by Diana Palmer
She got a glimpse of her employer, almost collapsed in Alistair Sims’s arms. “No! Oh, God, no!” Connor sobbed. His voice was deep with torment. It was almost a sob of rage, of pain so deep that words weren’t enough to express it.
“Here. Get it out of here. Hide it. And close that door!” Alistair shouted. “I’ll call the doctor. He’s going to have to be sedated.”
Barnes came out holding the pistol. He looked at Marie, his face contorted.
“What happened?” she mouthed.
He moved closer. “Emma was still in jail. She didn’t have any way to make bail. She was stabbed by another inmate. She lost her baby.”
Marie didn’t even try to stop the hot tears from tumbling down her cheeks. Barnes put the safety on the pistol and walked out toward the patio, fighting the mist in his own eyes.
Fourteen
They told Emma that she was going to be released, that the charges had been dropped. She was happy about it, although she couldn’t be sure that Connor might not have the charges pressed against her again, at some future date. She’d long since given up hope that he might relent. Memories of his hard mouth on hers, his arms holding her, had slowly faded into the same substance as dreams. It seemed so long ago that he’d wanted her, hungered for her. But the woman he thought she was hadn’t existed.
She’d let him marry her, knowing he was unaware of her true identity, that she’d been responsible for his blindness. He’d thought she was honest and kind and free of any criminal impulses. But she hadn’t been his ideal woman, and his private detective hadn’t pulled any punches laying it out for the man who hired him.
Emma knew that she would never forget the way it felt when she saw the disbelief and anguish and rage in Connor’s face. She’d lied to him, he shouted. She’d played him for a fool. She was the woman who’d caused him to lose his vision, condemned him to a lifetime of darkness. And she’d married him, knowing he hadn’t had the truth. She was nothing but a cheap con artist, looking for an easy life. Well, it would be no easy life for her! He’d make sure of it!
She remembered with kindness the public defender who’d come to see her shortly after her arrest. He had a caseload, he’d said, that looked like Mount Rushmore, but he’d do what he could for her. She’d answered his questions in a dull, uncaring tone.
He’d frowned. “This was an accident. There was no malicious intent...”
“Mr. Sinclair had warned me about speeding in the boat before,” she’d said softly, not adding that he’d been her husband. “He thinks it was malicious.” She looked up at the public defender. “Mr. Sinclair is one of the richest men in the world,” she added. “Even a court of law is going to find it hard to go against him. He has the best attorneys in America on retainer.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll be convicted if he has to find a way to intervene with handfuls of money. He wants me here.”
He grimaced. He knew how the system worked even better than Emma did. “All right, I’ll do my best for you, anyway. But how about bail?”
“Bail is not possible,” she said softly. “I have no money, none at all. I had a little in a savings account, but I don’t think a hundred dollars will take me very far. My father just disowned me because I disgraced him, being in jail. My former employer is somewhere overseas. I wasn’t allowed to try and call her, even if I could find out where she went. But I wouldn’t want to ask her to go against Connor. She did, once before, and he cost her her career. He is—” she swallowed hard “—very vindictive.”
The young attorney had stared at her sadly. “I’ll do what I can to see about getting you out of here.”
“Sir, I have no place to go, even if I get out. Unless I could get into a homeless shelter...” Her voice broke. She bit down hard on her pride and lifted bright eyes to his, her mouth set firmly against weakness. “I’ll manage. I did blind him, you know,” she added. “There’s no way around that. Intent might matter, but facts are facts.” She lowered her eyes. “So I’ll take my licks.”
Brave woman, he thought silently. He’d do what he could, if he could think of anything. Sadly, without collateral, she wouldn’t make bail. He thought about going up against the attorneys who worked for the multimillionaire and gritted his teeth. A famous trial lawyer would hesitate to tackle that bunch. He’d heard rumors of men Sinclair had ruined. He really didn’t want to join the ranks, although he felt very sorry for Miss Copeland. She was pure gold, despite accidentally blinding the tycoon. He truly wished he could help. Emma had watched him go with no real enthusiasm. She knew how things were. But she’d remember that the young man had wanted to help her.
* * *
She was surprised that Connor had dropped the charges. She’d been certain that he’d find a way to make sure she never got out of jail. But apparently he had no more taste for vengeance. Mr. Sims seemed to feel that way. But Emma was wary. Right up until the day she was released and Mr. Sims drove her away, she wasn’t really sure she’d get out at all. She’d learned not to trust people in the two months she’d spent in the detention center. It had soured her on life. Connor might have some other purpose in mind, some darker purpose. She was grateful that she was going to be free, but she’d have to think of some way to make sure Connor never found her. Especially now.
* * *
Connor had slept around the clock, sedated by his local physician. When he came out of it, he was quiet and oddly subdued. He ate breakfast without any real enthusiasm and asked Alistair to stop by. He was on his second cup of coffee, in the office, when the attorney arrived.
“When are they releasing her?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” Alistair replied. He put his briefcase on the desk.
“Have you spoken with her about where she wants to go?” he asked.
