After making sure he had a firm hold on the baby, John pulled Emily from the chair. He couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. “Emily, our Lord Jesus was born in a stable!”
More giggles spilled out of her.
John felt sure he’d never heard anything half as delightful. He winked and urged, “Come on!”
Emily whisked the baby out of his arms. “Not yet.” She fussed over the babes first. She changed their nappies, cooed to them, and wrapped them in a blanket apiece, regardless of the fact that the sun still shone. She handed Gracie’s son back to him.
John chortled. “He looks like a stowaway, hiding in the spare, bundled sails.”
They headed toward the stables at more than a genteel walk. In fact, had they each not been slowed down by holding a babe, John wondered if Emily might have actually let go of propriety and skipped a bit. He grinned at the thought, then worried Mary might hasten and be careless.
“Emily, let me carry Timothy, too. You take Violet from Mary, and she can run ahead.”
Emily gawked at him, then shook her head. “Now, Mr. Newcomb, ’tis a fine man you are. Not a soul would deny you’re capable as can be with clippers and men. Why don’t you let me mind cradles and babes?”
He studied her face for a moment, then chuckled in disbelief. “Light as they are, you don’t trust me to carry them both, do you?”
She took the babe from Mary, then pursed her lips and looked up at the scudding white clouds. A second later she trained her gaze on the baby he gently bounced against his shoulder. “Now you’re not being fair. I’ve let you hold Timothy many a time. Much as I love him, you know what a show of trust that is.”
“But you’re not handing him to me now.”
“Let’s just say I think you’ve already plenty enough to handle, holding Gracie’s strapping son.”
John chortled again. He tilted the baby in his arms back a bit and talked to him. “Now how do you fancy that? You’d best keep that satisfied attitude. If you start crying, Emily won’t let me touch the puppies!”
“I won’t have to say a word.” Emily cast an amused look at him. “Blackie will see to that.”
A few minutes later, they sat on the floor of the stable. Duncan let out peals of laughter as the tiny puppies squeaked and wiggled around. He looked up at Emily with huge, shining eyes. “Blackie has seven babies, Em. Seven! Can you just imagine?”
“Aye, and a handsome lot they are,” she said.
Duncan wrinkled his nose. “They’re funny and wet. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised you’re thinking they’re bonny. You said our Timothy was handsome as could be when he got born. I’m glad as ever he doesn’t look like he did the first time I saw him!”
John let out a booming laugh at the look on Emily’s face. He leaned to the side and scooped Violet from her arms. “Go ahead and set Timmy in the straw next to you. Blackie is uncommonly serene about folks touching her litter as long as they don’t lift them away.”
In fact, Blackie barely seemed to care that Emily gently stroked a single finger down the back of each puppy. Then again, Emily crooned to Blackie the whole while. “Ach! Now aren’t you a fine mother? Seven in this pack. You’ll be a tired girl, that’s for sure. I’m thinking from the looks of them, they’ve all taken after you—their fur is almost all black as wrought iron.”
“It’s odd, but some whelps take after their sire while others take after the mother.” John meaningfully glanced down at Timothy, then back at her. “That little fellow’s got Anna’s sweet temperament. I’m certain he’s taken after her, clean down to the bone.”
Duncan giggled. “Em was just saying last night that Timothy must take after me because he’s always looking for more to eat!”
As Emily braided her hair that night, she remembered John’s comment that he needed to discuss something with her. Somehow, in the excitement over looking at the puppies, they’d not had an opportunity to speak. She shrugged. He’d be by in a day or two if it was important.
How she’d come to look forward to the times he stopped by. He filled their cottage with—well, a lot of things. She didn’t mean material things, though he was generous to a fault. No, he brought the important things with him—like safety and courage and companionship. Such a fine man.
He’d taken a shine to Duncan and even let him ride a pony every now and then—but only if he himself was walking alongside. Mr. Peebles, the stable master, had a grandson who was due to come for a visit soon. He and John had decided they’d give both lads riding lessons then.
