Texas Lonesome
Page 20
“Thank God.” Gertrude continued to eye Emily closely, though. “Are you certain you’re all right, dear. You don’t look well at all.”
Wonderful, thought Emily. Her wretchedness was probably written all over her face.
“Well, I am a little bit worried, Aunt. I do need to talk to you as soon as you have a minute.”
“Of course, dear. Just help me find whatever it is I’ve misplaced, and then we can chat for as long as you like.”
Apparently forgetting her resolve to take her bags to her room before she went through them, Gertrude began to fling their contents on the hall carpet once more. “I wish I could remember what it is I’m missing. It would be so much easier to find it if I could remember.”
Heaving a gusty sigh, Emily gave up and began carrying her aunt’s luggage upstairs while Gertrude demolished the contents of the largest trunk. The bags weighed a ton, and Emily just knew if Will were there he would relieve her of the heavy work. Another gigantic sigh and a tear followed her unhappy thought.
By the time she finally managed to settle her aunt down in a comfortable chair in the parlor, Emily had determined upon a course which, with any luck and a lot of patience, would not be too difficult for her aunt to follow.
She decided to tackle the bills first and postpone explaining about the intruder and her suspicion he had been hired by Clarence Pickering until later. She didn’t want her aunt upset before they discussed money, and at the moment money was even more important than Clarence Pickering.
“We must discuss the state of your financial affairs, Aunt Gertrude. I know this will be difficult for you, but it must be done,” Emily began, seating herself opposite Gertrude with a large pile of bills on the table between them.
Gertrude’s face fell. “Oh, Emily, dear, I know how distressing all of this must be to you. But you know, darling, your Uncle Ludwig said your nice Mr. Blake told him he was going to try to help us out of our woes.”
A tear zigzagged its way along the wrinkles lining Gertrude’s sweet face, and Emily felt a tremendous tug of guilt. “I’m so sorry to be such trouble to you, Emily.”
“You’re not any trouble, Aunt Gertrude,” Emily said, lying fervently. “It’s just that we must try to work our way through this—this mess, or you’re going to lose your home. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“Oh, dear, no. That would be dreadful.” Brightening perceptibly, Gertrude added, “But Ludwig said your dear Mr. Blake told him he would take care of our money troubles, Emily, after the two of you are married.”
The painful gripping in her breast did not allow Emily to respond to her aunt’s cheerful comment at first. She had to swallow hard once or twice and blink her tears back.
“Mr. Tate and I will not be marrying, Aunt,” she whispered at last.
Gertrude’s eyes widened in astonishment. “But Emily, dear, surely you must be wrong. Mr. Blake said he doesn’t have a wife in Arizona, so there’s absolutely no reason for you not to marry him. He seems to be a very nice young man. And even if he did have a wife once, apparently he doesn’t have one any longer. I can’t imagine he would have fibbed about such a thing. And he seemed so sincere when he asked our permission to call on you.”
“He asked to call on me?”
Emily knew better than to try to make sense of the first part of her aunt’s ramble, but she did seize upon Gertrude’s last sentence. So Will had actually gone to the trouble of asking her aunt and uncle, properly, if he could woo her. The very thought made her throat catch.
“Oh, yes, dear. He certainly did. He loves you, Emily dear. He told us so.”
Emily had to look down in a hurry. She didn’t want her aunt to know how close to a fit of tears she was.
“I don’t understand why you say you won’t be married, dear. I’m sure you care for him. At least, you certainly seem to, and I don’t believe you would tease a gentleman about something of such importance. I’m sure we’ve reared you to behave better than that.”
Upon a doleful sniff, Emily said, “Oh, yes, Aunt. You have. But, unfortunately, I have committed a dreadful deceit. I can’t allow Mr. Tate to marry me. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Silence reigned for several seconds as Gertrude digested Emily’s confession. At last Gertrude said, “I’m very sorry to hear it, dear. I don’t recall you ever being deceitful before.”
