Healing Hearts

by Taryn Kincaid

  He tore cry after cry of joy from her, the sounds filling him with such elation, his groans matched hers. Her legs tightened around his waist, her arms around his neck. He moved still more quickly, pounding into her, utterly lost.

  “I love you, Adam,” she murmured. “I always have.”

  He brought her to another orgasm. As he felt her muscles convulse around him, his world exploded in a blaze of heat and light. He poured himself into her in rapture, shouting out her name.

  ***

  Emma drifted slowly back to earth. Adam’s head lay on her breast, and she could hear the rasp of his uneven breathing. Nothing, nothing, had ever felt so magnificent. She gloried in the small aftershocks, the weight of the man pressed against her. Her fingers sifted through the damp hair at the back of his neck.

  “I wanted it to be better for you, poppet,” he said.

  “I can’t imagine anything better than that.”

  He smiled but shook his head. “We will just have to expand your horizons then.” He offered her a wicked wink. “With quite a lot of practice.”

  After another moment, he untangled himself from her and rose from the settee. Leaning over her, he yanked her skirts down to cover her legs and rebuttoned his trousers. Emma’s disappointment was profound. She felt sleepy and aglow and wanted to feel Adam stretched out beside her forever. He’d said there’d be other times like this. She intended to hold him to that.

  “I’ll ride to Canterbury straightaway,” Adam mumbled, his voice gruff. “If the archbishop obliges me with a special license, we’ll be wed as soon as I return.”

  “Adam—”

  “I don’t want to wait, poppet. And now our nuptials are a matter of some urgency.”

  Before she could answer him, they heard the sound of voices through the French windows of the parlor and hastened to arrange their clothing. Emma was certain she looked like a harlot. When she touched her cheeks, her skin burned and she knew the heat of passion still colored her face. She twitched her skirts and ran a hand through hair made even more wild by Adam’s ferocious ravishing. He’d been as hungry as she. The memory of her name on his lips, the way he’d shouted it to the rafters when he came, made her smile.

  She gazed up at him. His flushed face, tousled hair and fierce expression told the story of their recent activities.

  Emma linked her hand in his, just as Mrs. Billings rapped on the parlor door and then bustled into the room without waiting for a response.

  Emma and Adam exchanged glances. If the housekeeper had arrived but a few minutes earlier, Emma’s reputation would have been in shreds.

  As it was, Mrs. Billings looked from one to the other with a knowing lift of her graying eyebrows. “You intend to do right, milord?”

  “I do.”

  “Mrs. Billings!” Emma gasped.

  But the housekeeper merely nodded at Adam, apparently finding his answer acceptable. More pressing news consumed her at present.

  “Yer father’s been found, Miss Emma!”

  Barked orders, followed by the clatter and scuffle of boots, travelled across the foyer. In the next moment, a fellow in a caped greatcoat with salt-and-pepper hair and a military bearing burst into the parlor and swept past Mrs. Billings. The man had her father grasped by the back of his loosened collar.

  An untidy beard covered George Whiteside’s florid face and his filthy clothes hung from his frame in disarray. He stumbled into the room and slumped into a chair nearest the fire, immediately holding his hands out to warm them, as if he thought they’d never lose their chill.

  “Papa,” Emma breathed. Relief flooded her. She knelt beside her father’s chair and reached for his dirty hand, but he flinched away from her. His clothes and body stank.

  “Do you know me, Papa?”

  He remained silent and Emma feared his mind had gone to let.

  “I know you, girl,” he rasped at last, his voice hoarse with disuse. “I’m too ashamed to look at you.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek and she dashed it away with her fist. “Please, Papa. I’ve been so worried.” She tried to take his hand again, but he hunched his shoulders closer to the flames, blocking her out.

  “Leave him be, Emma.”

  Overcome with humiliation, she could not look at Adam. She rose and turned away, placing her face in her hands.

  “Where was he, Garrett?” the viscount’s deep voice inquired.

  “Maidstone Gaol, milord. Debt.”

