Emma's Blaze (Fires of Cricket Bend Book 2)

by Piper, Marie

  “May I help you?”

  Emma breezed up to the front desk, wearing a big smile. “We’ll take a room.” Emma linked her hand in Bill’s. Leaning forward to the clerk, she gave a little giggle. “We’re passing through on our honeymoon.”

  The clerk looked at their clothes. Emma acted fast. “Decided to travel by horse to save some money. It’s been a long trip. I could surely use a hot bath. Could you please have one brought up?”

  The clerk grinned back, “Of course. Congratulations to you both. I’ve a nice room on the third floor with a view overlooking the water.” The transaction was fast. Emma held out the money she’d received from Josiah out on the drive, the clerk handed over a key and signed a ledger listing them as Mr. and Mrs. Forest, and in minutes Emma and Bill were shown into a fine room. Walled with clean white wallpaper with tiny purple flowers, the lace-curtained windows showed a view of the busy waterway and the ships that passed through.

  “Honeymoon?” Bill asked once the door had closed behind them.

  Emma removed her jacket and stretched. “They’d have frowned upon unmarried people staying in the same room. Heaven knows what kind of impropriety could occur.”

  “You think us staying in the same room is a good idea?”

  Bill glanced at the large bed that stood between them. Emma took his meaning and gulped. The room only held one bed, a complication she hadn’t fully considered.

  “I think I’m safer with you around than anyone else on this earth. And I think you won’t get a lick of sleep if you can’t keep an eye on me, and that you’re grumpier than a dog with thistles in its muzzle when you haven’t slept. This way, everyone wins.”

  Bill stared at the bed, and shifted his weight.

  Break down. Please just stay with me. She sent her thoughts to him as hard as she could, but it didn’t matter.

  “I’ll get my bedroll, sleep on the floor.” Bill turned and was gone from the room so fast Emma didn’t have time to argue with him. It was so obvious to her that they longed for the other’s touch, so perhaps sharing a room would turn out to be a good idea.

  “Saints alive,” she breathed as she fell back on the bed.

  Oh, the luxury of a featherbed. The softness of the mattress surrounded and supported her, and after weeks of riding and sleeping on the ground, she closed her eyes and reveled in it.

  Relaxing fully wasn’t possible. Knowing that Hank was most likely just a few buildings away from her at that moment had her itching to see him, and to confirm they hadn’t come all the way for nothing.

  If she didn’t lay eyes on him in person, she’d never be able to sleep.

  She scribbled a note to Bill, left it on the bed, and headed back out onto the bustling streets of New Orleans. Outside, it was nearly nightfall. The streetlamps were being lit. She’d memorized the address, and was outside the door of the gambling establishment in only a few minutes. Music wafted out of the doors, along with the jumbled sounds of multiple conversations. The night was young inside the Magnolia Crow, and the party had begun.

  Standing outside the doors, with only two pieces of wood between her and Hank, she froze.

  Her stomach knotted and twisted over the idea of seeing Hank again. More than anything, she wanted to turn tail, run back to Bill, pull him out of the city, and back to the drive.

  Hank had taught her many things: how to read a man’s interest and how to use it to her benefit; endless card games, songs, stories, acts. He’d also taught her how to defend herself—to shoot, to fight, to stand up tall when she was afraid.

  So she did as he’d taught her.

  A few men came out the doors, and as they swung wide, Emma pulled herself up to her full height and slipped inside the dim room. As her eyes adjusted, memories of places like it filled her head. Folks of all colors drank and jabbered, and the sound of someone banging at a piano filled the air with slightly out-of-tune music. Women in scanty dresses flirted with men at gaming tables, luring them to stay a little longer, play just one more game, have just one more drink. It was crowded already, and Emma felt invisible in her worn trail clothes.

  Invisible was good. She would likely go unnoticed.

  Where was Hank? Had Haven’s letters been right? Or had Hank, for whatever reason, bailed out of New Orleans just as he had Fort Worth, Cricket Bend, and any number of other cities? She rose on her toes to survey the room. Over the heads of a dozen people, she saw a sea of even more.

