Read Online The Maverick's Bride by Catherine Palmer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Catherine Palmer
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Then she shook her head. “He needs you. He told you that. And he promised to protect you, Emma. I’m certain he will. He’s that sort of man. Like Dirk.”
Emma looked out the window at the tangle of shrubbery brushing past. Adam King did seem that sort of man. But why should she trust someone she knew so little about? Nicholas had vilified him. His behavior had hardly proven him a gentleman. Yet there was something about him…
Her thoughts slipped back to her first view of the man. He had been no more than a dark form on a black horse, yet he had cradled a child so gently.
“If opportunity presents itself, I shall speak to him,” Emma said with quiet determination. “Yet I’m certain he is not on this train because of me. He didn’t even know I’d be here.”
“But he did! I heard you tell him we were leaving on the eight o’clock train. Emma, he’s following you, protecting you even without your permission. He saw what Father did.”
Cissy glanced over the back of the berth to where her father and Nicholas Bond were still deep in conversation. Then she tucked her arm through her sister’s.
“I know men,” Cissy whispered, “and I can see that the cowboy has taken a fancy to you.”
“You know far less than you claim, believe me.” Annoyed, Emma shoved the wisp of hair back into her chignon. Even though he had denied it, he must be married. Emma had seen the letter. She felt sure that somewhere in America his wife was preparing for a governor’s inauguration—and waiting for the husband who would accompany her. If Adam wanted to talk with Emma, it was only because she was a nurse. His ill friend must need one badly.
Her cheeks hot, Emma leaned back on the leather seat and shut her eyes. To imagine that there could be any hope for true love with such a man was impossible. Yet without success, she tried to resist the unbidden memory of his arms holding her close as they danced around the ballroom.
Rising suddenly, she grabbed the iron handles and slammed the window shut.
Lunch arrived and went away again—steaming cream soup with lobster soufflé, hardly in keeping with the sweltering heat inside the railcar and the increasing herds of game outside. Afterward, Nicholas chose to settle himself beside Emma and expound on his dreams for the railway. She made an effort to listen, but her attention slipped away to the changing landscape outside the window.
After crossing the Rabai Hills, the train descended to the wide expanse of the Taru Desert. Thin scrub thorn brush and stunted trees dotted the arid wilderness, so different from the wooded lands nearer the coast. Layers of fine red dust carpeted everything, sifting into the train so that Cissy rose again and again to shake out her white linen skirt.
Late in the afternoon, the train stopped at a station labeled in proud black letters, Voi. A major stop along the line, Voi boasted a crisp whitewashed station building and several stone houses. Nicholas accompanied Godfrey Pickering off the train, leaving the two young women alone in the silent car. Cissy locked eyes with her sister for a moment, then she rose to peer out the window.
“He’s there, on the platform.” Her voice quivered with excitement. “He’s standing with some other men—railway workers, I imagine. He’s walking down the platform toward us now. He’s—oh, Emma!—he’s looking this way.”
Cissy drew back from the window. Fingertips covering her mouth, she focused on her sister. Emma stared back for a moment. Then, heart hammering, she slid across the seat and spotted the tall figure.
Adam leaned a shoulder against the blue wooden post ofthe station. He had one thumb hooked on his pocket, and a revolver rested in a holster tied to his thigh. His eyes, though in shadow beneath the wide brim of his black hat, were fastened on her window.
An odd curling sensation slid through Emma’s stomach as she met his gaze. He lifted his hand and pushed back the brim of his
Emma looked out the window at the tangle of shrubbery brushing past. Adam King did seem that sort of man. But why should she trust someone she knew so little about? Nicholas had vilified him. His behavior had hardly proven him a gentleman. Yet there was something about him…
Her thoughts slipped back to her first view of the man. He had been no more than a dark form on a black horse, yet he had cradled a child so gently.
“If opportunity presents itself, I shall speak to him,” Emma said with quiet determination. “Yet I’m certain he is not on this train because of me. He didn’t even know I’d be here.”
“But he did! I heard you tell him we were leaving on the eight o’clock train. Emma, he’s following you, protecting you even without your permission. He saw what Father did.”
Cissy glanced over the back of the berth to where her father and Nicholas Bond were still deep in conversation. Then she tucked her arm through her sister’s.
“I know men,” Cissy whispered, “and I can see that the cowboy has taken a fancy to you.”
“You know far less than you claim, believe me.” Annoyed, Emma shoved the wisp of hair back into her chignon. Even though he had denied it, he must be married. Emma had seen the letter. She felt sure that somewhere in America his wife was preparing for a governor’s inauguration—and waiting for the husband who would accompany her. If Adam wanted to talk with Emma, it was only because she was a nurse. His ill friend must need one badly.
Her cheeks hot, Emma leaned back on the leather seat and shut her eyes. To imagine that there could be any hope for true love with such a man was impossible. Yet without success, she tried to resist the unbidden memory of his arms holding her close as they danced around the ballroom.
Rising suddenly, she grabbed the iron handles and slammed the window shut.
Lunch arrived and went away again—steaming cream soup with lobster soufflé, hardly in keeping with the sweltering heat inside the railcar and the increasing herds of game outside. Afterward, Nicholas chose to settle himself beside Emma and expound on his dreams for the railway. She made an effort to listen, but her attention slipped away to the changing landscape outside the window.
After crossing the Rabai Hills, the train descended to the wide expanse of the Taru Desert. Thin scrub thorn brush and stunted trees dotted the arid wilderness, so different from the wooded lands nearer the coast. Layers of fine red dust carpeted everything, sifting into the train so that Cissy rose again and again to shake out her white linen skirt.
Late in the afternoon, the train stopped at a station labeled in proud black letters, Voi. A major stop along the line, Voi boasted a crisp whitewashed station building and several stone houses. Nicholas accompanied Godfrey Pickering off the train, leaving the two young women alone in the silent car. Cissy locked eyes with her sister for a moment, then she rose to peer out the window.
“He’s there, on the platform.” Her voice quivered with excitement. “He’s standing with some other men—railway workers, I imagine. He’s walking down the platform toward us now. He’s—oh, Emma!—he’s looking this way.”
Cissy drew back from the window. Fingertips covering her mouth, she focused on her sister. Emma stared back for a moment. Then, heart hammering, she slid across the seat and spotted the tall figure.
Adam leaned a shoulder against the blue wooden post ofthe station. He had one thumb hooked on his pocket, and a revolver rested in a holster tied to his thigh. His eyes, though in shadow beneath the wide brim of his black hat, were fastened on her window.
An odd curling sensation slid through Emma’s stomach as she met his gaze. He lifted his hand and pushed back the brim of his
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