Patrick's Proposal (The Langley Legacy Book 2) Read online

  Holding her hips down, he peered into her eyes. “This will only be uncomfortable for a moment.” Patrick thrust in and Emma’s mouth opened wide with a silent scream.

  He was right. After a few moments, the pain subsided and her reservations turned to desire and curiosity. For the first time in her life, Emma was consumed with delight at being so intimate with someone.

  “Let me love you. Close your eyes and allow your body to feel.” Patrick’s mouth trailed from her ear, his tongue licking a path past her shoulder to play with the tip of her breast.

  “Mmmm,” Emma said, unable to formulate any other words.

  Patrick continued moving, his length sliding in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Looming over her, the muscles on his shoulders tensed and loosened with every movement and she grasped them, urging him to continue.

  With every step closer, her heart beat faster. By Patrick’s worried expression and constant swallowing, it was further confirmation to Emma that his parents’ reaction would not be a good one.

  He attempted to soothe her nerves by telling her they’d come to accept her over time. But that only reinforced within her that the announcement of their marriage would not be taken well.

  The house was beautiful. Emma wondered if this would be the one and only time she’d walk through the door.

  In truth, she wouldn’t blame the Langleys for a negative reaction. Quite the opposite, she would fully understand their ire. It wasn’t as if she was worthy of their son. Not just because of who her father was, but also because she was useless as a wife.

  Although she could do a lot when it came to gardening and tending to animals, for the most part, once inside the house, she had been relegated to her bedroom most of her life. Partly, she stayed cloistered in fear of her father’s abuse but also because her mother seemed annoyed to have her about.

  It was strange that in that moment, she wondered if her mother was glad she was gone. Perhaps, she wasn’t welcome back home either.

  It was still early morning, but later than the usual time Patrick arrived to work with his father. Hens scattered out of the way, clucking in displeasure at being disturbed as she and Patrick walked up to the front door. One of the wayward goats poked its head around the side of the house.

  “They escaped again,” Patrick told her with a half-smile. He took a breath. “Ready?”

  “No.” Emma wanted him to take her hand or press a hand to her back in reassurance, but he maintained a distance between them.

  The door opened before he could knock. Finn Langley filled the doorway, his gaze moving from Patrick to Emma. “Morning, Son. You’re running mighty late after not working yesterday. We have got a lot to get done. Come meet me in the barn after you talk to your ma.” He placed his hat on his hand and touched the brim. “Emma.”

  “Yes, sir.” Patrick watched his father walk away. “I’ll talk to him later,” he told her in a soft voice.

  “Come in, Patrick, you’re letting all the cold air in,” Maureen Langley called out from somewhere in the house.

  They stepped through a wide entryway. On one side was a coat rack and on the opposite side rested a table with a mirror above it on the wall. Through a doorway on the right, Emma spotted a large living space with chairs, rugs and a good-sized fireplace.

  She followed Patrick straight down the hallway to where it opened to a huge kitchen.

  “Ma...” was all Patrick said.

  With a bright smile, Maureen turned only for it to disappear at spotting Emma standing just behind him. Her gaze snapped back to Patrick before looking at Emma once again.

  “What has happened?” The question was full of dread, as if she didn’t truly want to hear the answer.

  Patrick’s Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed visibly. “This is Emma.”

  “I know who she is.” Maureen didn’t look at her.

  “We’re married. Got married yesterday afternoon.”

  The widening of Maureen’s eyes made Emma hold her breath. Slowly, his mother let out a breath. “Oh no, Patrick. No.” She seemed to deflate, and she covered her mouth with both hands. The entire time, she kept her eyes on her son. “What have you done? Why?”

  Run.

  Emma fought not to turn and dash from the room and keep going until she could go no further. The silence in the room was oppressive as mother and son looked to each other.

  What hurt worse than Maureen Langley’s rejection of her was Patrick’s reaction. Head hanging, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, Ma.”

  Sorry? He was sorry for marrying her? If her legs would obey, she would be walking out. Unfortunately, she didn’t trust them to carry her far.

  “Why?” Maureen repeated again. “Did she...did she compromise you?”

  Emma wasn’t sure what the woman was saying but, if anything, she’d been the one to keep anything from happening between them before they married. God, she should’ve left as soon as her feet were healed. Gone far away and not remained. The reason she’d stayed was Patrick. Now, she hated that she’d not continued on, left while he was gone for the day.

  In a short time, she’d fallen madly for the man. For the first time, a day without seeing him would be the worst torture.

  “I did not,” Emma said, her voice firm. “I tried to talk him out of marrying me.”

  Patrick touched her arm, hushing her. “Why don’t you wait in the other room?”

  His sending her away sliced like a knife. Emma stepped back from him, her eyes already misting.

  He met her gaze. “Go in the other room, Emma. Sit and wait for me. And don’t you go anywhere else.” He’d read her mind.

  Numbly, she nodded and did as she was told.

  It was impossible not to hear the conversation. Maureen sounded as if she were crying and Patrick’s low tones were thick with emotion.

  “Oh, Patrick, what were you thinking? This will only cause trouble for us.”

  “I’ll go talk to Davis and make sure there isn’t.”

