Her breasts had swollen, as had her belly. And both were due to the child growing within her. But on the whole, she didn’t think that her body had developed too badly. She was only three months along, after all. There would still be more changes in her future.
And for the better, she thought happily.
“You okay?” asked Alexi from behind her.
She turned and saw him standing in the doorway, trying to adjust his tie and failing.
She smiled at him and approached him. Even after all of this time together it amused her how he still couldn’t complete so simple a task.
“I’m fine,” she said, keeping his fingers from doing anything other to his tie.
He gave her a moment to adjust his tie for him and smiled at her while she worked. When she finished, he bent over and kissed her swelling belly first and then added a second on one of her tender breasts.
He encircled her with his arms, his hands resting on her bare buttocks. He pressed his forehead against hers. “You know, a thought occurred to me this morning.”
She smiled teasingly at him. “Something dirty, I hope?” It was an honest response. They still had at least a half an hour before he had to be downstairs to hear the update from his R&D boys. Time enough for a quickie.
He shook his head. “No… something simple.”
“Simple?”
“Yes.” He took a short breath. “I realized that I never thanked you.”
She waited for him to explain.
“To get me cleaned up,” he said. “Otherwise I’d…”
She silenced him with a kiss. She took it as a win that he had even stopped to consider such a thing. It was a good sign that he had other things on his mind and not just business, as his father wanted. Perhaps that was one thing that she had done too well on, but at times like these, she didn’t care.
She broke the kiss and smiled at him. “Don’t forget to comb your hair. You have to look good.”
The Only Promise
Chapter 1
San Rosa, Texas
1879
“Mrs. Latimer. Mrs. Latimer?” The voice called once again and Clara finally turned offering a slight shrug of embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, I’m still not used to being called that.” The blonde beauty smiled at the waiting coachmen, realizing the young man must have been only sixteen or seventeen. She didn’t notice the way he blushed a bright beet red at her attention. She never noticed the effect she had on men. Some people took it as coyness on her part, but the truth was, Clara never realized how beautiful she truly was.
“Please, call me Clara.” She said, and smiled sweetly again as the young man stumbled forward to grab her luggage. It wasn’t much at all, she thought with a slight frown. A single small chest was all she had been able to manage before her forced flight from that destitute place she refused to call a home. It had never been a home to her, and now it never would be.
“I…I’m Jamey, Ma’am. Jamey Garrison.”
With a shake of her head to dispel the awful memories of the past, she pushed them firmly away as she sent Jamey another smile of gratitude this time for the interruption and followed as he gestured for her to take a seat inside the waiting coach.
“Oh my,” She said as she ducked inside, sinking into the plumy stuffed cushioned bench seat upholstered with dark red velvet, the same rich fabric that draped the walls and made up the curtains that were now pulled to the side. “This is the most extravagant coach I have ever seen.” Clara finally said, looking around with her light green eyes as wide as they would go as she took in the opulent riding vehicle.
“Only the best for Mr. Latimer.” Jamey said, his drawling accent enunciated as he looked around with a proud smile. She could see the look of reverence shining on his dust smudged face. It was obvious that he looked up to his employer and Clara took it to heart. She knew almost nothing about her new husband, but if his employees loved and respected him then surely he must be a good man.
As Jamey took the reins, the coach jolted as the horses began to trot, taking her further away from her past and ever closer to her future. Clara knew that most would call her foolhardy for her actions. Getting hitched to a man she didn’t know, had never even seen. But Mrs. Johnston from the company had guaranteed her a wonderful husband, and more importantly, a life far away from the East Coast. The farther away she was from her father, and her old life, the better. She would deal with almost anything to get away from that.
She pulled out the crumpled letter that she’d taken to carrying folded and stashed in the secret pocket of the bodice of her dress. Carefully, she unfolded the already worn paper, treating as if it were the most delicate thing in the world because to her, it was. For the hundredth time, she scanned the words.
My dearest Clara,
I know we have yet to meet but I cannot wait for that day to come. I hope you are as optimistic as I. There are so many things to learn about each other, to grow to love and cherish. I thought I had everything I could ever want in my life, but I have learned that is untrue. Nothing has made me happy, not truly. Not until you. You will be my happiness, my reason, my hope. I will only make you one promise, and only one. No matter what happens, I will cherish and care for you. And I hope, one day, you will come to feel the same about me.
Waiting with bated breath,
Your husband,
Emmett Latimer
Carefully, Clara swiped at the single teardrop that had fallen onto the page, wiping it just as it began to smear one of the words. She knew this letter by heart, every syllable, every bit of punctuation. She also knew it was naïve to believe the words of a stranger but reading them, she felt like she truly did know him.
She glanced out of the gold framed window as the vehicle slowed and gasped at what she saw. Clara had been vaguely aware of the dusty town of San Rosa as they had driven through it, worn from long, burning hot summers. It was fall now, so a little cooler, but even still her dark green dress seemed overly warm to her.
