Desperate Hearts (18 page)

“You know all about me, too. I’ve already told you everything. There are no secrets in my past, just the hard truth, and that’s all I want from you—the hard
truth.”

Elizabeth stepped farther away. “The hard truth might bring out the lawman in you. As I’ve said, I’ve been reading Thomas Dimsdale’s articles on the vigilantes of Montana. I know they’re a rough
bunch.”

“With outlaws, not with
women.”

“You already said Trudy Wiley should be in jail. How do I know you won’t put
me
in
jail?”

“Jesus, Elizabeth!” Mitch sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t try to
kill
me! You can’t compare yourself to someone like Trudy. How many ways can I say it? I’m not going to harm a hair on your head. I
love
you, Elizabeth Wainright, or whatever your name is. And as far as the vigilante work, I’d give it all up for you, if you asked
me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Something tells me that what you’re doing runs in your blood. You grew up fighting your way through life and you’re still doing
it.”

“Because my life had no purpose. Now it
does!”

She folded her arms, finally facing him again. “You won’t give up trying to win me over, will
you?”

“No, ma’am. And it’s not easy for a man like me to admit to loving someone. That should tell you something.” Mitch gave her a rather sad smile, and the air hung silent for a moment as they just watched each other. A shot rang out somewhere outside and another distant explosion disrupted the moment. Mitch’s gentle gaze and masculine presence drew her to him. Mitch in turn stepped closer to her. He touched her face so very gently, moved his hand down her arm to take hold of her hand and squeezed it. “Damn it, woman, let me
help
you.”

Elizabeth enjoyed the feeling of being totally loved and protected, something she’d not felt for so very long. She lifted his hand and put it to her face again, brushing his palm with her lips. “Do you mean it? You’ll still care about me no matter what I tell
you?”

“You know by now that I don’t dance around my words, Elizabeth. I told you the first day we met that I don’t lie and I don’t leave anything out, but you’re leaving out plenty, and I can’t help you if I don’t know it
all.”

She closed her eyes, still holding his hand to her face. “What if…what if I told you I’m not…not…untouched?”

He squeezed her hand but didn’t answer right away. “I’m no fool, Elizabeth,” he finally said. “If you think that news shocks me, it doesn’t. It’s been obvious by the way you’ve reacted to any advance I ever made toward you. It wasn’t bashful innocence. It was terror, and it only makes me want to kill the man who touched you, because I damn well know it couldn’t have been something you wanted. And if it wasn’t, then you haven’t been touched at
all.”

Elizabeth collapsed against him. To her, those were the most beautiful words she’d ever heard. Mitch moved his other arm around her and pulled her against him. He moved a thumb under her chin, making her look up at him. “I’ll say it again, Elizabeth. I love you. There’s a reason you ended up here, lady, and I’m
it.”

He leaned closer, and Elizabeth did not resist when his full lips met her mouth in a gentle kiss that made her head spin. To her surprise, she returned the kiss, enjoying the taste of his mouth, the scent of leather and tobacco and the fresh Montana outdoors. He was a man as big as the territory he roamed in search of thieves and murderers and rustlers. The thought of the dangers he faced made her move her arms around his neck and let the kiss linger and deepen. She wanted him right here, where he was safe and sound. The feelings he stirred in her were almost startling. Was she actually falling in love, too?

Mitch moved both arms around her and lifted her off her feet. She buried her face against his neck. “Part of me wants you in every way, Mitch,” she told him softly, “but I’m scared I’ll lose you afterward, and I’m scared
of…”

Memories. Bad memories. She suddenly wiggled out of his arms and pulled away. She put a hand over her eyes, turning away again. Unwittingly, the words came spilling out then. “It was awful, Mitch. I can’t go through that again. He forced
me.”

“Who? Your
stepfather
?”

Elizabeth shivered, unable to face him. “He threatened me with prison, and he has the power and the means to put me
there.”

“For
what?”

“For…for theft…and what he’ll say was
murder.”

Elizabeth heard him mutter a profanity, followed by a deep
sigh.

“And you really think I’d believe
that?”

“I don’t know. You’re a vigilante. They don’t need a lot of reason to hang someone out
here.”

“Not for something someone did fifteen hundred miles away! And I sure as hell wouldn’t believe something like that anyway. For God’s sake, Elizabeth, tell me what’s going on! How many ways can I ask you to let me
help
you?”