Nearly half of Duncan’s sentences started with “Mr. John says …” For Duncan’s not having an older brother or a da to guide him, it did Emily’s heart good to see how John Newcomb never made her brother feel like a pest.
Indeed, he never made her feel as if she depended on his charity either. He allowed her to work so she could keep her pride and dignity. Others could see ‘twas a simple business arrangement, so she never feared for her reputation. Clearly, he would never entertain any true affection for her. She accepted that fact, but in the moments before she fell asleep each night, Emily secretly mourned that she wasn’t of his class so things might have worked out between them. Oh, ‘twas nothing more than a silly fantasy, but she’d foolishly allowed her heart to weaken toward him. She saw his goodness, his strength, his kindness. She truly enjoyed his companionship. God shone through him, and that mattered most of all. No man would ever look toward her with courting in mind—with Duncan and Timothy in tow, she’d seem like a wallowing barge instead of a sleek clipper.
For all of his kindness, John Newcomb deserved a loving wife and a houseful of healthy sons. Emily wished all that for him, but she knew when that day came, she’d pack up and slip away, because she couldn’t quite bear to witness a woman take the place she could never even dream to hold.
The fire had burned too hot late this evening, and her room felt stuffy. Instead of adding a log to last the night, Emily decided to let the end of the fire die out. The bright red sailors’ sunset promised tomorrow would be a bonny day.
She fed Timothy one last time, changed his nappy, and tucked him in. After pulling the covers up to Duncan’s neck, Emily returned to her bedchamber and knelt at the side of the bed. After a quiet prayer, she slipped into bed and fell asleep.
A bang startled her awake hours later. Emily bolted upright and wished she’d kept some of the fire so she could see better. She crept from the bed and hastily wrapped her shawl about her shoulders.
High-pitched giggles mingled with muffled footsteps. The bedroom door swung wide open, and a candle illuminated a man with a woman clinging to his arm.
“Edward!” Emily gasped.
Chapter 14
Hurry, sir. Hurry! Em needs you!”
Duncan’s shout echoed through the house as John dashed down the stairs. He’d barely thrown on his trousers and a shirt and run to see what led the lad to be so upset. Duncan stood in the doorway next to Goodhew, the butler.
Just then one of the stable hands ran up the steps and announced breathlessly, “Someone came to the little house!”
John had ordered Mr. Peebles to assign someone to keep an eye on the caretaker’s cottage at all times. The fact that the dwelling had been used made him suspicious, and he’d worried most of all for Emily’s safety if whoever had been trysting there should show up again.
Goodhew looked horrified. His nightshirt flapped about him, making him look like an albatross on takeoff as he spun about and pulled a gun from the drawer.
“Keep Duncan here.” John grabbed the gun, ran down the steps, and vaulted onto the horse the stable hand had arrived on.
A three-quarter moon lit his way, and he rode down the drive, straight into Emily’s small yard. He didn’t bother to knock or announce himself; he burst in.
A woman sat on the settee, boohooing with great gusto. John barely paid her any heed because he heard foul curses coming from the other room. He followed the small yellow nimbus of light into
Emily’s bedchamber. “Emily!”
“Here!” she cried back.
Emily held a fireplace poker with both hands. Back against the wall, Edward held a candlestick in one hand and a wicked-looking knife in the other. He ignored John’s arrival and continued to bellow at Emily.
“Emily!” John commanded. “Step out of the room.”
“It’s him. He’s the one.”
John wasn’t sure whether fear or rage caused her voice to shake. He shoved his pistol into his waistband as he walked to her, then curled his hand around her shoulder. “I’ll handle this.”
“John! Get rid of that woman!” Edward made a show of setting the candle on the mantel and letting out a sigh of relief. “She’s deranged—probably would have killed me if you hadn’t gotten here.”
“He’s the one, John,” Emily croaked. “That’s Edward.”
“I have no idea what this woman means,” Edward protested. “I’ve never met her before.”
