Emily could imagine. With this many children, the poor woman must be exhausted.
The little girl made another effort to climb the rungs of the chair. “Junebug!” her father exclaimed.
She threw herself onto Emily’s lap, and August made room for her. “Safe,” chirped the girl, and both babies laughed.
“Bah.” The man looked truly disgusted. “You’re gonna scare the lady outa ever wantin’ kids.” He went back to his discussion with Jake.
Maybelle came back into the room and announced, “Ma says ten minutes.” She pushed at her father’s legs until he moved them aside, giving her room to sit on the chair with him. “The boys are supposed to wash their hands.”
“Girls, too,” said the boy standing beside Emily.
Maybelle shook her head, leaning toward her brother with narrowed eyes. “Girls aren’t dirty.”
“Are too!”
“Well, I’m dirty,” Emily said, hoping to forestall a fight. She turned to Maybelle. “Can you show me where to clean up?”
Junebug had slid from her lap when she leaned forward, but August refused to leave his curled position. His eyes were shut tight, and he made little snoring sounds. Emily held him over the floor, but his legs remained curled under him. June knelt in front of him and tried to pull his legs down, only to have them spring upward again. The snoring sounded a little like giggles.
“Put the kid in his crib,” the father said, coming to his feet. “If he’s asleep, he don’t need no supper.”
The baby suddenly dropped his legs toward the floor.
“He was faking,” one of the children informed her solemnly.
Once all the children had washed, they filed into the big kitchen to take their seats at a long table. Besides the six children Emily had met in the living room, there was a twelve-year-old girl who had helped with dinner and a fourteen-year-old boy who had put up the horses. The ages and names—minus the bugs and belles their father had added—were given by their mother as they took their seats at a long table.
Conversation was impossible at the table, but Emily noticed that the man, Mr. Kraus she discovered, didn’t mention the loss of their money to his wife. She wasn’t sure what he and Jake had discussed in the living room before dinner. It didn’t matter. Jake would make his decisions without her anyway.
For the first time she wished she had stayed in Council Grove. She didn’t want to hear about Anson stealing from anybody else.
The thought brought her eyebrows together. Did she believe it now? Was there any faith in Anson left at all? Very little, she realized. What other explanation was there? A thief was following Anson, stealing from everyone he met? Anson had given them the slip and they were following a stranger who looked like him? A part of her, she realized, would have liked to believe something of the kind.
When the meal ended, the men and most of the children returned to the living room. Emily stayed to help the woman clean up. Anson, she realized, hadn’t once been mentioned at the table. Mrs. Kraus hadn’t yet been influenced by Jake’s remarks.
“Did you have a visitor here last night?” she began.
“Why, yes,” the woman answered. “A nice young man, tall and blond. Do you know him?”
Emily smiled. She set a stack of dishes near the sink and wiped her hands on the apron the woman had loaned her. “I think so,” she said. Her reticule was hanging around her waist, and she pulled it open, feeling inside until she found the picture. “Did he look like this?”
The woman gazed at the picture without touching it. “Yes, that’s him.”
She had known it would be. There hadn’t really been any question that Anson had been here. Only whether he had stolen from them or not. There was little question of that, either, she supposed.
Emily helped Mrs. Kraus, April and May with the dishes then joined the others in the living room. June climbed onto her lap while Mrs. Kraus rocked August. The other children played in small groups, being carefully quiet most of the time.
Emily didn’t listen to the conversation between Jake and Mr. Kraus. She snuggled the little girl close, watched the fire and tried to think of what to do. There seemed no good way out of her situation. Her baby still needed a name, but the name of a thief?
Maybe it was time she went home in disgrace. Her family would eventually forgive her. Christian and her father at least Mother and Arlen would take longer, but they all truly loved her. And they hated Anson enough they would easily blame him entirely.
She closed her eyes for a moment Why hadn’t she listened to them? Why had she been so taken in by Anson’s charm?
For some odd reason Jake’s opinion of her mattered more than her family’s. She didn’t think she could bear to see his reaction to her confession. But she would have to. Tonight.
She took a deep breath, hoping to dispel the pain that constricted her heart and lungs, and forced her body to relax. She tried not to think of anything but the small warm body curled in her arms. She didn’t know she had drifted off to sleep until she felt the child being lifted from her lap. The other children had disappeared and in a moment the couple went up a flight of narrow stairs.
“They left blankets,” Jake said. All the lamps had been put out, and he stood between her and the fire, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Are we husband and wife again, Jake?” She had meant it to sound teasing, but instead it came out breathless, leaving the oddest sensation in her chest.
“It seemed the easiest thing to tell them. You trust me, don’t you, Emily?”
“Of course,” she said, coming to her feet. Trust wasn’t exactly the problem.
He knelt to spread the blankets on a rug before the fire. “Aren’t they something?” he asked, grinning up at her. “All those children. I thought Christian and Lynnette had their hands full.”
Emily knelt to help him make their bed. “Do you want that many children, Jake?” She had no idea why she was asking a question like that. Because babies were on her mind, she supposed.
