Magnate

by Joanna Shupe

  “Kelly certainly appeared relieved to find us in one piece this afternoon,” Elizabeth said, her gaze trained on the window.

  Emmett had been both thankful and annoyed by Kelly’s rescue. “No doubt he suspected one of us to have strangled the other after two days of being trapped together.”

  Her head turned sharply. “Why? What did you tell him about us?”

  “The truth. Wasn’t like he hadn’t already figured it out, based on what happened in Newport.”

  She contemplated that for a moment, her brow furrowed. “Which company was that, back in your office? The books you had me review?”

  He had no plans to tell her of his revenge on her brother, not yet. Not when they’d just built this fragile trust between them. “All in due time, my dear.”

  “You won’t tell me? Even now?”

  Especially not now. “It has nothing to do with whether I trust you or not. I am not certain what I will do with the information just yet.”

  “Are you always so secretive in your business dealings?”

  He thought about that. As a boy, he’d learned to keep things to himself. Less risk of being hurt that way. “I don’t want you to worry over my plans.”

  “So what now?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Are you planning to stay at home? With me?”

  There was a note of vulnerability in her voice, revealing how much the answer mattered. He snatched her gloved hand to tug her closer. If not for the cramped space, he’d have dragged her onto his lap. Instead, he had to make do with cupping her cheek. “I do not plan on being anywhere else.”

  She sighed, her body softening—precisely the way he liked it. He removed his derby, dipped his head, and kissed her, the taste of her filling his mouth. She responded as she always did: eagerly and aggressively. Like she’d been waiting a year for him to kiss her. Did she have any idea how alluring those qualities were in a woman?

  Her gloved fingers tunneled through his hair, holding on, and he drove deeper, their tongues desperate for one another. The low whimpers and moans she fed his mouth snaked through his blood to settle in his gut, plumping his cock further. Damn, what he planned to do to this woman when they arrived home.

  The wheels had slowed, he noted dimly over the pounding of his heart. He broke off and tried to collect himself before he had to face his family. “You are going to cause me a great deal of embarrassment in front of the girls if we do not stop.” He gestured to his lap.

  She pressed a shaking hand to her lips, trying to stifle her laughter. “I don’t suppose you could keep your overcoat on?”

  “Graham would wrestle me for it if I did. But rest assured that I will be dragging you up to my bed as soon as I can manage.” He shoved his hat back on his head.

  “Before dinner?” she asked with an innocence he did not believe for a second.

  “Yes, definitely before dinner. I plan to be under your skirts before the horses have even been stowed.”

  She chuckled. “I want a bath, so you’ll have to wait for that, at the very least.”

  His gloved fist clenched. He did not want to wait, not one minute longer than necessary. “Take one with me. I have the largest bath in the house. It even has a rain shower.”

  She seemed to contemplate the idea as the carriage came to a halt. “What will the servants say?”

  “Who gives a damn? We’re married, Elizabeth. There’s nothing improper about tending to your husband’s needs during the day.”

  “Oh, is that what it’s called?”

  “Sweetheart, I’ll tend to your needs any time you ask. All you need do is crook your little finger at me, and I’ll be on my knees.”

  Color bloomed on her cheeks as Kelly opened the carriage door. Excellent. Kelly helped Elizabeth down the small steps and she continued on toward the house.

  When Emmett emerged from the carriage, Kelly’s eyes were lit with unholy amusement. “The Bishop happily married,” his friend murmured. “Never did think I’d live to see the day.”

  “You might not live the hour, if you don’t watch your mouth,” Emmett snapped as his feet hit the ground. Kelly’s laughter trailed him as Emmett strode up the walk.

  Graham opened the door, and Elizabeth sailed through first, Emmett close on her heels. “Good evening, madam,” Graham was saying as Emmett came inside.

  “Thank you. I am relieved to be home,” Elizabeth replied, removing her gloves.

  Her use of the word “home” was not lost on Emmett, and his chest tightened with a combination of relief and hope. Was it wrong to be grateful for a storm that had likely killed hundreds of people and caused so much destruction, yet had brought harmony with his wife? He made a note to donate additional funds toward the city’s rebuilding efforts, to atone for the selfishness.

