Red Crystal Romance: #1 Emma

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “You are quite welcome, miss,” Harris nodded and continued on to the back of the house.

  Emma took her seat in the dining hall but it seemed huge and as empty as it felt. As usual, there was a platter of sliced fruit with a mixture of berries and a nice bowl of fresh crème to go over it. A plate sat in front of Lucas’ seat with a cover over top to keep it warm, she guessed. She lifted a thick slice of bacon and bit down before opening her book and picking up the pencil she’d brought along.

  Funny the things you miss when they aren’t around, she thought with a little sigh. Highlighters and page markers would be nice. Normal panties, but she decided once she figured out where to buy fabric and threads, she could attempt to make her own. At the very least, she could design a pattern and find a seamstress to do the work for her since stitching was one of her borderline skills.

  It’s not like she would have a keyboard to pound on anytime in even the near future. She’d put off thinking about that or maybe the smart part of her kept it out of the forefront of her brain to keep her from hyperventilating. The word impossible sprang into her mind every time she looked around her but after almost a week, she felt she was doing much better than she could have been.

  Lucas came around the corner to the dining hall and stopped. He had a clear, unobstructed view of Emma and paused to lean against the archway that was the entry. Beautiful, sweet and innocent all came to mind as he stared. There were times he felt he was looking at someone so young, their union would be impossible. Yet other times he saw an age defying sadness in her eyes that made him ache to comprehend why it existed for her.

  The corner of his mouth lifted as he watched her. A large volume lay open and she held a pencil in her hand, underlining passages in the book. She held a thick rasher of bacon in her other fingers. Those fingers lifted toward her mouth every few seconds, but she never managed a bite because she became distracted by something she was reading and the hand would lower again. At this rate, it would certainly be dinner before she ate anything.

  “You appear distracted, Miss Carstairs.” Lucas realized that the sudden excitement and joy on her face when the pencil was dropped and she pushed back from her chair before launching herself across the room and into his arms was a feeling he never wanted to lose. He braced himself on both feet, accepting her curves against him with arms that closed and held her firmly in place.

  “I missed you this morning,” Emma tipped her face back.

  He stared into those darkly sparkling eyes for a long second, his arms tight around her and not a protest in his thoughts when his mouth closed the distance between them.

  A kiss, he thought as his blood began to sizzle. His cock reacted to her scent; her closeness. Nothing more than a simple kiss. But he knew there would never be anything simple with Emma and he reveled in that thought. He slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss for several minutes before remembering where they were when his hands wandered onto her behind to press her against his cockstand.

  “We need condoms, Lucas,” Emma whispered against his lips. “Then you won’t have to stop.”

  “You have the most amazing education, Emma Carstairs,” Lucas murmured, his mouth drifting from corner to corner of her lips, his tongue out and swiping over the fullness when he nipped and heard her groan into his kiss.

  “Lucas…” she felt his name on her lips through their kiss. “We’re in the dining hall.”

  “Then when Sunday comes and we’re alone, we shall lock all the doors and proceed to christen each room in the house,” He teased with a gleam in his eyes that told her he was serious. But for now, he slowly released his hold on her arse, letting her feet touch the floor once more.

  “I’m to meet with Nancy to go into town,” Emma straightened her dress as she took a step back, nervously looking over her shoulders.

  “We’re alone, my sweet.” Lucas led her back to the table, adjusted his trousers and seated her with a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’ve assigned Brock as your driver and bodyguard. Don’t challenge me on this, Emma, because you won’t leave the house at all if you do and I cannot guarantee that you’ll be able to sit for a week. I should have protected you,” he murmured gruffly.

  His fingers gently brushed the bruises on her throat, his stomach tightening painfully at the memory.

  “I don’t have any wish to…I’m not going to challenge you, Lucas. I don’t like taking one of your people from their job, but I don’t want to be hurt, either,” Emma closed her book and pushed it aside before beginning to eat fruit with fresh crème over it.

