Wild Fire (Book II)

Unraveled

     Dutch halted The Count, sliding from the horse and hitching him between the two long beams of wood at the cabin's porch. Once secure, he turned to Emma, reaching up and sliding both his large hands around her small waist. He couldn't help but notice how his fingers almost touched behind the curve of her back as he lifted her. She was impossibly thin, and the way his shirt hung from her delicate shoulders worried him a little.

     He guided her towards the door, popping an open hand against her bottom nearly knocking her forward with his playfulness. "Go inside and eat. You haven't eaten since this morning and don't think I didn't notice." He raised a warning eyebrow at her, lighting a cigar to his lips.

      She shuffled away, but not before pausing to stick her tongue out at him as sashayed through the door. He looked after her a moment, and then his eyes went skyward to the dotting stars up above. His thoughts trailed to the nagging idea of ever losing the girl. This must be what John had felt through all that mess with Lilah.

     Dutch filtered over his own actions leading up to the raven-haired girl's turmoil. What a complete fool he had been. If the younger outlaw had felt only an ounce of what he felt for Emma now, then he could never completely forgive himself for what he had put him through. An admission he would of course never make, but keep in a still small box settled within his own head.

     He speculated the beauty of the landscape one more time, then turned on his heel marching inside. The bedroom door was closed, causing him to pull a pointed eyebrow in its direction as he removed the shirt and vest and slipped into the long black night jacket. "Emmmaa?" he sing-songed towards the door, looping his hat over the chair leg and setting his gun belt upon the ramshackle table.

      Silence bounced back at him. He paused, tossing the smoke into the cobbled fireplace, and stepped quickly towards the closed entrance. His heart was in his throat. He reached for the door calling for her again, unable to contain the tremor that tiptoed through his deep baritone voice. "Emma darlin?..."

     When he opened the door the sudden pang of fear melted from him. She lay on the bed, his crimson shirt undone and open in a delicious V. It hid her small breasts and closed together just over the dip of her waist hiding all the savory parts from his view. Her hair was piled atop her head, little spiraling threads of gold silk whispering around her face making her look every bit the angel he saw her to be, spread across the extending mattress. His mouth fell open, eyes dilating in their station to huge black devouring orbs. "Emma..." the words were merely a breath.

     She didn't move, only lay there against the pillows curling and uncurling a single spiral of her hair as she gazed up at him. Her azure eyes, dark and sultry under the long white lashes. "Yes? Dutch?" she answered thickly. He could tell she enjoyed his paralyzed stare. Her mouth pouted as she surveyed him from his head to the swell beneath his belt line. "You..." He breathed. For a moment he had lost his control. The room, the entire scene before him falling under her fairy light fingers leaving him a puppet captured to her every command. But it was fleeting. Emma didn't want the control. No matter what she said, and despite her obvious display of surrender, Dutch knew the girl inside and out. It didn't matter that her mindset was imprinted by a terrible past. She wanted him to take her, she always had. She just didn't know how to say such a twisted thing to someone. But the fork tongued leader had always read between the lines.

     His face hardened pulling back the smug confident demeanor as he walked slowly around the bed to stare down at her.

     "My my, but I don't recall giving you permission to touch my things Miss Wild. I believe that is MY shirt you are wearing is it not?" Emma looked down at the top then up again to his simmering eyes. "And I don't remember needing your permission Mr. Van der linde." She chirped back up to him, circling the top button with her little finger in defiance. "I see." He said, his voice a low grumble.