Emma and the Outlaw Quotes

“Don’t worry,” she said, wriggling an impossibly tiny toe. “Your daddy will protect you with his forty-five.” “Very funny,” said a weary voice at her side, as Steven sat on the edge of the bed, his face ghastly pale in the first light of a rainy dawn. “What’s her name?” he asked presently, looking down at his daughter. “Lily or Caroline?” “Both,” Emma answered, and five days later Lily Caroline Fairfax was formally christened and a party was held in her honor. As”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“After that everything was a blur for Emma. She remembered little beyond blinding pain, hazy, shifting faces, and finally, relief and the furious squall of an infant. “My baby,” she whispered, lying back. “My baby’s here.” “It’s a fine girl,” Dr. Mayfield said. When had he arrived? Emma decided she didn’t care, and smiled wearily. “Steven?” “He’s not feeling too well right now,” the doctor explained. “Crumpled to the floor when I had to cut you.” Emma laughed. Steven the outlaw, with his dreaded Colt .45. She’d never let him forget the occasion of his first child’s birth.”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“You squeeze on my hands,” Jubal ordered when Emma shrieked with pain. “You squeeze real hard, so’s to push the bones together.” “I never seen one come so fast,” prattled Esther, who generally tended the kitchen. “Oh, God,” Steven fretted, pacing at the foot of the bed. Emma felt another contraction closing in on her and clasped Jubal’s hands hard, determined not to scream again. “She’s gonna tear,” Esther warned. At this point, there was a ker-thump and Emma decided Steven had probably fainted, though she had neither the time nor the inclination to find out. After”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Emma awakened Steven rudely by arching her back and letting out a howl of startled discomfort. He sat bolt upright in bed, shoved one hand through his hair in agitation, and babbled that he was willing to pay five thousand dollars for the piece of land he wanted, and not a cent more. In spite of her pain, Emma laughed at his incoherency. “I’m in labor, Mr. Fairfax,” she told him, as her stomach contorted visibly beneath her nightgown and her face twisted in a grimace. “You’d better get the doctor, fast.” Fully awake now, Steven clambered out of bed, shouting for Cyrus and Nathaniel. They both appeared posthaste, clad in flannel nightshirts that would have started Emma into laughing again if she hadn’t been in so much pain. Steven didn’t recall that he was naked until after he’d dispatched Nathaniel to fetch Dr. Mayfield and Cyrus to bring Jubal from the servants’ quarters. And when he did, he didn’t give a damn. He struggled into his clothes, swearing under his breath the whole time. Emma let out a peal of amusement that somehow transformed itself into a loud moan. Her belly rose up as though it were being pinched between two giant, invisible fingers, and she felt a rush of water between her legs. “Is it supposed to happen this fast?” she asked Steven, panting out the words in the wake of another hard contraction. “How the hell should I know?” Steven barked, stumbling around in the darkness until he managed to strike his shin against the chest at the foot of the bed. When that happened he bellowed another curse and demanded, “Where the devil is the doctor?” “He lives five miles away,” Emma reasoned. “Calm down, Mr. Fairfax. Having a baby is a perfectly normal—” At that moment another pain seized her, wringing out a squeaky scream. Jubal”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Emma awakened Steven rudely by arching her back and letting out a howl of startled discomfort. He sat bolt upright in bed, shoved one hand through his hair in agitation, and babbled that he was willing to pay five thousand dollars for the piece of land he wanted, and not a cent more. In spite of her pain, Emma laughed at his incoherency. “I’m in labor, Mr. Fairfax,” she told him, as her stomach contorted visibly beneath her nightgown and her face twisted in a grimace.”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Emma looked up at him and kissed him lightly on the chin. “We’ll make up for all the unhappiness,” she vowed rashly. “We’ll fill Fairhaven with noise and babies.” He held her close. “Judging by what happened this morning, it seems possible that the first one is already on the way.” Emma nodded. “Do you want a boy or a girl?” “I want a baby,” he said, grinning. “I don’t give a damn whether it’s a son or a daughter.” “I’d like a boy, one who looks just like you,” Emma mused, reveling in their closeness, and in the future that lay before them. “Not a girl, to name Lily or Caroline?”