  And then Emma saw him. “Sweet Father Christmas,” she whispered to no one.

  Hank Porter remained every bit as handsome as she remembered him. The rascal’s black hair, dark eyes, and strong jaw hadn’t changed. His tall build and strong form were showcased by his perfectly-tailored vest and pants. Emma watched him move through the crowd with a startling confidence, and mingle with saloon patrons in the manner of a perfect host. The only change she noticed lay in the worn look behind his eyes. Hank was tired. From past regrets or present circumstances, Emma couldn’t have said, and no one but she would have likely noticed. A little sparkle had gone off the diamond, but it still shone.

  Into the hall came a man who was greeted warmly by several of the patrons. Their loud entrance caused most of the room, including Hank, to turn toward the very spot where Emma stood. The man came inside, and she ducked behind him and scampered out the doors before anyone noticed her

  When she returned to the hotel room, the only light came from a lantern. The golden glow of the small flame cast only a little illumination onto Bill, and Emma chuckled when she saw that he was relaxing in a big clawfoot bathtub he was too tall for. The steam rose off the water, and he had to bend his knees up out of the water in order to fit.

  “Enjoying the life of luxury?”

  He didn’t open his eyes. “They came and delivered it, like you asked. Didn’t know if you’d be back before it got cold, so I got in. A man could get used to such finery.”

  “Planning to put a tub in your house when you get back?”

  “I might. I’ll have myself a fancy bath with lavender soap each and every night.”

  Emma smiled and went to the mirror on the dresser, where she began to take her hair down from its braid. Her hair fell in waves, and she shook them free.

  “Did you find him?”

  Of course Bill had known where she’d gone.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Did you talk to him?”

  “No. I don’t even think he saw me.” She folded her arms over her chest and looked out the window at the moon over the river. “If he won’t give me a divorce, this whole trip was a waste, and I’ll be right back where I started.”

  Bill waited a moment before speaking. “If you’d like, there’s a place for you at the ranch.”

  “As a hand?”

  “As my wife.”

  “I’m married, Bill. He’s four doors down right now.”

  He waved dismissively. “Shoot, I know that. But that’s just a piece of paper somewhere. I don’t need paper to know that I love you, and I ain’t ready to leave you here with him and go my way and never see you again. That man is a fool and a scoundrel and no good for anyone.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then what is holding you back?”

  “I wish I knew.” Closing her eyes, Emma leaned against the bedpost and groaned. “I don’t know what to do, Bill.”

  “Why don’t you come over here. We can figure it out together.”

  Recognizing the look he was giving her as he sat naked in a tub of hot water, Emma raised one eyebrow. She saw his wet hair smoothed back, and the red tint of his skin from the steaming water. His bare chest rose out of the water. More than anything, she wanted to nuzzle into him, to lose herself entwined with him until they fell asleep or the sun rose—whichever came first. “If I come over there, that’s the last thing we’ll do. We both know it.”

  “So what if it is?”

  “You haven’t touched me in weeks.”

  “Doesn’t mea
n I haven’t wanted to.”

  “Why now? Why tonight?”

  “Because we’re here. We’ve come so far, and we’re so close. And I can’t think of a better time to get over being stubborn and pig-headed.”

  “I can’t either,” Emma answered.

  Loving Bill was simple and wonderful. Loving Hank was a mistake and a half and a pain in the rear, to boot. Both men were strong and handsome, but that was where the differences ended. Only one could be trusted, and only one had held her heart with careful hands.

  Bill brought his hand out of the water and up over the edge of the tub, offering it to her. Water dripped from his fingers onto the wood of the floor as he said, “Come here.”

  What could she do but give in to him and obey? Turning from the bedpost, she took the few steps to the side of the tub and stood over him. The water she looked down upon hid none of his nakedness. Under her gaze, he made no gesture of embarrassment.