Her eyes widened even further as Jamey ran around to help her out. She stood for a long moment, just staring up at the massive house. More like a palace, really, especially when she thought of the tiny, one bedroom tenement she and her father had lived in for all of those long years. They’d had a house once, but after her mother died in childbirth, her father had turned to alcohol, to anything that would numb the pain of her loss.
Forcefully, she shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind, staring at her new house as a wide smile broke across her face like sunshine. Finally, she was home.
Emmett watched in dire earnest as the coach drew up the long winding drive. He couldn’t breathe, and found himself actually growing a bit lightheaded as he finally forced himself to inhale. His heart pounded and his palms were sweaty. If he could have managed it at all he would have laughed at himself. Here he was, a man of twenty eight, and as nervous as a boy with his first kiss.
He had conquered every other challenge in his path to get to where he was today, and not always by honest or good means. He had pulled himself up from terrible poverty and now he was the richest man in Texas, maybe even the entire west. Now this slip of a girl was threatening to disturb his entire countenance. And he hadn’t even seen her yet!
Trying to get a hold of himself, or at least distract himself from the ball of lead it felt like he’d swallowed, he dug the gold pocket fob out of his breast coat pocket and checked the time. He knew most thought it was an extravagance to have such an expensive timepiece but he leaned toward the extravagant in most aspects of life. He had learned long ago to ignore the words and thoughts of others. He had spent a lifetime doing it.
“Uh hem.” A delicate sounding throat being cleared in front of him had his pulse sky rocketing again and it took every ounce of his will power not to jump out of his skin. He looked from his pocket watch to the ground where he could just the tips of tiny green leather boots that had obviously seen better days peeking out from the dusty hem of a green ridin
g dress.
His gaze travelled up and up and he had to swallow hard as he passed over the ample curve of her hips, the hip at her waist and had to look away entirely at her more than ample chest, starting again at the graceful length of her neck. It swept up to meet perfectly with the curve of her jaw and the sweet line of her cheeks, flushed a flowing peach and finally his dark gaze collided with her light green and he felt like he was lost forever. Cast adrift in an ocean of clover that he would never escape, nor want to.
“I’m Clara.”
“I’m…I’m pleased to meet you.” He said finally, hating how gruff his voice was. He wanted to be soft and gentle and all the things that she needed him to be, but he knew the truth, even if she didn’t yet. He was an outlaw at heart. A rogue. And he always would be. But he smiled at her anyways, or at least tried to through his trembling lips.
“Well, pleased to meet you, will you kindly show me inside?” She said cheekily, surprising a laugh out of him.
“I’m Emmett.” He qualified, aware that he had a goofy grin spreading across his face, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about.
“I know.” Clara replied, her voice as soft as the breeze, and he could see it then. The same nerves that had almost crippled him plagued her just as voraciously. Maybe even more so because she was in a strange land, in a strange house, with a strange man. His heart melted then, as he stared at her beautiful feminine features, seeing the intrinsic kindness and naiveté that was such an anomaly in his world.
On impulse, he stuck out an elbow, and even gave her a small, but gallant, bow.
“If you would, my wife.” He said, barely choking on the unfamiliar word as he gestured for her to take his arm. She did, without hesitation, and it sent a thrill such as he’d never known shooting through him.
“I would be honored, husband.” With that, they strode inside their home, arm in arm.
Chapter 2
Clara woke the next morning with a smile on her face. How could she not? After so many years of fighting and struggling and desperation, sure that she would never get out of the mess her life had become under her father’s tyrannical rule, she was happy. Really, truly happy. Bright sunshine was beaming through the sheer lace curtains draped over the windows of the room Emmett had shown her to the night before.
She stifled a chuckle at his nervousness. He had been so delicate, to the point that it had taken her several moments to even understand what he had been saying as he’d told her he would like her to stay in this guest room until she felt comfortable enough with him to move into the master bedroom. That was, if she wanted to. Of course, if she didn’t want to that was perfectly fine with him as well. There had been so many stammers and ‘ums’ and ‘ahs’ in there that it had taken many minutes more for her to riddle out what he was saying, and when she had, her heart had melted in her chest.
To be honest, with herself at least, she had been fairly nervous about their ‘wedding night’ so to speak. Clara knew what went on between a man and a woman. She’d grown up in the tenements, for cripes sake. She had seen much worse growing up. She shook her head, turning away from the grimy memories. She hoped that her wedding night would be a far cry from what she had witnessed.
Clara swallowed painfully as she thought of the one thing she never wanted her husband to know. That she knew far more than an unmarried maid should. It had been one of the many reasons she had fled the east coast in the first place. Desperate for money to buy food and pay the rent on their dilapidated one room apartment, she had been forced to take the only job she could find after being fired from a governess position.
Clara had taken work as a maid in a brothel run by a Madame Bartonne. It had started innocently enough, or so she had thought, but she had become even more of a pariah than before when she’d been forced to take the work, even though she hadn’t done anything more nefarious than dust the end tables and wash the linens. That had been the last straw. She worked until her fingers were raw only to come home, if she could even call that dingy tenement building a home, to find her father had drunk all of her hard earned wages.
