The Maverick's Bride

Leaning farther out, she saw spurred boots, one crossed casually over the other, protruding from a window several cars forward. Her fingers tightened on the sill and she let out a small cry as she drew in her head.

“What is it?” Cissy rose. “Do you see a lion? Let me have a look.” She pushed her sister to one side and peered out. In an instant she was back in the railcar and pulling Emma onto the berth beside her.

“It’s your cowboy!” she whispered. Her eyes were wide with excitement. “He followed you onto the train, Emma. You must go and speak with him.”

“I can’t talk to Adam King. Think what would happen if I were discovered.”

Cissy’s eyes darted to her sister’s bruised cheek and puffy lip. 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.

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