Elizabeth jerked in a sob. “But what if I…tell you…and you turn on me?” She finally faced him again. “More than anything on this earth I want to trust you, Mitch. I can’t do this by myself. I thought I could, but so much has
happened—”

Before she finished, he whisked her up into his arms. Just then the back door opened and in walked Ma Kelly. She stopped short, raising her
eyebrows.

“Well now, seems I’ve interrupted something,” she said, setting some packages on the table. “Should I leave again?” She smiled
wryly.

Elizabeth curled up tighter in Mitch’s arms, keeping her face buried against his
shoulder.

“No,” Mitch answered her. “You can stay, but this woman and I have some talking to do. I’m taking her up to her room, and nobody will ever know. Right, Ma?”

Ma Kelly folded her arms. “You know me better, Mitch Brady, than to think I’d tell a soul. I’ve figured all along that that little gal needs a solid man like you to help her out with whatever she’s needing help with. Go on upstairs. I’ll get rid of that cigarette butt and any other sign that you’re here.” She picked his hat up from where it hung on the corner of his chair, then reached up and put it on his head. “Go on with you, before one of the tenants comes
back.”

“Thanks.” Mitch carried Elizabeth up the back stairs to her room, laid her on the bed, and closed the
door.

Mitch removed his weapons and dropped them to the floor. He then sat down on the bed and pulled off his
boots.

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked, becoming
alarmed.

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing. Lie down and
relax.”

“Relax? You’re
undressing!”

He grinned as he stood up and took off his leather vest. “I’m only taking off what could get in the
way.”

“In the way of what?” Elizabeth remained sitting and scooted up to lean against the iron rails of her
bed.

Mitch untied his neck scarf and tossed it. “Didn’t I tell you to trust
me?”

Elizabeth
nodded.

“Then lie down like I asked you to
do.”

She just stared at
him.

“Jesus, Elizabeth, I’m not asking you to take your clothes off.” He held out his arms. “Look. I’m still dressed myself. Not another article of clothing is coming
off.”

Elizabeth warily scooted down, remaining on top of the bedcovers. She lay flat on her back, staring up at
him.

Mitch chuckled, moving onto the bed and straddling her in order to get on the other side of her. “For God’s sake, woman, you’re lying there like a corpse.” He moved beside her, forced her to turn facing away from him, then moved his arms around her from behind and put one leg over her skirts. He pulled her close against him, his head above hers on the pillow so that she nestled nicely against his chest. “There. Now
talk.”

She lay there quietly for a
moment.

“Elizabeth, I’m showing you that you don’t have to be afraid of me. I want you to get used to being held without there being anything more to it than someone caring about you. We are going to lie here like this and you’re going to tell me the truth about why you’re here. What’s your real
name?”

“Elizabeth.”

“No, it isn’t. What’s your
real
name?”

She sighed, astonished he could lie on a bed with her without trying to do more. The last time she was on a bed with a man, he’d beaten her first. She had to admit, feeling Mitch’s arms around her almost made her feel like a child in her father’s embrace, something she hadn’t experienced in years. The day her father died was the last day she felt safe. “Emma,” she
answered.

“Emma
what?”

“Radcliffe.”

He kissed her hair. “I remember something about the Radcliffe Company when I was a little boy, running the streets of New York. Rich family. Same
Radcliffes?”

“Yes.”

“And what could make you leave all of
that?”

“It’s a long, long
story.”

“I’m not going
anywhere.”

Emma thought about the necklace. Did she dare tell him about it? “I’ll tell you right now that I’ll never get any of the Radcliffe money, in case you think marrying me would make you a rich
man.”

“You already know how I feel about that. Wealth means nothing to me. Besides, didn’t I tell you I loved you before you even mentioned any of
this?”

She sighed. “That’s
true.”

“So tell me the story,” he
repeated.

Emma relished the protection of being wrapped into him. Alan Radcliffe could never get to her here. “Back in the 1820s, in England, my grandmother was forced into marriage to a cousin who had distant ties to the royal family,” she answered. “Her family was dependent on the cousin for survival. They had lost their fortune and were living on his estate, so my grandmother married him so her family could continue living comfortably. But my grandmother was so unhappy that she ended up having an affair with a commoner. Her cousin—I guess I should say her husband—found out, and he divorced her, keeping everything of any value
except…”

“Except
what?”

“I’m afraid to tell you. It’s why my mother
died.”

“That means maybe you could die too for possessing something
valuable?”

She hesitated. “I want so bad to trust you, Mitch.”