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“I want you to stay here,” Steven told her as he stood at the bureau, arranging his tie. He’d already bathed, and he was wearing a fresh suit. Emma sat up in bed, a protest on her lips, but the look in Steven’s eyes silenced her. She lay down again, her arms folded. “I’m not sick,” she said petulantly, and before she could go on, a wave of nausea swept over her and sent her scrambling for the basin. Steven held her hair as she vomited, and he brought her a cold cloth and water to rinse her mouth when she was through. While the ever-vigilant Jubal carried the basin out, he put his wife back in bed and bent to kiss her forehead. “I don’t have the plague, Steven,” Emma insisted fitfully. “I’m just pregnant, probably. You need me at the trial—” “I need to know you’re all right,” Steven corrected, brushing her hair back from her face. “Please, Emma. If you love me, stay here. Don’t make me worry about you.” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him. “I love you so much, Steven.” “And I love you,” he answered. He kissed her again, and then he was gone. Although”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“She snuggled closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder, and continued her idle exploration of his chest, adding the occasional foray to his taut belly. “Are you scared?” she finally dared to ask. “I’d be a damned fool if I weren’t,” Steven responded, and a little groan escaped him as her fingertips strayed downward. He caught hold of her hand. “You little vixen—wasn’t the first time enough for you?” She”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, one hand resting lightly on her naked hip. “It’s time this old house saw some joy again, don’t you think?” Emma nodded. “Your father and Macon’s mother—were they happy?” Steven shrugged. “All I really remember about my father is that he always gave me rock candy when he visited, and that he adored my mother. It doesn’t seem likely that he’d have kept a mistress if he loved the woman he married.” “What about Cyrus and his wife, Louella?” He grinned. “My guess would be they were happy. Granddaddy gets a certain light in his eyes when he talks about Louella, and he told me once that he’d never been unfaithful to her.” Emma wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, her eyes wide and weary as she looked at her husband. “Would you ever take a mistress?” He kissed her, his tongue sweeping her lips once, awakening her needs in spite of all that had happened that day. “Never,” he said with such quiet certainty that Emma was greatly comforted. “I get everything I need from you.” She”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“What is that?” Emma asked, as Lucy’s sobs began to subside a little. “Laudanum,” Steven answered. He got Lucy to her feet and helped her as far as the doorway, where a maid was waiting to collect her mistress. “Does she take a lot of that?” Emma asked, looking at the bottle distastefully. Steven sighed and set it aside. “She’s been using it ever since I’ve known her,” he said, screwing the lid back onto the bottle. “Obviously, being married to my brother is no field of daisies.” His”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“She awakened with a start to find Macon standing at the foot of the bed, watching her with a grin stretched across his face. His finger and thumb still lingered on her big toe. Stunned, she scooted toward the headboard, as if it could lend her some protection, her eyes wide. Steven’s .45 was in the drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed. She inched in that direction. “What are you doing here?” she croaked. Macon dragged his eyes over her lush figure, her sleep-rumpled underthings made of the thinnest lawn, and smiled. “You might say I’ve come to admire the spoils. It won’t be long now, Emma, dear. Things are going very badly for Steven. Soon you’ll be giving me fine, redheaded sons. Of course, I won’t be able to keep you here at Fairhaven—that would be indiscreet. We’ll have to get you a place in town.” Emma tried to shield her breasts with one arm as she moved nearer and nearer the side of the bed. “You’re vile, Macon Fairfax, and I’d sooner die than let you touch me. Now, get out of here before I scream!” “You can scream all you want,” he chuckled, spreading his hands wide of his lithe body. “There’s nobody here but the servants, and they wouldn’t dream of interfering, believe me.” Emma swallowed hard. She couldn’t be sure whether he was bluffing; after all, this was Macon’s house as well as Cyrus’s. If he gave instructions, they were probably obeyed. “Get out,” she said again. Her hand was on the knob of the nightstand drawer, but she knew she wasn’t going to have time to get the pistol out and aim it before Macon was on her. He was too close, and his eyes showed that he knew exactly what she meant to do. “It won’t be so bad, Emma,” he coaxed, his voice a syrupy croon by then. “I know how to make you happy, and you’re in just the right place for me to prove it.” “Don’t touch me,” Emma breathed, shrinking back against the headboard, her eyes wide with horror. “Steven will kill you if you touch me!” “You wouldn’t tell him.” Macon was standing