  Emma swayed on her feet. She felt Adam behind her and then his hand on her shoulder, steadying her. He pressed her head against his chest. None of this could be happening, she thought. She’d known her father was drowning his sorrows and grief and playing cards above his head, perhaps. But she had not guessed the true extent of her father’s indebtedness until he’d disappeared and the parade of creditors began pounding on the door. But even so…

  “I don’t understand, Papa. We still have the manor. We could have sold the property and taken simpler lodgings elsewhere until we found a way to get back on our feet.”

  “The manor is mine, poppet.”

  Adam’s soft words made her whirl around to face him in fury.

  “You played cards with a man too foxed to know what he was doing? You let him gamble away our home?”

  “I most certainly did not. The manor was never his to wager, sweetheart. You are tenants. The land’s always been mine.”

  “We are not landed gentry then.”

  “’Tis a long-term lease that entangles our families for generations. But your father was never free to sell it or gamble it away. Word of what he was trying to do reached me and some of his worthless vowels came into my possession. I told you this morning that was one of the reasons I’m here.”

  The shock of this revelation made Emma’s stomach churn. “You deceived me!”

  Adam’s face paled, but a brief spark of anger flashed in his eyes. “I didn’t.”

  “You can turn us out whenever you choose—just like Farraday!”

  Tight-lipped, Adam shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t. Good God. Do you think I would ever do such a thing? Particularly after what has transpired between us? I am not Farraday, Emma. Can’t you get that through your beautiful head?”

  “Papa, Papa. Say something!”

  “I’m sorry, m’dear.” George Whiteside’s shaggy head lolled on his chest. “’Tis true, ’tis all true.” He stared at the fire and then turned, suddenly alert. His rheumy eyes narrowed. “Why’s Riverton calling you ‘sweetheart,’ Em?”

  “I—he—”

  Her father nodded and crooked a bony finger at the viscount. “My pockets may be to let, Riverton, but I’m still the girl’s father. I expect to be asked for my consent.”

  “Do you?” Adam asked tensely.

  “You will look after her more properly than I have been able?”

  “I will try.”

  “And this is what you want, Em?”

  “Papa…” She lapsed into silence with a shake of her head.

  But her father apparently read more in her expression than she was able to put into words. He glanced at Adam with a nod. “You have my blessing then.”

  Emma gasped in horror as her father nodded off and began to snore.

  “Your father needs tending, Emma. Bed, bath, food. Keep him away from drink.”

  “How dare you tell me—”

  “His lordship is right, child,” Mrs. Billings interrupted. “Me and Jemmy’ll take care of Himself.”

  “Miss Emma.” The youth came in and pulled his forelock. He hoisted the broken man to his feet. Between them, Jemmy and his mother hauled her father from the parlor.

  Adam broke the tense hush that descended on the room. “Did you see to it, Garrett?”

  “’Twasn’t a great deal, Major. The purse you gave me covered the amount with more than enough to spare.”

  “Good man.”

  Emma’s stomach tightened as the man in the greatcoat handed Adam a clinking leather pouc
h. How would she repay him? Adam had sent his man to find her father and pay off his debts before they’d made love. Even before they’d met on the cliffs this morning. How had she ever hated this man?

  Garrett’s use of Adam’s rank rather than his title made Emma recall the scars on Adam’s body. She shuddered as a lump rose in her throat to join the knot in her belly. He was such a fine, decent man.

  “Adam, I—” She did not know what to say to him.

  “Glad enough to do it, my love.” His voice was gruff. “Sorry ’twasn’t sooner, to save you such hardship and pain. I did not know the extent of your troubles until you came out of hiding this morning.”

  Adam gripped Emma’s hand and tugged her forward. “Emma, this is Oliver Garrett, my batman on the Peninsula. Still my right hand.”

  Garrett bobbed his head. “That’s why I slip sometimes, miss, and call his lordship ‘Major.’”

  “Makes an interesting valet, does he not?” Adam kept his tone light, but Emma suspected the bond between the two men was profound. The viscount confirmed her guess. “He saved my leg. Refused to let the field surgeon take it off.”

