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Emily let out a small sigh, seeming lost in thought, even as Jacob straightened away from the window. “Have you still got that bracelet in your reticule?”
“What?” Emily looked up at him, blinking. “Oh. Yes.”
He frowned. Emily looked every inch the lady. Would someone have targeted her? Could they have known she’d have jewelry or was it all just a coincidence?
He grimaced. He should have told her to leave the bracelet at home. Why didn’t he? He was supposed to be the one protecting her. He never did seem to get these sorts of things right. A man who understood how to care for others likely would have thought of that.
He remembered his mother tossing similar accusations at his father. She’d been convinced her husband couldn’t do a thing right. What made it worse was her accusations might have been on target. What did that say about his mother’s opinion of him?
Emily unlaced her boots. He almost leaned down to help her, but he kept his eyes forward out the window as he listened to the sound of her slipping them off.
She lay down on the bed, remaining on top of the covers as she tucked her feet under her skirts. “I will say, all this adventure can distract a person from grieving.”
A half smile curled his lips. “I bet it can. Grief always comes out eventually.”
“That’s true,” she said, tucking her hands under her head. “At least I think it’s true. I’ve never lost like this before.”
“I can’t imagine…” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Losing my father was difficult but even worse was the mountain of problems he made mine after he passed away.”
“The debt?” she asked softly and he gave a tight nod.
“I’ve been working my way out of it. But as much debt as I’ve removed, it’s still a noose around my neck.”
“Why not marry?” Emily asked, propping her hand up on her elbow.
For the briefest second, he thought she meant herself. His heart began to pound in his chest as he looked over at the curve of her hip, the alluring line of her body, as she rested her head on one of her hands. “Marry?”
“Yes. Some girl with a large dowry who will wipe your debts clean.”
Did it irritate him that she hadn’t been speaking about herself? How odd was that?
“I already told you. I’m not the marrying kind. Not after watching my parents. My mother bore my father two sons, though how that’s even possible has always been a mystery to me. They hated each other passionately. She didn’t like me much better. But to me marriage has always seemed like a prison.”
Emily sat up again, the soft rustle of her skirts whispering through him. “That is terrible. My mother was ceaselessly in everyone’s business. It was maddening at times, but she did love us and my father. I’m trying to imagine what it would be like if she didn’t.”
He turned to her then, her soft words soothing some inner wound. Emily hadn’t rejected his notion, or suggested he might somehow be to blame. A feeling of warmth swelled in his chest as their eyes met. “Thank you for not insinuating it’s my fault.”
Emily softly shook her head. “I sometimes thought my mother was in my business all the time because I…” She swallowed then. “Because I’m not capable. But I hope it was about her and not about me. Or at least, not all about me.”
His lips parted as he stared at her. Did she really understand the self-doubt he battled too? That deep-down voice that said his mother didn’t like him because he didn’t deserve to be liked. That there was something wrong with him. “I promised myself never to marry,” he confessed. “What if I married someone like my mother or what if…” And then he shuddered, despite himself, one of his deepest fears rising to his lips. “What if she’s right and I am no good?”
Emily was off the bed in a moment and in his arms. He wrapped her up in his embrace, more glad than he could express to be holding her. He dropped his cheek to the top of her head, squeezing his eyes shut. “From where I stand,” she whispered. “You are one of the best men I know. Without you…” she tapered off. “Don’t believe her, Jacob. Don’t let her do that to you.”
And then she slipped from his arms again and returned to the bed.
A thousand words of gratitude, affection, even desire rose to his lips, but he bit them all back.
He watched her as she lay down, watched as she fell asleep. Her face relaxed, looking just as beautiful but even more innocent.
Could she possibly know what sort of man he was? Did her words have merit? Deep inside, he wanted to believe them, but he wasn’t certain he could. He hadn’t believed Ash when his best friend had uttered the same words at his father’s funeral. What was it with the Cranstons believing in him? Why had he let Ash drift away from him in the last ten years? And what of Emily? He’d have to let her go too…
At some point, he lay down on the floor next to the bed. He almost hated to do it, he couldn’t see her from this vantage point, but he needed at least a few hours of sleep before the journey tomorrow.
Her hand dipped over the side of the bed, and without hesitation, he lifted his own up and slipped his fingers into hers. Her skin was silken and so soft against his that he threaded their fingers together and promptly fell asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emily woke, her arm numb. Her eyes cracked open and her head lifted the smallest bit to see what the problem was, but as she lifted her head, she realized that her lower arm was hanging off the bed and attached to something very heavy.
