing her tightly.

  He turned his head, kissing her temple, and she sighed. Even though she’d been married for a little over a year, Emma still found it hard to remain upright when Thatcher held her, his strong embrace making her weak at the knees.

  “How has your day been?” he asked, leaning back and then leading her to a chair, pulling he
r down onto his lap.

  “It was just fine,” Emma said, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. “Eliza and Lucy stopped by while you were out. Little James Jr. is lookin’ more and more like his papa, and Mae is runnin’ ’round somethin’ fierce now, tearin’ up anythin’ and everythin’ in her way. Makes me scared to think what our little girl will be like in a year’s time.”

  “Well, I’m sure she’ll be a handful like her mother,” Thatcher said.

  “And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Deakon?” she asked, narrowing her gaze as she leaned closer to him, watching his lips as he smiled.

  “You know exactly what I mean, darlin’,” he said, chuckling. “If that little girl has the same spark in her eyes as you do, we’re in for some trouble.”

  She giggled. “Oh, Thatcher,” she said, “I’m not so hard to handle.”

  He gave her a dubious look, and she swatted him playfully on his arm.

  “I don’t know how your parents were able to handle you with your fiery spirit,” he said.

  She smiled, thinking about her parents. “I suppose we’ll have to find some patience, then. They had to have a lot of it with me and Seth.”

  ***

  Thatcher smiled, placing his hand against Emma’s face. He loved her so much! Day in and day out, he marveled at how blessed he was with being worthy enough to marry such a beautiful, astounding woman, and to have a replica of her in their daughter.

  He looked into her blue eyes and smiled, seeing that fire still alight. Since the night Thatcher had proposed so many months ago, that light in her eyes had not diminished, remaining bright and steadfast no matter what.

  And he loved it. He loved her!

  He leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. “Thank you, darlin’.”

  ***

  Emma’s brows furrowed as she watched Thatcher’s chocolate eyes turn sincere, his playful smile fading. “What for?

  “For helpin’ me overcome my worries,” he said, running a thumb across her lips, “and for provin’ my fears to be wrong.”

  Smiling, Emma leaned forward and gave another kiss to her husband. “You’re the one who should be gettin’ the praise, honey,” she started. “If it weren’t for you, Seth would’ve kicked me out on the streets and had me beggin’.”

  He chuckled, but she grew serious once more. “Really, though,” she said, “you helped bring out the real me after I was lost for so long. And that is worth more than anythin’.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes, smiling as they felt their love for each other increase. Thatcher pulled her in for another kiss, and Emma sighed, whispering his name aloud. He only held her tighter.

  Emma felt blessed as her husband kissed her, and she thought of everything the man had done to make her dreams come true, building her a home, giving her a beautiful baby girl, and blessing her with a happiness she hadn’t known existed.

  As they embraced, her heart burned with bliss, knowing that the rest of her life would hold similar moments. Moments filled with a deep contentment that only came when the man she loved was holding her in his arms.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Deborah M. Hathaway graduated from Utah State University with a bachelor’s degree in English and an emphasis in Creative Writing. As a young girl, she devoured Jane Austen’s novels while watching and re-watching every adaptation of Pride & Prejudice she could, entirely captured by all things Regency and romance.

  Throughout her life, she wrote many short stories, poems, and essays, but it was not until after her marriage that she was finally able to complete her first romance novel, attributing the completion to her courtship with, and love of, her charming, English husband. Deborah finds her inspiration for her novels in her everyday experiences with her husband and children and during her travels to the United Kingdom, where she draws on the beauty of the country in such places as Ireland, Yorkshire, and her beloved Cornwall.

  Learn more about Deborah and her writing by visiting her website.

  www.deborahmhathaway.com

  Be sure to sign up for her newsletter to receive the latest news of her upcoming novels!

  www.deborahmhathaway.com/newsletter

  Other Titles by Deborah M. Hathaway

  Stand Alone Novels

  A Secret Fire

  When Two Rivers Meet

  To Warm a Wintered Heart

  A Cornish Romance Series

  On the Shores of Tregalwen, a Prequel Novella

  Behind the Light of Golowduyn, Book One

  For the Lady of Lowena, Book Two

  Belles of Christmas Series

  Nine Ladies Dancing, Book Four