  “And welcome home, sir.” Graham closed the door behind Emmett and began helping Elizabeth with her cloak.

  “Graham, a word.” Emmett flung his hat and gloves on the side table.

  “Yes, sir?” Graham straightened and faced the master of the house squarely.

  “In the future, do not allow my wife out of this house in unfavorable weather conditions.” He heard Elizabeth sputter, so he added, “I realize Mrs. Cavanaugh can be persuasive and headstrong, but I rely on you to ensure the safety of the house and its occupants. Do not fail me again.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Emmett,” Elizabeth said, “do not blame Graham. He tried to—”

  “He should have locked you up, is what he should have done.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. He raised a brow, not bothered in the least. Indeed, her anger only aroused him further.

  “You’re here. Thank God.” Brendan was hurrying down the stairs as best he could, leaning heavily on the rail. “We have been worried sick. Girls!” he called over his shoulder. “Emmett and Lizzie are home.”

  His brother went to Elizabeth first, just as Claire and Katie emerged on the landing. The two girls flew down the steps, relief evident on their faces. Emmett knelt and held out his arms, one for each of his little sisters.

  They crashed into him, their small arms going around his shoulders. “Welcome home,” Katie said into his overcoat while Claire cried, “We thought you weren’t ever coming back.”

  He hugged them both. Hard. “I told you, I’ll always come back. It took me a little longer than anticipated because of the snow.”

  “That’s what Brendan said, but he and Mr. Kelly were very worried,” Katie’s muffled voice said.

  “Well, everything is fine now. Why don’t you both go and welcome Elizabeth home as well?”

  The girls nodded, and they all turned to find Elizabeth and Brendan watching closely. Something bright and watery shone in his wife’s eyes before she came over to hug his half sisters.

  Emmett straightened and went to his brother. Brendan clapped him on the back. “Goddamn, am I glad to see you,” his brother said quietly. “I’ve never been so worried in my life. We couldn’t reach you, and had no way to know if Lizzie had found you. I nearly had to tie Kelly down to keep him from starting for Beaver Street during the storm.”

  “I’m glad you stopped him. He wouldn’t have made it past Fiftieth Street.” Emmett shrugged out of his coat and handed the heavy garment to Graham. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my wife is exhausted, and I promised her a bath.”

  Brendan’s brow furrowed. “So does that mean . . .” He tipped his chin toward Elizabeth.

  “Yes. That is precisely what it means.”

  * * *

  “Thank you for coming,” Emmett said three days later as he closed the door to his office. It was early, not yet even nine o’clock, and he’d left his very naked, very delectable wife sleeping upstairs to come down for this meeting. A meeting that could not conclude fast enough.

  Kelly sprawled in one of the armchairs, while Colin sat at his desk, ready to take notes. Good, they could get started straightaway.

  A man rose to shake Emmett’
s hand. Sheridan was one of the best investigators in New York, having been a Pinkerton for years before leaving and going into business for himself. Emmett used Sheridan for sensitive jobs, where the utmost discretion was required. “Of course, Mr. Cavanaugh. You said it was urgent.”

  Emmett gestured to the chair. “Please, sit. How are the roads?”

  “Clearer up here, sir, but downtown is still a mess.”

  Unsurprising, since the residents on upper Fifth Avenue had the money to afford crews to dig them out. Those in other parts of Manhattan would have to wait until the city’s snow wagons came around or pick up shovels themselves.

  Emmett dropped into his seat and folded his hands on his desk. “The reason I asked you here is to discuss a company I have my eye on.”

  Sheridan nodded. This was familiar territory between them. “Go on.”

  “They’re weak at the moment. They’ve been watering down the stock, printing and selling more shares than they should. I’m inclined to take this news to the board, rather than the authorities, but I don’t want to leave it to chance.” He pointed at Sheridan. “Start with the board. Find out who has a weakness we can leverage. If there’s nothing we can use, then ferret out those who can be bought. I need at least eight men who are willing to help me. Buying their shares should give me enough for a majority.”

