Her Outlaw

by Geralyn Dawson

  “Sure, honey. What would you like me to do?”

  Genny’s smile was angelic. “First, you lace your fingers behind your back like this.” She twirled around to demonstrate.

  “All right.” Dair did as requested.

  “Can you hold your arms out away from your back a little further, Mr. Dair?” the third girl, Lila, asked from behind him.

  Dair extended his arms and heard Sarah count, “One. Two. Three.”

  Cold metal touched his wrists. Snap. Jangle. They’d cuffed him. Not a pleasant sensation for a thief. “Girls? I don’t know what sort of trick the boys are playing on you, but it needs to end. Unlock the handcuffs and I’ll see that they—”

  “We were lying to you, Mr. Dair,” Genny confessed, her smile unapologetic. “Miss Emma asked us to do it.”

  “What?”

  “She has the key.”

  Anger pumped through Dair’s veins. Of course she had the key. Dammit. He should have known she surrendered too easily last night. He shouted, “Emma!”

  She sashayed out the front door of the main house, her expression both challenging and set, dark circles under her eyes. Johnny followed at her heels carrying her satchel and wearing a sheepish grin. Dair pinned her with a furious glare. “Emma, this isn’t funny. I want these cuffs off now.”

  “I’m sorry, Dair. I can’t do that. Not until we’re on the train, and I have your word that you’ll cooperate with my plans.”

  He squeezed a word past the cords in his throat. “Plans?”

  “After discussing train schedules with Logan, Holt and Cade, it appears we can be in Fort Worth by suppertime. We’ll see Dr. Daggett first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Logan, Holt and Cade? Those bastards. “Grey! Driscoll! Hollister! Get your butts out here!”

  The reply came from the cabin his friends had claimed as theirs. “That’s not a good idea, MacRae,” Holt called.

  “Now!”

  After a moment, the door to their cabin opened and the men stepped outside. Wearing bed sheets. “She stole our clothes,” Cade explained.

  Dair whipped his head around to stare at Emma. She looked him right in the eyes. “You thought I’d simply lie there next to you and wait for you to die? You should know me better than that, MacRae.”

  Admiration rang in Logan’s voice as he said, “Woke us in the middle of the night, she did. She waltzed in and demanded all our things. Said it was wash day. Said she’d found fleas and lice on the kids and everything we had owned needed to be deloused. Hell, I was still half asleep and her voice reminded me of Nana Nellie. I didn’t think twice.” Scratching his bare chest he added, “I’m still itching from the very idea.”

  “Not until morning came and we went looking for something to wear,” Cade agreed. “That’s when she told us she was holding our britches hostage.”

  “I think you should go on peaceably,” Holt added. “She makes a convincing argument. I don’t see what it’d hurt to see one more doctor, under the circumstances.”

  Dair’s jaw was clenched so tight he had to concentrate to open it to speak. They weren’t going to help him. That was obvious. They wanted him to see another doctor. They wanted him to be poked and prodded only to get the same death sentence. And, they were willing to allow Emma to watch it happen.

  Bastards. Betrayal washed through him. In a tone low and deadly calm, he said, “Emma, unlock these handcuffs.”

  She lifted her chin. “No.”

  Frustration flowed like hot lava. “There’s a killer out there—”

  “Who can wait a few more days for justice. Now, walk over to the wagon, Dair. Our train leaves from town in little more than an hour.”

  Without taking his gaze off Emma, he said, “Boys. Y’all need to deal with this.”

  “I’m not going anywhere dressed in a sheet,” Logan declared. “Besides, I agree with the lovely lady. Go to Fort Worth. See the doctor.”

  “Have you forgotten I’m a wanted man? I’d just as soon not die in a jailhouse or at the end of a rope before my time.”

  “Emma’s brother-in-law is a lawman,” Holt said. “He won’t let that happen.”

  “Besides, those wanted posters are old. You’ve changed a lot since your last bank robbery,” Johnny offered helpfully.