He shrugged. “I guess I never thought about it. Remember I grew up without any brothers or sisters. Well, you and your brothers seemed like mine.”
Emily didn’t like him thinking of her as a sister, though she wasn’t sure why it mattered. A few times she had thought…But no. Even if she had seen something more in his eyes, it would be gone as soon as he heard her news. Maybe acting as a sister would make what she had to say easier. “I need to talk to you,” she whispered.
His head came up and his hands went still. She hadn’t realized how desperate she sounded until she saw his response. In a moment he was moving again. “Here. Slip off your shoes and get comfortable.”
As she obeyed he found the bottle of ointment in her bag and handed it to her. “Thanks, doc,” she teased.
In short order he had her half-reclined against his strong chest, her legs covered with a blanket. She was aware of his strong warm muscles against her back. “Now talk to me,” he whispered close to her ear. “You can tell me anything you want.”
“I’m ready to go back home now,” she said. It had been easier than she expected, perhaps because she didn’t have to see his face. “I don’t care whether you keep hunting for Anson or not.”
He didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but surely he had some comment. She turned toward him. “Did you hear me?”
“I’ll get you home,” he said, taking her shoulders and settling her back against him. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”
She took a deep breath. “No.”
She couldn’t find the words. She wanted to put herself in a good light, find some way to tell him that wouldn’t mark her as a fallen woman. She almost laughed at herself. As if that were possible.
She felt a pin slip from her hair and reached up to find Jake’s hand there. “You can’t sleep with your hair pinned up. Let me take it down while you talk.”
“Jake, it’s not something I can tell you while you fuss with my hair.”
“After, then,” he said.
She felt the heavy mass slip to her shoulder and his fingers comb through it. She sat quietly, almost holding her breath. He parted the tresses and pleated them into a simple braid. She wanted to ask him if he knew her brother used to braid her hair every night when she was a little girl at the ranch, away from her mother. Did he need one more reminder that she was almost like a sister to him?
She was in love with him, and he wanted to be her brother. Would he be more willing to forgive a sister what she was about to tell him?
“Do you have a ribbon to tie it off?” he asked.
“In my bag.”
He handed the braid over her shoulder, and she took the end, sitting up straight in the process. He rolled away for a moment and rolled back with the carpetbag. With one hand, she rummaged inside until she found the ribbon and tied it around the end of the braid. By the time she was finished, he had set the bag aside and was ready to settle her against him again.
It seemed unreal, leaning against Jake, feeling his cheek rest against her hair. She could almost pretend she was a child in her brother’s arms. Almost. The heat that curled through her body like wood smoke was something else altogether.
His lips brushed against her temple and the slow fire turned to a blaze. She found her heart pounding and her breath catching in her throat. She had to put a stop to this. And she knew just the way.
“I’m going to have a baby.”
Chapter Twelve
Jake pressed his lips against her temple again. It had felt so good the first time, he couldn’t resist. “I know,” he whispered. “It’ll be all right.”
She threw herself forward and turned to face him. “Did you hear what I said?”
He raised a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake the children.”
She sighed heavily, raising her eyes to the ceiling.
He had to fight the urge to grin at her exasperation. “A baby. I know.” He coaxed her back into his arms, this time half-turned toward him with her head on his shoulder. He was braced against the front of a heavy chair. His shoulder blades protested but the rest of his body ignored them.
“How long have you known?” she asked.
“Long enough to think of a solution.”
Her arm wrapped around his chest, and he closed his eyes, aware of every inch of her body that touched his, even through all the layers of clothes.
“There is no solution,” she whispered.
She sounded close to tears. He didn’t think he could handle tears. “Marry me,” he said.
She sat up again. His body missed her immediately, but it did make it easier to think.
“Emily,” he began, wanting to be reasonable. “You can’t marry Berkeley. He would make you miserable.”
She turned away. She was still in love with the bastard. The knowledge sent a shaft of pain through his heart. Perhaps that was what made him willing to risk hurting her. “Is that the name you want for your child? Berkeley the thief?”
He heard her sob and wished he could call the words back. “Emily.” He reached toward her.
“I know,” she said, slipping from his touch. “I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to ever see him again.”
“Then marry me.”
She turned to face him again. Her face was in shadows, but he could see the uncertainty there. “Why would you want to marry me?” she whispered finally.
A laugh broke from his lips before he could stop it. She drew farther away, but he moved with her. “Emily, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I thought it had been obvious. I’ve been in love with you as long as I can remember.”
They were both kneeling on the spread blankets, lit only by the fire. Her shocked silence suggested he had done a better job hiding his love than he had thought. “I love you,” he whispered into the silence.
“Like a sister,” she whispered back.
He almost laughed again. Instead he gently lifted her hand and drew it to his chest. “Feel the way my heart is pounding. A sister wouldn’t do that to me.”
He released her hand but it lingered. He found himself leaning toward her. “One kiss should prove how I feel.”
The hand on his chest suddenly stiffened. “No,” she said. “I…I knew you felt…something. But how can you love me now? I carry another man’s child.”
