by Serena Vale
“I won’t. I won’t.”
“You don’t have a choice. I’ll tell him.” He grinned at her, as it was like seeing the devil smile.
“No, I don’t care. I don’t care what happens. I’m not going back. I can’t.” Without another word she turned and fled back to where Jamey was waiting with the coach, ignoring his concerned and questioning stare as she quickly got in without a word.
Clara wasn’t sure how long she sat there, quietly sobbing to herself before the side door was thrown open and before she knew it she was in Emmett’s arms, being held close as he rocked her back and forth. She couldn’t stem the flood and cried until there were no more tears left to cry.
“Clara, sweetheart. What’s the matter? Did something happen?” The kindness and concern in his voice had another flood of tears threatening, but she held them back.
“I can’t…I can’t tell you. It’s so awful, Emmett. I just can’t…” Her words trailed off. She just didn’t what to say, how she could possibly explain.
She watched his expression grow dark, darker than she’d ever seen.
“Did someone hurt you, Clara?” There was a deadness in his tone that scared even her a little bit and she hastened to reassure him that it was nothing like that.
“I wish I could just forget the whole thing.” She said softly, but then she remembered her father’s threat, that she would tell Emmett the truth about her past. She looked up at him, at the man she had come to love and cherish even though she had known him for such a short time. She knew they were meant to be together, that fate had thrown them together. And she could also see the strength and caring shining in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Clara turned to him until they were facing each other. And then she told him everything. All about how her parents had always been lower class, and when her mother had died in childbirth, her father had blamed Clara for her death. With no brothers or sisters, and no friends, it had been a lonely, terrible childhood which had continued into a lonely, terrible adolescence.
Eventually she had been able to get a job in the hopes of one day being able to leave, to make a new, better life for herself but her father’s problem with alcohol had ended those dreams as quickly as they’d begun. He had begun betting in the hopes of making fast money but had landed them even further in debt until her only option had been to take a job as a day maid at a brothel.
That was the hardest part to speak about, not because she had done anything wrong, and she hastened to explain that as well. But he never once judged her, or questioned her actions. In fact, he was so sympathetic that the more she spoke, the easier it became and soon the rest had flooded out in a mass torrent.
Finally, she told him about her confrontation with her father and his threats. She sat back after a moment, completely drained but feeling lighter than she had in years as it was all out in the air. No more secrets to keep. No more threats her father could hang over her head.
“You aren’t…disappointed?” Clara asked softly after a long moment, and tears leapt to her eyes as he leaned forward and placed the sweetest kiss against her lips.
“Clara, if anything, I think you are even more amazing. To have grown up in such deplorable conditions, with such a despicable man for a father.” He paused, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle you turned out as kind and generous and compassionate as you are, and it’s all the more miraculous that you trusted me with your secrets. Thank you for that. For your trust in me.”
“But what about my father?” Clara eventually asked.
Emmett turned to look out the window as they started towards their home, his expression hardened in the dim light.
“Don’t you worry about him. I have a plan.”
Chapter 4
Emmett ambled up the dusty stairs to the attic with a heavy heart and the fire of anger burning in his gut. The nerve of that man to call himself a father! He had tried to contain his rage at Clara’s words as she had confessed the tragedy of her past, as well as the nefarious scheme her so called father had concocted to try and threaten her into going back with him. And leave Emmett. Her husband!
It still seemed strange to him, whenever he thought the word, but he couldn’t deny the secret thrill whenever his sweet Clara spoke the word out loud. It hit him square in the chest, and there was no denying. He stopped in the middle of the stairway as a thought struck him. Dear heavens, he was in love with her!
He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, or even how, but in the short time they had known each other he had fallen so deeply under her spell he didn’t think he would ever be able to extricate himself. Nor that he wanted to. He was happy for the first time in…he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been truly happy. Probably not since he was a child. A very small child, before he had learned just how cruel the world could truly be. And he hated the fact that his kind, gentle wife had had to learn that particular lesson as well.
Emmett continued his slow trek up to the attic and gently closed the door behind him. He knew Clara had fell into an exhausted sleep the moment they had returned home but he didn’t want to take any chance. She had been so brave to share her past with him. But he wasn’t as courageous as she was, and he didn’t want to take the chance of her finding out who and what he really was and turning away from him. He didn’t think he would survive that.
The old chest still sat exactly where he’d left it almost three years ago, exactly where it was when he stopped Clara just before she’d opened it. That had been a close call. He had been lucky he had arrived just when he had or else his secret might have let out despite his best intentions to keep his past just that, in the past.
With a sigh of regret and determination, he opened the creaky lid, unaware of the cloud of dust that fell off to scatter on the floor behind the trunk. He stared to into its long unused contents for several minutes, hesitating at the last moment before finally reaching down, and pulling out the things he’d been looking for and dreading all at the same time.
The black leather duster came out first. He shook off the wrappings that had been keeping it semi protected for the damages of time and unfolded, barely letting himself think as he slipped on the floor length jacket. The hat came next. Solid black with a big brim that he could pull low over his eyes, concealing his expression.
