Her Outlaw

by Geralyn Dawson

  “What is this place?”

  “Look at the flowers, Emma. They’re the same flowers that are depicted in the painting of my mother’s cottage. The same flowers that she always kept in the vase that sat on the shelf in the cabin. Fresh flowers even in winter.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “This is a magical spot. A fairy ring. My mother told me that speaking the truth here within the boundaries of the ring will gain me life’s greatest treasure.”

  “The Sisters’ Prize?”

  “No. A treasure greater than that. I’ve some things I need to say to you, Emma. Will you listen?”

  She couldn’t speak past the lump of nervousness in her throat, so she nodded. Dair gave her hand a squeeze, then said, “First I need to explain what happened. Those things I spoke of with Campbell…”

  Suddenly, her fatigue intensified. “It doesn’t matter, Dair.”

  “I didn’t lie, Emma. I didn’t know. I didn’t remember any of it until today. Let me tell you what happened.”

  He told her a fantastic story about the pain in his head and a dam burst of memories. As he talked about his mother’s murder, a seed of an idea took root in Emma’s mind and grew until it flowered into hope. She drew a shaky breath and asked, “The memories were locked away in your mind all these years?”

  “Yes. I guess the events of that night were too much for a child to deal with so I buried them.”

  Emma’s pulse rate doubled as her mind raced. “And you started having your headaches when, Dair? About a year ago, right? After you played cards with Hamish Campbell?”

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  She clasped her hands. “Dair, what if that’s it? Is it possible that the headaches were brought on by the blocked memories trying to get out? What if the doctors were wrong and you’re really not dying?”

  Hope flickered briefly in his eyes, then he smiled sadly, reaching out to trail a finger down her cheek. “It’s a nice thought, Texas, but I’m afraid that’s too easy. If it were only a headache, I might buy it, but the tremors, the vomiting, the vision problems—those are all real.”

  “But—”

  He placed a finger against her lips. “Shush, now, and listen. It doesn’t matter. You’ve been right all along and I’ve been a close-minded fool. Here’s the proof.”

  He reached into his pocket and drew out her necklace. Emma gasped when she saw it and warmed with pleasure. “Where did you find it?”

  “Where doesn’t matter. Ask me why I found it and I’ll tell you Fate decreed I should. The necklace drives home a point for me. What were the odds that we’d find your necklace after it was stolen? What were the odds I’d meet you and recognize the ruby’s engravings when I recalled nothing else about my life with my mother? What were the odds that Jake would dream about Kat’s necklace years before he met her, that they’d eventually fall in love? What were the odds that Mari would follow the mention of Kat’s necklace in a letter on an odyssey that would lead her to love with Luke Garrett? And going back to the very beginning, what were the odds that you and your sisters would go looking for a gypsy fortune-teller and find a Scotswoman with intimate knowledge of your family’s history?”

  “You make it sound fantastical.”

  “That’s because it is fantastical. The odds of all that happening are incredibly, impossibly long. Fate had a hand in all of this, Emma.”

  Her heart quickened. “What are you saying?”

  “Outlaws are always gamblers, and I learned early on to figure odds. When I moved past my own fear and really looked at all these long odds, I realized I’d be a fool not to put my money on the trend.”

  Tenderly, he cupped her cheek. “I love you, Emma Tate. You are the woman of my dreams, the mistress of my heart, the mate for my soul. My past is a swamp of mean motives and dirty deeds, and I’ll never be able to atone for the things I’ve done, but fate brought you into my life, offering me a chance for redemption. Your love can be my salvation, Emma. If I’ll allow it to be. That’s where the strength part comes in. It takes a powerful love to get me past my fears. But we have that, don’t we?”

  Tremulously, she nodded. She couldn’t get words past the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to hope, didn’t dare.

  “I’m shamed to admit that in that cesspool of my past, I’ve been less than genuine with women. False words of love and affection tumbled from my tongue with nary a second thought. But with you, Emma, I speak from my heart. My love for you is genuine. It’s real. It’s true love. As, I believe, is your love for me.”

  “It is,” she insisted, blinking back tears. “It is.”

