A Texan's Honor (34 page)

“How long can you stay?” Bertie had asked Bret.

“I ought to leave in the morning,” he replied.

“You have to stay for the reading of the will,” Joseph had said.

“Why? Emily is his only heir.”

“It may be a formality, but it's a necessary part of settling her father's affairs.”

Bret was certain Joseph expected that his father would be designated to handle Emily's financial affairs. Since the voting rights to the shares in Abbott & Abercrombie was Joseph's and his father's real concern, Bret was certain there'd be a lot said that would make his return to Boston even more difficult.

But all of that would be taken care of tomorrow. He couldn't keep standing at Emily's door, undecided as to whether to go to his room or check on her. Unable to hear her crying and do nothing about it, Bret knocked softly on Emily's door.

“Who is it?” Her words were muffled, barely understandable.

“It's Bret. Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.”

“You don't sound like it.”

She started crying again. “I'm okay, really.”

He couldn't stand it. He opened the door. Emily was sitting up in her bed, surrounded by a halo of light from the small oil lamp on the table next to her. Dark shadows shrouded the edges of the room, making it appear that the lighted area was detached from its surroundings, that she existed in a reality all her own.

He entered the room and eased the door closed behind him.

“I couldn't sleep knowing you were so unhappy,” he said as he approached the bed.

“I knew Dad was going to die, but I didn't expect it to be so soon,” Emily said through her tears. “I'll get used to it, but it'll take a while. He was all I had.”

“You've still got Bertie,” Bret said, drawing near the bed. “I'm sure Ida would come stay with you as long as you need her.”

Emily lowered the handkerchief from her tear-filled eyes and looked up at Bret. “Do I still have you?”

Hoping he wasn't promising more than he could fulfill, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Emily's hand in his. “You have me for as long as you need me.”

Emily's hand gripped him hard. “What if I never stop needing you?”

Bret didn't know how to answer that question. Loving someone, he'd come to realize, didn't solve life's problems. In their case, it had just created more.

“It wouldn't be normal if you didn't feel lost, even abandoned, right now. But you'll start to feel stronger in a couple of days. Before long, you'll be raring to get back in the saddle, back to training your horses. You're a very strong woman.”

“I don't feel strong.”

The appeal in her eyes was so potent, the hurt so deep, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her until the sadness went away. He didn't because he was afraid if he did, he might never let her go. He'd thought he had his feelings under control, but that was before he was forced to watch Emily suffer. Dark circles around her eyes caused them to appear sunken into her head. They were slightly swollen from crying, but her tear-stained cheeks were still creamy without a single red blotch. She had let her hair down from its usual bun and allowed it to fall over her shoulders. Somehow it made her look more vulnerable. Even helpless.

“Do you want me to stay a little while?” he asked.

“I never want you to leave.”

That was more than he'd bargained for, but his response to her plea was something else that would be left until tomorrow.

She came to him in a rush, her arms around his
neck, her head on his shoulder, as the tears started again. He didn't know it was possible for a person to cry so much without running dry. He'd been nearly overwhelmed by heartbreak and loneliness after his father died, but fear had locked his tears inside his heart. Years later, when it was at last safe to cry, the tears had been absorbed into his determination to return to Boston.

But Emily had no such ghosts, no such fears, no such loneliness. She was free to mourn. Later she would be free to take up her life where she'd left off. But for tonight she needed him. And though he didn't like to admit it, he needed her to need him, to want him, to look to him for comfort, for courage to face the days ahead.

Almost as a reflex, his arms tightened around her as he kissed the top of her head. Her hair felt soft against his cheek, against his lips. In the semidarkness, her hair looked almost black, the blond highlights barely noticeable. He'd never thought of Emily as delicate, but through the thin material of her nightgown, her body felt almost fragile. She was so soft, she fit so well against him, he had to close his mind to the thought she was meant to be in his arms. He reminded himself that the courses of their lives were too far apart ever to join.

He asked himself why he couldn't make himself stick with that thought. Did he have to go back to Boston? Was it possible to convince her to go with him? Could he be happy if she stayed in Texas?

The woman in his arms had caused him to question the nature of the drive that had imprisoned as well as supported him during the last twenty years.

“I'm soaking your clothes,” Emily murmured.

He was wearing only a robe with nothing underneath.
“I don't care.” He wouldn't care if she drenched him as long as it made her feel less miserable.

“I'm sure you don't want to be here.”

“I wouldn't have come if I didn't.”

She gave him a gentle squeeze. “I don't know why your family doesn't adore you. I could give them a dozen reasons why you're the most wonderful man I know.”

Bret chuckled, though he didn't know why. “You can put it all in a letter to my uncle.”

“He doesn't deserve you.”

Bret agreed. But the question in his mind at the moment was, what did he deserve, and could it possibly include Emily?

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“I am now that you're here.”

“If you're better—” He started to release her, but her arms tightened around him.

“Don't leave yet.”

He knew he shouldn't stay. Things he wanted to do, things he
longed
to do, crowded his mind. He told himself they were all inappropriate during this time of grief, but he couldn't stop himself. He held a beautiful woman in his arms, a woman who loved him, a woman he loved in return. It was impossible for a young man not to think of making love to her, just as it was impossible for a man of honor to take advantage of her at a time such as this. He would hold her and comfort her. He would stay with her as long as she needed him, but he would leave without dishonoring her or himself.

“Could you lie down with me?” Emily asked. “I'm sitting at an awkward angle.”