“Have I done one thing to cause you
not
to trust
me?”

“No.”

“Then keep
talking.”

Emma swallowed. “Her husband let her keep a valuable necklace, a piece of jewelry he’d inherited that was once worn by Princess Caroline of Brunswick, King George the Fourth’s wife. No one is sure how my grandmother’s cousin ended up with the necklace, but he did, and he gave it to my grandmother. The older it gets, the more valuable it becomes. My grandmother never told her lover about it, afraid he’d try to steal it from her, because he turned out to be no good. He never married her and in fact deserted her after learning she was with child…
his
child. The rest of my grandmother’s family turned her away in humiliation, so she came to America. She worked as a maid and cook for the Radcliffe family. They let her keep her baby and raise her to also be a servant for the family. That baby was my mother. Her name was Mary Benedict—my grandmother’s maiden
name.”

Emma grasped Mitch’s muscled forearm, feeling more comfortable in his embrace. “My grandmother died, but not before telling my mother about the necklace and urging her to keep it and never sell it unless she became so destitute that she had no choice. Eventually one of the Radcliffe sons, John, fell in love with my mother and married her. She was very
beautiful.”

He kissed her hair again. “Seeing you, I can believe
that.”

Emma smiled. “Thank
you.”

“Keep
talking.”

“My mother said people talked at first, a Radcliffe marrying one of the maids and all, but my father and his parents were wonderful, kind people, and since Mary literally grew up in their house, they didn’t really see her as a lowly servant. They loved and respected her, and they approved of the marriage. I am the result of that
marriage.”

“So you stand to inherit the Radcliffe
fortune.”

She closed her eyes. “I suppose, what’s left of it, but after what I’ve been through, I really don’t want any of it. Besides, Alan Radcliffe will make sure I never get a dime of it. Alan was my father’s brother, and we seldom saw him. He’d branched out into his own businesses and was always traveling to Europe and such, so we never really got to know him well, but he was friendly enough to me and my mother when he came for the holidays. Apparently my father told him once about the necklace, because he asked my mother if he could see it. She refused, said she’d rather keep it hidden and not let too many know that it even existed.” She drew even closer to Mitch. “I’ll always remember the flash of dark anger I saw in Alan’s eyes when my mother refused his request. I guess she didn’t notice it, but I did, and from that day on I didn’t like him. But then my father died, and Alan started coming around, at first to console my mother, then to befriend her and pretend to want to help her because she was his sister-in-law. He seemed to be just as good a man as my father had been, but I suspected different. Still, he was raised the same as my father and his parents were such good people, we really had no reason to believe he wasn’t as good a man as my father was. And my mother seemed so happy that I didn’t want to spoil it for
her.

“Then my paternal grandparents died, and I think my mother felt she needed help handling all that she’d inherited, so she accepted Alan’s offer of marriage. He explained that it would benefit her and me both, because my mother would remain in the Radcliffe family and inherit not only his parents’ fortune, but the extra fortune Alan had built… I should say, the fortune he pretended to
have.”

“Pretended?”

“Alan turned out to be a heavy gambler. He lost nearly all of his parents’ fortune after they died, and before I left New York he’d lost quite a bit more. He was getting desperate for money, so he began badgering my mother about the necklace. He said, since she was his wife, the necklace belonged to him to do with as he pleased. My mother refused, saying the necklace was to be handed down to me. Things got worse and worse, and Alan began showing his true colors. He began beating my mother, and once I…matured…he began eyeing me in ways I didn’t like. Then one night he came into my bedroom and planted his hand over my mouth before I could
scream.”

Emma curled her knees up closer to her chest. Mitch held her even tighter and kissed her hair. “I hate having to tell you this,” Emma told him in a near
whisper.

“You don’t need to if you don’t want to. I have a pretty damn good idea what
happened.”

Emma gripped his arm tighter. She felt his own tension, knew his anger toward Alan Radcliffe was building. “He…told me I’d better let him have his way, or he’d beat my mother again…and then he’d tell her he didn’t love her anymore because I had been coming to his bed and it was me he loved and wanted—that I was after his fortune and wanted her out of the
picture.”

“For God’s sake, he was your
uncle
!”

“He was an animal with an obsession for young women and money, or so I soon learned. He said if I screamed, he’d claim I’d lured him into my bedroom…and the maids and everyone would hear and the gossip would spread and I’d be disgraced and so would my mother. I’d just turned seventeen and had never…” She shuddered at the
memory.