  “Guess that explains why you just don’t want to buy the stock outright, since it’s watered down.”

  “That’s one reason. The other is that I need the owner caught by surprise. I don’t want him to know until it’s too late, when he cannot retaliate or regroup.”

  Sheridan scribbled in his pad. “Sure. Which company?”

  “Northeast Railroad.”

  The investigator’s pencil stalled, the only reaction to the revelation. Not that Emmett cared. Sheridan was paid to carry out Emmett’s directives, not offer opinions.

  After a beat, Sheridan continued writing. “No problem, sir. I’ll get started on this right away.”

  “Thank you, Sheridan. Our usual rates, plus a bonus if you find me more than eight before the month’s out.”

  Sheridan nodded and took his leave. Emmett stood and stretched, working the stiffness out of his back. Satisfying a wife demanded a lot out of a man, he thought with a small smile. Had she awoken? He might be able to catch her bathing, if he hurried.

  “Colin, I’m headed up. I’ll return shortly, and we can discuss what needs—”

  “She will never forgive you.”

  That was from Kelly, whose flat, deep voice showered the room with disapproval. He hadn’t moved from his seat, remaining still as a statue, a familiar, stubborn set to his chin.

  “Colin, take a walk.” Emmett’s assistant disappeared, and Emmett resumed his seat. He selected a cigar and took his time lighting it. Exhaling a mouthful of smoke, he leaned back and extended his legs. “You wanted to say something?”

  “You don’t honestly believe you can ruin her brother, strip away her family legacy, and not suffer repercussions, do you?”

  “This is business, Kelly. My business. My wife does not get a say in how I run it.”

  “Business, you say?”

  Emmett rolled the cigar between his fingers, studying the end. “Buying out Northeast would nearly double East Coast profits, not to mention the income from the railroads. It’s a shrewd decision.”

  “Fuck your shrewd decision,” Kelly snapped. “You are doing this just because you don’t like Sloane. You’ve always resented him, the way he was raised. Well, boohoo that you wasn’t born on Washington Square, too. You’ve married his sister. Ain’t that enough revenge?”

  “No!” Emmett slapped the desk. “It’s not enough goddamned revenge. I want him buried! Stripped of everything he cares about.”

  “And what will that do to the woman sleeping in your bed every night? Do you think she won’t be hurt if you follow through on ruining him? Right or wrong, she loves her brother.”

  “Yes, but she is my wife. She made a choice to love, honor, and obey me—me, not her brother.”

  Kelly blew out a breath, his jaw tight as he stared at the opposite wall. “I’ve seen the way she’s been lookin’ at you since the storm. She loves you, Bishop. Are you willing to throw that away, knowin’ you may never get it back?”

  Emmett felt himself scowl. Love? The idea seemed ludicrous. Lust, perhaps. That he could believe.

  Even if Emmett’s taking over Northeast upset her at first, Elizabeth would eventually come to accept it. She knew how business worked, that consolidating and acquiring other companies was necessary to success. If you didn’t grow and adapt, your business was soon the one at risk.

  “You’re a damn fool,” Kelly said when the silence stretched. “Guess I’ll start moving your things back to Beaver Street.” He rose stiffly, flung open the office door, and stomped into the hall.

  Kelly was wrong, Emmett thought. Elizabeth would understand.... Wouldn’t she?

  * * *

  “You’re not looking, are you?” Emmett asked for the third time.

  “No,” Lizzie lied, and lifted the edges of her lids ever so slightly to see her surroundings.

  A few moments ago, Emmett had appeared in her dressing room, dismissed Pauline, and picked her up in his arms, the promise of a surprise on his lips. He then instructed her to close her eyes and began traveling through the house. Her husband’s size never failed to impress— even more so when he carried her about as if she weighed nothing at all.

  She pressed her face into his throat and breathed him in. Spice, a faint trace of cigar, and soap lingered on his skin, and she couldn’t help but to nibble on him. He stuttered, his feet catching. “Witch. Are you trying to hurt us both?”