Emily let out an outraged sound.
“Emily, step out of here. I’ll take care of things.” John gently pried the poker from her. “Trust me,” he urged under his breath.
“He’s got a knife.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“Don’t trust him.”
Edward shoved the knife into a sheath at his waist. “Who is this spitfire, John? Your mistress?”
“You know I don’t keep a mistress.” Emily hadn’t budged an inch. Asking her to leave again wouldn’t accomplish a thing, so John set her to the side and stood between her and Edward. For a fleeting second, he thought to order her to check on Duncan, but upon finding his cot vacant, she’d undoubtedly come flying back in a panicked rage. Instead he addressed his words to Edward. “Leave here at once and don’t come back.”
Edward shoved away from the wall with another expletive.
John grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back again. “Keep a decent tongue in your head.”
Edward made a choking sound.
“Report to me first thing in the morning at the shipping office.” John flung him to the side and watched his brother scramble away and out of the bedchamber.
“Don’t leave me!” the woman from the other room sobbed. The patter of her slippers could be heard following Edward’s footfalls through the main room and out into the yard.
John turned to Emily. Her eyes glittered in the candlelight. She inched back and shook her head. “You let him go.”
“Of course I did.” John closed the distance between them and calmly drew her shawl together, then wrapped his arms about her trembling form. “I’ll deal with him tomorrow, Emily. I had to get him out of here.”
Her tears wet his shirt. “He’s the one. He lied again. He said he didn’t know me.”
“Of course he lied.” John did his utmost to keep his temper hidden. Emily needed calming in the worst way. He gently stroked her back. “Don’t you understand? I wanted him out of here before the noise woke the baby. I didn’t want him to know Timmy is here.”
Emily’s knees nearly buckled. “Oh no!”
“Shh.” John led her out to the parlor.
John lowered Emily to the settee, then stepped back into the bedchamber and brought out the candle and a blanket. He lit the lamp, then wrapped the blanket around Emily. She caught his sleeve. Both her hand and her voice shook. “I’m thanking you for all you’ve done for my kin, John Newcomb.”
“Emily, hush. We need to plan what to do next.”
She turned loose of him, dipped her head, and cleared her throat. “There’s nothing left to do. I’ll be gone by sunup.”
“No!”
She shuddered at the word he roared. Still, she seemed more than firm on her decision. She turned toward the kitchen and raised her voice. “Duncan, come help me. We’ve packing to see to.”
John cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him. The shocked worry in her eyes let him know she hadn’t thought about the fact that Edward’s shouting had to have awakened the lad. “Duncan is up at my house. He knew he could trust me—he ran to my place so I could come protect you. You can bet I’m going to do just that. You’re not running away. You, Duncan, and Timmy belong here.”
A sad, all-too-worldly-wise parody of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “We don’t belong in your world, John Newcomb, and well you know it. I’m taking my boys off before that dreadful man does something.”
“What could he do? Think, Emily.”
“Oh, I am. You were, too, when you thought of keeping Edward from finding the baby. Your brother’s a rascal—” Her voice broke.
“Ahh, Em.” John sat next to her and pulled her into the shelter of his arms. “I’ll protect you and the boys.”
“You can’t,” she said in a hopeless tone.
He slowly slid his hand down her hair. Soft little wisps curled about his finger and sprang loose, only to be replaced again and again. The wet warmth of her tears seeped through his shirt, but she didn’t weep in torrents. Instead, her tears fell one by one in solitary anguish.
“I’m sorry for what he, uh, believed about”—she barely choked out the word—“mistress.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Edward is responsible for his own thoughts—lurid and wrong as they may be. He’s judging others for his own sin. Ofttimes guilty men do so.”
“He h–had another woman—”
“Em, my Em, I’m so sorry.” He felt her shudder and knew the impact of Edward’s betrayal was hitting full force for the second time. The first time John had watched her limp away from the shipyard, and she’d had to handle the blow by herself. This time he’d not let her feel alone.
