Chapter 13

 

When Will stormed up to the Schindler residence. It was almost eleven o’clock. He was glad to find the house dark and everyone gone to bed.

The only qualm he experienced when he struggled up the tree outside Emily’s bedroom window was that a member of the crack San Francisco police force might notice his ascent and arrest him as a house-breaker. Other than that, Will didn’t much care how shocking his conduct appeared. He was going to talk to Emily, alone, by himself, just the two of them, and he was going to do it tonight and make her listen to reason, and hang the consequences.

He had intended to stomp over to her bed and demand she tell him the truth about how she, as Aunt Emily, had tried to snare him, as Texas Lonesome, into marriage. Then he was going to tell her he already knew everything there was to know about her deception. He was going to let her know it was all right with him; he loved her madly and still wanted to marry her. In fact, he was going to demand she marry him.

But when he finally managed to pull himself over the windowsill and into her room, he was so out of breath he couldn’t manage to stomp. Instead, he tiptoed, panting, to her bedside, and peered down at her. The pitiful sight of her damp cheeks was more than he could bear.

The moon had waned from its former fullness, but it was bright tonight and shone through Emily’s window to bathe her pale face with its silvery blessing. Will’s breath caught in the back of his throat as he gazed at his heart’s desire. For the life of him imagine allowing her to get away from him. He could scarcely remember what his life was like before he met her; and they had only known each other for a week or so.

Suddenly his resolve to tell her he already knew about her plot began to waver. Even if she could be made to understand the truth, she would still feel herself to be at fault. Perhaps if he were to confess his own ruse, that he was not “Texas Lonesome,” she would forgive herself, and him, and agree to be his.

Just then, Emily stirred softly in her sleep. She had been lying on her side with her cheek nestled in a hand. Now she cast her arm across her eyes and turned over to lie on her back. Will heard her give a miserable sniffle in her sleep, and he realized the hand which had cushioned her head was clutching the note he sent her earlier in the evening. He also noticed with an aching heart that her tears had wet it until it was quite soggy and its inky message was smeared.

“Ah, hell, Emily. I can’t shake you. I just can’t.”

Very carefully, so as not to awaken her, he knelt beside her bed. His thumb reached out to gently smooth away the tears still dampening her soft cheeks.

Emily thought she was in the throes of a heavenly dream when she felt Will’s lips brush her forehead. An enormous sigh escaped her and, even though she realized it was a dream, she reached for the broad shoulders she knew couldn’t be there. When her arms encountered the very solid, very manly form of Will Tate, her eyelids fluttered open to find her only love right there, in her room, beside her bed. She thought she had lost her mind for a moment until Will spoke.

“God, Emily, I can’t let you go. You’ve just got to change your mind. You’ve got to.”

One look at her eyes, swollen from weeping, was enough to make Will long to murder those responsible for plunging his own sweet darling into such agony. If only the people who were supposed to have taken care of her had done their jobs, she never would have been tempted to lower her standards and try to deceive him into marriage. No girl Emily’s age should be asked to shoulder such heavy burdens. He had never felt such empathy for a fellow human being before in his life.

He would have loved to tell her the truth: that the success of her magnificent plan only made him love her all the more. But, if Thomas Crandall had taught him nothing else, he had finally convinced him most people did not consider the ability to swindle a virtue. Will figured he’d better not let her in on his little secret.

“Will?” Emily’s whisper caressed his senses and made every single one of his body cells quiver.

“I’m here, my love. I’m here. Nobody can hurt you. I’m here.”

“Oh, Will!” Emily cried, and flung herself into his arms.

“It’s all right, Emily. It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”

“Oh, Will, I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

Her blurted confession was enough to send any remaining thought of reasoning with her flying out of Will’s head. As he felt her soft body melt against his, the only thing he wanted to do was give her comfort. Well, perhaps not the only thing, he realized as his own body came to attention.

“I’m so sorry, Will. I’ve treated you horribly. How can you even bear to speak to me?”

Since she had not as yet found the courage to tell him why she believed she had treated him horribly—and Will did not think it was his place to tell her he had found her out anyway—he wasn’t exactly sure what to say. He solved the problem by stroking her tenderly from her neck to her soft bottom, and whispering over and over again how much he loved her.

He wondered if she would ever stop crying onto his leather vest and began to consider the advisability of moving her sweet face an inch or two over to rest against his cotton shirt. He was sure cotton wouldn’t mind tears as much as leather. But at long last Emily hiccupped into silence. He tightened his hug and let her rest, sure that she needed it after her energetic outburst.

