The Glass Orchid (20 page)

“But I have!” Camden released her and rose from the bed. He paced the floor of her bedroom like a caged animal with too much pent up aggression. “I’ve spent my life trying to appease that man. I’ve let him run my actions and rule my emotions. He’s been vicious and cruel my entire life, and still I’ve nearly worked myself into my grave trying to appease him.” Camden paced faster, clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration. “I’ve sacrificed so much — my time, my friends, my dignity, my autonomy — in the vain hope that it would gain me —
something
— some small measure of approval, of — of the
slightest
sliver of love from him. But it’s gotten me nothing, not even a reprieve from his unrelenting censure. And now — now I almost lost you.” Camden sat back on the bed and took Del’s hands in his. “And now I must be done with him.”

Del forgot sometimes how young Camden was. He was mature, yes, and had the self-possession of a much older man, but he was still only twenty-one. He was still struggling with what it meant to be a man. He was still pulling away from his childhood and the power his parents had over him and learning what it meant to be a person, fully formed and independent of them. Del had been forced to leave childhood early and stand on her own, and she knew it was never easy. It was a process full of pain and self-doubt, and the difficult relationship Camden had with his father only complicated things.

“Oh, Camden, to sever ties with your father completely — ”

“I must do it. I
want
to do it. For my sanity and for your safety. My father and I are nothing but poison to each other, and I want to be free of it. I have spent far too many years in the fruitless endeavor of trying to be his son, and it’s ended badly for all of us. I refuse to allow you to remain in danger and my father is nothing but danger for us both. I will not risk you or your happiness. I am through wasting my time on him.”

Del nodded. She knew what it meant to be locked in a battle with persons who represented nothing but pain and degradation for you, and she knew how cathartic it was to finally free yourself from them. It was a monumental thing to walk away from a family member, but she would support Camden if he needed to do it.

Camden kissed her gently, sweetly. “I’m just glad I found you and we’re together once more. I’ll never let another thing get in our way.” He kissed her again.

“I’m so sorry there ever was anything keeping us apart,” Del said.

The guilt returned to Camden’s face. “I know, I — ”

“No, not you. I meant me, how I kept myself at a distance, how I let my fears come between us.”

Camden looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I spent so much time trying to protect myself, to guard my precious independence and freedom, I didn’t even notice that I had built a cage for myself, had cut myself off from everything that mattered. Love, friendship — you. I held myself back from you, even after I knew what you meant to me and how much I loved you.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Camden, I’m sorry for how, in my foolishness, I squandered so much of our time together. What terrifies me is how I almost didn’t have the chance to atone for it.”

“So we’ve both been foolish.”

“Yes, and we almost let that foolishness keep us apart. For so long, we’ve been beholden to our fears, imprisoned by the expectations of ourselves and others.”

Camden picked her up, so very, very gently, and placed her on his lap. He smoothed her hair from her face and dried the tears from her cheeks, placing soft kisses there instead.

“No more,” he said. “It seems we are finally free, together.”

Del hummed to herself as she added the long column of numbers. A heady warmth suffused her body, the after-effect of a morning spent with her husband that had yet to dissipate. Almost a year after their wedding, she still thrilled at calling him her husband, still reacted with heated readiness when she saw his face or heard his voice. Every time with him was like the first time, and she hoped it always would be. Their passion never abated, their giddiness with each other never subsided, and she didn’t think it ever would.

Del tried not to get too distracted with thoughts of her husband, but they always intruded no matter what she was doing, no matter how pressing her work. Something always reminded her of one of their late-night conversations whispered to each other in bed, or of the feel of his naked body against her skin, or of his laughter when she said something to amuse him. The smallest thing would bring up the memories of any of the thousand looks or words or touches they shared and she would want to drop everything and go to him. She wanted it now, but she needed to stay focused and finish the accounts and so she deliberately banished from her mind the images of them together that morning.

