A Secret Fire (Western Historical Romance)
Page 13
His heart had hurt as he thought of what Nancy Jane could’ve said to affect her so, and the only thing he could think of to get her mind off of the horrible woman was to kiss her. And he didn’t really mind sparking with the gorgeous, tear-stained girl anyway.
And then that rain started, he thought.
“Phooey!” he yelled out loud, his horse starting into a gallop from the sudden noise.
Yep, trouble indeed, that Emma Marchant. Trouble indeed.
Chapter Seven
“I won’t be gone for long,” James said as he stuffed his small bag full of clothing. “Probably back ’fore next week.”
Thatcher nodded, mindlessly chewing the bread he was having for breakfast. “Mmm hmm.”
“I’ll tell Lucy you said ‘hi’,” James continued.
“Alright.”
“And while I’m gone just make sure you don’t burn my house down.”
“Sure will.”
James stopped packing and looked at his brother, but Thatcher didn’t notice. “And then go on over and profess your love to that Emma Marchant,” he said, his eyebrows raised.
“Okay,” was all Thatcher said as he shoved another piece of bread into his mouth.
“And then you can quit beatin’ the devil ’round the stump and get hitched already.”
“Yep,” Thatcher said, still chewing. “Hold on, what’d you just say?”
James chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothin’.”
Thatcher looked down at his plate, surprised to see it empty already. He stood and walked over to the counter where the loaf of bread was sitting. “Okay,” he replied, thoughts taking precedence once again.
“Somethin’ on your mind, brother?” James said, watching him once more, amused.
Thatcher sighed. “No, not much.” Well that’s a downright lie, he thought. Either way, he figured James didn’t need to know what was on his mind, for he wouldn’t let it go if he did.
“If you say so,” James said, still suspicious.
The brothers had been together for nearly twenty-four years, so Thatcher knew James suspected him of something. Silence remained in the small front room of the house as James stood unmoving.
“If you’re waitin’ for me to open my mouth and spill the beans, you’ll miss the coach,” he said, unnerved.
Truth be told, if James stood there much longer, Thatcher wasn’t sure he could keep it from him.
“Alright, but we’re missin’ out on some good brother bondin’ time,” James said, raising his brows and batting his eyelashes.
Thatcher tried to hide his amusement. “You keep doin’ that and you’ll make me sick.”
James only laughed and walked to the door.
“Tell Lucy I said ‘hi’, will you?” Thatcher asked, buttering another slice of bread.
Thatcher couldn’t figure out why James laughed as he walked out the door, saying goodbye with a nod of his head.
Instantly, Thatcher forgot about all else, and his thoughts returned to Emma Marchant, just as they had been doing all day long. He couldn’t get that girl out of his head! No matter how hard he tried, no matter what else he thought of, no matter how busy he stayed, that little blue-eyed, dark-haired angel was staring right at him.
Not that he minded it. In fact, it made his work go by much faster when he had something to occupy his mind with. And boy did it occupy his mind! Not a minute went by when he didn’t imagine those tantalizing pink lips of hers or the dimples in her cheeks.
His brow furrowed as he stuffed a wad of bread in his mouth again. Yes, she had captured his attention alright. And it scared him to death.
It had been three days since he had kissed her. Three long days. And each day his fear became greater. He knew he shouldn’t like the girl so much. He was getting too close to her. After all, it would only end in grief, as his experience proved.
He needed to strengthen his resolve once again. “You don’t have time to be flirtin’ and sparkin’ with the girl, Thatch,” he muttered. “You need to get a hold of yourself.”
He finished his bread and walked outside to the morning breeze, the sun just beginning to rise over the distant hills. The orange sky swirled with pink ribbons above, and Thatcher sighed as he stood on the front porch. James had been able to get a nice piece of land, and he was proud of his little brother for working so hard on it the past few weeks to get it ready for his new wife.
Sadness washed over him, and he wondered how it was possible for James to find love, yet so hard for himself to let go and do the same.
