Magnate (21 page)

“Don't. Just because you did not have the same growing up doesn't mean you do not deserve it now.”

Had he been so transparent? “How are you so certain?”

“Because you are not your father, and I am not your mother. I'm not going to leave, Emmett. I'm going to stick it out, and so are you.”

He squeezed her backside once more. “Bossy, aren't you?”

“I can be, yes. But you want a woman who can stand up to you, who isn't afraid of you.”

How did she know that when he was only coming to realize it himself? “You are definitely not afraid to shout at me. My ears are still ringing from ten minutes ago when I used my fingers to—”

She pinched his shoulder playfully. “Emmett!”

He kissed her nose, her cheek. She was soft and smelled like lavender combined with their lovemaking, an intoxicating combination. “Laughter, Elizabeth. Don't forget the laughter.”

She smiled at him and something tripped in his chest, expanding. He'd never experienced anything so powerful. Then she yawned, and a quick glance at the mantel clock told him it was well after midnight. “Turn around and try to sleep.”

She rolled over and pressed her round buttocks into his groin as he covered her from behind. He felt his cock stir and tried to think of the most boring, inane things he could in order to deflate his lust. Transit prices. Upcoming quarterly dividends. What he would do with the information Elizabeth had uncovered about Northeast Railroad. Anything but his wife's luscious, very naked body against him.

“The papers mentioned how you were seeing a . . . woman,” she said. “And I know you haven't been sleeping at home. . . .”

Emmett remained silent, and she twisted to shoot him an expectant look. “Well?”

His lips twitched, but she appeared so serious he hated to laugh. “Just ask, Elizabeth.”

An elbow dug into his ribs, a sign of her impatience. “Are you still seeing her?”

“No. Not since the engagement was announced, and we hadn't seen each other in the way you're thinking of since before even that.” His fingers trailed up her thigh. “And if you elbow me once more, you'll be answering to me, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

She giggled, a sound he was rapidly coming to love. Quiet descended, and he felt himself sliding toward sleep until she asked, “Why do you call me Elizabeth instead of Lizzie, like everyone else?”

Idly, he stroked her hip, and the truth unexpectedly tumbled out of his mouth. “It's a noble name, for a queen. A conqueror. ‘Elizabeth' sounds like a woman strong enough to change history, to chart any course she chooses. Anyone could be a Lizzie—but only you could be Elizabeth.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “That's . . .” She exhaled, long and slow. “That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

He pressed his lips to the back of her head. “Go to sleep, Elizabeth.”

* * *

Unbelievably, the snow continued the next day.

On the storm's second morning, Lizzie sipped some water and looked out at the city she loved, now covered in white. The snowdrifts stretched to the second floor of most buildings, the streets still impossible to traverse. As Emmett had predicted, ice and wind had toppled the telegraph and telephone poles, and the electricity had yet to come back on.

Indeed, with so much wrong, how could she be this happy?

The door to the water closet opened, and she turned to watch her naked, freshly shaved husband emerge. Her breath lodged in her throat. Oh, yes.
This
would be the reason for her jubilant mood.

Impossibly wide shoulders, lean hips, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he moved . . . She would never tire of looking at him. He walked with confidence. Purpose. As if he owned all of New York—which, she supposed, he quite nearly did. The man might have started with nothing in life, but he'd taken all he'd wanted and more, making him both feared and respected.

Today, he'd awoken first, left her sleeping under the blankets on the sofa to begin his morning ritual. She'd missed waking up next to him. Missed feeling all that strength and power under her fingertips.

A knowing smirk on his face, he slipped his arms around her blanketed shoulders and pulled her back into the cradle of his chest. He rested his chin on top of her head as they watched the blur of falling flakes through the windows. “Beautiful,” he said softly.

“It is, isn't it? All that white snow.”

“Yes, that, too.”

She smiled. “Are you charming me again, Mr. Cavanaugh?”

“I only tell the truth, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” he replied, and she could see his devilish grin in the reflection of the pane. “And why the blanket? You aren't turning shy, are you?”