  Stairs came next, and then more walking. “We would get there faster if you would put me down.”

  “But where’s the fun in that?” He pushed open a door, and wet heat hit her nostrils. “Open your eyes,” he said, setting her on her feet.

  The large, rectangular swimming pool stretched out in front of her, wall sconces burning to cast an otherworldly glow atop the water. The pool, as Brendan had explained weeks ago, was heated underneath, supporting year-round swimming. Important, he’d said, to allow him to keep his injured leg strong, but Lizzie suspected Emmett used the pool as well. How else to explain her husband’s physique, more Greek god than steel mogul?

  The design of the room had a hedonistic sensibility, with the Corinthian columns, stone, and mosaic tile reminiscent of a decadent Roman bath. The frescoed ceiling above depicted Hades striding from his chariot with a distraught Persephone in his arms. Benches along the wall invited guests to watch the bathers, though she and Emmett were quite alone today.

  “The furnace has been on long enough after the storm that the water is warm once again. Come.” He drew her forward, skirting the edge of the pool.

  “Aren’t we swimming?” She did not know how, but the water did look enticing—calm, and crystal clear. Emmett had instructed Katie and Claire on to swim, so was he ready to teach Lizzie, too? She could imagine his hands on her, supporting her, as she floated on the surface. She shivered.

  “No, though we can do so later if you wish. I want to show you something else.” He crossed through an arched doorway on the left side of the pool, his hand clasped tightly with hers.

  “A Turkish bath,” she exclaimed once they passed the threshold. The details were exactly as she’d read about, with white and blue mosaic tile, red pallets and pillows, gold accents, and curved doors. A small, clear pool had been carved into the floor, the water replenished by a thin stream pouring out of a lion’s mouth on the wall.

  “Precisely that,” her husband said. “I read that a sudatorium could be beneficial to injuries and sore muscles.” He shrugged.

  So he’d installed the room for Brendan. Tenderness rolled through her, wrapping like ivy around her heart. She knew from Brendan that Emmett held himself responsible for his younger brother’s accident. This must have b
een Emmett’s way of trying to atone. “It’s extraordinary.”

  “I hired the same men who built the Turkish bath on West Twenty-Sixth Street to complete this one. It’s authentic, or as close as I could get.”

  “Brendan didn’t show me this room when he gave me a tour of the house,” she said as Emmett went to a door.

  “Then I am glad to be the one to surprise you. Wait here.” He opened the panel and disappeared inside. A few seconds later, he returned. “I started the water heating. We’ll have steam in a moment.” He threw off his heavy dressing gown and dropped it onto a bench. Next came his shirt, his strong arms unbuttoning the starched white cotton to reveal massive shoulders and muscular arms encased in tight cotton underclothing. No matter how many times she saw him disrobe, the effect was always the same: her breath hitched, and her lower body caught fire.

  “Take off your dressing gown,” he ordered with a leer.

  “I am too busy admiring the view,” she said as he stripped off his trousers.

  “Are you? Well, when I’m naked, anyone here not yet undressed will be dropped into the cold pool over by the wall.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He quirked a brow that said, Oh, I think we both know I would, and Lizzie hurried to untie the sash on her dressing gown, to push the fabric from her shoulders. Standing in her thin chemise, she knew the garment did little to conceal her curves—a fact she was grateful for as Emmett’s movements faltered, his eyes growing bright with arousal.

  “You’d best hurry,” he said huskily as his fingers flew down the buttons of his combination.

  Biting her lip in amusement, she furiously worked on the tiny buttons along her bodice. Embarrassment forgotten, her goal was to win, to shed her clothing before he did. When she undid a fair number of buttons, she tugged the hem up and over her head. Hands suddenly caught her while she was blinded by the fabric, crushing her to a taut, naked body.

  “Not fast enough, wife,” he growled, and bent to throw her across his shoulder. Laughing, Lizzie finished pulling the chemise off and let the cloth fall.