Camden always hated the bookkeeping and preferred to be outdoors, but she found the numbers comforting. They were logical and predictable. Two plus two always equaled four. There were no surprises in the math, nothing unexpected. It soothed her to sit in her cozy office and track expenses and income, to file receipts and organize their records, and she was good at it.

She had finally succeeded in turning her full attention to the accounts when she heard the creak of wheels and the jangle of tack outside. She looked out her window to see a carriage coming up the long drive to their home, and the sight made her smile. It would be either Wittingham or Jane, as they were both expected to arrive sometime today for an extended visit. Putting aside for a moment her excitement to see old friends, she finished her addition, checked her numbers one last time, and then closed the ledger. Work was done for now.

She went outside to find Camden, knowing he would want to greet the arriving guests. She found him exactly where she expected: in the small side paddock working a chestnut colt on a lunge line. She stood for a moment, just watching him. His blond hair was tousled, his shirt and breeches dusty, and he looked utterly gorgeous. He was loose-limbed and relaxed, with an expression of carefree joy on his face. Outside on their land, working with their horses, it was the happiest he was when not with her, and Del could stand and watch him all day.

He turned to look at her, breaking into a wide smile at the sight of her, and Del’s heart melted just a little. He was so beautiful, so kind and amazing, and she still couldn’t believe her luck that he was hers.

“Come to help me, my dear?”

Del shook her head, smiling at his address, and gestured to the front of the house where Wittingham was alighting from his carriage.

“Right. Seems you are granted a reprieve for the day,” he said to the colt. He removed the lunge line to let the horse scamper free about the paddock, and then he leapt over the fence in an easy, fluid motion to join his wife. Taking her hand in his, he led the way to greet their friend.

“Ho, Wittingham!” Camden called. The men clasped hands and slapped each other’s backs in the age-old gesture of male affability and affection.

Wittingham bowed to Del and smiled at her in greeting. “Mrs. Camden,” he said, taking her proffered hand for a genial kiss. “You are looking well.”

“I see you’ve made the long journey to the uncivilized north relatively unscathed,” Camden said.

Wittingham frowned at him. “If you call a wretchedly sore ass, a pounding headache from riding over the pitted monstrosities you call roads, and clothes covered in more wrinkles and dirt than an old naked man in mud pit ‘unscathed,’ then yes, I’ve got here just fine.” Wittingham made a great show of straightening his impeccable cravat and dusting off his sleeves.

Camden laughed and gave his friend another playful punch, which made Del laugh, and then even Wittingham couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“I’m surprised you could bring yourself to make the trip,” Camden teased.

“Yes, well, I’ve need for a new horse, and I hear you breed the finest specimens in England. I expect an exceedingly good deal, of course.”

“You will have to speak to my wife about deals and discounts. I just breed the horses, she runs the business aspects of it all. I’ll warn you not to get your hopes up, however. She is a shrewd negotiator that could talk a miser into paying
her
to take his goods off his hands. You will likely pay full price and more, and never be happier doing it.” Camden leaned down to kiss Del’s cheek, his admiration showing clearly on his face.

“Oh, Camden, stop,” Del said, laughing. “I have never dealt unfairly with anyone or cheated them their due, and you know it.”

“Cheated them? Never. You have a way of making people willingly and happily give over everything to you. As I have.” Camden looked at her meaningfully, and Del blushed under his gaze. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close, and she leaned into him. They were losing themselves in each other, as they always did, and would have forgotten Wittingham completely if he hadn’t cleared his throat pointedly.

“Ah, yes. Let’s get you inside and settled before we talk business,” Camden said, gesturing to a footman to unload Wittingham’s things from the carriage. “William will show you to your quarters, and when you’re ready, I’ll show you around the grounds.”

Wittingham followed the servant into the house, and Del turned to go inside as well, but Camden caught her hand and stopped her.