“Merely cold,” she lied. Nakedness had been easier in the dark, even if Emmett hadn't given her a reason to be self-conscious. She'd never been unclothed with a man before. People of her class never talked about marital relations, but she'd envisioned something civilized, undertaken with the lights firmly off. Lovemaking with Emmett was not anything like that. Raw, earthy, and wild, their encounters were better than any of her youthful daydreams.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Well rested. Hungry.” Then she added, “Not sore, in case you were wondering.”

He huffed a tiny laugh, the great expanse of his chest billowing behind her. “Of course I was wondering. I am a man in the presence of my incredibly appealing wife, after all.”

His palms wound under the blanket until he found her breasts, cupped them. He applied pressure, plumping the soft mounds, and then squeezed her nipples. Desire streaked down her spine, and her head fell back on his shoulder as her lids fluttered shut. Rolling the taut peaks in his fingers, he pressed his now-evident erection into her backside and whispered in her ear, “Shall I pleasure you right here? When anyone stranded in one of these surrounding buildings could be watching?”

She gasped, both shocked and titillated by the idea. Still, there were practical matters to deal with first. She twisted out of his grip. “As soon as I wash up.” Gaze firmly averted from his aroused nakedness, she went to the small room at the far end to start her morning preparations.

When she emerged several minutes later, Emmett was busy setting out food for their breakfast. He'd pulled on trousers, but remained bare above the waist, thank goodness. Her husband was a sight to behold.

“I went ahead and set up the food,” he said as she approached. “I realize this is a far cry from what you normally have in the morning.”

Growing up, she'd enjoyed hot coffee, eggs, ham, buttered rolls, anything she'd wanted for breakfast. The Sloane cook had prepared whatever Lizzie had craved each day. But that luxury paled compared to the simple fare that her husband had braved a storm to retrieve. Would she ever be able to eat salami again without thinking of him? Or recalling the weight of his body as he surged inside her?

He glanced up, his dark eyes studying her. “Are you blushing?”

“Of course not. I'm married. Married women do not blush.”

“That experienced, are you?” He smirked. “Would you care for another wager, this time to see if I can make you blush?”

She pulled the blanket tighter and lowered to the carpet. “Need I remind you who won our last wager?”

“There are two things at which I excel. And they both begin with
f
. The first is finance, and the second is f—”

“Emmett!” Lizzie laughed, her skin flaming.

“—orging steel.” His brows rose in exaggerated innocence. “Why, Elizabeth, what did you think I was about to say?”

No chance she would say that particular word. “Fine. You succeeded in embarrassing me.”

Though her face was hot, her insides fluttered at his teasing. Who was this playful stranger? Where was the cold, remote man she'd married? She liked this side of Emmett Cavanaugh, a side she guessed not many ever saw.

“And here I thought Knickerbocker ladies didn't know that word.” He popped a piece of the cured meat in his mouth and chewed. “You continue to amaze me.”

His praise generated more fluttering. There were deep emotions beginning to surface, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. They unnerved her. Yes, he was her husband, but she'd never experienced this rush of tenderness toward a man before. The sensation caused her to feel both weak and powerful, and she needed time to examine the possibilities. To weigh the benefits and risks for the future. To ensure she was not the only one invested in this marriage.

She reached for the bread, and the two of them ate in silence for a few moments. “Do you believe the snow will keep up?”

“Hard to say.” His gaze transferred to the window. “I haven't ever seen a storm like this before. You must be anxious to return home, to a soft bed and warm bath.”

“Not at all. I am enjoying myself,” she answered honestly, which caused his brows to snap together. Worried she'd given too much away, she added lightly, “Though even a cold bath would appeal at this point.”

“If we run out of coal, that might be easier than you think.”

She sat up straighter. “Is that a possibility?”

“Not a chance. Don't worry, the cellar is full of coal. We won't freeze. Though we may have to find more food if the storm goes on any longer than tomorrow.”

Though the dancing light in his eyes gave him away, she bumped his hip with her foot, saying haughtily. “Are you implying that I am eating too much? It's rude to comment on a lady's appetite. We are delicate creatures.”

“Delicate?” He snorted. “I should have known you were trouble the minute you argued with me in my office over backing your investment firm.”