Mitch kept a firm grip on her. “It’s all right, Emma. I’m going to call you Emma from now on, because that’s your name and you should be using it. And don’t be ashamed of what happened. That bastard should die for it. It’s bad enough that he was older and stronger and violated you to begin with, but to have it be his own brother’s daughter…the man deserves something
worse
than
death.”

“Don’t let go of
me.”

“I wouldn’t think of it. I’ll hang on to you as long as you want me
to.”

Emma closed her eyes. “I couldn’t tell my mother about it. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe how it happened—that she would believe Alan’s version of it. I didn’t want her to hate me. Then Alan sent me to a finishing school for six months. I think he wanted to get rid of me for fear I’d have the courage to tell. I’m sure while I was gone he made life hell for my mother. When I came home she seemed so…broken and unhappy. She gave me a key to a safe-deposit box and told me the necklace was in it and to never tell anyone—that it was mine forever. I think she was afraid by then that Alan would kill her. Not long after, he got drunk and they had another big fight. He pushed my mother down the wide staircase the led up to the bedrooms. She broke her neck in the
fall.”

She stopped, the tears coming then. “I started to pick her up,” she managed to choke out, “and her head fell back grotesquely. It was horrible…my own mother…dead in my
arms.”

“Damn.” Mitch sighed. “I know the
feeling.”

“And you were just a little boy. I’m so sorry, Mitch. You have your own horrible memories. When you first told me about your mother, I was struck by the fact that we’ve both watched our mothers die
violently.”

“At least in my case, I didn’t have to deal with someone like Alan Radcliffe afterward. Tell me the rest of it, Emma.”

She took several deep breaths first to control her tears. “Alan told me I’d better go along with his story that it was an accident. He said he’d tell people I pushed her myself, that I had been after his affections and was jealous of my mother and wanted her out of the picture. He said he had connections, that he could have me sent to prison, that if I tried to tell the truth, no one would believe my story. He’s such a powerful man, Mitch…and he does have connections in the right places. I believed I really could go to prison. He said I would, if I didn’t tell him where the necklace was. He was getting desperate for money. I refused to tell him. He grabbed me and dragged me upstairs and threw me on his bed and forced himself on me again, saying he’d have me every night if I didn’t tell…and there was my mother, still lying dead at the bottom of the
stairs.”

“My God, I’d like to get my hands on that man.” Mitch crushed her
closer.

“The next two days were busy with reporting my mother’s death and holding her funeral. Alan put on a great show as the mourning husband, and every time the prosecutor came around, Alan gave me that dark, menacing look that said I’d better not tell the truth or he would turn it all against me. I knew he could, so I decided to run away. I felt I had no other choice. I was afraid he’d have me arrested anyway, because he was so angry that I wouldn’t tell him where the necklace
was.

“The night of the funeral, I looked through the newspaper, trying to figure out where I could go, looking for a job. I just wanted to get out of that house, but then I realized that if I went anywhere in New York, he would easily find me. It had to be someplace far away. Then I saw a little article about how women were needed out West as cooks, laundresses, waitresses, wives… ‘Come to Alder, Montana,’ it said. And then I realized some little mining town way out West was the last place someone like Alan would ever dream of looking for me, so as soon as he left on business the next day, I packed as fast as I could. I found some money in one of Alan’s drawers, and I took it because I knew I’d need it. I took the key for the safe-deposit box and went and got the necklace. I discovered my mother had put a lot of money in the safe-deposit box along with the necklace. I think she knew for a long time that I might end up needing it, so I took that money, too, along with the necklace, and I headed west and never looked
back.”

Emma finally turned onto her back, looking into Mitch’s eyes, seeing he truly understood and cared. “By now Alan is probably so angry that he’s told a huge lie to the prosecutor in New York. They’re good friends. He might even have a warrant for my arrest if I ever come back to New York State, for murder and what he’ll probably call theft of his money—and of the necklace, which he’ll consider his, because it belonged to my mother and now she’s
dead.”

Mitch leaned down to kiss her gently. “Did you honestly think I would believe you killed your own
mother?”

“I couldn’t be sure. You’re a man. Maybe you’d believe I really did throw myself at my
uncle.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Emma, I’ve known you all of three weeks, and I’d never believe a thing like that. I’m betting no one back in New York would believe it either. Alan Radcliffe took advantage of your youth and your ignorance of men. He used brutality and threats to make you believe whatever he wanted you to
believe.”