  The last time Dair felt ganged up against this way he’d been running from the police in Edinburgh. “With friends like you…”

  “Oh, quit whining,” Emma snapped. “They’re not enemies. They want what’s best for you. They care about you, Alasdair. You need to be gracious.”

  “Gracious? You want me to be gracious?”

  “I want you to live. More than anything else in the world, I want you to live. So, get in the wagon before I shoot you.”

  Coming from Emma McBride Tate, that actually made sense.

  Dair knew he could put a stop to this. He could refuse to cooperate and wait her out. The woman was stubborn, but he’d developed a near infinite store of patience during his days as a thief. But she looked so brittle…as if she were on the verge of breaking…that he felt compelled to deal with her.

  “Tell you what, Em. Let me go deal with the killer, then I’ll go to Fort Worth with you. I give you my word.”

  She started shaking her head before he finished speaking. “We’re going today. You owe me, Dair. I could spend an hour explaining why, but that would be a waste of time for both of us. You know you owe me, so here’s my deal. You do this for me, and I’ll consider us even. After that, you can do whatever you want.”

  It wasn’t the words she spoke that had Dair reconsidering his position, but the sheen in her eyes. Emma looked like she was about to cry. He realized that never once, through everything they’d been through, had he seen her shed a tear.

  That was one sight he’d gladly go to his grave without witnessing. God, please don’t cry over me, Texas. I couldn’t bear it.

  In that moment, he couldn’t refuse her anything. “Two days. I’ll give you two days. That, and I’ll have your word that you will stay home in Fort Worth where it’s safe while I go look for the killer.”

  Her lips pursed in a begrudging pout, Emma nodded. Dair demanded, “Say it aloud.”

  “All right, you have my word.”

  Dair didn’t believe it for a minute, but at least he’d have ammunition in his pocket for the argument sure to come. He turned around and presented his wrists. “The key, please?”

  “Not until we’re on the train.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Emma.” He dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head in frustration. “Fine. Be that way.”

  He glanced over at Logan. “I’d like you to come with us. We’ll go straight to my mother’s old place from FortWorth.”

  Logan nodded. “Miss Emma, can I please have my pants back? I think we’d all be more comfortable if I was wearing more than a toga on this trip.”

  Emma called, “Annabelle, give Mr. Grey back his clothes, please.”

  “What about us?” Cade protested.

  “The children have instructions. You’ll have your clothes back by lunchtime.”

  Holt rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re tough, Emma.” To Dair, he added, “I’m gonna hope real hard this doc of hers has a cure. After this morning, the idea of keeping my promise scares me half to death.”

  Dair just shook his head and sighed and climbed into the wagon. Though he and Emma had little to say to one another on the trip into town, Logan and Johnny kept the conversation flowing until they arrived a little less than an hour later. Only upon their arrival at the train depot did Emma relent and release him from the handcuffs. Dair rubbed his wrists and posed a question that had occurred to him halfway into town. “Emma, are you certain this trip to Fort Worth won’t backfire on you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your hope is to prolong my life, correct?”

  “It is.”

  “Recall that I had you and your family investigated before you arrived at Chatham Park. I
n light of those discoveries, one must wonder if presenting myself at Willow Hill might not be the final act of my misbegotten life.”

  “Why do you…oh.” She grimaced. “Papa.”

  “Trace McBride will surely want to kill me.”

  “Yes, but he won’t do it.” She hesitated, chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe I won’t send that telegram, after all. I think it’s better if we simply surprise them. Papa will be so happy to see me, he won’t think about killing you. Not right away.”

  “Wait a minute,” Logan interjected. “Am I understanding that Trace McBride is Emma’s father? You ran off with Trace McBride’s daughter?”

  “Technically, she ran off after me.”

  “Trace McBride.” Logan shook his head, then laughed. “And you’re gonna waltz into his house with his daughter on your arm with no ring on her finger? Damn, MacRae. I don’t know if I want to be party to this. Dying is one thing. Suicide is something else.”

  Dair pursed his lips. His friend did have a point. “Emma, would it make things easier for you if we stopped somewhere and got married before reaching Fort Worth?”

  “Was that a marriage proposal?” Irritation snapped in her eyes.