  “Harris has been to speak with the constable. Daniel won’t be able to stay in the area and remain at large.” Lucas worked to quell the anger inside him, the cover on his plate removed before he shook out his napkin and began eating his breakfast.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma dredged a slice of pear through the crème on her plate, her gaze on the design she was playing with before biting.

  “Emma…”

  She looked up at the stern edge to his voice. “You don’t know what it was like where…where I was before. I cause trouble because I expect people to behave better than they show the world. I get lectured that ‘boys will be boys’ and certain behavior is forgiven because of their gender. I’m stubborn and I don’t mean to cause trouble…”

  “Do you believe I see you as a problem, Emma? Do you believe your expectations should not be considered as vital and important as any other?” Lucas leaned forward and lifted her hand to his lips. “His behavior is his choice. His mistake, was involving my house. Especially you, but Nancy, as well as any other female under my protection.” His hand rose and with his thumb, he swiped at the lone tear that rolled down her cheek. “You are not a problem, nor are your beliefs,” he told her firmly. “I value what we’re building together far too much to risk losing you.”

  “Oh!” Nancy came around the corner and stopped beneath the archway. “I am so sorry, sir, miss. I don’t mean to intrude…”

  Lucas looked up with a half-smile, his head shaking at the tint of color on the younger woman’s face. “It’s fine, Nancy. I don’t think Emma is feeling very hungry this morning.”

  “I ate some fruit,” Emma popped another slice of pear into her mouth. “I shall finish it when I return as a snack. Ask Mrs. Neilson to keep it cool for me, please,” she rose and went to his side, kissing him softly. “I will be careful, I promise. We shouldn’t be long. Perhaps one, I think. I really want to explore more shops.”

  “Brock will watch out for you both,” Lucas said, even as he felt the trepidation at allowing her to roam the town without him. He watched her go, his hand on the tabletop and fingers drumming as he seemed to forget his breakfast.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emma stared at the back of the head of the man now guiding the horses toward town. He was big. No doubt about that. And bald as possible. She almost embarrassed herself by leaning forward to see if she could actually see herself in the back of his head. But she restrained herself and just stared.

  The good news was Nancy seemed relaxed and at ease when he brought the carriage around and opened the low door for them. He helped them both inside, latched the door and swung into the high seat as if it were street level. He didn’t talk much, she noticed as he led the horse through town to a more reputable area for them to be left. She almost called it a parking lot and laughed to herself, offering a smile when Nancy looked at her oddly.

  “Please wait for me to secure the horses, miss,” Brock’s voice was rough and low, his eyes scanning the area around them when he handed them from the carriage to the street.

  Emma nodded and looped her arm with Nancy’s. “The book shop should be last,” she said as they walked down the narrow walkway that ran outside the collection of shops. “Take me to a mercantile shop…I need towels and some containers. Jars, I hope with tight lids. Some wooden spoons, I think…and a few other things.”

  Emma wandered with Nancy at her side and Brock behind them and she
took in all the fancy dresses, bonnets and parasols. It fascinated her that the women looked at her only until she met their eyes. The men were much for forward in their appraisal and allowing their gaze to sweep her from head to toe.

  They stepped from inside a large shop that Emma labeled the almost everything shop, laughing and carrying nothing. “I love delivery. It’s so convenient.”

  “Miss, you’re one of their better customers,” Nancy teased.

  “Oh, wait…this shop.” Emma did a swift turn, ignoring the frown on Brock’s face.

  “Miss, this is not for ladies.” Nancy tried pulling on her arm but found herself lagging behind when Emma continued into the large open shop.

  “Can I ‘elp you, miss?”

  Emma met the surprised gaze of a man easily over fifty and wiping his hands on a once white apron. He was big. All over as she settled on a sun wizened face with a pair of round glasses on the bridge of his nose and a thick moustache that made her think of a walrus.

  “I’d like a haircut, please.” She looked around at a variety of drawings and sketches hanging around the walls. She walked up to one and tapped it smartly. “This one.”