over her by then, looking down into her face. She could see a vein pulsing at his right temple as he set his jaw for a moment. “You’d keep it to yourself because he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of winning this case if he assaulted me in a fit of rage—would he?” Emma’s heart was thundering against her ribs and she was sure she was going to throw up. She tried to move away from Macon, but he reached out and grasped her hard by the hair. “Please,” she whispered. He indulged in a small, tight smile. “Don’t humiliate yourself by begging, darling. It won’t save you. Keep your pleas for those last delicious moments before pleasure overtakes you.” Bile rushed into the back of Emma’s throat. “Let me go.” He pressed her flat against the mattress, his hand still entangled in her hair. She gazed up at him in terror, unable to speak at all. The crash of the door against the inside wall startled them both. Emma’s eyes swung to the doorway, and so did Macon’s. Nathaniel was standing there, still dressed in the suit he’d worn to Steven’s trial, his tie loose, his Fairfax eyes riveted on his cousin’s face. In his shaking hand was a derringer, aimed directly at Macon’s middle. “Let her go,” he said furiously. Macon released Emma, but only to shrug out of his coat and hang it casually over the bedpost. “Get out of here, Nathaniel,” he said, sounding as unconcerned as if he were about to open a book or pour himself a drink. “This is business for a man, not a boy.” Emma was breathing hard, her eyes fixed on Nathaniel, pleading with him. With everything in her, she longed to dive for the other side of the bed and run for her life, but she knew she wouldn’t escape Macon. Not without Nathaniel’s help. “I won’t let you hurt her,” the boy said with quiet determination. The derringer, wavering before, was steady now. Macon”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“When they reached Fairhaven, Jubal rushed out to collect her. “I knew you shouldn’t have gone to that ole trial, Miss Emma,” fussed Jubal. “I tried to tell Mr. Steven that. You’s makin’ a baby, you can’t go gallivantin’ all over the parish—” Emma might have smiled if her husband hadn’t been accused of a murder he didn’t commit. As it was, she just let Jubal prattle. She”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Emma shifted her gaze to Steven, sitting just ahead of her at a table, Garrick Wright beside him. As though sensing her perusal, Steven shifted in his chair to look back at her, and to her utter amazement, he winked. She pursed her lips, amazed that he could take so serious a proceeding so lightly. He mimicked her dour expression, then turned to face the front of the courtroom again. The”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“There’s a baby inside you right now,” he said, leaning forward to trace her collarbone with kisses as Emma gave in and let her hips move of their own accord. “And as soon as you’re over having this one, I’m going to put another in you, Emma. And then another. I’m going to have you morning, noon, and night—” “Ooooh,” Emma groaned helplessly, as he cut off his own words by closing his mouth over one of her nipples.”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“The driver tried to help Emma down, but he found himself elbowed aside by a tight-jawed Steven. “Where the hell have you been?” Emma’s husband demanded, grasping her shoulders in his hands. Emma met his eyes steadily. “What do you care?” she countered. His hands came to rest on her cheeks. “I care,” he answered. Emma pulled away from him and started to walk into the house, but he caught hold of her hand and pulled her back. “We’re going to talk,” he announced, and then he dragged her around the front of the house, through the complex and well-tended garden, where Lucy liked to spend time when she was having a good day. He didn’t stop until they’d reached the screened summerhouse, which was practically overgrown with wisteria. Opening”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Do I have your word?” Steven demanded. “You know you do,” Cyrus replied. “Macon won’t lay a hand on her. What did she say when you told her you didn’t want to be her husband anymore?” Steven shoved a hand through his hair, ashamed of the memory. “She said she didn’t believe me—called me a liar.” Cyrus chuckled ruefully. “Then you started moving your things out of the house. You’re a fool if I’ve ever seen one, Steven Fairfax. Now you go find that brave little wife of yours and you make up to her, or you’ll have me to answer to.” Steven”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“By God, if I were twenty years younger,” he thundered, “I’d drag you outside and horsewhip you!” Steven”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“You’re blaming me?” “Of course not,” he said brusquely. “But the whole thing brought me to my senses. We’ve made a mistake, Emma. I want you to go back to Chloe’s and forget you ever knew me.” One of Emma’s