The Bride Found (Civil War Brides Book 2)

by Piper Davenport

  When they arrived at the front porch, he set her on her feet, kissed her hand chastely, and then he was gone. She felt slightly dejected at the separation and hated the unfamiliar emotion. Emma made her way up to her room and peeled her wet clothes from her body. She’d left a note with the maid to inform Sophie she was going to lie down for a little while, so she knew she wouldn’t be disturbed.

  Stretching out on the bed, she put a pillow under her foot, her ankle now throbbing, and surprisingly fell asleep within minutes.

  * * *

  Emma woke to a dark room, and wondered what time it was. Lighting one of her bedside lamps, she found and took a couple of Advil, and then did her best to dress by herself. The clock on the bureau said five, which meant over an hour until dinner. Problem was, she was hungry now.

  Maybe Mary will have pity on me and let me have a snack.

  She started her very slow descent down the stairs, but had to stop a few times to catch her breath, a little dizzy from the pain. She heard footsteps in the foyer and then heard her name. She looked up a little too fast and nearly slipped.

  “Emma!” Clayton took the stairs two at a time. He reached her quickly and lifted her into his arms. “You overdid it today, didn’t you?”

  Emma squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

  “Let’s get you downstairs.” Clayton carried her into the parlor and set her down gently on the sofa. “Where are your crutches?”

  “In my room.”

  “I’ll have Betty fetch them.” Clayton left the parlor and returned surprisingly quickly, Betty in tow. He set her crutches beside the sofa as the maid gave her a gentle smile and wrapped her ankle with ice she’d brought with her. Clayton grabbed a pillow and gently lifted her foot onto it. “How’s that?”

  “Better,” she said and turned to Betty. “Thank you, Betty.”

  Betty nodded and then left the room. Emma frowned. “Why’d she leave the door open?”

  “Propriety,” Clayton said.

  “Is she afraid of what will happen if the door is closed?” Emma whispered.

  Clayton smiled. “Betty has always been a moral compass in the Wades’ home.”

  “Is she concerned I’ll ravish you?”

  “The thoughts you put in my mind,” Clayton said with a groan.

  Emma giggled and relaxed back into the sofa cushions.

  “Would you like some tea?”

  Emma licked her lips. “I’d prefer whiskey.”

  Clayton chuckled. “I’ll return shortly.”

  Emma leaned forward and gripped her ankle. The Advil hadn’t even dented the pain, and she really just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep. Clayton returned with wine, and Emma wrinkled her nose. “No whiskey?”

  He shook his head as he handed her the glass. “Michael’s office is closed.”

  Emma downed it and then handed the glass back to him.

  “Emma, that’ll go to your head if you’re not careful.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Clayton sat next to her on the sofa and took her hand in his. “Is it that bad?”

  “Nope, I’m fine.” She turned her head away, tears slipping down her face.

  “Emma, it’s all right to cry, you know.”

  Emma sniffed. “I’m not crying.”

  “I’m sorry, my mistake.” Clayton squeezed her hand. “Why don’t we find something to distract you?” He kissed her—and kept kissing her. Emma didn’t want to stop. She shifted her body to pull herself closer to Clayton.

  Her ankle twisted and she broke the kiss with a gasp. “Ow, ow, ow!” She squeezed his arms and pushed him away.

  “Sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up into more of an upright position.

  Emma smacked the couch in frustration. “I hate this.”

  “You’ll need to take it slow tomorrow.” Clayton kissed her palm. “You don’t want to miss the ball.”

  “Well isn’t this cozy?” Jamie stood in the doorway.

  “Hi, Jamie,” Emma said.

  Jamie made his way to the sofa and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Did you overdo today?”

  “I think so. The ice is helping, but I think I’ll need to stay off it for a day or so.”

  Jamie nodded and sat across from them. “Yes, good idea.”

  “Where’s Sophie?”

  “She’s dressing. She’ll be down soon.”