Emma’s dimples appeared in his eye again, but he pushed the thought that accompanied it away. There would be none of that. He needed to get a grip, be strong again. He had let his guard down to help Emma gain some confidence, that was all.
He told himself it wasn’t a lie, but deep down he knew it was. He had wanted to kiss her for a long time and was surprised he actually got himself to stop once he’d started. The only thing that did make him stop was when Emma had said his name. His name spoken on her lips seemed to pull him from his reverie to realize what he was doing. And once he joined reality again, his thoughts always moved to his mother, his fleeing, deceased mother.
Shaking his head, Thatcher went to the barn, ready to carry on with the chores for James. Having already milked the cows earlier that morning and being too late in the season to plant anything and have it produce that year, Thatcher focused on clearing the land, by James’s request. They needed to get as much land ready as they could before the snow came.
Thatcher grabbed a shovel and moved to the fields, going to work, hard work, to get his mind off a certain beautiful woman that he couldn’t admit to wanting in his life. And he would work all day, all night, through meals and sleep to have it stay that way!
***
“Are you alright, Liza?” Emma heard Seth ask.
Her eyes went straight to her sister-in-law who was holding her back and wincing. Eliza nodded, but she flinched again as the pain returned.
Instructing her to breathe deeply, Seth led her over to a chair and sat her down. Eliza only waved a hand in front of her face. “Aw, don’t worry ’bout me, honey,” she said, sighing as the sharp pain subsided. “I’m just fine.”
Seth didn’t believe her and eyed her warily. “You tell me if that happens again, alright? And I’ll go get Doc Symes.”
“Sure thing,” Eliza said, but she looked past Seth to Emma, shaking her head when he wasn’t watching.
Emma stifled a giggle, and Seth looked between the two girls, knowing their antics. With a deep and demanding voice, he said, “I’m serious, Eliza Marchant. You tell me if you feel another lick of pain.”
Eliza nodded and pulled Seth’s arm to have him bend close to her. Holding his face near her own with both hands, she kissed him soundly on the lips. Emma thought back to a few nights ago and smiled.
“Don’t you worry, Mr. Marchant,” Eliza said. “I’ll be fine. But I promise I’ll let you know.”
“Okay,” Seth said, still watching her with concern. Turning around to Emma, he said, “And you tell me if she doesn’t.”
“Alright, Seth,” Emma said, setting all jokes aside. “We’ll let you know.”
Finally satisfied, Seth walked out of the room, and the girls heard the bell above the front door ringing at his departure. As soon as he left, Eliza laughed. “He really is sweet, isn’t he?” she said smiling, looking at the doorway he had walked through.
Emma nodded as she added the finishing touches to the meal for that evening. “Yes, and he really does care. Please do tell me if you feel anythin’ at all, Liza.”
Eliza promised she would, and the girls smiled at each other. “Thanks again for makin’ supper,” Eliza said. “I promise I’ll be feelin’ more up to it tomorrow night.”
“Nonsense,” Emma said, putting the chicken in the small oven. “You aren’t cookin’ for a while now. Doc says it’s best to stay off your feet when it’s this close to your baby comin’ and all
.”
Eliza smiled, rubbing her neck. “I just can’t wait for it to get here. I sweat to death all the time, can’t breathe at night, and can’t walk durin’ the day. There’s no winnin’ in this situation.”
Her soft complaints brought a smile to Emma’s lips. She usually never heard Eliza say a negative word, but when she did, it was only lightly pessimistic.
She thought of the way Seth worried over Eliza and her well-being, smiling at his high-strung behavior and thinking of how nice it would be for someone to act the same way with her someday.
A white, soaked-through shirt in the dark flashed through her memory, and she smiled, cutting a carrot into small pieces. Boy, it had been a long three days since that kiss. Nearly the longest in her life! Her lips tingled with the memory of a manly scruff against them, and she smiled wider.
“Emma?” Eliza’s asked. “What’re you smilin’ all secretly ’bout over there?”