hands rose to her mouth to hold back a cry that never came. “You don’t mean that,” she said after a moment of struggle. “You’re only trying to protect me.” He stared at her for a long moment, and she saw a stranger looking out of his eyes. “I’m not protecting you,” he said. “I’m trying to get rid of you. Damn it, do I have to come right out and say I shouldn’t have married you?” Emma rose from her chair with dignity. “You’re a liar, Steven Fairfax. And I won’t leave you. Nothing but death itself could make me do that!” Steven turned his back to her and went to stand at the window, gazing out. “I don’t love you,” he told her. “You’re a liar!” Emma said again, and this time her voice held a note of hysteria. “You’ve given up, and you think you can spare me by sending me away! Well, I won’t go, do you hear me? I won’t go!” He whirled and glared at her, and she wished for death at the look she saw in his eyes. “If you won’t go, then I will,” he spat.”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Emma?” His hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she pressed her cheek to the back of one. “What is it?” “She’s dead,” Emma whispered, as Steven pulled up a chair close to hers and sat down. Gently he took the letter from her hand and read it. “I’m sorry,” he said, and the gentleness of his tone made her want to cry. “The attorney didn’t mention Lily and Caroline. That means Mama probably didn’t know where they were.” “It means he didn’t mention them,” Steven corrected her quietly, touching her chin, turning her head so that she looked at him. “I expressly asked for news of my sisters,” Emma said, her lower lip wobbling. “Write to him again. Better yet, send him a wire.” Emma was gazing at the gathering twilight again, remembering the Kathleen she’d known. Although her mother had had a drinking problem, she’d been merry when she was sober, full of laughter and music. “I wonder if she died alone.” Steven drew her out of the chair and onto his lap, where he held her, pressing her head down against his shoulder. His arms felt so good around her that Emma began to cry at last; she’d found this man only to lose him. Thinking Emma was crying for Kathleen—and maybe, somewhere deep inside herself, she was—Steven held her tightly and waited for the emotional storm to pass. When it did he carried her to the bedroom, undressed her to her chemise, and laid her down like a child, pulling the slippers from her feet, laying the covers over her. She”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“I was hoping—er—thinking—” He went crimson from his neck to his hairline. “Would you dance with me, Miss Emma?” She smiled and offered her hand. “I’d like that very much,” she said, hoping her face didn’t show the ravages of her earlier crying fit. Nathaniel cleared his throat and marshalled Emma awkwardly into a waltz. It seemed strange that, only three years before, she’d been his age. “If Steven or Macon is mean to you,” he ventured boldly, “you just come and tell me. I’ll give ’em what-for.” Resisting an urge to kiss his cheek, because she knew it would embarrass him too much, Emma nodded solemnly. “I’ll do that,” she promised, both amused and touched that Nathaniel was willing to do battle with such formidable opponents for her sake. Nathaniel’s handsome young face was dark with conviction and his palm was moist against Emma’s. “I know you think I’m just a kid, but I’m strong, Miss Emma. I won’t let anybody hurt you.” “Thank you,” Emma said, and she meant it. After”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“What will you do if Steven’s convicted?” was his question. At first, Emma couldn’t face the thought. Then she allowed the nightmare to take root in her mind and answered. “I’d go away—maybe to Chicago or New York—and try to make a life for myself.” “You wouldn’t stay at Fairhaven?” Cyrus asked and, for all of it, he sounded surprised. Even a little wounded. She told him about Macon’s repeated threats and felt his arm stiffen around her shoulders. “I’d protect you,” he said after a long time. Then with a sigh he added, “But, of course, I’m an old man.” Emma caught one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed it. “I can’t tell you how much your kindness has meant to me. You’ve been so good to Steven—many men would have refused to acknowledge him, let alone take his side in a murder case.” Cyrus smiled sadly. “He’s got my blood flowing in his veins.” Emma frowned. “Why does Macon hate Steven so much?” He sighed. “Because he knows Steven’s a better man than he is. And that makes Macon damn dangerous.” Emma”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Obviously enjoying her dilemma, Macon made a point of reiterating his plan to make Emma his paramour. “We’ll begin the evening of his funeral, I think,” he said, grinning as furious color rose in Emma’s face. “You’ll need consoling.” Emma was fairly quaking with rage, but she kept her smile in place and replied, “I’d sooner be a swamp