“Which you did not want to do, as I recall.”

“Even I have moments of stupidity. Surely you know that by now.”

“I am going to make you a lot of money,” she said, dusting the crumbs off her hands.

“Us. You are going to make
us
a lot of money. Now, are you finished eating or would you care for more?”

“I am finished. Shall we clean up?”

He reached out and snagged the end of her blanket, slowly pulling the fabric toward him. “Not just yet. I'd like to borrow your blanket first.”

The cloth was disappearing from her naked body, so she clutched the edges tighter. “Wait, why do you need it?”

“I don't. I need you, actually. Naked, so that I may taste my favorite part of you for breakfast.”

Chapter Fifteen

Emmett cast a surreptitious glance at his wife across the carriage. Disheveled, wrinkled, and dirty, she'd never appeared more beautiful. Fortune had indeed smiled on him the day she walked into his home. The last few days with her had been as close to heaven as a man like him would ever get—and he'd be damned if he'd ever regret it.

Yesterday, once the snow had stopped, he'd ventured outside and shoveled until his back ached and his calluses sprouted calluses. Fifteen or twenty other men had joined in, citizens determined to get the city back on its feet, to clear enough that the snow removal wagons could get through. While he was working, the sweat had rolled down his back, soaked his shirt and underclothes, and continued to his feet. The sensation, so reminiscent of times he'd rather forget, had caused bile to regularly rise in his throat, which he resolutely pushed down. Elizabeth's safety was what mattered most, not the nightmares of his youth.

Elizabeth. His wife.
Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
She was far more adventurous than he'd even dreamed, amenable to his every suggestion. The memory of her astride his hips this morning, riding him, would stay burned in his brain for a lifetime. Variety in positions had never given him a second thought before, when he'd fucked other women. So without thinking, he'd switched to place Elizabeth on top. Thank Christ, she'd enjoyed the new angle.

He shifted in his seat, adjusting his trousers to hide his burgeoning erection. Each time he had her only worsened his craving. In fact, he was dying to get her up to his bed the instant they arrived home.

The brougham moved slowly through the slick, snow-covered streets, giving them ample time to study the destruction wrought by the storm. Poles had collapsed, bringing wires down with them. Carriages and carts had been stranded, their owners desperately seeking shelter. Horses frozen and stiff in the street. A stalled streetcar nearly blocked Twenty-Third Street and Sixth Avenue. Men were everywhere, some with shovels, some starting fires in the drifts in an attempt to melt the snow, while children scampered about, throwing snow and sliding in their boots. Loaded wagons carted the snow to the river, an arduous task that would take weeks.

“Kelly certainly appeared relieved to find us in one piece this afternoon,” Elizabeth said, her gaze trained on the window.

Emmett had been both thankful and annoyed by Kelly's rescue. “No doubt he suspected one of us to have strangled the other after two days of being trapped together.”

Her head turned sharply. “Why? What did you tell him about us?”

“The truth. Wasn't like he hadn't already figured it out, based on what happened in Newport.”

She contemplated that for a moment, her brow furrowed. “Which company was that, back in your office? The books you had me review?”

He had no plans to tell her of his revenge on her brother, not yet. Not when they'd just built this fragile trust between them. “All in due time, my dear.”

“You won't tell me? Even now?”

Especially not now.
“It has nothing to do with whether I trust you or not. I am not certain what I will do with the information just yet.”

“Are you always so secretive in your business dealings?”

He thought about that. As a boy, he'd learned to keep things to himself. Less risk of being hurt that way. “I don't want you to worry over my plans.”

“So what now?”

“Meaning?”

“Are you planning to stay at home? With me?”

There was a note of vulnerability in her voice, revealing how much the answer mattered. He snatched her gloved hand to tug her closer. If not for the cramped space, he'd have dragged her onto his lap. Instead, he had to make do with cupping her cheek. “I do not plan on being anywhere else.”

She sighed, her body softening—precisely the way he liked it. He removed his derby, dipped his head, and kissed her, the taste of her filling his mouth. She responded as she always did: eagerly and aggressively. Like she'd been waiting a year for him to kiss her. Did she have any idea how alluring those qualities were in a woman?