He stared the longest at the last item, buried all the way at the bottom, in the depths of the chest wear he had hidden it away three years ago and hadn’t touched since. It was a silver and black handled six shooter, five bullets still loaded in its chamber, encased in a soft black leather holster that hung low on his hips as Emmett buckled it on with a heavy weight in his chest. He had vowed that night that everything had gone so wrong that he would never put it on again, would never use it, but here he was. The outlaw. The rogue. Again and always.
As quietly as he could, Emmett closed the trunk with a soft click and strode back the way he had come in. Down the stairs, across the hall, letting himself pause only a moment in front of Clara’s closed door as he wished her a silent goodnight, and swept out of the front door. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he never noticed her door creak open after he had passed, or his wife’s curvy figure sneaking through the hallway and after him into the night.
*
“Jamey! Jamey! Wake up.” Clara’s voice hissed through the dark room in the downstairs wind, right off of the kitchens.
“Wha…Mrs. Latimer? What in the blazes are you, I mean, and what can I do for you?” He said groggily as he rubbed his eyes, sitting up in the bed. The covers slid down, revealing his pale, thin chest and he hastily hauled them back up. She could see even through the darkness of the night that he was blushing like a bonfire.
“Jamey. This is no time for modesty,” She swore the blush deepened but she couldn’t be sure, perhaps it was just shadow’s shifting on the young man’s face. “Emmett is gone…somewhere. I think he’s going to do something very foolish.”
“Is this about this afternoon?
” Jamey said, suddenly all seriousness as he peered at her overwrought form. “I knew something were wrong, that’s why I went and fetched Mr. Latimer.” He looked away bashfully. “I hope that was alright.”
“It was exactly the right thing to do Jamey, but listen. My husband had a very serious look on his face when he snuck out of the house less than ten minutes ago and…and he had a gun.”
“A gun! Mr. Latimer?” Jamey scoffed, but Clara knew exactly what she had seen, and she remembered the look in his dark, mysterious eyes when he’d told her that afternoon that he had a plan.
“Jamey. We have to save him. He’s going to do something dire, and I just can’t let that happen.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mrs. Latimer. If he knows what he’s doing, maybe we should–.”
“I think he’s going after my father, Jamey.” Clara finally spit out. But the young man just looked even more confused. “I don’t have time to explain, but believe me, my father is a very bad man, and Emmett could be in danger. I just don’t know what I’ll do if he gets hurt because of me. Or worse.”
“He’s in danger?” Jamey asked softly, and Clara just nodded in response. “Well, then let’s go.”
“Alright.” Clara said, her thoughts already rushing forward towards what to do next.
“Uh, Mrs. Latimer, would you mind giving me some privacy while I put some clothing on?” She knew for a fact his face was beet red now and she bit back a smile as she retreated into the hall, closing the door behind her. In a few short minutes, Jamey was ready, and they were both headed out to the stables to get the coach ready
She thought she pretty much had it worked out. Emmett felt like he had to protect her, or avenge her pride, and so was going to go confront her father. But no one could confront like James Thomas, and she knew it would end up with one or both of them injured, or worse, dead.
Less than twenty minutes later were on the road, Jamey driving the vehicle at a breakneck speed as they headed for the town.
*
Emmitt swung the saloon door open as he stomped in and silence fell over Birdy’s. Every face turned to look at him, but many turned away when they met the steely flint shining hard in his dark gaze. His face looked carve from granite and only a few never took their eyes off him as he made his way to the table in the back.
He ignored the doxies that tried to catch his attention, and then only the bravest or most desperate of them did. But that wasn’t what he was here for. There in the corner sat the three men he was looking for. Their expressions were as hard as his own as he ambled over to them. He reached down and grabbed the glass of whiskey sitting in front of the man closest to him and downed it in one shot, finishing it with a gulping drink of the pint of the man on his other side.
The customers at the table stared at Emmett for a long, tense silence so thick he could have swum through it. Finally, the man sitting in the middle threw back his head with an uproarious laugh and the rest of the bar released its collective breath.
“Black Heart, what in the devil’s name are you doing back in here? I thought you were too good for us now.” Jasper, the man who had laughed, sat back in his chair and drained his drink much like Emmett just had Luke’s.
“I don’t go by that name anymore, Jasper.” Emmett shook his head as he pulled out the only empty chair and took a seat. He leaned forward, looking each man in the eye by turns. “You know I tried to make things right after that night, after everything went wrong,” He saw Jasper’s face wash white and kept talking, “I’m married now, but she’s in a spot of trouble.”
“The birds are always trouble, Black, they always are.” The last man, Elijah, was drunk than either of the other two and his words were slurred as he tried to speak.
“Be careful, Eli. You’re talking about my wife now.” Emmett said, soft and low, but by the way the man swallowed he knew he had gotten the message across. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows on the table before he spoke again.
“Now listen. I have one last job for us to do.”