  “If you’d like it to be.” He would be fine with marrying her if that’s what she wanted. Although, he couldn’t imagine she’d want to be a two-time widow. He truly didn’t know what was best. He simply wanted to make this as easy on her as possible.

  “The romance of the moment overwhelms me,” she dryly replied. She smiled then, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, MacRae, but who said I’d marry you anyway?”

  After that, there didn’t seem much more to say.

  “She sure is something, Dair,” Logan murmured in his ear as they followed Emma onto the train. “If you beat this death sentence, then I’d say you’re the luckiest man on earth. And if you don’t, well, I reckon you’ll understand when I say I hope like hell I live up to my nickname.”

  “Shut up, Lucky.” Dair didn’t want to think about his Emma in the arms of Logan Grey or any other man. He didn’t want to think about the upcoming meeting with Trace McBride, either. That’s why, for the first time ever, when he felt the first telltale signs of an oncoming headache, he smiled.

  Some kinds of pain were easier to deal with than others.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Fort Worth

  TRACE MCBRIDE’S BACK HURT like a sonofabitch. “Ah, hell, treasure,” he said to his wife, Jenny. “Not another trunk. We’re not moving to Scotland you know.”

  “Quit whining. I’m taking gifts for the Rosses. I’m not arriving at Rowanclere castle empty-handed.”

  “Is this all of it, then?” Trace eyed the pile of luggage at the bottom of the stairs and scowled. “Where are the boys? They need to be helping me load the wagon. That’s the reason I had boys to begin with.”

  “Don’t give me that. The boys did load the wagon, all but these last few pieces.” Jenny walked out of the dining room shuffling through the pile of mail she’d stayed up half the night preparing. “I sent them over to Kat’s and Mari’s to help Jake and Luke. We were about done and they’ll need the help with all the children.”

  Trace shut his eyes and shook his head. “If they bring half the amount of stuff you’ve packed, Jenny, we might as well hire our own ship to take us across the Atlantic. I should have left yesterday by myself. Traveled fast and light.”

  Jenny looked up from her pile of mail and her eyes softened with compassion. “Darling, I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too. But think about what Jake has told us about this Dair MacRae. He’ll take care of Emma. We have to believe that or else we’ll worry ourselves sick long before we ever reach Scotland.”

  Trace set his teeth and raked his fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. “I’m scared, treasure.”

  Jenny set down her mail and wrapped her arms around her husband. Laying her cheek against his chest, she murmured, “I know. Me, too.”

  How quickly life can change, Trace thought as he stood in the foyer of his Fort Worth home, Willow Hill. Yesterday, life had been pretty damned good. They’d celebrated the christening of Maribeth’s new additions to the family and Kat’s marriage to a reformed scoundrel who—though he wasn’t good enough for Kat—made her happy. Then, during the barbecue reception Trace and Jenny were hosting on the back lawn at Willow Hill, a messenger arrived with news that shook the McBride family to its collective soul. A murder warrant had been issued in Scotland for Emma and she was on the run.

  Now, the entire family was leaving on the evening train. While Trace didn’t like the idea of taking the womenfolk along, he knew he could use the help of his sons-in-law. Jake Kimball knew the man Emma had run off with. Luke Garrett had a lawman’s badge that might come in handy if professional courtesy came into play. Since neither man would leave their families behind—not that Kat or Maribeth would let them do it anyway—and his own Jenny sure as hell wouldn’t remain in Fort Worth with Emma in trouble overseas, Trace hadn’t fought the idea of taking the family too hard. They’d make the Highland home of the Rosses their base of operations, and if all went well, they’d be back in Fort Worth in time for the Harvest Ball.

  How’s that for positive thinking?

  Trace gave Jenny one more squeeze, then stepped away. “I’d better get the rest of the luggage loaded. But let this be the last of it, all right? I’m worried I’ll throw out my back. The only good thing about an ocean crossing is having all those hours with nothing to do but make love to you, and if a trunk full of geegaws prevents that from happening, I won’t be a happy man.”