  With twinkling eyes, he moved his hand so his fingers took hold of a piece of her untucked shirt. “You can’t take a bath with your clothes on, Miss Sparrow.”

  “Would you like me to take them off, Mr. McKenzie?”

  That adorable crinkle at the corner of his mouth appeared. “I would like that very much. Been a while. I might have forgotten what you look like.”

  “Have you really forgotten?”

  “Never.” He winked at her.

  Emma had undressed for men before. Hell, she’d been Bill’s lover before. But this, in a room in a city strange to both of them, was different. His eyes on her were different now. They’d come through hills and valleys together. Somewhere along the way, the intention behind his brown eyes had changed. Emma felt she’d changed as well. If they’d been playing games before, this time it was for keeps.

  She put a foot up on the side of the tub, and untied one boot and let it drop to the floor.

  She changed feet, and the other boot hit the floor. Under her bare feet, she felt the drops of water that had come off his arm. She lifted the blue shirt over her head, and let it fall away.

  Now she wore only her pants and a silky camisole. The silk hid nothing, and she knew her body was giving away her desire for the man before her. He took her meaning. With shaky fingers, Emma unhooked her pants and let them drop. Her eyes never left Bill’s, and his never left her hands. Soon all she wore was the silky camisole that hung just below her private places. It barely hid everything.

  Bill dragged a finger along the place where the chemise stopped, and her skin jumped to gooseflesh. An idea came to her. As she looked down at her chemise, she spoke, despite her breath wanting to fly away at the touch of his curious fingers.

  “The establishment I found Hank at—it’s a pretty fancy place. We can’t go there looking like we do.”

  “Of course not,” Bill answered, with a look down at his own nakedness. “We’d cause a scandal.”

  “Hush.” Emma bent over the side of the tub. She let one finger drag over the surface of the water. “You’ve been so good to me. Let me dress you in finery for one day,” she urged. Her traveling hand ran over his wet chest before going down into the steaming water. Her fingers found him, and he knew he’d give in to her. Slowly, she rubbed him until he grew hard in her fingers.

  “Emma.” Bill closed his eyes at her touch.

  “I think, in a new suit, you’d cut an impressive figure,” she whispered. She ran the tips of her fingers over his thighs, and scraped lightly with her fingernails. “Not that you don’t already.”

  Catching her hand under the water, Bill held her by the wrist and kept her hand in the tender place it had landed. Desire flamed in his eyes. Emma rose up enough to offer him a breast. He leaned forward and took it in his mouth, toying with her, even through the thin fabric of her chemise. She carefully stepped into the tub with him. The water rose higher as she settled onto his lap, feeling the hardness of his thighs against her bottom. “Please. Pretty please.”

  He nodded and tensed at the meeting of their flesh. “If you asked me to cut off my arm, I’d agree right now.”

  She leaned forward, the soaked and transparent fabric only a thin barrier between them. When she put her lips on Bill’s, he ran his hands down her sides, pulled the chemise up over her head. He discarded it somewhere over the side of the tub.

  They were naked, and they were together. It felt deliciously familiar.

  Bill’s hands roamed beneath her bottom. He gripped her flesh so hard it made her gasp. He lifted her up as he shifted to where he wanted to be, poised right against her waiting womanhood. Emma anticipated his entrance, but he held back.

  “What are you waiting for?” Breathless, Emma held his shoulders with hard fingers.

  “For you,” he answered. “To let me love you. No lies, no secrets, no fear. Just you and me. That’s all that really matters, Emma.”

  She bit her lip, touched by his words.

  He moved her down onto him. As he filled her, Emma exclaimed louder than she meant to, and his mouth found her neck. Waves of water caused by the rhythm of their bodies splashed over the sides of the tub, but neither one of them cared. She leaned back and rested her arms on the sides of the tub, even as their bodies joined instinctively. She didn’t think. There was no need for thought.

  By the time he rose from the water, lifting her after him and carrying her to the bed, Emma knew her choice was made.

  Bill.