“I meant it, what I said.” Camden looked down at her earnestly, encircling her with his strong arms. “I’ve given everything of myself to you, happily and willingly.” He kissed her, the gesture tender yet strong.

Long ago, when Del was another person in another life, someone had told her she was like an orchid under glass. That she was closed off and anyone trying to reach her faced only jagged edges and injury. That she was delicate and fragile and would curl and wither at the slightest pressure and so she held herself back from others, walled off lest they caused her harm. Trying to be with her only resulted in the destruction of them both.

Here, now, standing on their land in her husband’s embrace, she realized she had become an orchid
made
of glass. She was open, transparent, everything about her freely shown. She was enduring and unable to be crumpled or bent; she would hold up to the bruising pressure of others. For hers was a heavy, toughened glass, and while still smooth and beautiful, it made her deceptively strong. If hit with just the right blow, yes, her edges could crack, but she would never completely shatter and her essential core would hold.

“And I am yours, completely,” she said, kissing him back.

She marveled that there had ever been a time when such a declaration would have filled her with fear and a sense of weakness. Now it gave her confidence. She had her own strength, and with the addition of her husband’s loving hands around her, she could withstand anything she faced. He wouldn’t let her fall, wouldn’t let her break, he would temper any of her remaining vulnerabilities.

With him, she was invincible.

Emma Barron lives in upstate New York with her family and two dogs. When not writing, she’s usually chasing her daughter, starting house projects she makes her husband finish, or killing all the plants in her garden. Learn more about her at
www.emmabarronbooks.com
, find her on Facebook, or follow her on Twitter
@barron_emma
.

Wyoming Territory, Late May 1870

From the back of her mare, Kiera Boudicca Alden peered through the cloud covered night at the horses lazing in the corral of the Flying V ranch. The frenetic activity from the party going on inside and around the main house didn’t seem to bother the horses, but it bothered Kiera, almost as much as the angry voices coming from the direction of the horse barn. “Ain’t no way, I’m letting you run off with her,” one voice snarled.

She couldn’t hear the reply, but a moment later she did hear gunshots.

She sidled her horse closer to her Shoshone companion. “Muh’Weda, we’ve got to get out of here,” she whispered.

“If they’re arguing about some girl, they’re too busy to notice us, and we need to get those horses back.”

Kiera made one more attempt to convince her spirit brother that his plan would lead to disaster.

“I’m all for you gaining enough
puha
to convince Aishimite’Bui’s father that you’ll make her a worthy husband, but you could have found a less dangerous way to do it than stealing your ponies back from the most powerful rancher in the territory.”

“This way is best. The greater the risk, the greater the
puha
. Besides we’re only taking a few horses. With all the noise those whites are making, they’ll never notice. Come on.” He nudged his horse forward.

Kiera had little choice but to follow where her friend led. She was here because of that friendship, but she very much feared someone would see the horses being taken from the corral and assume she and Muh’Weda were rustlers. Rustlers were shot on sight or, if captured, hanged.

Their unshod Indian ponies made little sound as they slipped through the shadows toward the barn.

“I don’t like this,” she muttered so only Muh’Weda could hear. “Do you smell smoke?”

“No. If there was smoke the horses would panic. You find the three mares and lead them out,” whispered Muh’Weda as he unlatched the corral gate. “I’ll get a rope over the stallion and be right behind you. Remember, if we get separated, I’ll meet you at the weeping rock near the Big Horn.”

“But … ”

Before she could object, he was through the gate and swallowed by the now stirring equine mass.

Under the waning moon the night was dark. How was she supposed to find three specific mares out of more than fifty in the wooden enclosure? Her photographer’s eye supplied accurate memories, but she took photographs in clear daylight, not darkness. Muh’Weda seemed to think she’d have no problem. She rubbed the scar on her left temple to ease the ache of tension and ignored the itchy feeling at her nape. Then she recalled the image of the horses she’d photographed nearly a year ago and started searching.