  Daniel announced dinner and Jamie moved towards Emma. Clayton beat him to her. “I’ll assist Emma,” he said possessively and lifted her into his arms.

  Jamie stepped away, and Emma smiled up at Clayton. “What was the point of bringing me the crutches, if you’re going to haul me everywhere?”

  “Crutches? I don’t see any crutches.”

  Emma glanced over his shoulder. “Where are they?”

  “Somewhere safe.” At her raised eyebrow, he whispered, “I wanted an excuse to get you in my arms.” Clayton strode into the dining room and seated her at the table, before sitting beside her.

  Several minutes later, a tired looking Sophie walked into the dining room. The men stood and Jamie made his way over to her. “Hi, baby. How are you feeling?” Pulling out her chair, he helped her sit.

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

  “Shall I prepare you a plate?” Jamie asked.

  Sophie nodded. “Please.”

  Dinner was subdued and passed quickly. The day seemed to have sapped everyone’s energy, and Emma could see her sister hiding several yawns behind her napkin. Once dessert had been cleared away, Clayton decided to bid everyone a goodnight.

  Emma insisted on walking him to the door (well, she hobbled…slowly) and waited for Daniel to hand Clayton his outerwear. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  Clayton shrugged into his coat. “I will try.”

  That’s all I get, really?

  “Okay.” Emma forced a smile.

  Clayton glanced around the space quickly then tipped Emma’s chin up gently for a kiss. Emma grasped the scarf hanging around his neck and leaned closer.

  Then he was gone.

  OVER THE NEXT few days, Emma was ushered to and from the dressmakers. Normally it was something she enjoyed, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from missing Clayton. By Wednesday, she was thrust deep into a feeling she was unfamiliar with—insecurity.

  She wasn’t an idiot--she knew there was a war on and that Clayton’s job was important, but she really thought he’d at least have sent a note or something to let her know he was thinking of her. That is, if he even was thinking of her.

  “Em, I’m going out to the barn, would you like to come?” Sophie asked, when they returned home from the dressmakers.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you hear the latest news? Apparently, Richard has been sober for almost a week. He’s still in jail, but isn’t fighting it anymore,” Sophie said.

  “Well I guess that’s good, right?”

  “Yes, I think it’s very hopeful.”

  Emma frowned up at her. “Why do you care?”

  “He’s a good man when he’s sober.” Sophie sighed. “I care enough about him to want him to be healthy.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re weird.”

  She followed Sophie into the barn and Sophie called for Samson. He whinnied and stuck his head out the stall door. Sitting on the hay bales outside the stall, Emma laid her crutches down and smiled up at her sister.

  “I’m going to take him out in the yard for a bit. Are you going to come?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes, I just need a minute.”

  “Okay.” Sophie opened the stall and Samson followed her outside.

  “Emma?”

  Emma jumped from her seat when she heard Clayton’s whisper echo in the dark. Her ankle twinged at the sudden movement, and she quickly fell back onto the hay. “Ouch.”

  He rushed toward her. “Are you still in pain?”

  She shook her head. “Not as much, but jumping on it probably isn’t the best
way to help it heal.” Clayton sat next to her and Emma raised an eyebrow. “Where have you been?”

  “What do you mean? I’ve been here.”

  Emma scowled. “We’re going with that?”

  He took a deep breath. “It’s been a difficult few days.”

  She pulled a piece of straw out of the hay bale and twirled it between her fingertips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’m not certain that I can.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  A few strained moments passed.

  “Any word on Topper?” she asked.

  Clayton shook his head. “None. That’s part of where I’ve been.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiled gently. “I’ve been scouring the countryside.”

  “Oh.”

  Clayton lifted her hand to his lips. “What’s amiss?”

  Emma shrugged. “Nothing, why?”

  “You’re unusually quiet.”

  Emma pursed her lips. “Unusually quiet?”

  Clayton smiled and kissed her palm.

  “I’m fine.” She pulled her hand from his, picked up her crutches, and rose to her feet. “I should get back to the house, though.”

