Billionaire's Holiday Bride: A Bad Boy Christmas Romance

by Serena Vale

  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 riding 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 loo
ked 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 around 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.

  He held out a small velvet box for her and she took it gingerly.

  “It’s so beautiful, Emmett.”

  “Well, you have to open it up,” he laughed, and she blushed again as she took off the lid. She gasped at what she had unveiled. The most beautiful think she had ever seen lay inside. A ring with a single diamond that shone up from a sea of blue green aquamarines.

  “Oh my, Emmett. Oh my. Oh my.”

  “Is that all you can say?” He laughed at her again and she sent him a mock scowl.

  “It’s…incredible. Absolutely incredible,” she said, never once looking away from him. And he truly was.

  Chapter 3

  Life was heaven. There was no other word to describe the pure bliss coursing through her veins as she looked over the coach bench at her husband, his handsome face relaxed and smiling as they road toward the center of the town. Jamey was at the reins, guiding the horses and she had learned over the past weeks that he had a deft hand indeed. He was even training to be a Jockey at some local races.

  Clara knew her happiness showed on her face for all to see, but how could it not? She could not have asked for a better home, a better fresh start, and most of all, a better husband. Emmett was everything she had ever imagined she wanted, and even more.

  She knew she was falling in love with him, but again, how could she not? She snuck another glance at him and this time, couldn’t contain herself.

  “Emmett, what are we going to do in town? Do you have a lot of friends there? Is there someplace special you’re taking me?” The questions popped out rapid fire and she put a hand over her mouth to stop herself. Emmett just looked over and smiled.

  “We are going dress shopping. I wouldn’t call them friends. And yes.” He smiled again, more mysterious this time and Clara couldn’t help the urge to rile him a bit. She gave him an exaggerated look up and down.

  “I don’t know, Emmett. I’m not sure how you would look in a dress.” He did laugh out loud at that remark and threw an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. It warmed her all the way to her toes.

  “It’s not for me, silly. I wanted to buy you some new dresses, that’s all. I noticed the ones you had were getting a little…older.” Older was putting it kindly, she thought as she looked at him.

  “Thank you, Emmett. That is very sweet of you.”

  “Of course, there are some other things you’ll need too.” He said, and that devilish look was back in his dark eyes.

  “Like what?” Clara asked when he was silent for a long moment.

  “Petticoats. Hosiery. Under things.” He said it so nonchalantly that it took a moment for it to sink in and she waited for the embarrassment to come, but it never did. Instead, she found she was as comfortable with this man as she ever had been. It was like she had known him her entire life rather than just two short weeks.

  They rolled into the dusty town about half of an hour later and Jamey pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of the dress maker’s shop. Clara was impressed as they walked in at all of the fine fabrics and cutting edge fashions on display. It was almost too much for her to take in and she had no idea where to even start.

  All of the clothes she owned had belonged to her mother, which she had taken in and patched a hundred times over. It really was overwhelming. Luckily, just then the dress maker herself, whom Clara learned was called Miss Badington, took her in the hand and told her exactly what she needed. With a few pointed suggestions from Emmett, of course.

  It took several hours of trying on and twirling and pinning and altering for them to agree that she had enough dresses. She had protested after two that it was simply too much but she had been overrun. But she had to admit that the feel of silk and satin sliding against her skin was like nothing she had ever felt before.

  Finally, the fitting was complete, or so she thought until Emmett shot her a wink when Miss Badington brought out a whole additional tome at least a foot thick of underthings. Flushed, Clara took a deep breath.

  “Emmett, dear, I think…I think I need a break,” She leaned close so Miss Badington wouldn’t hear. “We’ve been at it for hours!”

  Emmett looked down and laughed, but nodded as he reached into his pocket. “Why don’t I finish up here, and you go for a walk. Take this. There’s a shop just down the street, Malory’s that sells cold flavored ice.”

  “Flavored ice?” She asked, looking at him dubiously.

  “It’s delicious, believe me. You’ll love it.” He smiled at her and that was all it took to convince her that she would.

  “I’ll be back shortly, husband.” Emmett smiled that single, charming smile that he reserved for when she called him that and answered in kind as she stood.

  “I hope so, wife.” His gaze never left her as she exited the dress maker’s and headed down the street in search of the other store, Mallory’s.

  Clara started to get the feeling that she had walked in the wrong direction when the crowd started to thin. There were less people milling about and the shops themselves started to look more run down and much less friendly.

  A prickle of unease shot down her spine as she turned a corner and came face to face with an alley. The unease soon tur
ned to dread.

  “I know your trying to get a way form me girl,” a dirty hand shot out from behind her, grabbing the back of her dress by a bunch of fabric and yanking her backwards. “But you can never escape yer father.” The words were hissed in her ear as dread turned to complete and utter terror when he tried to pull her farther into the alley and away from any prying eyes.

  “Father! What are you…How did you find me?” She finally managed to get out, but her teeth were chattering so hard her words were barely understandable.

  “I’ve been following you since you gone up and left me with all of that debt and no money to pay it. I lost the home. I lost everything because of you.”

  “Because of me!” Anger fueled her words and she jerked away from him, scrambling around to come face to face with her worst nightmare. “You were the one who drank away every cent I slaved for! You were the one who couldn’t keep a job, who force me to work in that…” She cut off the words, not wanting anyone to overhear.

  “It’s your own fault, father. Not mine. I’m through with letting you blame everyone but yourself for your own problems. But I started new. I have a new life now, a good life. Can’t you just leave me be?”

  “Leave you be? You’re my daughter! You are supposed to take care of me. Respect thy father, isn’t’ that was the lord says?” He wobbled unsteadily and for the first time Clara noticed how slurred his words were. He was drunk. Again.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I can’t–.”

  “Now, you listen to me, you little bitch,” he was suddenly close as he reached for her arm and held it in a painfully tight grip, not allowing her to escape the stench of his breath as he continued spewing his vitriol. “Listen to me, here? You are going to come back with me, or else I’ll tell your new man everything. All of your secrets,” he leaned close to whisper, “working in a whore house. I’ll tell him everything and then he won’t want you, will he?”

  Clara could feel the tears sting the corners of each eye and she jerked her arm away before she could give in to his demands.