It had been at least fifteen years since Emily had felt protected and loved; not since before her parents died in a terrible accident when she was five. From the very beginnings of her life with her aunt after that, even at her tender age, Emily had taken charge. She’d had to. The blissful protection of Will’s strong arms was a comfort she hadn’t even realized she’d missed until now. She gave a giant sigh of contentment.

“Better now?” Will’s soft question was accompanied by a kiss.

“I—I think so.” Emily’s throat felt as though it had been scraped with sandpaper. “Oh, Will, I’m so glad you’re here. Even though I know you must hate me now.”

“Hate you? How could I possibly hate you?”

Emily bowed her head in shame. “I’m a fraud, Will.”

“Aw, Emily.” Will wrapped her up again. Since it seemed expedient and she was tugging on his arms, he lay down beside her. “You’re not a fraud, love.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Emily. Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better. I can’t bear to see you this unhappy.”

Emily peeked up as a wonderful idea suddenly struck her. She might not have Will Tate forever, but he was here now. Perhaps she could snatch one more heavenly night of bliss to remember in her dotage.

“Do you mean it, Will?”

“Anything, Emily darling. Anything I can do to make you stop being miserable. Please tell me.”

He saw a tiny smile play upon her formerly unhappy lips and his spirits lifted. Then she began to unbutton his shirt. When she kissed his chest, Will groaned.

He hadn’t intended to allow himself to get this carried away. After all, they weren’t married yet. This was infamous conduct on his part, making beautiful love to the woman of his dreams before the ceremony had even been performed. Oh, he knew he would wear her defenses down sooner or later and make her agree to marry him, but this still seemed wrong somehow.

Then Emily kissed him again, on the mouth this time, teasing his tongue with hers. She pressed her perfect breasts into his chest until he was sure his shirt was going to catch fire. Suddenly, what they were doing didn’t seem quite so wrong after all.

“Emily, love.” His voice was ragged. “You’d better not do that anymore.”

Emily drew back and asked, bewildered, “Why not, Will?”

“Because when you do that, I can barely control myself. I want to make love to you, Emily, and it’s not proper. You’ve been trying to teach me propriety, and I’m just as sure as anything this isn’t proper.”

But Emily would have none of it. “There’s a time for propriety, Will Tate, and a time to let propriety go hang. This is one of the times when it’s suitable to let propriety go hang.” She used her prim teacher’s voice and emphasized her instructions with a gentle stroke along his arousal.

“Oh, Lord,” he groaned.

“Let me, Will,” Emily said softly, continuing to unbutton his shirt. She had no trouble at all with his cufflinks, and in a jiffy his shirt and vest were off. She had a little more trouble with his belt buckle.

“Stand up, Will,” she commanded.

With another agonized groan, Will did as he was told.

The heavenly agony of having Emily undress him was taking its toll. A fine sheen of sweat erupted on Will’s brow. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He was almost afraid to move for fear he would explode before he’d done his manly duty. But Emily managed to remove first his pants, then his drawers. When she began to press tiny, rapturous kisses along his shaft, he uttered such a growl of desperate longing as he had never heard from his throat. His hands buried themselves in her shining tresses, and he knew he couldn’t stand it any longer.

With one fluid motion, he picked Emily up, flopped himself flat on her bed, and pulled her over his hard body. She smiled down at him and he felt like weeping for joy.

“Oh, God, Emily, I love you so much.”

Emily had to kiss him for those sweet words, so she did. When she opened her eyes again, she discovered their positions had somehow become reversed. She now lay on her back with Will sprawled over her. She arched like a cat when he kissed a throbbing path to the sweet curls hiding her secrets. When she felt his tongue stroke her there, she had to cram her hand into her mouth to keep from screaming.

The sweet torment was incredible. When Will finally dove his flesh into hers, they groaned a passionate duet of pleasure. Deeper and faster, with Emily matching each thrust with a fervent arch of her hips, they drove one another higher and higher until, as one, they burst into a sparkling cascade of fulfillment.

It was a long time before they cooled down sufficiently to continue the conversation Will had come to her room to initiate. When at last he rolled to Emily’s side and drew her close to him, his senses rioted in the pleasure of her softness pressed against him.

Lord above, he loved her. More than he’d ever thought it was possible for one human being to love another human being. His Uncle Mel had prepared him for lots of painful eventualities in life, but he sure hadn’t prepared him for the magnificence of love. It briefly occurred to Will to wonder about the gap in his education, and to feel a little bit sorry for his wily uncle.