  Emma saw Brock raise one hand and rub the back of his neck.

  “Excuse me, miss?” The walrus asked.

  Emma sighed. “I would appreciate if you would give me that haircut, please,” she reached into the small purse she had draped around her neck and dropped a gold coin on the counter. She extended her palm. “Emma Carstairs.”

  “Henry Fitzhugh,” the older man answered with his palm warmly in hers. “American?”

  “Yes, sir.” Emma reached back and pulled the ribbon from her braid before moving to sit in the large black chair. She scooted her behind back and sat up straight.

  “Ain’t never worked on a woman before.” He rubbed the flat of his palm over a hint of whiskers.

  “C’mon, Fitz, the gal wants a cut,” laughed a deep voice from the back room, his body half bent as he hobbled into the area with a cane. “Mornin’, miss.”

  “Good morning,” Emma smiled at him. He was the complete opposite of his friend, tall and lean with neatly clipped short grey hair.

  “Tommy Franks, miss.”

  Emma shook the hand he offered. “Emma Carstairs.”

  “I really don’t think this is a good idea, miss.” Nancy looked at her hopefully.

  “This won’t take long. Let me make it easy for you.” She reached to the counter and lifted scissors. Before the man could react, she sliced off the braid at shoulder level. Her voice was softly dramatic. “Please, sir! I had a horrible accident with a pair of scissors. Please help me with a proper haircut.”

  Emma placed the back of her hand against her forehead for effect and only giggled when Mr. Franks let out with a long barking laugh.

  “Miss Emma!” Nancy had both hands on her face, her eyes wide in shock.

  Emma heard Brock groan and watched Henry fight a smile when he lifted a heavy white drape and shook it out before wrapping her in it.

  “That one,” he said gruffly, pointing to the drawing she’d indicated and his tone still filled with disbelief. But she offered him a pound coin! For a haircut.

  “Please. It’ll be alright, I promise you. This is my hair and I make the decisions on what’s to be done with it and in this heat, I want it gone! I’m quite cute once all the hair is gone,” Emma smiled at him, gazing into the large oval mirror in front of her. She straightened her shoulders and held very still while the scissors snipped.

  “You’re certainly a gal who knows her mind,” Tommy Franks chuckled, sinking his lanky frame into a chair and leaning on the cane to watch.

  Emma closed her eyes and let him work for several minutes before looking into the mirror and grinning broadly. He was very good, she thought when he took a step back after twenty minutes. She raised both hands and let the much shorter strands sift through her fingers. They fell neatly into place, her fingers side parting and raking the hair to the side.

  “Mr. Fitzhugh, it’s gorgeous!” Emma turned from side to side with a bright grin at the man appraising her. He carefully removed the drape and shook it out, his palm out to help her to the floor. “You are a true artist! I love it!”

  “You look like a child,” Henry Fitzhugh shook his head in amazement.

  “I feel ten pounds lighter!” Emma laughed gleefully, twirling around once and dropping into a low curtsey before them both.

  “Oh dear, what will his lordship say,” Nancy murmured.

  “His lordship?” Henry suddenly looked uncomfortable.

  “Lucas will love it,” Emma promised. She beamed a smile at them. “Time for the book shop, Nancy. Thank you again, Mr. Fitzhugh. I’ll see you in a few months for a trim.”

  Emma gave a jaunty little wave and patted Brock on the arm.

  “You do look very young, miss,” Nancy told her.

  “Thank you. I like it. I’ve always worn it this way when I could,” she said, aware of the attention they were drawing. If it had been subtle before, now it was palpable and people weren’t even bothering to pretend not to be staring. “I really don’t like all the time it takes for all those curls and weaving things with long hair. This is light and breezy and fun. Are they staring just because of the hair?” She whispered at the end, their arms once more looped together.

  “I believe word has gotten around about the Earl’s fiancé,” Brock supplied from behind them.