Her gloved fingers tunneled through his hair, holding on, and he drove deeper, their tongues desperate for one another. The low whimpers and moans she fed his mouth snaked through his blood to settle in his gut, plumping his cock further. Damn, what he planned to do to this woman when they arrived home.

The wheels had slowed, he noted dimly over the pounding of his heart. He broke off and tried to collect himself before he had to face his family. “You are going to cause me a great deal of embarrassment in front of the girls if we do not stop.” He gestured to his lap.

She pressed a shaking hand to her lips, trying to stifle her laughter. “I don't suppose you could keep your overcoat on?”

“Graham would wrestle me for it if I did. But rest assured that I will be dragging you up to my bed as soon as I can manage.” He shoved his hat back on his head.

“Before dinner?” she asked with an innocence he did not believe for a second.

“Yes, definitely before dinner. I plan to be under your skirts before the horses have even been stowed.”

She chuckled. “I want a bath, so you'll have to wait for that, at the very least.”

His gloved fist clenched. He did not want to wait, not one minute longer than necessary. “Take one with me. I have the largest bath in the house. It even has a rain shower.”

She seemed to contemplate the idea as the carriage came to a halt. “What will the servants say?”

“Who gives a damn? We're married, Elizabeth. There's nothing improper about tending to your husband's needs during the day.”

“Oh, is that what it's called?”

“Sweetheart, I'll tend to your needs any time you ask. All you need do is crook your little finger at me, and I'll be on my knees.”

Color bloomed on her cheeks as Kelly opened the carriage door.
Excellent
. Kelly helped Elizabeth down the small steps and she continued on toward the house.

When Emmett emerged from the carriage, Kelly's eyes were lit with unholy amusement. “The Bishop happily married,” his friend murmured. “Never did think I'd live to see the day.”

“You might not live the hour, if you don't watch your mouth,” Emmett snapped as his feet hit the ground. Kelly's laughter trailed him as Emmett strode up the walk.

Graham opened the door, and Elizabeth sailed through first, Emmett close on her heels. “Good evening, madam,” Graham was saying as Emmett came inside.

“Thank you. I am relieved to be home,” Elizabeth replied, removing her gloves.

Her use of the word “home” was not lost on Emmett, and his chest tightened with a combination of relief and hope. Was it wrong to be grateful for a storm that had likely killed hundreds of people and caused so much destruction, yet had brought harmony with his wife? He made a note to donate additional funds toward the city's rebuilding efforts, to atone for the selfishness.

“And welcome home, sir.” Graham closed the door behind Emmett and began helping Elizabeth with her cloak.

“Graham, a word.” Emmett flung his hat and gloves on the side table.

“Yes, sir?” Graham straightened and faced the master of the house squarely.

“In the future, do not allow my wife out of this house in unfavorable weather conditions.” He heard Elizabeth sputter, so he added, “I realize Mrs. Cavanaugh can be persuasive and headstrong, but I rely on you to ensure the safety of the house and its occupants. Do not fail me again.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Emmett,” Elizabeth said, “do not blame Graham. He tried to—”

“He should have locked you up, is what he should have done.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. He raised a brow, not bothered in the least. Indeed, her anger only aroused him further.

“You're here. Thank God.” Brendan was hurrying down the stairs as best he could, leaning heavily on the rail. “We have been worried sick. Girls!” he called over his shoulder. “Emmett and Lizzie are home.”

His brother went to Elizabeth first, just as Claire and Katie emerged on the landing. The two girls flew down the steps, relief evident on their faces. Emmett knelt and held out his arms, one for each of his little sisters.

They crashed into him, their small arms going around his shoulders. “Welcome home,” Katie said into his overcoat while Claire cried, “We thought you weren't ever coming back.”

He hugged them both. Hard. “I told you, I'll always come back. It took me a little longer than anticipated because of the snow.”

“That's what Brendan said, but he and Mr. Kelly were very worried,” Katie's muffled voice said.

“Well, everything is fine now. Why don't you both go and welcome Elizabeth home as well?”