  Clayton stood as well, confusion written on his face. “I’ll walk with you.”

  Emma held her hand up and smiled. “No, I’m happy to walk back by myself. I’m sure you have more important things to do. I’ll see you later.”

  Her stomach ached as she strode away. She wished she could run, but her pride—and her ankle—wouldn’t let her.

  “Emma!” She turned to see him jog toward her. “Stop.”

  She did. If she didn’t, he’d ask even more questions she was unprepared to answer.

  “Tell me what I’ve done.”

  Emma widened her eyes in surprise. “Why would you think you’ve done anything?”

  He cupped her chin. “Perhaps because you’re running away from me.”

  “Emma!” Sophie called.

  Emma turned to see her sister waving her back to the barn. She pulled her face away from Clayton’s touch and stepped back. “My sister needs me. Excuse me.”

  Without waiting for a response, she made her way to Sophie.

  Sophie raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up?”

  Emma shrugged. “What do you mean?”

  Sophie squeezed her arm. “Clayton looks like a little lost puppy right now. I’m assuming you had something to do with that?”

  Emma scowled as she whispered, “I haven’t seen the man in three days. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write. Nothing. He wants to be exclusive, but ignores me? I don’t think so. Am I supposed to just jump into his arms now that he’s decided to grace me with his presence?”

  “He does have an important job, Em.”

  Emma shrugged. “Then he should get back to it, don’t ya think?”

  Sophie chuckled. “Oh, Em, you have it bad for this guy.”

  “I don’t,” Emma insisted. “I just won’t be treated this way.”

  “Doesn’t look like you’ll have to be. He’s leaving.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Good.”

  Sophie hummed in suspicion, but rather than commenting, linked her arm with Emma’s and they walked back to the house. “Let’s have a bath and then dress for dinner.”

  Emma smiled. “I like how you’re thinking.”

  Sophie led her upstairs while Betty organized the baths for them. As they arrived at Sophie’s bedroom door, Jamie pulled it open. Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  Jamie held a piece of paper up and stepped back to let them inside. “I thought I’d give the note one more try.”

  Emma glanced at the note. “Hey, why do you have Navajo code?”

  Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  Emma took the letter from him and pointed at the non-deciphered part of the writing. “This line right here. It’s Navajo. It’s written in the style they used during World War II to get messages across.”

  “Emma,” he whispered. “How do you know what this is?”

  She shrugged. “Did you forget everything from history class? The Navajos were touted as being the reason we took Iwo Jima. Remember Windtalkers?”

  “The movie you made us watch?”

  Emma snorted. “Oh, please. The amount of times I had to sit and listen,” she glanced at her sister, “or watch something relating to this.” She waved her hands around the room.

  Jamie shook his head. “Don’t lump me in with that. You and your sister find something you like, and push yourselves to become experts.”

  Sophie giggled. “True story.”

  Emma grinned. “Guilty.”

  Jamie sighed. “Anyway, I guess I never picked up on Windtalkers being a conspiracy type movie.”

  Emma moved around the room, reading and rereading the note. “But the movie was a conspiracy in itself.”

  Jamie smirked. “Of course it was.”

  Emma pushed her glasses further up her nose and glanced up. “It was accused of being inaccurate and stereotypical, not to mention pushing the Navajo into a background role.”

  Jamie crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so can you translate this?”

  “I can try. Hannah and I did something like this in History class, but that was a while ago.” She squinted at the page. “And I got a B.”

  Jamie dragged his hands down his face. “What did Hannah get?”

  “An A, of course,” Emma said distractedly as she scanned the letter.

  Jamie leaned against the bed. “Of course.”

  Emma dragged her lower lip between her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Something about a building for food. Um, a man with… a stripe… no, a scar. A man with a scar on his face.”

  “Building for food. Like a silo?”

  Emma shrugged. “Could be.” She pointed to a word. “This could be wheat. I’m not sure, though. I don’t speak or read Navajo.”