Emma raised her eyebrows and tried to hide her smile. “Nothin’.”
Eliza narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you for a second. Tell me what’s goin’ on right now, Emma Elizabeth Marchant.”
Emma only giggled, biting her lip with delight. She didn’t know how much longer she could go without telling Eliza!
Since James’s barn and house were completed, Seth could be seen around the inn more than ever, so Emma had yet to have the opportunity to talk with Eliza about what had happened between herself and Thatcher. That was a part of the reason why the three days had dragged on so long.
“Emma, did somethin’ happen that night at the barn raisin’?” Eliza said, one eyebrow raised higher than the other.
“Maybe…” Emma said, her eyes lighting with pleasure.
Eliza immediately squealed. “I knew it, I just knew it! Tell me right now what happened ’fore Seth comes back and you can’t!”
Emma laughed, gloriously happy to tell her friend her good news. Not that she expected anything to come from what had happened. Thatcher probably was just trying to make her feel good after Nancy Jane’s hateful words.
Nancy Jane. She hadn’t even thought of her since that night. She smiled, happy that Thatcher had helped her in that respect, as well as his kissing making her deliriously happy.
She hoped with all her heart that he had wanted to kiss her just as much as she had wanted to be kissed by him. How she loved that man!
“Emma, tell me!” Eliza squealed again, clapping her hands together but unable to rise from her place on the chair.
“Well,” Emma began, deciding beforehand which parts to leave out, “I was tired, so I decided to leave early. I was on my way home when I heard Thatcher call my name from behind me.”
“He followed you? How dreadfully romantic!” Eliza said.
Emma giggled as she carried on. “And he said he was wonderin’ if I was alright, and then he said I owed him a dance, and so…”
She paused, suddenly uncertain of herself. She knew she was rushing the story, but she didn’t want Eliza to get bored. Maybe she shouldn’t tell her what happened, maybe it was silly of her to be thinking so much on it.
“Go on, Em!” Eliza said, urging her to continue.
“And so we danced together,” was all she said.
Eliza smiled. “And then what happened?”
Emma fought with herself, feeling foolish. Her mind told her that the kiss meant nothing to Thatcher, so it shouldn’t mean anything to her either. “Well, he…oh it’s nothin’ important. He eventually walked me back home, and we said goodnight.”
“Eventually walked you back home?” Eliza said, her eyes widening. “And what did you do before you got home?”
Emma could only smile as her friend urged her to carry on with the rest of the story. “It was just silly now that I think about it. It probably didn’t mean nothin’.”
Eliza’s eyes brightened. “You mean to tell me that…Did he…Emma, you have to tell me right now! I just have to know!”
Emma laughed, her excitement returning once again. “Well, if you must know…He…he was sparkin’ with me.”
She winced in the next moment as Eliza squealed, clenching her hands into fists and shaking them from side to side. “I knew it! I just knew he was goin’ to! I knew it! What was it even like?”
“I’m sure it was just like the first time Seth kissed you,” Emma said, laughing. She thought about Thatcher’s firm jaw, the way he held her, looked at her. She seemed to be floating by just thinking about it. “It was wonderful, dazzlin’, mind-blowin’.”
“Oh, Emma!” Eliza giggled. “I just know exactly how you feel! There is no better feelin’ in the world than when a man sparks with you!”
Emma could only nod, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “It was amazin’ for me,” she said, carrying on cutting the carrots. “But I’m sure it was just nothin’ for him.”
“Emma Marchant, you stop that kind of talk right now.”
She looked up to see a scowl etched across Eliza’s pretty face, her brown eyes glaring up at her.
“You know how boys are these days,” Emma said. “They just go ’round sparkin’ with girls and havin’ it mean nothin’ at all.” The words were far from pleasing to her ears as she said them aloud, but they were a real concern for her. Had the kiss meant anything to him?
“And do you still think Thatcher’s a boy after he kissed you?” Eliza asked, causing Emma to stop completely.
