Emmeline's Exile (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 5)

by Josephine Blake

  Lawson stared at her, watching her strange behavior for a very long moment. When Emmeline bumped into a child’s desk, he saw her eyes well with tears again.

  Then he understood. He should have known at their first meeting. He had been incredibly dim-witted not to realize. He had suspected, of course, how could he not, with her eyes squinting at this and that and her inability to focus on anything that wasn’t right before her face. But she had not told him it was such a struggle for her. Did she think that he would not want her if he had known?

  The anger seeped out of him on a sigh, and rather than stand and watch as Emmeline made another nervous attempt to circle her classroom, he climbed the front steps of the schoolhouse and nudged the door open.

  “Emmeline?”

  She jumped so violently that she upset an ink bottle on the desk beside her, but she did not seem to notice as a black pool began dripping onto the wooden floor.

  “Lawson? What are you doing here?”

  She was hastily straightening her skirts and wiping her hands over her eyes.

  “I thought I might come for a visit,” he said simply. He was watching her carefully, frowning and hearing the gentle drip-drip of ink onto wood. “I rather hoped... my wife might be missing me as much as I am missing her.”

  She blushed at his words, and it was such a pretty blush. It told him more than he’d dared to hope for.

  “You see,” he said carefully, stepping into the schoolhouse and shutting the door behind him. “I was rather hoping that I might be allowed to spend time with the woman I chose to marry at some point in our lives.” He grinned at his own joke and took a step closer to her. “I was under the impression that a marriage was more than cold dinner plates and awkward silences, you see.” Her blush deepened, and Lawson took this as a sign of encouragement. Her fingers began tapping nervously on the edge of the nearest desk, just avoiding the puddle of black ink spreading there. Lawson moved nearer to her still. “I was also under the impression,” he continued. “That a man and his wife would not keep secrets from one another. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Her hazel eyes snapped up to his then, and her unfocused gaze looked rather terrified.

  “Do you have something you might wish to tell me, Emmeline?” Lawson could not help the way his eyes slid over her. She was beautiful, just as she had been that day she had arrived in Buffalo Creek. The day she had nearly tumbled into his arms as she left the train. She looked so fretful, her hands had ceased their tapping and she was wringing them before her like a child caught in wrong-doing. The tip of her pinky-finger was smeared with ink.

  He was only a foot away from her now. He could see the pulse thrumming in her throat. She shook her head from side to side in quick jerking motions. Lawson took that final step, so that their bodies were merely an inch apart and he watched her eyes. Now, they focused, darting up to his and away again, but seeing him. He reached up and tucked one finger beneath her chin, pulling her gaze to his once more and holding it there. “Are you quite sure?” he whispered.

  The tear tracks on her cheeks were evidence enough. He understood now, but he wanted to hear her say it. He needed her to trust him and confide in him, and allow him to comfort her, but she shook her head again, more slowly, her eyes still on his. Disappointment rushed through him in a wave. He reached for her hands.

  In that brief moment, as their fingers touched, something clicked into place in his mind. They had not been this close for days, and she was here… right here. So close, but so very far away. And he felt it was not for him to bridge that gap. He had shown her again and again that he was willing. Taken her hand in marriage, held her close, kissed her lips. In that moment, he turned from gentle persuader into a flesh and blood sort of man. He was suddenly very aware of her closeness, and very aware of her breath and the way her chest rose and fell with it, just brushing his.

  It was not he who made the first move, he was sure of it. He was waiting for some sort of sign, for anything from Emmeline that would tell him that she at least felt a tiny portion of what he did. The classroom was silent around them. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote gave a high-pitched cry, but Lawson was not sure that Emmeline heard it. She had tears in her eyes again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.

  It was not like the gentle, chaste kiss they had exchanged on the day of their wedding. Nor was it like the time he had pressed his lips to hers quickly, on an impulse. This was different. This was heated. His arms encompassed her of their own accord, pressing her close, feeling their bodies fit perfectly against one another. She was the only real thing in the entire world and she was kissing him fiercely, as though she wanted to surrender to the heat just as much as he did.

  Lawson was not aware of lifting his wife. He only knew that she was abruptly seated on her teacher’s desk, and he was bent over her, his lips claiming hers with all the pent-up want and need thrumming inside of him. He wasn’t a brute. He knew better than to treat a woman this way, but he could not seem to help himself. She was everything he ever wanted to taste, to feel. She gave a soft cry as he pressed himself on top of her, one hand roaming up her thigh, reveling in the softness of her skin.

  A loud bang from the floor below made Emmeline jerk from his grasp. Her clothes were disheveled, and her lips were swollen with the force of his kisses. Lawson cursed at the sight. She was exquisite. Without pausing to consider, he tugged her back to him, his hands at her waist as he slid her over the desk top.

  “Lawson,” his name came in a sharp gasp as he pressed a line of kisses to her shoulder. “Lawson. Someone is here.”