  It would always be Bill, forever more.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  Bill

  Though their vigorous lovemaking should have tired him out, Bill couldn’t sleep. He was too nervous. Rising from the bed, he went to the window and opened it to look out upon the still lively street. The air smelled of people and food and horses and the river. All the bustle made him feel as if he couldn’t breathe. The smells and the constant noise, even in the early hours of the morning, and the streetlamps blocking the stars, unsettled him. The city surrounded him. He wanted dirt and trees and rocks—the real, true stuff of the earth.

  He wanted the plains, and the trail. He wanted his familiar home back in Laredo. And he wanted the woman sleeping in the bed to want it with him.

  Down the street was a man who was standing in the way of them having all they wanted, but not for long.

  Later on that morning, Emma took him shopping.

  After visiting several shops, Emma found one full of dresses she liked. She looked through all the racks before she chose a deep brown dress with small white flowers. As the shop owner took her back behind a screen to try on the garment, Bill fiddled with his hat. He wasn’t comfortable being in a ladies’ shop. Laredo didn’t have anything like the stores in New Orleans. It wasn’t a small town like Cricket Bend, but it was certainly no match for a city as grand as New Orleans.

  “Oof,” he heard Emma grumble.

  “It fit?”

  “I have not worn a corset since the day we met,” she replied. “I’d forgotten what a burden breathing becomes when I’m wearing one.”

  The first thing he saw when she emerged from behind the screen were the skirts. They were full around her feet, but tapered in as they got to her hips. Her chest was tightly wrapped in the corset of the dress, and the long sleeves and high neck of the gown hid most all of her flesh. Bill realized this was how she’d dressed before she’d known him. The effect startled him; she looked the way she was meant to look. Her figure fit the style well, and she’d done her hair up in an elegant twist, same as many of New Orleans women wore.

  “Your wife is a beauty,” an attendant at the shop commented.

  “She certainly is,” Bill answered, enjoying the idea. Emma looked beautiful. More than beautiful, she looked refined, like a princess who’d belonged to this life all the while he’d known her, and she’d only been visiting his world and playing among paupers. Gone was every trace of the person who’d ridden a horse across a river, survived a stampede, and knocked a man down with the butt of a shotgun.

/>   It felt like he was meeting an entirely different woman.

  There was every possibility that she would decide to stay in New Orleans. A few smooth and pretty words from Hank, and she might decide to return to the easier life full of decoration, and easy money. While Emma enjoyed herself, and bought new boots, he felt rising dread. Not at the boots. Pixie boots, they were called, and the cobbler said they were all the rage in Paris.

  “What do you think?” Emma held her skirt up to show him the heel.

  “I’d like to see you try and work a trail in those.”

  “They’re not made for that.” She smiled, as if it wasn’t an option.

  Their next stop was a men’s haberdashery. There weren’t a pair of chaps to be found, so Bill surrendered to Emma’s expertise in the manner of clothing. After much deliberation, and having him try on a number of things, she chose a long brown jacket, trousers, a patterned shirt, and a vest which fit him well—even if he found it too snug to move freely.

  He agreed to those articles of clothing. And then she held up a top hat.

  “The final touch.” Emma wore a look of sheer glee.

  Bill frowned. “What kind of fancypants fool would wear something like that?”

  “Many a fancypants fool,” she answered. “Take a look outside.”

  “I’ll wear the rest of this,” he said. “Even though, in this vest, I can imagine how you feel in your corset. But I will not wear a top hat. For heaven’s sake, a man can only take so much, Emma.” When she let the matter slide, he was grateful.

  They walked the promenade, arm in arm. In New Orleans, the air smelled of the water from the Gulf, and food, and flowers. Emma drank it all in, looking at everything and smiling at everyone. Every step she took made her face seem brighter, and convinced Bill further that she belonged to the city life—the bustle and the people and the dance of lively encounters with strangers.

  She’d never been meant to be a ranch wife. If he’d held any notions of the sort, he’d been kidding himself.