Emily could only shake her head. She was too miserable to speak.
“Don’t you think you could simply apologize to Mr. Blake, Emily darling? He seems like such a fine young man. I’m sure he would understand and forgive you.”
“I can’t tell him, Aunt. I can’t. And if I can’t even forgive myself, how on earth can I expect him to forgive me?”
Although Emily didn’t expect an answer to her question, Gertrude seemed to be trying to think of one. Emily forestalled her by leaning over the table laden with bills and putting a hand on her arm.
“There is no way I can ever tell him of my awful duplicity, Aunt. And the subject is too painful for me to discuss right now. Let’s just understand Mr. Tate will not be taking direct care of your debts, and continue our discussion. Now, it is true,” she added, “that his help with Uncle Ludwig’s dachshund business will undoubtedly assist us a lot, but in the mean time, I’m afraid there is much remaining to be done.”
Gertrude still looked troubled. “Well, all right, dear. But you may rest assured, I shall communicate with Raja Kinjiput about the matter between you and dear Mr. Blake. I’m sure the Raja will give you guidance.”
Emily smiled indulgently at Gertrude. “Thank you, Aunt. I do appreciate your help.”
So Emily and Gertrude spent an hour or more muddling over debts in the parlor. At the end of their time together, Emily was even more depressed and her aunt Gertrude was in tears.
And after Emily had wrestled her aunt’s debts to a stand-still, Gertrude would hear nothing against Clarence Pickering.
The only thing that could drive Emily even closer to the brink of despair was the note from Will Tate, which Blodgett brought her that evening.
“My dearest Emily,” the note read, “I received your letter today, my love, and I want you to know it doesn’t matter to me what you’ve done. I love you. I want to marry you. Please say you will be mine. After last night, how can you doubt we belong together? Please tell me you have changed your mind. We can be married immediately, if it is to your liking, or we can wait. For you, Emily, I will do anything. If you want us to live in San Francisco, even, we can do that. I love you. Will.”
It was all Emily could do to compose her answer to Will’s letter. She gave it to Thomas Crandall’s house boy, who was waiting patiently and didn’t seem at all disconcerted by Emily’s tears.
“I’ll be a toad-eyed son of a bitch!” Will bellowed when he read Emily’s response, which arrived an hour or so after he’d sent his message to her.
Emily had written: “My dearest Will: I love you with all my heart. Please try to understand it is my love for you which prevents me from accepting your proposal of marriage. I have done something unforgivable and used you terribly. I don’t deserve you. Please, please forgive me and know I will always love you. Emily.” The missive was liberally speckled with poorly blotted teardrops.
“Bad news, Will?” Thomas Crandall asked.
Will hurtled his large frame out of his chair and flung himself around the room, snatching up his vest, coat, and hat, and confusing poor Fred. The dog woofed once and then settled back to watch his master in concern.
As Will stomped out of the house, Thomas thought he heard him say, “God damn it, I’m going to make her listen to reason if I have to shake her.”
Thomas shrugged at Fred. Fred just closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Chapter 13
When Will stormed up to the Schindler residence. It was almost eleven o’clock. He was glad to find the house dark and everyone gone to bed.
The only qualm he experienced when he struggled up t
he tree outside Emily’s bedroom window was that a member of the crack San Francisco police force might notice his ascent and arrest him as a house-breaker. Other than that, Will didn’t much care how shocking his conduct appeared. He was going to talk to Emily, alone, by himself, just the two of them, and he was going to do it tonight and make her listen to reason, and hang the consequences.
He had intended to stomp over to her bed and demand she tell him the truth about how she, as Aunt Emily, had tried to snare him, as Texas Lonesome, into marriage. Then he was going to tell her he already knew everything there was to know about her deception. He was going to let her know it was all right with him; he loved her madly and still wanted to marry her. In fact, he was going to demand she marry him.
