Gerrity's Bride

“This is your little sister. Too bad you couldn’t have made a better first impression,” he said bluntly.

Emmaline drew in a deep breath and considered the situation. Taking another step closer to where the child huddled in her brother’s arms, she watched the narrow shoulders shudder, her heart aching in quick sympathy.

“Theresa, won’t you look at me? I’ve come a long way just to see you,” she said coaxingly. She reached out to touch the fingers that lay against Matt’s collar, and the little girl shivered.

“No, I don’t want to see you! Make her go away, Maffew!” she demanded loudly.

“Miss Emmaline, why don’t I show you where your room is,” Maria suggested softly from behind her, and Emmaline turned quickly, thankful for the suggestion.

“That would be fine,” she whispered with a nod. With only one short look over her shoulder, she left the room, only to hear the words repeated in a firm, carrying voice from the child she had alienated so quickly.

“Make her go away, Maffew.”

His answer was delivered in a husky murmur. “She won’t be here long, short stuff. Everything will be all right. She’s just a citified woman come to look us over. She won’t be here long,” he repeated firmly.

Emmaline’s lips tightened and her eyes narrowed at his words of reassurance to the child, and she spun on her heel toward the hallway where Maria was leading the way.

“A lot he knows about it,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Citified woman, am I? The man doesn’t know a lady when he sees one! And I didn’t come all the way to this blot on the desert for nothing. We’ll just see about that!”

Chapter Two

Warily eyeing the tortilla on her plate, Emmaline poked at it with her fork. As breakfasts went, it was definitely different from the usual ham and biscuits she was accustomed to at home.

“Eat, eat!” Maria urged her from her post at the doorway. “I put in plenty of eggs and meat for you. It gives lots of energy for the whole morning.”

Emmaline returned her admonition with a smile. Then, with determination, she cut into the strange offering that was called breakfast in this foreign place and ate the first bite.

“I just made fresh coffee,” Maria said from around the corner. Bearing the coffeepot, she bustled through the doorway. Emmaline nodded, her mouth full.

“Mr. Matthew finished up early this morning,” the rotund woman said as she filled Emmaline’s cup. “He’s gone out to check on the new foals.”

“Where is Theresa?” Emmaline asked, and cut with more enthusiasm into the breakfast she had almost scorned. Whatever it was called, the combination of ingredients was surprisingly good.

“With her teacher, doing schoolwork,” Maria answered, moving about the table as she cleared and straightened. For a moment, she hesitated, and her eyes were warm as they rested on the young woman before her.

Emmaline’s hair was brilliant, a golden red that haloed about her in a cascade of curls. Her eyes were blue, wide-set, and bright with unveiled interest as she took in her surroundings. Her features were strong and symmetrical, calling to mind the handsome man who had fathered her. And it was that thought that brought a sense of nostalgia to the Mexican woman who had managed this household for over a quarter of a century.

“Miss Emmaline, you make me think of your papa, you know,” she said with gentle yearning. “He had the same curls, so golden in the sunshine, so full of fire in the shadows.” Her sigh was deep. “I remember the day your mama took you away, how your papa held you in his arms. Your heads were pressed so tightly together, I couldn’t tell one curl from another, so alike they were.”

Emmaline looked up unbelievingly. “You remember me? From twenty years ago? I didn’t know you were here then, Maria.”

“Ah, yes. Your mama was so full of sadness, so unhappy with our sunshine and the dry spells and the spring rains. She said so many times how much she wanted to go where there was green grass and cool breezes.” Her ample breasts rose and fell as she breathed deeply, as if she would express sympathy with the long-departed woman.

“Mama always shuddered when she spoke of this place,” Emmaline remembered as she propped her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her hand. Mama shuddered a lot, she thought with resignation. She picked up her cup and sipped at the hot brew within.

“And what do you think of our sunshine?” Maria asked. “Perhaps you have some of your papa in you that craves the heat and the open spaces.”

Emmaline shrugged diffidently. “I haven’t given it much chance yet. Yesterday was a real experience, what with riding on that wagon and traveling in the hottest part of the day.” She slid a glance at the woman who was still considering her intently. “I suspect Matthew was trying to put me through a trial, perhaps seeking to discourage me from staying.”