  Emma blanched, horrified at the thought. She owed Garrett a great deal, she thought, extending her hand to the man.

  Instead of taking it, Garrett bowed. “Your humble servant, miss.”

  “And he doesn’t yet know of our betrothal.”

  Emma blushed. Clearly, everyone who had entered the parlor this afternoon guessed what they’d been doing on the settee.

  Garrett shrugged. “Hard to miss the way you’re looking at the young lady, milord. Expect it’s only a matter of time ’til you’re leg-shackled.”

  “As soon as Champ can carry me to Canterbury and back,” Adam said. “By tomorrow night if the archbishop cooperates. Within the week, certainly.”

  “Adam—”

  “And as soon as you consent. Do you anticipate any reason you will not give it?”

  Stunned at the rapidity with which the course of her life was now moving, Emma numbly shook her head.

  “Tomorrow, then, if I have my way. Sunday at the latest. Have you any paper and ink about, Emma? You must sign a statement that there is no impediment to our marriage.” He paused, his heated gaze slowly traveling up and down the length of her body as possessively as his hands and lips had done. “There isn’t, is there?”

  “You hen-witted man,” Emma breathed. She glanced toward the settee upon which he had brought her such ecstasy and joy. “I have loved you all my life.”

  “What then?” Adam demanded.

  Was he only doing the honorable thing? He had still not spoken the words Emma wished beyond all measure to hear from him. Tears streamed unbidden down her cheeks.

  Adam took a step toward her, then stopped and clenched his fists. “Don’t weep, poppet. I can bear almost anything, but I can’t bear that. You’ll unman me.”

  He pulled another handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers, this one monogrammed with a single R.

  Emma paused in her sniffling and lifted a curious eyebrow. “How many did you purchase, Riverton?”

  Adam reached into another trouser pocket. Bits of fine muslin rained down. “A for Adam, C for Caldwell, R for Riverton, B, D, F and G, of course. I have E for Emma, if you’d like it. Should you change your initials, I believe I can manage that.”

  Her eyes filled. No one had ever done anything so thoughtful for her.

  “You’re a sweet, sweet man, Adam Caldwell. But you only wish to marry me out of some misguided sense of obligation. Because of what we—” She glanced at the sofa again and flushed. “Because you feel responsible for Michael’s death.”

  “Rubbish!” Garrett barked. “’Twas nearly the other way ’round.”

  Emma jumped. The batman-turned-valet had stood so silently she’d forgotten he was still in the room.

  Adam shot him a lethal look. “Quiet, Garrett.”

  “No, milord. High time the lass knows the truth. Especially if you mean to marry her.”

  “She’s right. I do feel responsible. I feel responsible for all my men.”

  “Thousands of terrible, bloody losses that day, Major, but in the end, the Die Hards stood, victory ours. You are not responsible for any of their deaths, least of all the corporal’s.”

  Emma stared from one man to the other. Adam’s face grew shuttered and closed. His lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. A muscle leaped in his clenched jaw. “This conversation is done, Sergeant. Go no further.”

  “Or what? You will have me court-martialed?” Garrett scoffed.

  “I will turn you out of my employ,” Adam threatened.

  “You will never.” Garrett shrugged at the viscount and turned back to Emma. “The truth is, miss, your brother was a charmer, but always larking about. Though we all loved him, he took foolhardy risks sometimes and put us all in danger.”

  Emma nodded. “That is like Michael,” she said softly. “I believe you.”

  “Enough, Garrett,” Adam exploded. “Get out of here before I put you to work mucking out stables.”

  “You will have to find another way to shut me up, milord.” Garrett ignored Adam’s blustery threats. “Young Whiteside gave away our position at Albuhera, miss, disobeying direct orders. All just to capture an Imperial Eagle from the top of the French flag to taunt the enemy. And yet, when he fell, the major nearly forfeited his own life trying to drag your brother to safety back behind our lines. Instead of a bleeding bronze ornament, his lordship’s souvenirs are a mangled leg that will bother him the rest of his days and nightmares you cannot begin to fathom.”