  “No, you will not. Not alone, anyway. Can it be...undone?”

  “No.”

  Obviously, Maureen was hoping they’d not consummated their union. That was probably why Patrick had insisted they do so before coming to see his parents.

  He cleared his throat. “Look, Ma. It will be fine. You said yourself I needed a wife.”

  “Not her. Can she even cook or clean?” Maureen’s voice reached a high pitch. “Then again, you probably haven’t had time to figure that out. We’ve only just moved out a few days and already...”

  “Get to know her, Ma. She’s a good person.”

  There was a long silence. When the next words were spoken, Maureen began to cry. “I am so disappointed in you. So very sad right now. Please go.”

  Emma had remained standing. At this point, tears of hurt spilled down her cheeks and she didn’t hear what else was exchanged between them. Patrick walked past the doorway and through the door going outside. He never looked toward her.

  Frozen, she wondered what she should do. She’d head back to the cabin, of course. Then she’d figure out a way to leave and never return.

  Just as she reached the door, Maureen stopped her. “Patrick will be back to pick you up when he’s done with work. He needs a good meal after how hard he works. You and I are going to have a long talk.”

  Emma turned. Grasping her hands in front of her, she looked down at them. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Docile as a lamb, Emma followed Maureen back to the kitchen. The woman motioned to a wooden table that had six chairs around it. On the center of the table was a pitcher, which she assumed was filled with water. The room was perfect, like a picture from a dream come to life. As much as she would’ve loved to take it all in, she kept her gaze on the pitcher waiting for whatever her mother-in-law would have to say.

  A cup of tea was slid in front of her and a tray with honey and cream was set on the tabletop. Next, her mother-in-law sat across fr
om her with another cup.

  Emma’s hands shook too much to attempt to drink anything, so she kept them clutched in her lap.

  “There’s no need to look as if I’m going to flog you,” Maureen said. Her voice held a resigned hollowness.

  It was hard, but she dragged her gaze to the woman’s face and winced. Normally, her mother would draw her in with words like those and then slap her across the face. Maureen didn’t react with a slap. Instead, she studied Emma for a moment.

  “So you never left then?”

  “I did. I mean I was walking to town when Patrick caught me and brought me back.”

  “I see,” Maureen said.

  “It’s chamomile tea. Helps calm my nerves.”

  Although her hands still shook, Emma managed to pick up the cup without adding anything to it. That would have taken too much effort.

  “I’ve seen your mother every once in a while in town. Only seen you a couple of times over the years.”

  Since it wasn’t a question, Emma remained silent and took another sip from the tea.

  “It’s not that we expected Patrick to marry a socialite. But I will admit, as you’ve no doubt gathered, that with him being our only child, we had high hopes for him.”

  When Emma didn’t reply, Maureen continued. “Your father. He’s a cheat, a thief and a drunkard. Your mother is not well regarded as she’s made a scene several times in town after your father got arrested.”

  If she squeezed her eyes shut, maybe the shame would leave. Heat blazed from her face and Emma wished for the ground to swallow her whole. Finally, she opened her eyes to meet Maureen’s. “I am not my father or my mother. I have never stolen anything. What I get, I work hard for.”

  “Even if what you say is true,” Maureen said, “your family is not one I want tied to ours.”

  “I understand.” Emma stood. “I’ll go home now. I don’t wish to remain here.”

  The woman did not stop her when she walked out the front door. Once outside the house, Emma rushed down the steps and down the path to the cabin. Within steps, it was hard to stop the tears and she ran all the way back to the cabin.

  Patrick rode beside his silent father who kept his eyes forward. Finn was a quiet man who usually spoke once he had things straight in his mind. They’d reached the herd where a ranch hand rounded the cattle up.

  “I’ll go on the right side and get the stragglers,” Patrick said, only to hesitate when his father held up a hand.

  “Joe’s got it under control for now.”

  “I married her. I did. I know it won’t sit well with you and Ma. But she needed help. I suppose I didn’t think it through, but it’s done now.”

  His father looked to him without turning. “You didn’t think about the effects on the ranch or the family? What do you suppose is going to happen when Davis gets wind? You want our family tied to that thieving cheat?”

  Although he was prepared for his parents’ objections, hearing the truth said out loud cut him deeply. The last thing he ever wished to do was hurt his parents in anyway. They had given him so much. There was never any comparison to how well his parents looked after him and he felt low for disappointing them.

  “She’s not like them. Once you get to know Emma, you’ll see.”

  “Emma is not who I'm worried about. What if the man decides to retaliate? Your mother is home alone most days.”

  “It won’t come to that. I’ll go talk to him today. Get things out in the open.”

  His father huffed. “It’s no use talking common sense with a drunk. Davis is the nasty, spiteful type.”

  “What do you want me to do, Pa? It’s done. I married her. So now I have to deal with it. I’ll take care of it.” Patrick turned his horse around and headed toward the ranch where Davis lived.

  Why the family had allowed them to keep the small parcel of land, no one understood. Especially since Davis spent most of his time in town causing havoc or too drunk to do much more than pass out. The shack where the Davis’ lived was humble and had very little space from the looks of it.