But when he finally managed to pull himself over the windowsill and into her room, he was so out of breath he couldn’t manage to stomp. Instead, he tiptoed, panting, to her bedside, and peered down at her. The pitiful sight of her damp cheeks was more than he could bear.
The moon had waned from its former fullness, but it was bright tonight and shone through Emily’s window to bathe her pale face with its silvery blessing. Will’s breath caught in the back of his throat as he gazed at his heart’s desire. For the life of him imagine allowing her to get away from him. He could scarcely remember what his life was like before he met her; and they had only known each other for a week or so.
Suddenly his resolve to tell her he already knew about her plot began to waver. Even if she could be made to understand the truth, she would still feel herself to be at fault. Perhaps if he were to confess his own ruse, that he was not “Texas Lonesome,” she would forgive herself, and him, and agree to be his.
Just then, Emily stirred softly in her sleep. She had been lying on her side with her cheek nestled in a hand. Now she cast her arm across her eyes and turned over to lie on her back. Will heard her give a miserable sniffle in her sleep, and he realized the hand which had cushioned her head was clutching the note he sent her earlier in the evening. He also noticed with an aching heart that her tears had wet it until it was quite soggy and its inky message was smeared.
“Ah, hell, Emily. I can’t shake you. I just can’t.”
Very carefully, so as not to awaken her, he knelt beside her bed. His thumb reached out to gently smooth away the tears still dampening her soft cheeks.
Emily thought she was in the throes of a heavenly dream when she felt Will’s lips brush her forehead. An enormous sigh escaped her and, even though she realized it was a dream, she reached for the broad shoulders she knew couldn’t be there. When her arms encountered the very solid, very manly form of Will Tate, her eyelids fluttered open to find her only love right there, in her room, beside her bed. She thought she had lost her mind for a moment until Will spoke.
“God, Emily, I can’t let you go. You’ve just got to change your mind. You’ve got to.”
One look at her eyes, swollen from weeping, was enough to make Will long to murder those responsible for plunging his own sweet darling into such agony. If only the people who were supposed to have taken care of her had done their jobs, she never would have been tempted to lower her standards and try to deceive him into marriage. No girl Emily’s age should be asked to shoulder such heavy burdens. He had never felt such empathy for a fellow human being before in his life.
He would have loved to tell her the truth: that the success of her magnificent plan only made him love her all the more. But, if Thomas Crandall had taught him nothing else, he had finally convinced him most people did not consider the ability to swindle a virtue. Will figured he’d better not let her in on his little secret.
“Will?” Emily’s whisper caressed his senses and made every single one of his body cells quiver.
“I’m here, my love. I’m here. Nobody can hurt you. I’m here.”
“Oh, Will!” Emily cried, and flung herself into his arms.
“It’s all right, Emily. It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”
“Oh, Will, I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”
Her blurted confession was enough to send any remaining thought of reasoning with her flying out of Will’s head. As he felt her soft body melt against his, the only thing he wanted to do was give her comfort. Well, perhaps not the only thing, he realized as his own body came to attention.
“I’m so sorry, Will. I’ve treated you horribly. How can you even bear to speak to me?”
Since she had not as yet found the courage to tell him why she believed she had treated him horribly—and Will did not think it was his place to tell her he had found her out anyway—he wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He solved the problem by stroking her tenderly from her neck to her soft bottom, and whispering over and over again how much he loved her.
He wondered if she would ever stop crying onto his leather vest and began to consider the advisability of moving her sweet face an inch or two over to rest against his cotton shirt. He was sure cotton wouldn’t mind tears as much as leather. But at long last Emily hiccupped into silence. He tightened his hug and let her rest, sure that she needed it after her energetic outburst.
It had been at least fifteen years since Emily had felt protected and loved; not since before her parents died in a terrible accident when she was five. From the very beginnings of her life with her aunt after that, even at her tender age, Emily had taken charge. She’d had to. The blissful protection of Will’s strong arms was a comfort she hadn’t even realized she’d missed until now. She gave a giant sigh of contentment.