Bret's heart nearly jumped into his throat. He couldn't stop his body from going rigid. She was asking
him to do the one thing he couldn't do and remain in control of himself. “I'll keep you awake.”

“I can't sleep, and I don't want to be alone.”

“You've got a house full of people. You're not alone.”

She pulled away. “If you don't want to stay with me—”

“It's not that,” Bret said, desperate to think of something to say that wouldn't require him to explain she was pushing him to the edge of his self-control. “Bertie should be the one sitting with you.”

“I don't want Bertie. I want you.”

How could he leave after that? But how could he stay, knowing his body was stiff with desire? Emily moved to the other side of the double bed, making plenty of room for him. Maybe, if he could keep his distance, he could make it through the next half hour without losing his honor. Making sure to keep space between him and Emily, he swung his legs onto the bed and propped himself up against the headboard.

“Wouldn't you be more comfortable lying down?” Emily asked.

“I'm liable to go to sleep.” That was absolutely impossible, but Emily didn't need to know it.

“That'll be okay.”

His laugh was mirthless. “I don't want to think what Bertie would do if she came in and found me asleep in your bed.” And if by some miracle Bertie didn't kill him, Hawk and Zeke would.

“You said it was okay for friends to kiss. Surely it's harmless to lie side by side in the same bed.”

The last bit of his control snapped. “Are you trying to drive me crazy, or are you so naive you don't understand what you're saying? You said you loved me. I said I loved
you
. This is not a matter of friends lying down on a hillside to take a nap after lunch. We're
in bed together. Even in the wilds of Texas, that means trouble.”

“I don't want to drive you crazy. I just want to be next to you, to have you hold me.”

“That's what I want, too.” However, it wasn't
all
he wanted.

She looked at him, questioning, waiting for him to make the first move. Yielding to the inevitable, Bret put his arm around her shoulders. With a contented sigh, Emily moved over until their sides touched.

“You know I love you, don't you?” she asked.

“I know.”

“I don't mean like a friend. I love you like someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Emily, we've already been through this. Our lives are—”

“They don't have to remain separate.” Emily sat up and turned so she could face him. “You don't like Boston, and your family doesn't like you. You're happy in Texas and you love your adopted family. You shouldn't go back to Boston. You should stay here.”

If she had any idea how much he wished he could stay in Texas, wished he could spend his life with her, she'd never stop trying to convince him to change his mind. “I know you don't understand, but I've known my whole life what I have to do. I probably stayed in Texas longer than I should because I was leaving people who loved me for a family that had rejected me at every opportunity.”

Emily had risen to her knees. “What about you, your life, the things you want? You can't live your whole life just to avenge an old injustice.”

“You don't understand.”

Emily thumped him on the shoulders with the heel of her palm. “I
do
understand. My father was disowned
by his family. They wouldn't answer his letters, acknowledge his marriage or my birth. It hurt Dad, but he was determined to live his life for himself, not for someone else.”

“Isabelle said practically the same thing. Jake warned me not to expect them to change, but I had to leave.”

“Okay, so you don't care about yourself, but it's not fair to ruin my life because of something your stupid uncle did twenty years ago.”

Bret opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You know I love you,” Emily insisted. “I wouldn't have said anything if you didn't love me, too. If you were going to turn your back and go off to Boston never to return, you shouldn't have said anything. Teasing me with something I can't have is cruel.”

“You knew I had to go back to Boston,” Bret said, desperate to get out from under the weight of guilt. “I told you that from the beginning.” He could see the tears pool in Emily's eyes, spill over and run down her cheeks.

“I thought falling in love with me would change that,” Emily said through her tears.

He didn't know how to explain to her that the present couldn't change the past, didn't cancel out the terrible sense of injustice that wouldn't let him rest. He couldn't ignore it. He couldn't explain it away. All attempts to get around it had failed. Only by facing it could he free himself from this unbearable burden. “I have to go back to Boston,” he said. “There are things I have to do there if I'm ever going to be happy.”

“If you loved me like I love you, you wouldn't leave me.” Emily's tears began to flow faster.

“Would you come to Boston with me?” He knew it wouldn't work, but he couldn't stop himself from asking.

“You know I hate Boston. Besides, my family doesn't want me any more than yours wants you. And Joseph only wants my share of Abbott and Abercrombie.”

“Once I've finished what I set out to do, maybe I can come back,” Bret said.

“You won't come back, because you don't really love me.”

It would make it easier for her to forget him if she believed that, but he couldn't tell her that lie. A man could be expected to give up only so much, even for an old and grievous wound. Taking her by the shoulders, Bret pulled her to him. He leaned forward and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. “I tried not to fall in love with you because I knew it wouldn't work, but I couldn't help myself.”

“I don't believe you really love me.”

“How can I prove it to you?”

“Make love to me.”

If she'd asked him to marry Bertie, he couldn't have been more surprised. “I could never do that.”

Emily shrugged his hands off her shoulders and moved back. “Then you don't love me.”

“You don't know what you're asking.”

“I know exactly what I'm asking.” Despite her grief over her father's death, she looked determined and clear-eyed.

“When you fall in love and marry—”

“I'm not going to get married, because I'll never fall in love again.”

“You can't know what. When you go to Galveston—”

“I'm not going to Galveston. You can still vote my shares, but there's no point.”

“I don't give a damn about your shares. I promised your father—”

“My father is dead. I'm the one who's alive.”

“You're too young and too lovely to give up on having a husband and family.”

“My parents fell in love the first time they saw each other. Why do you think I'd be any different? I love you. I want to marry you, be your wife, have your children.”