The girls nodded, and they all turned to find Elizabeth and Brendan watching closely. Something bright and watery shone in his wife's eyes before she came over to hug his half sisters.

Emmett straightened and went to his brother. Brendan clapped him on the back. “Goddamn, am I glad to see you,” his brother said quietly. “I've never been so worried in my life. We couldn't reach you, and had no way to know if Lizzie had found you. I nearly had to tie Kelly down to keep him from starting for Beaver Street during the storm.”

“I'm glad you stopped him. He wouldn't have made it past Fiftieth Street.” Emmett shrugged out of his coat and handed the heavy garment to Graham. “Now, if you'll excuse us, my wife is exhausted, and I promised her a bath.”

Brendan's brow furrowed. “So does that mean . . .” He tipped his chin toward Elizabeth.

“Yes. That is precisely what it means.”

* * *

“Thank you for coming,” Emmett said three days later as he closed the door to his office. It was early, not yet even nine o'clock, and he'd left his very naked, very delectable wife sleeping upstairs to come down for this meeting. A meeting that could not conclude fast enough.

Kelly sprawled in one of the armchairs, while Colin sat at his desk, ready to take notes. Good, they could get started straightaway.

A man rose to shake Emmett's hand. Sheridan was one of the best investigators in New York, having been a Pinkerton for years before leaving and going into business for himself. Emmett used Sheridan for sensitive jobs, where the utmost discretion was required. “Of course, Mr. Cavanaugh. You said it was urgent.”

Emmett gestured to the chair. “Please, sit. How are the roads?”

“Clearer up here, sir, but downtown is still a mess.”

Unsurprising, since the residents on upper Fifth Avenue had the money to afford crews to dig them out. Those in other parts of Manhattan would have to wait until the city's snow wagons came around or pick up shovels themselves.

Emmett dropped into his seat and folded his hands on his desk. “The reason I asked you here is to discuss a company I have my eye on.”

Sheridan nodded. This was familiar territory between them. “Go on.”

“They're weak at the moment. They've been watering down the stock, printing and selling more shares than they should. I'm inclined to take this news to the board, rather than the authorities, but I don't want to leave it to chance.” He pointed at Sheridan. “Start with the board. Find out who has a weakness we can leverage. If there's nothing we can use, then ferret out those who can be bought. I need at least eight men who are willing to help me. Buying their shares should give me enough for a majority.”

“Guess that explains why you just don't want to buy the stock outright, since it's watered down.”

“That's one reason. The other is that I need the owner caught by surprise. I don't want him to know until it's too late, when he cannot retaliate or regroup.”

Sheridan scribbled in his pad. “Sure. Which company?”

“Northeast Railroad.”

The investigator's pencil stalled, the only reaction to the revelation. Not that Emmett cared. Sheridan was paid to carry out Emmett's directives, not offer opinions.

After a beat, Sheridan continued writing. “No problem, sir. I'll get started on this right away.”

“Thank you, Sheridan. Our usual rates, plus a bonus if you find me more than eight before the month's out.”

Sheridan nodded and took his leave. Emmett stood and stretched, working the stiffness out of his back. Satisfying a wife demanded a lot out of a man, he thought with a small smile. Had she awoken? He might be able to catch her bathing, if he hurried.

“Colin, I'm headed up. I'll return shortly, and we can discuss what needs—”

“She will never forgive you.”

That was from Kelly, whose flat, deep voice showered the room with disapproval. He hadn't moved from his seat, remaining still as a statue, a familiar, stubborn set to his chin.

“Colin, take a walk.” Emmett's assistant disappeared, and Emmett resumed his seat. He selected a cigar and took his time lighting it. Exhaling a mouthful of smoke, he leaned back and extended his legs. “You wanted to say something?”

“You don't honestly believe you can ruin her brother, strip away her family legacy, and not suffer repercussions, do you?”

“This is business, Kelly.
My
business. My wife does not get a say in how I run it.”

“Business, you say?”

Emmett rolled the cigar between his fingers, studying the end. “Buying out Northeast would nearly double East Coast profits, not to mention the income from the railroads. It's a shrewd decision.”