  “And I won’t be a happy woman. This trunk holds our pillows. If that’s too much for you, wait, and I’ll help as soon as I finish my paperwork.”

  Trace smiled for the first time that day. “I do like a woman with a sarcastic tongue.”

  Jenny snorted a laugh. “What you like is a woman who knows how to use her tongue.”

  He waggled his brows. “Often.”

  She slapped him on the butt. “Go load the wagon, McBride. Don’t forget to lift with your knees.”

  Trace placed a satchel atop the lightweight trunk on his shoulder, then sauntered down the sidewalk, his mood temporarily lightened by the byplay with his wife. Jenny had that touch, the ability to make even the darkest days brighter. He wouldn’t have survived those black months when they thought Kat was dead or the awful time after sweet Susie was killed without Jenny. No, the day Jenny Fortune decided to move her dressmaking business into the building where he’d lived with his Menaces was beyond a doubt the luckiest day of his life.

  Setting the trunk on the ground behind the wagon, Trace frowned. He’d need to do some rearranging. He climbed up into the wagon bed and using his legs, not his back, shifted the baggage around, his thoughts drifting between past and present.

  Luck. Good luck and bad luck and the Curse of Clan McBride. Mari and Kat were all excited about the news out of Scotland. Crazy girls. They were certain Emma was about to break the infamous Bad Luck curse.

  Trace didn’t know how he felt about the whole idea. There was no denying that the McBride family had a tough time when it came to love. He and his brother, now Mari and Kat, all had to overcome great trials before finding happiness in marriage. And poor Emma, losing Casey like she had…no one would accuse her of being lucky in love. Now she was running around Scotland with a man who Luke had found out this morning had his name listed on a dozen different wanted posters.

  Why is it my girls go after men who live their lives on the wild side of trouble? When he’d asked that question last night while lying sleepless in bed with his wife, Jenny had responded that young women often look to marry men like their father. He hadn’t had a good response to that one.

  Trace gave a suitcase a shove. Unlucky in love, he could buy, but a fairy curse? That stretched superstition to a whole new level. Could Trace actually make that leap? He wouldn’t even consider it, except…those pendants weren’t paste.
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  Say there was something to this legend. Would Emma be safer or in more danger if she were about to break the fairy prince’s curse? Chances are, the guy wouldn’t like it. What sort of nasty tricks could a fairy prince pull on his little girl? Good God, I can’t believe I’m even thinking such nonsense.

  “I’ve lost my mind,” Trace grumbled beneath his breath. “I’ve finally cracked from the stress.”

  He jumped down from the wagon and shoved a trunk off to one side, leaving the perfect amount of space for Jenny’s carpetbag. His mind occupied with the geometry of fitting the rest of the luggage into the wagon bed, Trace glanced over his shoulder when he sensed someone behind him. “Hand me your mother’s bag there, would you please, Emma?”

  She did as he asked and the bag slid right in. Good. They might just make this in one trip after all. Trace started up the front walk toward the house where the last pile of bags waited. Halfway there, his mind registered what had just happened. “Emmaline?” he said, whirling around. His heart stuttered.

  There she stood, his eldest, his sweet beautiful darling Emma. Safe. Sound. And not, thank God, in Scotland.

  “Baby.” He held his arms wide and rushed toward her even as she flew at him. Once he held his little girl in his arms, Trace felt the axis of his world shift. All was right again. “Ah, Em. You had me so scared.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa.”

  “I was coming to get you.”

  “You were? Why? Didn’t you get my letters telling you everything was fine?”

  “Uh-huh.” He loosened his hold on her, took a step back. She looked tired. Weary. Sad, even. “You don’t look like a murderer.”

  “Murderer!” She winced. “Oh.”

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  “Not necessarily, but something tells me I don’t have a choice.” Her voice trembled slightly as she said, “Papa, I—”

  “Emma!” Jenny let out a squeal of delight that echoed through the city streets.

  Then Emma was out of his arms and into her mother’s, and Trace folded his arms and watched the reunion with a wide grin on his face until he belatedly realized somebody else observed the scene, too.