“I’m supposing I ought to be thankful the Lord didn’t let him come barging in with another woman in front of Anna.”
“That is something to be thankful for,” he allowed, though he felt sick about the whole sordid mess.
“You’ll tell Cook, Gracie, and Mary good-bye for me?”
John’s arms tightened, crushing her to his chest. “You’re staying right here.”
She patted him and said in a tearful voice that managed to make pretenses toward soothing, “There, now, I’ll be sure to sneak a message to you now and again to let you know how our Timmy’s doing.”
“You’ll do no such thing! Emily, you can’t leave. You and Duncan won’t ever make it on your own, and who will watch the baby whilst you work? There are far too many problems. I’ll not hear of this nonsense.”
Emily pushed away and stared at him. The lamplight flickered in her glistening green eyes. “Best you listen and heed me, John Newcomb. I’ll not stand by and let that man hurt my family e’er again.”
Her spirit pleased him. John brushed a few of her tears away with his thumb. “He won’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”
“You’re not listening to me. I don’t give a whit about myself. I’m worried about Timothy! What if he tries to take him away?”
“Em, Edward is too footloose to want to be tied down to a babe. Besides, there’s no church record naming Edward as the father.”
“Oh, sure and enough, he might not try to nab a babe; but give him a few years, and he could well change his tune. He’s got the morals of an alley cat and the heart of a snake.” She shook her head. “No. ’tis a risk I won’t take.”
“Do you trust me?”
Emily drew the blanket around herself and stood. She paced away, then turned. Her mouth opened, then shut without her uttering a word.
John met her gaze unflinchingly. For all she’d been through, she had every reason not to trust another soul. Nonetheless, he wanted—no, he needed—her to trust him.
Emily turned away. “Forgive me, John. I’m not sure what to think right now. If ever a man has shown himself to be dependable and Christian, ’tis you. You’re asking me to rely on your say-so, and my head tells me I can. But ’tisn’t you I hold concerns about, and your brother already proved he leaves a heartload of grief and worry in his wake.”
/> “I understand, Emily, but—”
“You have to admit you were blind to your brother’s ways. You defended him.” Her voice went hushed. “Even when Anna longed to be acknowledged as his wife, you never allowed her that. You’d never knowingly let him hurt us, but brotherly love veiled the truth back then. I can’t help but worry that I’ll rely on your word and it will happen again.”
John sat there and let her speak. She’d not spoken out of bitterness. Her words came from the ache and worries he wanted to share, so he would listen as she spilled them.
“I don’t trust Edward for a single minute. Anna’s gone, and he’s rich. He could pay a judge, just as he paid someone to pretend to be a parson. Even if he didn’t want Timmy for himself, what if he tried to take him and give him to someone else?”
Silence filled the room. Emily gave John a look of resignation, yet she somehow managed to square her shoulders. “I’d best spend my night praying. You’ll know when I’ve made up my mind.”
John stood and nodded. He crossed the room and tugged the blanket even tighter around her. “I’ve no doubt they’ve tucked Duncan in up at my house. Let’s take the baby on up there, too.”
“Your brother will be up at the big house. I’m thinking my brother belongs back here with me.”
“You’re not thinking of slipping away in the middle of the night, are you?”
Emily stared at him. She chewed on her lip for a brief moment, then sighed. “I’d be telling a fearsome lie if I said the thought never crossed my mind.”
“You’ve never once lied to me, Em. Give me your word you’ll stay here—at least for tonight.”
She shuddered. “I can’t give you my word, John. If I do, what will I do if he comes back here tonight?”
“Em,” he said softly as he tucked a strand of her soft hair behind her left ear, “why didn’t you just tell me you were afraid he’d come back here tonight?”
She hitched one shoulder. “I suppose I’m not in the practice of whispering my worries to another.”
He turned her, snatched up the lamp, and marched her back into the bedchamber. “Get dressed; then we’ll talk.”
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