  Adam shut his eyes.

  Tears streamed down Emma’s face as her hand crept into his. “You never would have told me this,” she whispered.

  “No, he wouldn’t have.” Garrett snorted and shook his head. “Close-lipped bugger about the things that matter, he is.” He turned to Adam. “I’ll wait for you outside, Major. If you’ve got anything else to say to the girl, best say it now so we can leave for Canterbury whilst there’s still daylight.” He stomped noisily from the room.

  “You would have let me go on blaming you. Why would you do such a thing?”

  Adam linked her fingers through his, cradling her hand as he covered it with his other. “I did not want to cause you any more pain, Emma. I know a bit about that, you see. I did not want to tarnish your memories of your twin.”

  Emma gazed at the handsome man before her. “You will keep nothing from me once we are wed. Do you understand me, Riverton?”

  “Adam,” he corrected. His eyelids parted slowly and he slid her a sensual look. “Bossy harridan. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. The love I have been waiting for all of my life.”

  He spread his arms wide and Emma flew into them. The sparkling glint she remembered so well had returned to his shining blue eyes.

  “You’ve stolen my heart, poppet. I will love and cherish you always.” He produced another handkerchief from his pocket. H, perhaps, Emma thought, as Adam dabbed at the tears streaming down her cheeks, and then tweaked her nose with it.

  “Oh, Adam,” she sniffed.

  “Oh, Adam, what?” he demanded.

  “Oh, Adam, you are the most magnificent man and I adore you. I will marry you and be your lady.”

  Adam lifted her off her feet and whirled her around the room until she shrieked with laughter.

  Epilogue

  Sunlight poured through the tall, mullioned windows of the solarium at Summerlake.

  Emma shifted her wooden embroidery frame closer to the golden light and selected a smaller hoop, adjusting the tension to her satisfaction. Humming, she routed among the papers of pins and needles and bundles of rainbow-colored filament that filled her overstuffed work basket.

  She located a skein of shimmering blue silk, the exact color of the eyes of the man who had ravished her so blissfully all night long.

  “Perhaps a lighter shade.” Returning the skein to her quilted basket,
she searched for a more appropriate pale blue, closer to the color of a robin’s egg.

  “Perfect.” She squinted as she threaded her embroidery needle.

  Indeed, things could not be more perfect in her world. Papa was his hale and hearty self again, content at the manor under the watchful eye of Mrs. Billings, less than a day’s ride from Summerlake. During his frequent visits, it pleased him to ramble the countryside on hunting expeditions with Oliver Garrett.

  Nor had the earl voiced any objections to the hasty marriage. “I have not seen my son so animated since before the war, my dear,” he’d told Emma. “I am pleased to welcome the source of his happiness—and my new daughter—to our family.”

  Emma loved the dawn, when she roused to the feel of her husband’s weight on her body, his hands on her breasts and his mouth leaving tender trails of kisses along the side of her neck. The moment she opened her eyes and smiled at him, he slid inside her.

  A perfect way to start each day.

  Emma’s gaze drifted outside and she searched about the grounds of the estate for his tall, athletic form. She loved the view from her solarium, where she did most of her sewing, not out of necessity any longer, but purely for pleasure. She could see the panoramic sweep of the park—the lake upon which a pair of swans drifted, the pretty meadow dotted with yellow and purple blooms, a field of red poppies and, on the horizon, a hint of the cliffs that meant so much to her now.

  There was only one room in the grand house she enjoyed more. It contained a large, imposing bed. And a large, imposing, masculine occupant. Speaking of which…

  “Where is that blasted man?”

  “I am right here, Lady Riverton,” Adam drawled from the doorway. “You cannot possibly miss me already. It hasn’t been above an hour since we parted company at breakfast.” He shot her a lazy look. “An exceedingly late breakfast, at that, I might add.”

  Emma grinned back at him. “I must lay the blame for that at your door, my lord.”

  “Of course you must.” He winked. “But I did not hear any complaints from my lady wife. On the contrary.”