  “I’ll lock the door,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I will toss charcoal and books at them until they leave us be. Come here.” He reached for her once more.

  Emmeline threw back her head and laughed silently to the schoolhouse ceiling, struggling to tug her skirts back into place. “Someone is here. I think…” she paused, listening, one hand on his chest to keep him from resuming his efforts to devour her. “I think your brother must be below, in the basement.”

  Lawson let his head fall forward, his eyes closed-tight in frustration. “Jason,” he breathed his brother’s name like a malediction. “Of course he is.”

  “But what should we do?”

  Lawson sighed heavily, then he took hold of his wife’s hands and helped her slide from the desk. Her boots landed on the floor with a gentle thud. “I’ll go see what he’s up to, and then,” he bent forward and claimed her lips with his once more. “Then, we shall go home together,” he breathed in her ear. “Wait here for me?”

  He waited for her to nod, then he set off across the classroom. He found the door his wife had said led to the lower floor at once, but when he turned the handle, it wouldn’t budge.

  “I haven’t been able to go down that way since the day before yesterday,” Emmeline called from beside her desk, where she was straightening the buttons on her blouse. “I think your brother must have locked it to keep the students from playing with his supplies.”

  Lawson growled under his breath, then he stomped over to the front door and headed out into the night. There was no longer any noise from the rear of the schoolhouse. Lawson made his way carefully through the side yard and into the back garden, his eyes searching for a sign of movement. He found the basement door and pressed his ear to it, but nothing stirred within.

  “He must have gone already,” he said, shoving open the schoolhouse door a few minutes later. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him…”

  Emmeline looked up from the stack of papers before her, and Lawson drew to an abrupt halt on the threshold. She had taken down her hair. It swirled about her face in the golden light of the single gas lamp hanging on the wall behind her desk. He hadn’t seen her hair down since that very first night. Their wedding night. He grinned at the memory of her fleeing the front room in nothing but a white linen towel.

  He had only caught a glimpse of her then, but it had been enough to haunt his
waking moments more effectively than a specter of Christmas present. Now though, he knew that she could not deny that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was determined to set things right between them tonight, and he had more than a few ideas on just how to accomplish such a thing.

  “Come,” he murmured, striding across the room and turning out the light. “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter Nine

  Emmeline tried not to feel too ashamed with herself as she gripped Lawson’s hand and allowed him to lead her through her darkened classroom. She had never, ever behaved like that before. She had never felt anything like that before either. Lawson’s warmth was like a balm on her frayed senses. The feel of his hands on her had been heavenly, otherworldly, and she had surrendered to him more easily than she had ever dreamed she would.

  The cool night air was refreshing and pleasant against her cheeks after the heat of their embrace. They did not speak as they walked back through the darkened town. When they moved through the front gate and were greeted by the now-familiar grunting barks of Lawson’s dogs, Emmeline even consented to pat the largest one on the top of his head. The mastiff wagged his tail hesitantly, as though unsure what to make of her change of character. “Good night Joe,” she whispered to him.

  She thought she heard Lawson let out a low chuckle as they stepped into the house. There was, no doubt, a certain awkwardness in the air as they set about readying themselves for bed. Emmeline could not help wondering if her husband would insist on joining her in his bed after the… events of the evening. Did she want him there? What would he say if she told him she wasn’t ready?

  Lawson being Lawson, Emmeline was sure he would not protest or attempt to force her, but she did wonder if he would be disappointed. She would hate to disappoint him again. She had seen disappointment in her husband’s eyes too often as of late. She had seen it on his face when she returned home later and later each night that week, fearful that the longer she spent in his company, the sooner he would guess her secret. But was it even secret anymore?

  Could Lawson see how she stumbled? Had she given herself away on their wedding night, when she could not recognize the man she had just married from ten feet across an empty room? Perhaps he had known all along. Perhaps he had married her… in spite of her infirmity…

  Emmeline shook her head. Even a man as kind as Lawson Aldridge would not want a blind woman as his wife. She had told herself again and again not to delay. If Lawson discovered her secret before she was properly his, he could still have the marriage annulled. Would you blame him? How could she blame him, when she had deceived him so? So get a move on, said the voice in the back of her head. But she could not bear it. Emmeline wanted to be with Lawson. She did. But she could not force herself to deceive him for a second time.

  I have to tell him.

  She was standing in the kitchen, her back to the sitting room, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher they always kept on the tabletop there. In her mind’s eye, she imagined herself telling Lawson about her mother, and she imagined the warmth in his eyes would dim the longer she spoke. She saw him turn away from her, heard his voice sending her back to New York, and fear flooded into her stomach as though she’d been doused in icy water.

  “Emmeline?”

  His voice was in her ear, and his hand was on her shoulder. She turned to look up at him, and he was so close to her that she could see his face clearly, even in the dim light. It was difficult, when he was here and so warm and welcoming, to imagine that Lawson Aldridge could ever be cold. She smiled up at him, and he grinned, sliding his arms around her waist. He bent his head as he pulled her towards him, and Emmeline welcomed his kiss once more. It was like… coming home, somehow.