rat’s mistress than yours!” Macon threw back his head and laughed at that, and it made Emma fume to realize the people around them probably thought the exchange was an affectionate one. “Your spirit only makes you more appealing,” he said presently. “I’ll break it, I assure you, if Steven’s hanging doesn’t do it first.” Saliva gathered in Emma’s mouth, but she didn’t quite have the nerve to spit in Macon’s face. “It might not be Steven who hangs,” she blurted out on some wild and ill-advised instinct. “Perhaps the real murderer will be brought to justice.” Catching her implication, Macon went pale with fury and lapsed into a stony silence. When”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Now, now, Emma, darlin’. You will bear it, because you have to. Your husband is depending on you.” Emma nodded, but she couldn’t stop crying. “I was real proud of you in there,” Cyrus comforted. “You did just fine for a Yankee.” Emma reared back to look into his face and laughed, despite everything, at the mischief she saw in his wise, gentle eyes. “Does it bother you that your grandson married a northerner?” she asked, when she’d recovered herself a little and her sobs had subsided to sniffles. Cyrus smiled. “If you can get used to a bunch of Rebels, we can get used to you. Now, it seems to me that Miss Lucy was right. You’re pretty as a magnolia blossom, but you need some new clothes.” With”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Macon grinned as a white-haired man with pale, bushy eyebrows approached. He was wearing a light-colored suit, like most of the men around him, and there was a black string tie at his throat. His blue eyes were gentle as they moved from Steven’s face to Emma’s, and he extended a hand to her. “Hello, Emma,” he said simply. Emma’s gaze shifted to Steven as he was led away roughly, and tears gathered on her lashes, blinding her. She wanted to scream that he was innocent, but she knew that would only make bad matters worse. While a smug Macon watched Steven disappear, the old man smiled at Emma and offered her his handkerchief. “Since my grandson hasn’t troubled himself to introduce us,” he said, with a sour glance at Macon, “I’ll do the honors. I’m Cyrus Fairfax, and now that you’ve joined the family I consider myself your granddaddy.” Emma dried her eyes and squared her shoulders. She would be no use to Steven if she crumpled into a heap of self-pity and despair. “I’m Emma,” she said, even though she realized he already knew that. “And my husband didn’t kill anyone.” “I tend to agree with you,” Cyrus replied, laying his hand lightly on the small of Emma’s back and steering her toward the steps of the platform. “While we’re waiting for the rest of the world to come around to our way of thinking, we’ll get to know each other.” Emma’s gratitude was almost as overwhelming as her despondency. If it hadn’t been for Cyrus’s appearance at the station, she would have been left alone with Macon. And that was a prospect she certainly didn’t relish. Linking”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“Touch her,” he vowed in a low voice, “and I’ll feed you to the gators, piece by piece.” Macon”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“There was a brief tap at the bedroom door, then it opened and Steven came in. “I was beginning to think you might be one of those husbands who spend more time in the saloons than at home,” Emma remarked. Steven’s eyes moved over her, leaving her feeling as though warm, sweet oil had just been massaged into her skin. “Believe me,” he said, his voice low, “in the next forty or fifty years, you’re going to find out I’m another kind of husband entirely.” She”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“The moment he stepped outside, Macon materialized out of the darkness, as quickly as if he’d been a part of it. “Just making sure you don’t decide to take to your heels again,” Steven’s half-brother remarked as they walked along the wooden sidewalk. “I’m not going to do that and you know it,” Steven responded, never looking at Macon. “You just want to make me as miserable as you possibly can.” “You don’t know the meaning of the word misery,” Macon answered blithely. “But you will when you’re behind bars and I’m bedding that luscious little wife of yours. She’ll claim not to like it at first, probably, but I’ve dealt with her kind before. They tell you they’re not interested, but when you throw them down on a mattress, they’re breathing hard and spreading their thighs for you in a minute. And how they carry on when they come.” Steven lost the battle to control his rage and gripped Macon by the lapels of his coat, flinging him hard against the outside wall of the newspaper office. He followed that with a solid punch to Macon’s solar plexus. Macon made a sound that was half gasp and half laughter, clutching his middle and struggling to catch his breath. “Your mother was just like her,” he choked out. “She was a hot little whore who liked