  It had to be two or three rooms at the most. Patrick rode closer, ignoring the sounds of a horse behind him. His father had followed him. Patrick wanted to tell him to go home.

  They dismounted and he went toward the door. Chickens rushed out of his way and he looked to both sides. It seemed that no one was about.

  He knocked on the door twice and then again without an answer. Finally, he turned to his father. “I suppose no one’s here.”

  Sound got his attention. The door was cracked just enough for a woman’s face to peer out at him. “What you want?”

  “To speak to your husband,” Patrick said, keeping his voice level. “Is he here?”

  She eyed Patrick for a moment, the dull, brown eyes seeming to not find anything of interest. “You Langleys got a problem with Carl?”

  “No, ma’am. Just want to talk to him.”

  The door closed just a bit and the woman coughed, the sounds dry and harsh. “I ain’t heard from him in two days. Probably locked up again.” Her voice was hoarse. “I’ll tell ‘im you came by when he returns. If he does.” She slammed the door shut.

  Patrick looked to his father. “I’ll go to town.”

  “No. Give it a couple days and come back. It’s best they both hear it together. I’ll come back with you.”

  It was dusk when Patrick returned home that evening. He’d not stopped at his mother’s for supper, needing to see Emma and speak to her. There was no doubt in his mind that her time with his mother had not gone well. It was obvious by the reactions of his parents that it would take some time for them to accept Emma.

  No matter how much he’d desired the woman, in hindsight, it would have been preferable to have left her at the Milligans’ and asked them to find her work. Marrying her had been rash, irresponsible and a disservice to both Emma and her parents.

  The interior of the house was silent. There was no food cooking as Emma probably expected he’d eat at his parents’ place. Now that he considered it, it was probably a bad precedent to set that he rarely ate dinner at their home. Patrick decided he’d eat there from now on, no matter how badly Emma cooked.

  When he passed his old bedroom, through the doorway, he saw that Emma was lying on the bed. She was on her side, facing the wall so he could not make out if she was asleep or not. He inched closer and peered over her shoulder. Emma held a handkerchief and took a shuddering breath. It appeared that she’d cried herself to sleep.

  He let out a long sigh, unsure of what to do. Instead of waking her, he pulled off his shoes and jacket. Then he slowly slid into the bed next to her. The bed was much too small to hold them both comfortably but, at the moment, that was the least of his worries. Patrick pulled Emma against him, cradling her head on his left shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I should have probably spoken to my mother before taking you there. Was she unkind to you?”

  Emma’s sniffed loudly, heated tears soaked through his shirt. “No,” she replied, her voice muffled by his clothing. “But she was brutally honest.”

  His mother was not an unkind person, but she was fiercely protective of him and his father. Additionally, there was the concern of Emma’s father and what he’d do in retaliation. And although Patrick did not fear for himself, he did fear for what the man could do to Emma or his parents.

  “My mother is very protective. It has nothing to do with you personally. I think once...” He lifted her face. “Listen to me. Once she...”

  Her swollen eyes met his before Emma lowered them. “No. Your mother is right. I am not good enough for you. There could be too many horrible consequences. You and I need to part ways. I think we should seek an annulment.”

  He wasn’t surprised by her suggestion. “On what grounds? You and I have already consummated the marriage. Besides, I won’t agree to it.”

  “Why?” she more screamed than said. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have allowed our marriage to happen. I need
to either leave town or return home. It’s imperative that I do before he finds me here.”

  “No. I will speak to him and straighten things out. I’m sure we can come up with some sort of amicable agreement.”

  She huffed and shook her head. “You don’t understand. There is nothing you will be able to do if he makes up his mind we did something wrong, or that you are the reason I ran away. It’s hard to say what his reaction will be, but I can tell you it rarely makes sense.”

  The growl from his stomach seemed to echo in the room. Emma touched his face. “Did you not eat supper?”

  “No, I needed to come here and check on you. We can make something.”

  Once again, she began crying. “That's another thing. I can’t even cook. What good can I possibly be to you?”

  “Stop crying, Emma. We’ll work things out. Don’t give up so soon. Let’s fix something to eat. I think one of the things we can begin with is getting you and Ma to get along. We’ll start by my not going there unless you are invited and included.”

  “Won’t that make her hate me?” Emma sniffed and wiped at her nose. “That I’ll be keeping you away?”

  “She knows how hard-headed I am. I don’t do anything someone else wants me to do. I have to do as I see fit. On everything.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let’s cook.”

  Patrick showed her how to make a simple meal with two potatoes, some carrots and meat from a pig he and his father had slaughtered earlier in the week.

  The meal was flavorful and it was nice to see the look of satisfaction on Emma’s face at having prepared the meal herself. Although her eyes remained swollen, the redness of her nose and cheeks had lessened.

  “Will you take me to visit Mrs. Milligan? She said she’d teach me to make bread. Perhaps, I can ask her to show me to make a couple simple things.”

  “Of course. We need to go to pick up sundries. It’s probably safer to go there than into town here.”

  He waited while she drank some water. “I went to your parents’ home today.”

  Emma put her glass down, but didn’t speak.