  Jamie nodded. “You’ve certainly got us further than we were yesterday. You’re amazing, Em.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “Why do you have this, anyway?”

  Sophie sighed. “Topper left it. The bigger question is how he knows code from eighty years in the future.”

  “No doubt.” Emma chewed on her thumbnail. “Do you think he’s safe?”

  Jamie frowned. “I’d like to think he is. He’s a smart kid.”

  Sophie shrugged. “He’s got a rebellious streak and likes to push Michael’s buttons, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s doing this just to get a rise out of him.”

  “What does Clayton think? Will you tell him about the code?”

  Jamie shrugged. “I’m going to talk to Andrew in the morning. I might filter the information through him.”

  Any further discussions were halted when Betty arrived with staff holding buckets of water.

  SOPHIE WOKE EMMA early the next morning. “Rise and shine, Em. We’re going riding today.”

  Emma sat up and yawned. “What time is it?”

  “Eight o’clock.” Sophie opened the wardrobe and gathered her clothes for her.

  Emma flopped back onto the pillow. “Can’t I just stay in bed a little while longer? Please?”

  “Would you like some cheese with that whine?” Sophie giggled. “Isn’t Clayton coming for breakfast?”

  Emma yawned again. “Nona said he was.”

  Sophie crossed her arms. “I thought you’d be jumping out of bed with excitement.”

  “I’m too tired to jump anywhere.”

  “Did we keep you up too late?” Sophie settled on the edge of her bed. “I know dinner was a party and a half.”

  Emma snorted. “It was enough to send me to bed for a year.”

  Sophie smiled sympathetically. “Then why didn’t you sleep?”

  Emma sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I don’t know, Soph. I can’t stop thinking about Clayton. All I want to do is spend ever
y waking minute with him. What am I going to do when he has to go back to Washington? The thought makes me sick to my stomach. This just can’t be normal, right?”

  Sophie laid her hands over Emma’s. “What can’t be normal, sissy?”

  “No one falls in love this quickly. I don’t even know this guy, and he’s ignoring me for no apparent reason. I hate it!”

  “Oh, Emma.”

  Emma dropped her chin onto her knees. “I just don’t want to make a wrong move, you know? I’m afraid that if I’m too honest with him, he’ll run, but I hate feeling like I’m not telling him everything. And what about the future stuff? When should I tell him? Obviously, now is not the time, but do I keep it from him forever? This is crazy!”

  Sophie gave her sister a hug. “I know it feels that way. You guys’ll work it out, and you can talk to Jamie or me anytime. About anything, okay?”

  Emma nodded. “Thanks, Sophie, I appreciate it.”

  “Now, let’s get you dressed.” Sophie stood.

  “Are we riding right away? I’ll put my jeans on if we are.”

  “Yep, jeans and maybe wear the yellow skirt and jacket. It’s not as much material, so it’ll be easier to maneuver,” Sophie suggested. “How’s your ankle?”

  Emma climbed off the tall bed and stood for a minute. “It feels okay, other than weak. I’m sure it’ll be fine for riding.”

  “Excellent. Just don’t overdo.”

  “I won’t,” Emma promised.

  The girls finished getting dressed and made their way downstairs to the dining room. Christine and Andrew were already there. Emma sat next to Christine and breakfast commenced with lively discussion about the Paxton ball, which was scheduled to take place the next day. There hadn’t been a ball since the night Sophie and Jamie were reunited, so everyone was excited for the momentary escape from the war. Thirty minutes passed and still no sign of Clayton. Emma was a little irritated, but tried to shake off the feeling, knowing that his world didn’t revolve around her.

  The butler entered the room shortly before the meal wrapped up and let Emma know Clayton was in the foyer. She couldn’t understand why he didn’t just come into the dining room, but she figured it was probably a nineteenth-century thing. She stood and made her way to greet him. “Clayton?”

  He turned and smiled down at her. “Good morning, Emma.”