Emily’s small hand stroked his chest. She buried her fingers in his curly hair and teased his hard, flat nipples.

“Keep that up, love, and you’ll be on your back again in a minute.”

Emily sighed with pleasure. “Would that be so awful, Will?”

Will’s hard kiss let her know exactly how awful he thought it would be.

“But we still have to talk, darling,” he said when he finally managed to pry his lips from hers.

He felt her take a deep breath, as though bracing herself for something unpleasant, and tried to forestall any further objections on her part.

“Emily, my love, I’m a very rich man. I made my money honestly, by my own enterprise.”

“Well, of course you did, Will. I never doubted it for a moment.”

Emily sounded surprised he would even have to say such a thing, and Will chuckled. “When you learn more about me, love, you might not wonder about why I need you to know that.”

“All right, Will.” Somehow it didn’t seem like the right moment for her to question him. A big yawn escaped her lips along with her compliance.

“Of course, like most lucky fellows, I had help. I made my fortune by honest means and with the help of my best friend Thomas Crandall.”

“That nice man we met in the restaurant?”

“The same. Thomas and I started a business—here in San Francisco, as a matter of fact—about ten years ago. It’s been more successful than either one of us ever imagined it would be.”

“You and Mr. Crandall . . .”

Emily’s words trickled to a stop, and Will felt her stiffen at his side.

“Mr. Crandall,” Emily whispered. “Mr. Crandall and Will Tate. Crandall and Tate.”

Suddenly she sat up straight as a plumb line and pinned Will with a stare of absolute awe. “Crandall and Tate?”

She was so damned lovely, looking at him like that. Will could only grin with appreciation for several seconds.

“Yes,” he managed to say at last. He couldn’t stop his hand from lifting to cup one of her perfect breasts. “God, Emily, you’re so beautiful.”

But Emily no longer heeded Will’s words of love. She was too busy being flabbergasted by his revelation. She did not, however, remove his hand.

“Will Tate. You’re that Tate?”

“Yes,” he said again. His voice was getting a little thick as Emily continued to present him with the luxurious display of her womanly charms. The red haze of his passion cleared slightly when she frowned.

“But you said you have a spread in Texas.”

Will was just honest enough to look guilty. “Well, I do,” he said. “But it’s not a ranch or anything, although I do have a majority share of three large ranches in the area. Basically, it’s a big estate I built for myself ‘cause I never had a home when I was a kid and I always wanted one. It can be our children’s inheritance, Emily, love. One that will mean even more because I built it up myself by the sweat of honest work.”

It didn’t seem as though Emily heard him after the “not a ranch” part.

“My God,” she whispered. “Crandall and Tate is the biggest importer in the West. One of the largest in the nation. Oh, Will.” Her expression held dazed incredulity.

He wasn’t entirely sure whether being dazed was good or not under the circumstances, but he said, “Yes. So you see, helping your aunt and uncle isn’t a problem for me. I’ve got so much money, I’ll never be able to spend it all, even with their help. And it just keeps multiplying. That’s the funny thing about money.”

There was a lull in the conversation. Eventually Emily said, “I’ve never been able to find anything at all funny about money, Will.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed her by her supple waist and pulled her down so that she lay on him, breast to chest.

“I can’t marry you, Will,” Emily told him sadly. “I can’t possibly allow you to waste your money on my family. It wouldn’t be fair.”

But he was prepared for her this time. By now, he had been able to think up a perfect answer, fit to stifle any further protest on her part.

“It’s too late, Emily.”

“What?”

Emily struggled to sit up again, but he wouldn’t let her. He held her captive in his arms, his warm hands stroking her back. His undisciplined male parts both appreciated and reacted strongly to the feel of her body wriggling against his.

His soothing massage had its effect. Emily stopped struggling after only a very few of his long, gentle strokes. “I don’t understand, Will,” she whispered against his neck.

“I’ve already got your uncle’s business on its way toward profitability. There’s no way to avoid it’s becoming a success now. I have a golden touch. Don’t know why. It’s a gift, I guess. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted your family to founder in poverty and lose everything. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have meddled.”

His ridiculous statement brought on a fit of soft giggles, a result very much to Will’s liking. “Oh, Will, I do love you so awfully much.”

“Good. Then if you can’t come up with any further objections to it, will you marry me, Emily, darling?”

She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. Oh, she knew he was right: his interference for the good would save her uncle’s business. She was almost positive of it now.