A lock of hair had missed the braid, and he reached up and brushed it off her cheek. “The baby is a part of you,” he whispered. “How can I not love it?”
To his complete surprise she sank to the blankets and buried her face in her hands. “What? What did I say?”
“Stop it,” she sobbed. “Stop being so nice.”
He tried to draw her into his arms, but she pushed him away.
“Stop being what?” he whispered, his hand hovering just above her shoulder.
After a long, painful moment, she sat up. The firelight glistened on tears before she brushed them with the backs of her hands. “Stop being so nice!” she hissed, giving him an ineffectual punch in the shoulder for emphasis.
He knew he shouldn’t grin at her. She was obviously exhausted. The decision to tell him about the baby couldn’t have been easy for her. He should let her spend her emotions, not tease her. But still. “Nice?”
She glared at him then muttered, “You’re impossible.”
Some of the tension seemed to have left her, and he drew her carefully into his arms, coaxing her to lean against him again. He waited until she was relaxed before he spoke.
“Emily, we’ve known each other since we were children. I think it’s safe to say we’re friends.” He waited for her nod of agreement. “I’m asking you to consider me as a solution to your problem. I promise to love your child as my own. And God knows I’ll be a faithful husband.”
She tried to turn to look at him, but his hand on her cheek kept her head pressed against his shoulder. He hadn’t meant to sound so vehement that it sparked her curiosity.
He went on quickly, “I’ve already admitted to loving you and I think you have enough respect and fondness for me that you could learn to love me.”
He smiled to himself, quite satisfied with the speech he had rehearsed in the hope that she would choose to tell him about the baby.
“That won’t be a problem,” she muttered.
“Which?”
“Loving you,” she said, resisting his efforts to keep her snuggled against him. She gave him another punch in the shoulder, and nearly lost her balance. She rearranged herself to sit beside his outstretched legs facing him.
“It’s impossible not to love you,” she admitted grudgingly. “I’ve tried for days. And stop grinning at me. I’m not nearly as nice as you are. I’ll drive you completely crazy!”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, bringing himself upright. He brushed the errant lock off her cheek again and cupped her face with his hands. “I promised you a kiss.”
“Did I say I wanted one?” But even as she whispered it, she leaned toward him.
“I promised myself a kiss, then.” It was more the truth anyway.
He took her lips slowly, savoring the flavor, the feel of them. With the slightest urging of his tongue she parted them for him, letting him taste the soft sweetness of her mouth. Her tongue came to meet his, reluctantly at first, then more boldly.
He felt her tremble and realized she was pressed close against him, her hands clutching his shoulders. The smell of the wood in the fireplace, its gentle crackling, seemed to be part of Emily, part of the fire he felt raging inside him. He wanted her desperately, as he always had. He wanted to lower her to the blankets and plunder more than her lips.
But she hadn’t offered him that. She hadn’t even offered him the kiss. Still he knew her body responded to his touch, and he took hope from that.
Slowly he raised his head, breaking off the kiss before it consumed him. To his surprise, Emily collapsed against him, breathing hard. He was glad she couldn’t see the arrogant smile
that was surely on his face.
“Is that a yes?” he asked after a time.
She righted herself then. “Jake, are you sure? I mean the baby could…”
He raised her head with a touch to her chin. “Could what?”
She hesitated another moment. “Could look like Anson.”
“Anson’s not bad looking,” he said.
Emily was not to be teased out of her worry. “But every time you looked at him—”
“I would see a little child. Emily, it wouldn’t be impossible for us to have a fair-haired baby. Look at your father and at Christian. We’ll tell everyone the baby looks like them, and they’ll see what they expect to see.”
She gazed at him, as if trying to read the truth. He spent the time watching the firelight glisten in her soft dark hair. Finally she drew his attention back to her lips. “Darn it, Jake, you’re going to be nice about this, too, aren’t you?”
“It’s an annoying habit, I know, but you’ll get used to it. Now, you need to get some sleep. Did you want to…uh…take off your…anything.” He had thought the tightly fitted blouse and heavy riding skirt looked confining but discovered he couldn’t say it aloud. She was scowling at him. “I was thinking of your comfort, Emily.”
They were still sitting close together on the blanket. He didn’t know what she was thinking. He was thinking of her lying naked in his arms. He should never have mentioned undressing.
In another moment he would be kissing her again. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stop this time. He moved away from her abruptly, rising to sit in a chair and remove his boots. She took off the little purse that hung from her waist, but nothing else.
He stretched out on the blanket and drew her into the crook of his arm. She felt perfect nestled against him, but it was hours before he could sleep.
Emily had been half-aware of someone walking through the room earlier, but she had fallen back to sleep. She felt so cozy she didn’t want to move. Something was tugging at her mind, something she would only understand once she woke up. Still she fought it.
Her cheek felt an odd tickle. She tried to twitch it away. The tickle grew worse until she had to brush at it with her hand. She let her arm fall back to its former position.
Flint Hills Bride Page 17