*
It didn’t take long for Emmett to track down the hovel Clara’s father was staying at once he started asking around. Apparently, he had made a drunk nuisance of himself at several different locations before finally making his way to the seediest motel this side of Texas. Maybe all of Texas, to be honest.
Emmett had to hold back a grimace of distaste as he tromped through the garbage littering the hallways, trying not to think too hard on what was making that squishing noise underneath his boots.
He stopped in front of the door that the proprietor had directed him to and took one final deep breath. He adjusted the holster at his hip, checking the hated gun one last time. He prayed to god and anything that would listen that he wouldn’t have to use it that night. He raised one fist and pounded heavily on the door three times. There was no answer. More than likely, Clara’s father was passed out in a drunk stupor, which would make his job all the easier.
Emmett checked his fob watch. The boys should just about have everything in order to send Mr. Thomas on his way for a long time, and far, far away from here, away from his daughter. Away from the new life they had just begun to build together. He would never forget the tearful look on Clara’s face as she’d told him all the terrible things from her past, and most of the blame could be laid at this man’s feet.
Shoving down his disgust, he pounded on the door again.
“Go away! I’m trying to sleep!” The slurred, angry voice called out from the other side of the closed door.
“Mr. Thomas. Open the door, now!” Emmett yelled back, as firmly as he could.
“Go to hell!” Was the reply, and Emmett couldn’t help the small grin that tipped up one side of his mouth. That’s exactly what he’d been hoping Clara’s father would say.
“Have it your way.” He said, and with one mighty shove against the old, worn out door, the hinges gave with a loud pop and swung haphazardly inward.
“What the hell do you think your–.” The man’s words were cut off abruptly as Emmett hauled him up by the front of his stained shirt. He tried not to look too closely at them. His eyes were hard on the red rimmed, beady eyes of his wife’s father.
“Stop. Don’t talk. Don’t say a word. Just listen. You will leave here. You will leave and never come back. You will leave my wife alone. You will never see or speak to her again. And if you ever lay another finger on the woman that I love you won’t live to regret it. Do you understand?”
Mr. Thomas stared at him wide eyed, and Emmett could feel his fear with every tremble. Finally, he placed him back on his feet and shoved him out of the room and into the waiting attentions of the three men who already had a ticket booked on the next train out of town.
Emmett grabbed the ticket and shoved it at him. “I never want to see your face again.”
“But…but my daughter–.”
“Is not your concern anymore, although I doubt she ever was. Go! Before I lose my patience.” He fingered the hilt of the gun, just to drive the message home and almost snorted in disgust at the look of terror that passed over the man’s face. Sure, he could beat on a woman have his size, but at heart he was just a bully.
A gasp filled the sudden silence as they dragged Clara’s father through a back door, and dread threatened to overwhelm him. Slowly, forcing his body to move, he spun until he was facing the still open door, its hinges askew.
“Clara!” Emmett cried out. “What are you doing here? Jamey?” He looked past his pale cheeked wife to the young valet standing behind her with a wooden beam held up in his hands as if to ward of attackers.
“Oh, Emmett.” Clara sobbed, and his heart broke. He had never wanted her to see him like this. As the outlaw he knew in his soul he would always be.
“Clara, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t even–.” His words cut off as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him so tight it was hard to draw breath. Or maybe that was the shock.
“Sorry? How could you be sorry? Tha
t was the most noble, gallant, wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me.” Finally, Clara pulled back just enough to look up at his eyes, and so he could stare down into her beautiful green ones. He had to choke back a tear of his own, from relief and gratitude and above all as she smiled sweetly at him.
“Emmett, my husband. My hero.”
Epilogue
“My love. Come here.” Clara smiled saucily at Emmett, boldness sweeping through her at the look of pure desire gleaming in his eyes. They had been married for six months now, and she still couldn’t get enough of him. The thought had her blushing but she couldn’t deny its truth.
She held out her arms and her husband sank into them, drawing her close to his heat, his hard body, so wonderfully different from her own softness but a perfect compliment. The contrast had shivers of anticipation running down her spine.
Then his mouth was on hers, soft at first, so soft and gentle that she had to close her eyes as a wave of sweet tenderness crashed across her body, tightening her chest and drawing out a small moan of pleasure. Emmett took it, his mouth slanting more to give him better access as the kiss deepened into something so much wilder. Primal.
That was what she felt when he touched her, kissed her, made love to her. Primal and feminine and truly alive in a way she had never felt before. He really was her own personal slice of heaven. His hands distracted her, cutting off all ability to think as he slowly slid off her dress and led her to their bed. The bed they shared every night, and that she planned on sharing for the rest of her days.
Emmett drew her back against him, whispering kisses down the side of her neck, across the curve of her shoulder until she cried out his name, begging for more, begging for what she so desperately needed.
Finally, he capitulated, helping her to lay back across the blanket as the fading light of the sunset washed a rosy glow over both of them. He teased her with his fingers, drawing across her body in a way that had her writhing in ecstasy before they had even gotten started. Impatient for him, Clara reached up, guiding his hard length to that most secret part of her, the part that craved him like a drug she could never satiate.
