The Maverick's Bride. Catherine Palmer

could not let him see what her father had done.

      “Cissy, what can we do?” she cried. “If Father sees Adam climbing up to our balcony, he’ll have the poor man tossed in jail.”

      “I can’t bear it. I’m going into the sitting room!”

      “Wait, Cissy. Stay with me!” But it was too late. Her sister fled and Adam was halfway up the wall.

      

      Adam hoisted himself onto the balcony, swinging one leg at a time over the rail. Not an easy task for a man with spurs on his boots and a six-shooter at his side. One thing he knew for sure—he hadn’t been spotted by a compound guard.

      The sight of Emma Pickering peering out from behind the curtain confirmed his decision to see her again. Her green eyes shone with a mixture of apprehension and joy. Her thick wavy hair gleamed like a field of wheat rippling in the wind. He had done the right thing.

      “Good morning, Miss Pickering.” He took off his hat and leaned against the white window frame.

      “Mr. King, did you not receive my message?” She was almost breathless. “I cannot speak with you.”

      “I got your note, but I need to talk. Mind if I come inside?”

      “Indeed, sir, you may not take another step!”

      “Can we just talk for a minute or two?” he asked.

      “Mr. King, I have already told you I’m unavailable. Now please let yourself down by that…that rope thing, and—”

      “My lasso?” He began coiling his lariat.

      “Sir, this is unseemly.”

      Adam studied the intriguing eyes peering at him around the curtain. Emma was edgy this morning. Almost frightened. Different from the bold young woman he had met yesterday.

      He couldn’t let that concern him, he decided as he tucked away the end of the rope. Last night after he left the consulate, he had made up his mind to keep things strictly business with Emma Pickering.

      “I’ll leave after I’ve had my say,” he told her. “This is important.”

      “Speak quickly, sir. My father must not find you here.”

      “With all due respect, Emma, do you think I’m concerned about what your father thinks?”

      “You may not care, but I do. What do you want from me?”

      “I need a nurse.”

      Her face suffused with surprise. “A nurse? Are you ill?”

      “Not for me. I have a friend—at my ranch.”

      “Your wife is surely tending to this friend in your absence.” She paused a moment. “You are married, are you not?”

      “Not the last time I looked.”

      “Really? Well, then…” Her eyes deepened in concern as she let the curtain drop a little. “What sort of illness does your friend have? Can you describe it?”

      Adam looked away, his attention skirting across the tops of the palm trees. How could he explain the situation without scaring her off?

      “It’s not an illness. It’s more like…” Searching for the right words, he turned back to Emma. But at the first full sight of her face, he reached through the open window and pulled the curtain out of her hands.

      “Emma, what happened to you?” He caught her arm and drew her toward him. “Who did this?”

      She raised her hand in a vain effort to cover her cheek and eye. “It’s nothing,” she protested, trying to back away. “Please, Mr. King, you must not…not…”

      Even as she tried to speak, he stepped through the balcony door and gathered her into his arms. Brushing back the hair from her cheek, he noted the swelling and the darkening stain around it.

      “Emma,” he growled. “Who did this to you?”

      She fell motionless, silent in his embrace as he stroked her tender skin with his fingertips. No wonder she had shied like a scared colt. She hadn’t wanted him to know. The sight of a drop of dried blood on her lip stopped him cold.

      “Bond,” he snarled, his voice hardening in anger. “He did this to you, didn’t he? I swear, if I see that lousy—”

      “No!” Emma’s eyes flew open as she backed out of his embrace. “No, it wasn’t Mr. Bond. He never touched me. Please…please, Adam, just go away now.”

      “Emma, you have to tell me…” Realization flooded through him. The pompous, nattily dressed English railroad tycoon had struck his own daughter.

      Without stopping to weigh consequences, Adam drew his six-shooter from the holster and pressed it into her hands.

      “Take this, Emma,” he told her. He squeezed her hands around the pistol. “This country is wild. It’s filled with animals and people who prey on others.”

      “No.” Emma held the gun awkwardly, as if it were a dead thing. “Take this weapon and leave me, I beg you. Our train leaves at eight, and you have no place here.” She set the weapon on a table. “Please, sir. You must go.”

      “I want you to come with me,” he told her. “I need your help. Emma, I’ll take care of you.”

      “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she shot back. “I have my own plans, and God is watching over me.”

      “Emma!” Both turned toward the open door where Emma’s sister stood, eyes wide.

      “What is it, Cissy?”

      “Emma, go with him!” Cissy crossed the room toward them. “Run away with him, Emma. It’s your chance to escape—to become a nurse, as you’ve always wanted. You’ll be safe at last and you can have your dream.”

      Cissy stopped halfway across the floor, her arms held wide in a pleading gesture. Emma turned back to Adam.

      “Come on,” he urged her. “Let’s get moving.”

      “Do it, Emma!” Cissy insisted. “I shan’t tell Father where you’ve gone. I’ll say I woke to find you missing.”

      A loud banging rattled the door. Adam reached for his gun and found it missing.

      “Emmaline!”

      Cissy gasped. “It’s Father! Emma, you must leave at once. Go with Mr. King.”

      Emma glanced at him and shook her head. “No. I can’t go with you, Adam.”

      “Emmaline, Priscilla—open this door at once.”

      “Adam, get out of here!” Emma flew at him, pushing toward the window. “Don’t you see? I must stay with Cissy—and it will only be worse for us if he finds you here.”

      Adam hesitated for an instant, an attempt to decipher the expression on Emma’s face. Her green eyes were filled with fear, but he saw determination there as well. He had to leave her alone to face her tormenter. Before he could change his mind, Adam stepped out onto the balcony and swung over the side.

      

      “Emmaline?” Godfrey Pickering strode into the suite, barking an order to the man behind him. “Wait in the hall, Bond. I may need your assistance.”

      As the door swung shut, Emma spotted the younger man brandishing a revolver. She faced her father as he advanced.

      “Where is he?” Godfrey demanded, his voice hard. “Where’s King?”

      “Adam King?” Emma struggled to feign surprise. She stepped back toward the curtains and her fingertips grazed the gun on the table behind her. “Whatever would make you think we know where Mr. King is?”

      “Honestly,