“No. She wasn’t really in much shape to talk. They stitched her up, but she’s almost suicidally depressed about the child.”
It hurt him, thinking how much Emma loved children. Of course she’d wanted it, and not for any underhanded reason. She must be in hell.
“I’m sorry about the child,” Connor said heavily. “I accused her of being mercenary when that’s the last thing she is. I was disoriented by what happened, by the shock of knowing who Emma really was. I just...went a little crazy. I never meant for her to stay in jail that long! I never wanted her hurt!”
“They’re charging the other woman with attempted murder. Her public defender will probably plead it down to felony assault, but she’ll do more time. The woman has mental issues that were never addressed.”
“The woman stabbed Emma,” Connor said icily. “She’ll do time, all right. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Meanwhile,” Alistair said quietly, “I’ll get Emma out of jail.”
There was a hesitation. “About the divorce papers...”
“She signed them,” he told Connor. He opened his briefcase and took out the divorce papers. “She said she wouldn’t accept alimony even if you offered it. A proud woman.”
Connor’s conscience was killing him. “Yes. Proud.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
He left. Connor looked at the red-and-black painting on the wall. It was called Despair. It seemed a very appropriate adornment for the study now, he thought sadly. He’d put Emma in harm’s way, helped damage her emotions and her body and her spirit. He’d thrown her away because she was driving a boat that accidentally ran over him and caused, or seemed to cause, his blindness. He was punishing her for an accident. If he’d been looking, he’d have seen the boat coming. If she’d been looking, she would have seen him. It was just damned bad luck on both sides, but that wasn’t a criminal issue. Emma would never have hurt him deliberately. He should have known that.
Anger had been riding him when he had her arrested. He was ashamed and sorry that he’d taken things so far. He didn’t think Emma would
be able to forgive him for what had been done to her. Imprisoned like that for two whole months with a woman after her blood. And he’d been relaxing on a beach near Nice, enjoying the sun and his new ability to see, and feeling that he had the world in his pocket. He’d had the world when he had Emma, but it had taken time to come to his senses. Now, he almost wished he hadn’t.
Emma would hate him. She should hate him. He’d done terrible things to her in the name of vengeance. He could never make up for the misery he’d caused her, for not trusting her, for betraying her. She hadn’t even had the money to call Mamie overseas, because he’d sent her away without her clothes or her purse.
At least Alistair could bankroll her. She could have a place to stay, money for food and necessities, while he debated ideas to get her back into his life. He’d do anything to get her forgiveness.
The divorce papers lay on the desk, unread. With a groan of self-contempt, he grabbed them and threw them into the open fire in the fireplace. He watched them burn. They’d still be married, even if Emma didn’t know. He’d find a way to keep tabs on her, to make sure she was all right. If she found someone else...well, he’d let her go. What a shame, he thought, that he hadn’t realized what she meant to him until it was too late, until he’d shattered her life.
He’d spent his whole life being vindictive, paying people back for things they’d done to him, even innocent things. Now he was seeing the other side of the coin, and it wasn’t pleasant. He’d lost the one person in the world who’d really cared about him. Emma had loved him. He’d told her that he only wanted her. She probably believed it now, after what he’d done to her.
Vengeance, he thought miserably, was a tragedy in itself. He wished he could go back in time and undo the anguish he’d caused Emma. He’d lost her and a child he hadn’t even known he wanted, all because of vengeance.
He sat down behind his desk. He had more money than most people on the planet. But right now, he had nothing. Nothing at all.
* * *
Emma winced as she tried to walk. She had a cane, a present from Bess, the guard who liked her. She hugged the woman with tears in her eyes.
“You just get better, you hear?” Bess asked softly, her black eyes smiling like her lips.
“You take care, too,” Emma said. “I’ll never forget your kindness.”
“It’s not hard being kind to nice people. I don’t meet many in this business,” she added with a smile.
“If you ever hear from Delsa or Sudie, can you tell them that I got out? I’m sorry they didn’t.”
“I will,” she promised. “We have a mutual friend. They’ll be happy for you.”
“They were so kind to me.” Her voice broke.
Bess hugged her. “You’re the kind one, sweetheart. Be happy.”
“So long.”
Emma followed the lawyer out to his car, an expensive sedan like the one Connor drove. She got in, favoring her leg. The wounds in her belly were still painful, and she was having gas pain like nothing she’d ever dreamed.
“What did they say about that leg?” the lawyer asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“The doctor just sewed me up,” she replied. “He didn’t say anything much except that I might need further surgery. I don’t know for what.”
“I see.” He glanced at her. “Connor told me to find you a place and make sure you had enough money.”
“I don’t want anything from him, Mr. Sims,” she said with quiet pride. “I just want bus fare to Texas and a ride to the bus station in town, and that’s all. I’ll be obliged if Mr. Sinclair doesn’t mind lending it to me. My father doesn’t want me, but I have a cousin who’ll let me live with her.”
He didn’t look at her. He wondered if Connor had ever known this woman at all. She was fiercely proud. “Connor wanted me to tell you how sorry he was—”
She held up a hand. “He doesn’t owe me a thing,” she replied. “I paid for what I did to him. Not enough, maybe...”