  “And you are an American and…well…” Nancy winced at the expectant look from Emma. She kept her voice low. “You don’t dress like them, miss.”

  Emma seemed to consider this, nodded and shrugged. “Very true. I have a very strong aversion to making my behind look bigger than it already is.”

  Nancy giggled. “It’s not at all big, miss.”

  “Thanks for the vote,” Emma said with her own giggle. She spotted the book shop and headed straight for it until another shop caught her attention. “For swimming? Seriously? You’d drown in that outfit.” She stood in front of the shop window and stared. “It’s nothing more than my camisole and drawers. Really…maybe the fabric is thicker. They aren’t very attractive.”

  “Men aren’t meant to see them, miss,” Nancy hissed, her embarrassment evident in the color in her cheeks and lowered eyes.

  “Men and women don’t swim together?” Emma looked from Nancy to Brock, waiting patiently but the looks on their faces told her the answer. “That’s crazy. With those outfits, a girl could easily drown if she gets caught in a wave wrong. How amazingly archaic.”

  “Miss Carstairs?”

  All three heads swiveled to face the gentleman speaking to her. Emma looked up into a pair of dark eyes that appeared really young to her.

  “I’m Emma Carstairs,” she lifted her palm to him. “Do I know you?” Of course, she already knew the answer to that, or hoped she did, but smiled and waited.

  “No, Miss Carstairs. Jeremy Palmer.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Palmer. I’m off to the book shop,” Emma told him, silently comparing him to Lucas and sighing. No comparison. “And the people you were with look impatient that you’re here,” she said with a lowered voice.

  “They’re my sisters, and they always tend to look that way,” he said without a backward glance at the young women waiting by the carriage for him. “I’d like to invite you to a ball at our family home. I had meant to send the invitation to your home, but neglected to receive approval until this morning.”

  Emma laughed. “You don’t know me. Why in the world would you invite me to your home?”

  “My family is acquainted with the Earl and has been for generations.”

  “Are you speaking of Lucas or his father?”

  “The elder earl, Miss Carstairs,” he answered patiently.

  “You don’t know Lucas?” Emma noticed the increased interest as people slowed to watch and listen boldly.

  “We’re not personally acquainted,” Jeremy Palmer shifted with the fi
rst hints of discomfort at her questions.

  “I can give this to Lucas,” Emma said with a smile, taking the envelope he held in one hand. “Thank you. Excuse me, must get back to shopping. Have a nice day.” She watched him nod and stride back to his companions. “That was most odd.”

  “You’ve become an original, miss,” Nancy whispered, their heads close together as they wandered down the walkway.

  “An original,” Emma repeated. “I remember that word from somewhere.” She looked to the side at Brock who was trying to remain inconspicuous. “Please, what am I missing?”

  “They consider you eccentric, miss,” Nancy finally said when they paused outside the book seller.

  “Ahh…so they want me around because I could be entertaining,” Emma laughed and shook her head. “I’m not good at that sort of social thing. I tend to make people angry with honesty.”

  “I’ll wait here, Miss Carstairs,” Brock managed to control his smile.

  Lucas came down the street and immediately recognized Nancy and Brock at the book seller’s shop. And the dress on the woman with them was very familiar. When he realized the owner of the swanlike throat with bruises, his feet came to a hard stop in the middle of the walkway and he stared.

  The long braid she wore was gone. Unlike most every other woman around them, she wore no bonnet and the sunlight sparkled off hints of the deepest red in her hair. Hair that was sculpted and side parted like a man’s. It made her throat appear long and slender; her face a soft oval and her cheek bones etched and delicate looking. But it was her eyes that captivated him still. Only now without the framework of long, dark hair, they appeared even more huge, with shadowy feathers of her lashes dusting her cheeks when she smiled.

  And she offered a bright smile when she saw him.

  He watched her end the conversation and slip between Nancy and Brock, her feet a hurried little run until she burst into his arms when they opened quite naturally for her.