  But she could not fully banish the image of Lawson turning his back on her. Would he hate her if she told him? Did he already know?

  She pulled away from him, and it was like she was stepping away from a warm fire and into a winter night. She shivered. “Could I—I would like a bath, please. Can we heat the water?”

  Lawson looked taken aback, but he nodded. For the next hour, Emmeline heated pots of boiling water on the stove and over the fire and Lawson helped her fill the large tub in the spare room with water from the well. She relished the manual labor, because it gave her something to focus on that was not Lawson, or her eyes. She had to focus and think about what she was doing, because if she let her mind stray too far towards her husband, she might just get burned.

  “Let me help,” he was beside her again. Why hadn’t she heard him approach?

  “I’m all right,” she murmured, dumping a measure of chilly water into the tub to cool the heat.

  “But Em—stop! It’s full.”

  She hadn’t seen. Hadn’t checked, and now water was pooling at her feet and soaking into her stockings.

  “Couldn’t you see it?” Lawson muttered. He did not sound confused this time. He sounded frustrated. “Emmeline?”

  She closed her eyes. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She set the bucket carefully at her feet and flew out of the room. She caught her breath in the kitchen, feeling her way around the tables and reaching for the glass of water she had left exactly a hand width from the pitcher.

  Lawson was calling after her, sounding exasperated. “Emmeline! Come back. The water is hot now.”

  She swallowed roughly, nodded to herself, and moved off down the hall.

  “I’ll just be in the next room if you need me,” her husband said as she moved past him in the doorway.

  Emmeline nodded shakily, listened to him move off down the hallway toward the kitchen, and went in to have her bath. Normally, she would have tried to relax and enjoy the heat of the water. She would have breathed deeply and let it seep into her bones, but tonight was different. Tonight, her guilt and her fear were succeeding in keeping her chilled to the bone, no matter that the water was steaming around her. She washed quickly and climbed from the tub, shivering.

  Lawson had set her out a fresh towel, and Emmeline had long-since had the foresight to move her luggage into the room where she slept. She dried off and poked her head out into the hallway. Again, the light of a fire flickered from the sitting room. She crossed the hall and moved into the bedroom, closing the door, still shivering. She glanced around the room at all the blurs that were becoming familiar to her, and then moved to her luggage.

  Lawson had said that she could move her things into the dresser drawers. He had cleared a space for her there. She had thought about it so many times… and still had not been able to pluck up enough courage to do so. Moving her things from her trunk would change the way she had everything organized. She would fumble and forget where things were, and if she were in a hurry to dress, she’d likely end up wearing her stockings as mittens and then what a fool she would look.

  She found her nightdress and began unwinding the towel…

  “Wait.”

  On a startled gasp, Emmeline spun about, clutching her towel to her chest and staring around the room.

  “Lawson?!”

  “Can’t you see me, Emmeline?”

  She turned on the spot, squinting into every shadowy corner. He was not there. He was nowhere. “Where are you?!” she squeaked, and in her humiliation, she ran to the bed and tugged the thick quilt from its place, drawing it right around her shoulders.

  “Please leave!”

  “No.”

  The word was so simple and yet Emmeline felt it sink into her veins like fire. Her jaw clenched in fury. Where in the devil was he? Why couldn’t she see him?! Good Lord, she had nearly undressed in front of him!

  “No?!” she repeated, positively scandalized. “Surely you do not intend to—.”

  “No. I will not leave. Not until you tell me why it is that you cannot see me. I am not hiding. I told you I would be in the next room. Here I am. Why can’t you see me?”

  Tears pooled in Emmeline’s eyes, but she was not willing to give up with out a fight. Not
like this. Not in such a humiliating way. “Please leave,” she whispered.

  Lawson’s voice rose out of the shadows like that of a ghost, and she turned her head every which way, trying to see where it was coming from. “Emmeline, you are my wife. Please tell me the truth.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “If I tell you, you will leave me,” she cried into her fingers. “I’m sorry. I should have…” she broke off at the sound of footsteps. It sounded as though Lawson had been standing against the far wall, beside the coatrack. No wonder she had not seen him. There was the creaking of bedsprings as he sat down beside her feet.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said gently. “I truly did not.”

  Emmeline looked up, and saw her husband holding out his arms for her. A moment of silence ticked past, and then she collapsed against him and let him hold her tightly to his chest. His hand stroked her back, and his breath warmed the top of her head.

  She had very few memories of ever being held like this. When she grew up, she was always the comforter. She would hold her friends, hold the children she taught in the school, but when was the last time anyone had held her to offer her comfort? When was the last time she had let them?

  “I need you to understand something,” he whispered into her hair. “I need you to know. Emmeline,” he tugged her back, and pulled her chin up. “Emmeline, I vowed to cherish you,” he murmured. “I vowed it, sweetheart. Don’t you remember?”