He groaned out loud.
She glanced at him. His face was shuttered now. He looked straight ahead. She wondered why Connor felt sorry for her.
“You told him about the baby?” she asked.
He wished he could tell her how Connor had reacted. He didn’t dare. That was for Connor to tell her, if he ever decided to. “Yes. I told him.”
She knew something about the baby that she wasn’t telling him. The wounds on her stomach had been largely superficial, because the shiv had been very small, with a short blade. The baby was still tucked safely in her womb. The doctor had smiled at her expression of joy when she knew.
But Connor wasn’t going to know. He was divorcing her. He wouldn’t know, so he wouldn’t ask to have her get rid of the child. He’d think she was hoping for an easy life of luxury if she told him, even if he didn’t insist on ending the pregnancy. So she wasn’t telling the lawyer, and she wasn’t telling Connor.
“What about your belongings, Miss Copeland?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh. I only had a few things at my... At Mr. Sinclair’s house.”
“Your purse and your cell phone and some small bills. They’re here.” He reached into the glove compartment and handed them to her.
“Thank you!” she exclaimed. Now she had her identification, her credit card and some cash. After the weeks of being in jail, it was like finding a fortune under a rock.
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “You had some items of clothing but...” He hesitated. Connor had thrown them out. He’d even had Marie burn the wedding photos that had been taken in Las Vegas. But Connor didn’t know that Marie had saved one, the one that had captured all the love and anguish of Emma’s heart in it, of her looking up at Connor. She’d told Alistair that she just couldn’t throw it away. He promised he’d never tell.
“It’s okay,” she said, discerning what the man didn’t want to tell her, about her clothes. She knew Connor and his temper very well. “I have some clothes at Mamie’s house. I know where she keeps the spare key.” She didn’t mention that she still had her own key, in her returned purse. “She wouldn’t mind. Could you drive me there on the way to the bus station, please?” she asked, wide brown eyes meeting his.
He felt guilty, just looking at her. He wondered if there wasn’t more damage than surface damage on her leg. That limp seemed out of place if there had only been a shallow cut.
“Sure.”
“And...could you go around, so we don’t go by Pine Cottage?” she asked tautly, without looking at him.
“We can do that, as well,” he agreed.
“Thanks.”
He let her out at the door of Mamie’s huge lake house and watched while she went painstakingly up the steps and pretended to look for the hidden key. She had it in her hand when she turned.
Emma waved it with a smile and went inside. She went to her room and looked around. It seemed an age since she’d been here. So much had happened in between.
She gathered up her things and put them in the small, battered suitcase. She didn’t have much. Sentiment was expensive, space-wise. But she had pictures of her mother and the ranch, the way it had once been. She didn’t have a single photo of her father. She didn’t want one.
She checked to make sure she had everything and carried the suitcase into the living room. It was heavy. It hurt to walk at all, much less carry something. She’d have to call Mr. Sims and ask him to lift it for her.
On an impulse, when she saw the fancy mock-French phone on the table in the living room, she picked it up and dialed Mamie’s cell phone.
“Hello?”
She hadn’t expected Mamie to answer. She gasped. “Mamie!”
“Hi, baby! How are you?”
Emma burst into tears. “I married Connor but he found out that I blinded him. He had me arrested. I’ve bee
n in jail, and I got stabbed...!”
“Slow down, slow down. Stabbed? Jail? My God, why didn’t you call me?”
“They wouldn’t let me make an overseas call.” Emma sobbed.
“Dear God! My poor baby! Listen, what do you need? I can get you the best lawyers...!”
“I’m out. Connor dropped the charges. I may still face misdemeanor charges for reckless driving on the lake, though.”
“You can stay at the house,” Mamie said.
“Connor’s still at the cottage,” she said through her teeth. “I can’t stay here at the lake, not now.”
“Where will you go?”
“Texas. I have a cousin there. I told the investigator I spoke to that I’d make sure he knew where I was, in case they want to press charges.” Her voice sounded dull. Lackluster.
“Emma, Connor will go to his house in Nice very soon. He’ll stay there for several months while he does business all over Europe. He won’t be back until late September. You can stay in the lake house, at least while he’s gone.”
“He hasn’t gone anywhere and I can’t risk bumping into him. Even though he can’t see...”
“But he can!” Mamie explained. “Didn’t you know? It was in the papers.”
She caught her breath. “He can see again? The lawyer didn’t tell me.”
“What lawyer?”
“Alistair Sims. He’s been so kind. He got me out of jail and persuaded Connor to dismiss the charges. He’s going to drive me to the bus station.” She hesitated. “Connor can see.” She laughed as she glimpsed herself in the mirror. She didn’t even look like the old Emma.
“Yes. But he’ll be leaving soon. Honest.”
“Mamie, there’s another reason I can’t let him see me,” Emma said. “He thinks I lost the baby when I was stabbed, but I didn’t. I don’t want him to know, ever. He’ll think I did it for money. He thinks that’s why I married him when he was blind.”
“You’re pregnant? You married him? You were stabbed?”