But that didn’t negate her own villainy. As she stared into his beautiful hazel eyes, Emily knew she could not refuse him again tonight, even though they would have to part at dawn. Instead, she kissed him. She kissed him soundly, and continued to kiss him until he was at her mercy. Then she kissed him some more, until she was at his mercy.

By the time Will lifted her and pulled her down upon his aching body, they were so besotted with one other it took only a very few glorious minutes before they hurtled once again into the shattering ecstasy of completion.

“I love you, Will,” Emily murmured after they both came back down to earth. She snuggled into the cradle of his arm to go to sleep. She had never even considered what sleeping in the arms of a man must be like before she met Will, but she liked it. A lot. Fancy enjoying falling asleep in a man’s armpit, she mused.

His strong arms encircled her and his heart swelled with adoration. “And I love you, love,” he whispered.

Then he guessed that was redundant. He chuckled with pleasure. Great God almighty, he was a happy man.

Thus they drifted off to sleep.

It was very late the next morning when Emily was awakened by the sound of a gentle tapping at her door.

When her eyes fluttered open, she was delighted to find herself still encircled by Will’s strong arms. Her delight tumbled downhill into panic when she noticed the sunlight streaming through her window, illuminating the tiny dust motes hovering in the air. Oh, Lord, it was late; much later than she usually awoke. Not only that, but somebody was knocking on her door. She sat up, startled, and stared down at Will, who stirred sleepily as she jostled him.

“Somebody’s at the door, Will,” she hissed.

“Uh-oh.” With the quick reflexes borne of a youth spent on the lam, Will scrambled out from under the covers, grabbed his clothes and dove under the bed.

Emily snatched up her robe in a hurry, looked at herself in the mirror, and decided her hair and face were both hopeless. After checking to make sure no sign of Will Tate still remained discernible, she went to the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, darling.” It was Gertrude. “Are you all right, Emily, dear? I know you were upset yesterday. And it’s so late in the morning, and you weren’t up yet, and I just wanted to know if you’re all right.”

Emily cracked the door open and peeked out. “Oh, Aunt Gertrude, thank you. I—I guess I overslept.”

“Oh, Emily, you look terrible!”

Although she wasn’t sure she appreciated her aunt’s candor, with her beloved Will hiding under the bed, Emily was actually sort of glad she didn’t look well. Besides, she was sure she would soon look worse. As soon as Will left her for the last time.

“I—I guess I’m not feeling too well, Aunt. I think I’ll sleep a while longer.” Emily yawned and rubbed her eyes for effect.

“I should go fetch you a tonic. You know, my darling, I really think you should reconsider your decision about not marrying that nice Mr. Blake if refusing him is going to make you this sick and unhappy.”

Without waiting to hear her answer—which was just as well since Emily’s eyes suddenly filled with tears—Gertrude left. Presumably she went to fetch Emily’s tonic, although Emily suspected Gertrude would forget her errand before she got to the kitchen.

Although she didn’t expect further interruptions, Emily took the precaution of locking her door before she tiptoed over to the bed and lifted the counterpane.

“Will, darling.”

“Is it safe?”

In spite of her underlying misery, Emily was startled into a ripple of laughter when Will poked his head, a little fluffy from the dust it had picked up, out from under the bed.

“It’s safe.”

“Are you laughing at me, Emily von Plotz? Soon to be Emily Tate?”

His show of mock grumpiness made heart squeeze. “Oh, Will,” she sighed.

Will didn’t like the sound of that. “What is it, Emily darling?”

She gazed at his face for a moment or two. Then she turned away resolutely. Clasping her hands to her breast, she said stolidly, “Please leave now, Will. I—I don’t want to keep you from your business.”

“What?” Will stopped in the process of cramming a long leg into his trousers. “What did you say?”

She whirled around and cried, “Oh, Will, please! Just go! Go away! Never come back! I can’t bear to love you so and to know you can never be mine!”

Flinging herself on her bed, which groaned a loud protest, Emily succumbed to a violent fit of tears.

Will stared at her, dumbfounded. “What the hell . . .?” Then he frowned. “God damn.” His violent curse got lost in the frenzy of Emily’s sobs.

“Do you mean to say,” he said in a very controlled voice, “that you still refuse to marry me?”

Emily could not speak. She only nodded, driving her nose into her pillow and nearly smothering herself.

Will continued to stare at her miserable form for several more seconds. Then he muttered, “Well, hell and damnation. I can’t even believe this.”

“I love you, damn it all to blazes,” Will hollered. Then he crammed his hat on his head, scanned the street below for policemen, and hastily climbed out the window and down the tree, taking most of its leaves and a good many small branches with him.