He had screamed at her, like he always did when he was drunk. Swinging out with meaty fists and yelling the most awful things. It had cut her deeply, once, those words. Words saying that she was the reason her mother had died during childbirth, and that he couldn’t stand to look at her. But she had learned to shut it all away in a tiny corner of herself and never let it out. It was better that way.
She gave herself a shake. This was a new life, and she wanted to put as much distance between her and her past as possible. With a deep breath she stood up, throwing off the covers and quickly dressed herself in the green travel dress she had arrived in. It was the only descent thing she had to wear and she felt slightly out of place amongst the opulence of her new home. Like a stone thrown in with pearls.
But Clara banished that thought as well, determined to focus only on her happiness and the amazing day ahead of her. She looked around the gorgeously appointed grey and gold themed room and was instantly curious about the rest of the massive house. It was almost a palace, really. Emmett had said it had eight bedrooms as well as several sitting rooms, libraries and conservatories. There was a green house in the back and even one of those new fangled toilets that where someone connected to pipes. She laughed at the folly of it.
With a cheerful smile plastered on her rosy cheeked face, Clara went to the door and threw it open to satiate the need to explore.
“Oh, hello ma’am.” A soft voice squeaked. Clara jumped back in surprise as she noticed a young woman standing there in black and white uniform of a maid.
“Hello. And, please, call me Clara. Not ma’am. Makes me feel ancient.” Clara joked, pulling a face, and the young woman let out a laugh before resuming her serious expression.
“I’m Elizabeth, ma…I mean, Clara.” She said, curtsying prettily.
“There. Isn’t that better?”
“Well, actually. It’s a bit odd, ma’am. Will Mrs. Latimer do?” Elizabeth asked, looking so concerned that Clara immediately agreed. “I came to help you dress, Mrs. Latimer.”
“Oh, well, as you can see I can do that just fine for myself.” Clara held out her skirts, wishing she had another dress to wear but didn’t dwell on it. She had learned young to accept what you couldn’t change, and it had saved her a lot of heartache over her life.
“As you wish, Mrs. Latimer.” The girl curtsied again, and Clara was getting exhausted just watching her.
“I was just going to explore my new home a bit, actually.”
“Oh, of course! The gardens are quite lovely this time of year.” Elizabeth said excitedly, and it was contagious.
“That sounds wonderful. Would you care to join me?” She watched as the maid’s expression fell once more into severity.
“That wouldn’t be quite appropriate, Mrs. Latimer. I’m sure you understand.” Clara looked at her for a long moment, and saw her discomfort. Not wanting to cause any more, she made her goodbyes and set off to explore the mansion on her own.
She walked from room to room, every sight making her gasp at its beauty and extravagance. Everywhere she looked seemed to be fit for a king, or queen at that matter.
It didn’t take long at all for her to find the dusty stairs that spoke of disuse that led up to an even higher floor. It struck her as odd, since the rest of the home was sparkling clean. Her curiosity got the best of her and soon she was creeping up the narrow stairway and pushing open the door that opened on rusty hinges.
The room itself was sparsely appointed, in vast contrast to the rest of the house, and as she crept even further she noticed that the attic room was dominated by a large, ancient looking chest. Again, curiosity spurred her ever forward and she reached out to touch the broken lock. With a grin as the sense of excitement flooded through her she bent to push open the massive lid.
“Oh, my dear, what in the blazes are you doing up here?” The voice startled her and she jumped ar
ound with a guilty squeak of surprise.
“Emmett! You scared the daylights out of me.” Clara placed a hand over her racing heart. “I was just exploring the house.”
“As you should. This is your home now.” The words brought a smile to her lips and a tear to her eye. A tear of happiness only. She ran to his side and took his hand without thinking but dropped it as she noticed his dark, striking eyes widen. He was so handsome it almost took her breath away. She couldn’t believe she had been so brazen, but as they stood in silence he reached out and reclaimed her hand in his own and a wave of tenderness threatened to overwhelm her.
Clara still couldn’t believe how lucky she had been to find Emmett, or for him to find her, or for fate to throw them together as it had. Fate had been unkind to her all of her life, so she figured she was owed a little, but never would have thought to wish for someone so altogether…good. Everything about him was good. His heart, his mind, his kindness and compassion. And his features, a sly voice whispered and she could feel heat tinge her cheeks at the thoughts. But she couldn’t deny it.
“Clara, I have something for you.”
“Something else?” She asked disbelieving. “You’ve already given me so much.” She didn’t understand why he looked at her so quizzically.
“But, I haven’t given you anything.” He said, his voice as confused as his gaze but she just shook her head, squeezing his hand even tighter.
“No, Emmett, you’ve given me everything.” They shared a long, charged moment as he continued to look deep inside her then finally he looked away, allowing her to breathe again and cleared his throat. She could have sworn he wiped a drop of moisture from his cheek before he turned back to her and led her down the stairs.
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