Her eyebrows rose, and she said, “No. No I absolutely do not think he’s a boy. He’s most certainly a man, that’s for sure.”
Eliza giggled again. “See!” she said. “And that shows you that it means somethin’. You know what kind of men the Deakon brothers are, and they sure as heck aren’t scoundrel boys.”
Emma had to agree. No, Thatcher wasn’t a scoundrel. Not once had he overstepped his boundaries. Still, he could’ve only been kissing her to make her feel better or to get her to stop crying.
“Emma, I just can’t even stand it! It’s just all too amazin’!” Eliza squealed again, her smile contagious.
“I know, I’ve just been dyin’ to—”
Emma’s sentence was cut off as she heard the bell in the front room ring, deep voices talking, and a set of…spurs? Her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest! Eliza looked to her, her eyes more alight than Emma’s.
What should she do? Where should she go? Should she hide? ’Course not, she thought, don’t be absurd. But she couldn’t possibly see him right then! Wait, what was she thinking? Of course she could see him. She had been dying to all week! Her face became flushed, and Eliza whispered, “Breathe, Em!” before the two men walked in the kitchen doorway.
She inhaled slowly, the air helping to calm her down only slightly.
“Look who I found wanderin’ the streets all alone,” Seth said, slapping Thatcher on the back.
The alluring man nodded his head to both women, smiling longer at Emma.
“Well, hi there, Thatcher!” Eliza said, attempting to rise from her chair but giving up within a few seconds. “Did James get off alright, then?”
“Yes, ma’am, he did. Left early this mornin’,” Thatcher replied.
“That’s good to hear,” Eliza said. “I’m sure he was ready to finally see that girl of his after so long.”
Thatcher nodded. “Yep, he’s been talkin’ ’bout it for weeks now. It’s actually nice to have him gone.”
They laughed, and Thatcher smiled at Emma who was already watching him.
“I hope you ladies don’t mind,” Thatcher continued, his hat in his hands, “but Seth here invited me to have supper with you. If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”
“Oh don’t be silly, Thatcher. You know you’re always welcome here.” Eliza looked to Emma. “Isn’t he, Em?”
Thatcher looked knowingly at Emma, and he winked one of his deep, chocolate eyes. She became flustered all over again but managed to spurt out, “’Course not, Mr. Deakon. We’ll be happy to have you.”
“Seth!” Emma scolded her older brother, horrified at his insinuation. Secretly, however, she felt smug. Little did her brother know!
“What?” he asked with an impish grin.
The men and Eliza laughed, and Emma felt her face burn. Yet, when she looked to Thatcher and saw that he was looking right at her, smiling knowingly, she felt comforted. “Alright, you can have your laughs for now. But y’all go better wash up for supper ’fore I change my mind ’bout feedin’ you.”
The boys obeyed, and the food was soon on the table. Supper was more pleasant than Emma believed possible, joining in the conversation and feeling more comfortable in Thatcher’s presence than she had ever before.
After supper, she left to take care of the dishes as the rest of the small group adjourned to the parlor for the evening. Right before she left, however, and to her great surprise and delight, Thatcher followed her, saying, “I’ll help you, Miss Marchant. That way it’ll get done twice as fast.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” but she was cut off by his finger touching her lip.
“We’ll be right back,” he called to Seth and Eliza, and with that, he motioned Emma to precede him to the kitchen.
Smiling, Emma’s heart burned with joy, but the constant nagging thoughts of doubt kept threatening to spoil her happiness. She should not even bother speaking with Thatcher. The daydreams she’d been having since their kiss were just her being ridiculous. But she was able to push them all aside for a moment, concentrating instead on the way Thatcher paid attention to her, smiling, laughing, and offering to help.
She took a deep breath and decided to let herself free for a moment, see what it felt like to say what was on her mind, to be the person she longed to be again, before she lost herself in her insecurities and fears, before Nancy Jane came along, before her parents had died.