Maria grinned. Her smile widened to express her agreement, revealing brilliant white teeth. “Sí...he may have set out on the wrong foot. Then, too, he did have to get supplies from town, and the buggy doesn’t hold as much.”

“Well, at any rate, I may not be here for long,” Emmaline said quickly. “I’ll make arrangements to see Mr. Hooper and find out what I need to do about the will, and then—”

“And then you’ll fold up your tent and steal away, I suspect, city lady,” said a husky voice from behind her.

Emmaline stifled the urge to toss her coffee at the tall man who stood in the archway, instead looking over her shoulder at him with disdain.

“I don’t steal away, Matt. When the time comes, I’ll leave the same way I came, only with my sister in tow.”

His snort of disbelief only served to bring her to her feet in a rush of movement. She spun to face him, and her skirts swished about her.

Matt’s gaze moved slowly from the tips of her neatly shod feet to the wide skirt of her dress, then across the fitted bodice to where the buttons marched up to fasten beneath her chin. Tilted at an angle, her head was like a bright blossom above the dark mourning colors she affected. The sight of such radiance, shimmering in the early sunshine, which poured through the unshaded dining room window, set his teeth on edge.

She was too good-looking for his peace of mind, he had decided last night. What with the sassy mouth pouting when she got aggravated and those eyes sparking fire at his teasing, she was more than he had bargained for.

“Thought you heard what Tessie had to say last night,” he growled at her. “She’s not about to go clear across the country with you. This is her home.”

“She’s my sister, just as much as she’s yours,” Emmaline reminded him firmly. “I didn’t come all the way out here to see her for a few days and then forsake her.”

Matt stepped closer, the smell of dust and horses and leather making her aware of where he had been this morning. “Don’t sniff your elegant nose at me, lady,” he said roughly. “What you smell is good honest sweat, and Arizona dirt. Not that you’d recognize it.”

“On the contrary.” Emmaline’s voice slid like silk over his irritation. “You have the distinct odor of a horseman, and that doesn’t change much between Kentucky and Arizona. I’m well accustomed to the smell of a barn.”

“Do you know how to ride a horse?” he asked bluntly, his narrowed eyes taking in her smug stance.

She smiled, and her expression was benevolent. “I’ve probably sat on richer horseflesh than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Too bad you won’t be here long enough to prove it,” he ventured.

“I’m being tolerant of you this morning, given that you know nothing about me or my intentions, save that of gaining guardianship of my sister. But don’t push me, Mr. Gerrity.” She clenched her hands and thrust them into the pockets of her gown, unwilling that he should know the extent of her aggravation.

He knew. His brow lifted, and a grin teased at the corner of his mouth. “Somehow I suspect you don’t have a tolerant bone in your body,” he drawled. “Especially when it comes to me.”

Her shrug denied him the satisfaction of a verbal reply, and she turned away. Suit yourself, she thought, then left the room, aware that she was too easily drawn into a war of words with him.

“Miss Emmaline!” he called after her, bringing her to a halt midway along the wide passageway that led to the living room. He’d followed her through the archway. She took a deep breath before she turned once more to face him.

“Yes.”

The word was terse—not much of an invitation, he decided. “Oswald Hooper will be here shortly. Would you care to join us in the library?”

Her nod was abrupt. Better that she knew right away just where she stood in the scheme of things here. The situation was far from what she had expected; certainly, the presence of Matt Gerrity had not figured into her plans. But surely her father’s will would effectively place Theresa in her care.

“Just let me know when he arrives,” she requested, striving for a gracious tone. Already her hands were damp with the sweat of anxiety, and her breath caught as she contemplated the issues at hand.

For too long she had yearned for the closeness of family ties. Her mother had been sickly, tending to stay close to her bed or couch, finally succumbing to pneumonia without a struggle. Her grandparents had been kind, in an aloof sort of way, providing her with all she required in order to become a lady and prepare for life as a wife and mother.

It had not been enough. The message from Mr. Hooper had opened her eyes to the solitary existence she had lived for so long. That she was bonded by blood to a five-year-old child, that the closeness she yearned for might be within reach, was the impetus that had brought her here. Even the rude welcome she’d received from the girl was not enough to discourage her. She would woo her and win her, Emmaline had determined during the night hours. She would make Theresa love her.