  He slipped the necklace over her head and around her neck. The pendant settled between her breasts. He picked it up, held it, rubbed his thumb across the ruby’s engravings. “That brings us to vigilant, doesn’t it? Vigilant means keeping careful watch for possible danger or difficulties. You’ve been vigilant, Emma. You did everything within your power to protect our love from the danger that threatens it. I was the one who failed this test. I wanted to be in control. I was wrong and I see that now. From this moment on, I, too, will be vigilant of our love. I will protect it from danger.” He paused, sucked in a breath, then blew it out in a rush. “I’ll go see the surgeon that doctor of yours recommends.”

  Emma clasped her hands below her chin. “You’ll have the surgery?”

  He let out a shuddering breath. “If the doctor thinks I should, then yes. I’ll roll the dice, Texas. I’ll bet those long odds. I’ll put my trust in fate and faith and give up my effort to control. I’ll do it for you. I’ll do it for us.”

  “Oh, Dair.” She threw herself against him, wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tight. “I love you. I love you so much.”

  She lifted her face for his kiss and their lips met in a melding of emotion, a joining of souls, that wordlessly conveyed the truths in their hearts. They loved. Tears so seldom spilled welled in her eyes and overflowed.

  Emma rested her head against his chest, drawing comfort and strength from his embrace. “Your mother was right. This fairy ring is a magical place, Dair. For the rest of my life, I’ll treasure the memory of this moment and I’ll hold—”

  She broke off abruptly. Fairy ring. Treasure. Hold.

  “What is it, Emma? What’s wrong?”

  “That woman, the friend of your mother’s.”

  “Bess?”

  Emma’s heart pounded. Her mouth went dry. “Remember what she said? She said ‘Roslin once told me that if a McBride and MacRae ever came to me, I was to pass along this message. The fairy ring holds the key.’ Do you think…?”

  “The Sisters’ Prize,” Dair breathed, his eyes alight with speculation. He gave her a quick, hard kiss, then knelt on one knee at the very center of the circle of grass, pulled the Guardian’s dirk from a sheath on his belt and started digging.

  Quickly, Dair’s efforts uncovered a flat rock about the size of a dinner plate. As he brushed away the brown dirt, she spied the carving on the rock. Her hand clutched her necklace. “It’s the symbol!”

  “It’s the X that marks the spot in the ‘Land of Beginning Again.’” Dair lifted the rock to reveal a foot-deep hole lined in wood. At the bottom of the hole rested a small gold box. Three jewels decorated the box—a sapphire, an emerald and a ruby.

  “The treasure!” she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. “You found the treasure!”

  Dair lifted the jeweled box from the cache and handed it to Emma. “Open it, Texas.”

  Her hands trembled. “My sisters should be here. We all should be together to find the Sisters’ Prize.”

  “Ordinarily, I’d agree, but not today. This was meant for us, Emma. I feel it in my bones.”

  She sensed it, too, so holding her breath, she opened the box. “A key?”

  “And a letter.”

  Emma lifted the note. “Oh, my. Your name is on it, Dair.”

  Dair blew out a breath, accepted the envelope from her, and
opened it. As he read, a grin spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be hanged. The Guardian was no fool. Though she considered a fairy circle secure enough to protect the treasure’s key, she thought the wealth itself should reside in a more substantive place. The key fits a lock in a bank box, Emma.”

  “A bank? Where?”

  He rolled his tongue around his cheek. “Fort Worth National.”

  “Oh, my God. Your mother put the treasure in a bank? What an intelligent woman.”

  “She was the Guardian.” Dair rose, then reached for her hand and tugged her to her feet. Placing his finger beneath her chin, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “She protected that which was important—both the prize and me. I’m taking that lesson to heart. Emma, I need you to do something for me. Something that will be difficult.”

  Wariness entered her eyes. “What?”

  “I need you to recognize that you are on the verge of breaking the Curse of Clan McBride. You have found a love that is powerful, vigilant and true.”

  “I have. We have. That’s not difficult to admit.”