“Better now?” Will’s soft question was accompanied by a kiss.
“I—I think so.” Emily’s throat felt as though it had been scraped with sandpaper. “Oh, Will, I’m so glad you’re here. Even though I know you must hate me now.”
“Hate you? How could I possibly hate you?”
Emily bowed her head in shame. “I’m a fraud, Will.”
“Aw, Emily.” Will wrapped her up again. Since it seemed expedient and she was tugging on his arms, he lay down beside her. “You’re not a fraud, love.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Emily. Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better. I can’t bear to see you this unhappy.”
Emily peeked up as a wonderful idea suddenly struck her. She might not have Will Tate forever, but he was here now. Perhaps she could snatch one more heavenly night of bliss to remember in her dotage.
“Do you mean it, Will?”
“Anything, Emily darling. Anything I can do to make you stop being miserable. Please tell me.”
He saw a tiny smile play upon her formerly unhappy lips and his spirits lifted. Then she began to unbutton his shirt. When she kissed his chest, Will groaned.
He hadn’t intended to allow himself to get this carried away. After all, they weren’t married yet. This was infamous conduct on his part, making beautiful love to the woman of his dreams before the ceremony had even been performed. Oh, he knew he would wear her defenses down sooner or later and make her agree to marry him, but this still seemed wrong somehow.
Then Emily kissed him again, on the mouth this time, teasing his tongue with hers. She pressed her perfect breasts into his chest until he was sure his shirt was going to catch fire. Suddenly, what they were doing didn’t seem quite so wrong after all.
“Emily, love.” His voice was ragged. “You’d better not do that anymore.”
Emily drew back and asked, bewildered, “Why not, Will?”
“Because when you do that, I can barely control myself. I want to make love to you, Emily, and it’s not proper. You’ve been trying to teach me propriety, and I’m just as sure as anything this isn’t proper.”
But Emily would have none of it. “There’s a time for propriety, Will Tate, and a time to let propriety go hang. This is one of the times when it’s suitable to let propriety go hang.” She used her prim teacher’s voice and emphasized her instructions with a gentle stroke along his arousal.
“Oh, Lord,” he groaned.
“Stand up, Will,” she commanded.
With another agonized groan, Will did as he was told.
The heavenly agony of having Emily undress him was taking its toll. A fine sheen of sweat erupted on Will’s brow. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He was almost afraid to move for fear he would explode before he’d done his manly duty. But Emily managed to remove first his pants, then his drawers. When she began to press tiny, rapturous kisses along his shaft, he uttered such a growl of desperate longing as he had never heard from his throat. His hands buried themselves in her shining tresses, and he knew he couldn’t stand it any longer.
With one fluid motion, he picked Emily up, flopped himself flat on her bed, and pulled her over his hard body. She smiled down at him and he felt like weeping for joy.
“Oh, God, Emily, I love you so much.”
Emily had to kiss him for those sweet words, so she did. When she opened her eyes again, she discovered their positions had somehow become reversed. She now lay on her back with Will sprawled over her. She arched like a cat when he kissed a throbbing path to the sweet curls hiding her secrets. When she felt his tongue stroke her there, she had to cram her hand into her mouth to keep from screaming.
The sweet torment was incredible. When Will finally dove his flesh into hers, they groaned a passionate duet of pleasure. Deeper and faster, with Emily matching each thrust with a fervent arch of her hips, they drove one another higher and higher until, as one, they burst into a sparkling cascade of fulfillment.
It was a long time before they cooled down sufficiently to continue the conversation Will had come to her room to initiate. When at last he rolled to Emily’s side and drew her close to him, his senses rioted in the pleasure of her softness pressed against him.
Lord above, he loved her. More than he’d ever thought it was possible for one human being to love another human being. His Uncle Mel had prepared him for lots of painful eventualities in life, but he sure hadn’t prepared him for the magnificence of love. It briefly occurred to Will to wonder about the gap in his education, and to feel a little bit sorry for his wily uncle.