playing games with rich men.” Steven’s hand knotted into a fist again, but this time he held himself in check, realizing that Macon wanted to be struck. He got some kind of perverse pleasure out of it. Filled with contempt, Steven turned to walk away. “You’ll be swinging at the end of a rope by this time next month,” Macon called after him. “And nine months after that Emma will be sweating in childbirth, bearing the first of my bastards!” Steven’s hand flexed over the butt of his pistol, but he didn’t draw. He just kept walking, pretending he hadn’t heard. But”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“What did he say to you?” he demanded, when they were alone in Chloe’s study, with the doors closed. Emma rubbed her eyes. “Who?” she replied, stalling. Steven only looked at her, his expression wry, his jawline tight. A headache pounded at the base of her skull and she sighed, wishing she could go to her room and lie down with a cold cloth on her head. They both knew Steven was talking about Macon, but Emma didn’t dare admit the man had threatened her again. Steven would get furious, maybe violent, and he might insist on leaving her in Whitneyville until the trial was over, or sending her to Chicago. “He only wanted to dance,” she said, avoiding her husband’s eyes. Steven caught her chin in a rough but painless grasp. “Once and for all, Emma,” he breathed, “don’t lie to me. I won’t tolerate it, not even from you.” Tears gathered in Emma’s lashes. “He said—he said he’d have to teach me n-not to spread my l-legs for killers, once you were gone.” Steven’s face contorted with rage, and he whirled away from Emma and stormed toward the door. She ran after him and caught hold of his arm. “One murder trial is enough,” she cried. “Please, Steven—let it pass!” She watched as a variety of ferocious emotions moved across his face. Finally, Steven shoved the splayed fingers of his right hand through his hair and said, “I want to kill him.” He folded that same hand into a fist and slammed it against the wall. “I want to kill him.” “I know,” Emma said gently. “But it wouldn’t be worth sacrificing all the years ahead, Steven.” He drew her close and held her, and his lips moved in her hair. “When I’m acquitted of killing Mary, the first thing I’m going to do is make love to you. The second thing is beat the hell out of Macon.” Emma smiled up at him. “When I get through with you,” she promised, full of bravado and hope, “you won’t have the strength to beat the hell out of anybody.” Steven chuckled hoarsely. “Is that so?” he retorted. “Well, maybe I’d better take you upstairs right now, Mrs. Fairfax, and find out if you’re bluffing.” “You’ll just have to wait until evening, Mr. Fairfax,” Emma responded airily. “I intend to enjoy our wedding party.” “That was exactly what I had in mind.” Steven grinned. Emma laughed and shook her head, her fears lost again, at least temporarily, in the boundless love she bore this man. Joellen”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“At midday the scout rode back from up ahead to tell Steven there were Indians to the east. He immediately got off the horse and then mounted again, behind Emma. She looked back at him in question, and he kissed her lightly on the mouth. “If anybody takes an arrow in the back,” he said, “it isn’t going to be you.” Emma was frightened, but she also felt protected and valued, and there was a certain contentment in that. If she could be close to Steven, she could face anything. Uneasily,”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw

“How’s your arm?” she asked, to hide the fact that she was feeling suddenly and inexplicably shy. It was as though she hadn’t given her body to this man beside a creek only a short time before, or relieved herself within his hearing. “It hurts like hell,” he answered, but there was suppressed amusement in his voice. He drew her close, his uninjured arm beneath her, and gave her bottom a brazen squeeze. “Oh, for a bath and a bed, Miss Emma. If I could have those things, I’d keep you busy comforting me until the sun came up.” Emma arranged the blankets with one arm, her head resting on his chest. She could hear his heart beating strong and steady beneath her ear, and she didn’t let herself think that it would ever be stilled by a hangman’s rope. “You’ve had about all the comforting you can stand for one day,” she answered. He chuckled, and it was a homey, cozy sound. Emma could almost imagine that they were lying in a featherbed at Fairhaven, with their children sleeping down the hall and all their worries behind them. She laid splayed fingers on his chest, letting his heart thump against her palm. If You must take a life, she told God in silence, let it be mine and not his. It’s selfish and weak of me, I know, but I couldn’t bear to live without him. “I love you, Steven,” she said. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “And I love you, tigress. Good night.” Emma”
― Linda Lael Miller, Emma And The Outlaw