  “No. The hard part comes with the task. Emma, on the train ride to East Texas, Mari explained her theory about the tasks Roslin of Strathardle mentioned.”

  “That she needed to find herself, Kat to forgive herself, and me to free myself.” Emma shrugged. “I’ve done that, Dair. I’m finally free of my past.”

  “Yes, now you are, but will you remain that way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’s possible there might be a final test for your task. If I don’t beat the odds…if I have this operation and die—”

  “Don’t say that!” Emma wanted to reach up and cover her ears. She wouldn’t hear that. She wouldn’t think it.

  “We will still have shared a love that was powerful, vigilant, and true. But for the task to be completed, the Curse of Clan McBride ended, you may be called upon to prove that you’ve completed your task. You can’t close your heart again, Emma. I need your word that if I die, you’ll honor our love by remaining open to another love sometime in your future. You have to promise me.”

  She gave her head a shake. “Excuse me? You’re not dead yet and you’re telling me to fall in love with somebody else? That’s an awful thing to ask.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m asking.”

  “Well how could you?” She pulled away from him, turned away from him. “That’s just mean.” Then she whirled back around and glared up at him. “Would you be so quick to turn to someone else?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” For a moment, he appeared taken aback by her expression. Then determination hardened his jaw. “But would you want me to grieve over your grave for the rest of my life, alone and brokenhearted? Could you bear that image? I couldn’t. I can’t. Please don’t do that, Emma. Promise me that you’ll live your life to the fullest. I need to go into that operation with that surety, that comfort. I need that peace of mind as I brave my greatest fears to guard the true and special love we share.”

  She gazed up into his earnest, silver eyes and recognized his pain. Opening her mind, she allowed his plea to sink in.

  He was asking her to survive even if he didn’t. Since she’d faced such a trial in the past, she knew how desperately difficult keeping such a promise would be.

  He’d been right when he said what he was asking of her would be hard. But he was braving his greatest fear for her. Could she do anything less? No. Dair was proving the strength of their love. She must be strong for him, too.

  She drew a deep, shaky breath, then said, “I promise you that I will live my life to the fullest, Alasdair MacRae. Without you, I’ll grieve, but I’ll survive. For I’ve found my powerful, vigilant and true love. But with you—oh, Dair, with you—I’ll live in true happiness and joy. I’ll roll those dice, too. I’ll put my trust in fate and faith and maybe even fairies. I’ll bet that the McBride bad luck is about to change. We’ll be happy together for a long, long time.” Then she paused, lifted her chin, and added, “On one condition.”

  Warily, he asked, “What’s that?”

  “I want you to find a minister and marry me as soon as we get back to Nacogdoches.”

  A lazy grin stretched his mouth. “Is that a proposal, Emma Tate?”

  “No. It’s a condition. You’re the one who needs to make the proposal.”

  “I’d like nothing better—if only to get your father off my back.” He ignored her punch to his arm and continued, “But are you sure, Emma? You don’t want to wait until after the operation and have one of the infamous McBride family weddings?”

  “I’ve already done that once. I’m not nearly as interested in the wedding as I am in the honeymoon. Have you heard about the honeymoon Jake gave my sister?”

  “He did mention something about a harem fantasy.”

  “Among other things. It’s a long train ride to Baltimore, Mr. MacRae, and you’re a clever man. I expect you can come up with a honeymoon fantasy to rival Kat’s.”

  “Hmm…I’ll get to work on it right away.”

  “After.”

  “After?”

  She sighed and gave his arm another punch.

  “For the record, I don’t hold with spousal abuse.”

  “Hit your knee, MacRae.”

  With that, Alasdair MacRae took her hand in his and in the middle of the fairy circle went down on one knee. “Emma, you own my heart, my passion, my battered and imperfect soul. Will you be my partner in the adventure of life? Will you share the risks and rewards that an uncertain future has to offer? Emma, love of my life, my reason to live, I want to make a formal commitment to a love that is powerful, vigilant and true. Texas, will you marry me?”

  She sank to her knees in front of him and stared at him through a shimmer of tears. “Yes, outlaw of mine, I’ll marry you. You own my heart, my passion, and my own imperfect soul. I’ll be your partner in adventure, in boredom, in life for as long as we have to share. And, if fate decrees the worst, I’ll be worthy of you in death. Love with me, Dair MacRae. Live for me.”

  “I’ll do my damnedest, Texas. I’ll do my damnedest.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore

  DAIR DRIFTED TOWARD WAKEFULNESS and awareness of an aching pounding in his head. He’d done this before, he thought. Different, though.

  He sensed a touch on his hand. The gentle stroke of a thumb. I’m still alive. Still alive. For now.

  EMMA LOOKED UP FROM HER vigil at her husband’s bedside as her parents entered the room. Jenny’s brows knotted with concern while Trace’s worried gaze scanned Dair’s prone body. “How’s he doing?”

  “Dr. Cushing says I shouldn’t worry, that it’s not unusual for a brain surgery patient to take so long to wake up. The fever has been gone for twenty-four hours now. That’s a good sign.”

  “His color is good,” Jenny offered. “Much improved over yesterday, I think.”

  “Yes.” Emma clasped Dair’s hand, stroked her thumb over his knuckles. “I think so, too.”

  Trace cleared his throat. “I’ll sit here with him if you want to go with your mama for a bit.”

  “You need to rest, Emma,” Jenny added.

  “I will. Just not yet. I want to be here when he wakes up. It’ll happen anytime now. I’m sure of it.” He was going to wake up. He had to. He simply couldn’t die, not after all they’d been through. Not when her dreams were just waiting to come true. Not when he had so much to live for—even more than he knew.

  Yet, in the deepest, darkest hours of the soul, she faced the reality that she could lose him. It was almost more than she could bear. But Emma knew that if the worst happened, bear it she would. She’d treasure their time together and live her life forward rather than bury it in the past. She had to do it that way. She’d given him her word.

  Two days later, Trace and Jenny managed to coax Emma from Dair’s bedside only after Dr. Cushing ordered his patient isolated.

  The fever was back.
>
  HOT. SO HOT. MUST BE IN the desert.

  Can’t move. Tied down? Captured?

  No. Wait. Honeymoon. Private train car. Arabian Nights.

  Flush of pleasure. Emma. Smell her perfume. She must be nearby. She won’t leave. So determined.

  I’ll be determined, too. Need to wake up. Need to see her. Need to live. To have a future. A future with Emma. Wake up. Wake up. Head hurts. Pain too much. Tired. So tired.

  Too weak. Not strong enough. Love is vigilant and true but not strong enough. Mama? Mama, is that you?

  DOZING IN HER CHAIR AT Dair’s bedside, Emma jerked awake. It was late afternoon and the warm sunshine beaming through the window had lulled her to sleep. Why was sitting in a hospital doing nothing more physical than trying her hand at knitting so exhausting? Standing, she stretched as she studied her husband. He’d grown so gaunt since the surgery, and two recent days of high fever had left him looking older than his age.

  “Oh, Dair,” she said on a worried sigh. What she wouldn’t give to see him move, to watch him open his eyes, to hear his precious voice say her name. “Come back to me, MacRae. I need you. Do you hear me? I have news to tell you that is burning a hole in my tongue. You’ve slept long enough.”

  She brushed a lock of dark hair off his brow and was encouraged by the coolness of his skin. “I never took you for a lazy man, but I’m about to reconsider. Wake up, MacRae. It’s time. I need you to open those gorgeous gray eyes.”

  WAKE UP, MACRAE. IT’S TIME.

  Dair fought his way through the fog of unconsciousness toward the sound of Emma’s voice. She droned on and on, scolding him. Cajoling him. I didn’t know I married such a nag.

  His eyelids felt like fifty-pound weights, but he slowly managed to pry them open. At first, the light hurt his eyes. Blinded him. He blinked once. Twice. Then he saw Emma sitting beside his bed. She stared at their hands, linked together. “…all I can do not to tell Mama,” his wife was saying. “I think she suspects, but…”

  She looked so beautiful. Where was he? Why was he in bed and she not? Why was a tear rolling down her cheek?