Nobody's Darling

“Elliot Courtney!” Billy exclaimed, keeping his arm looped around Esmerelda’s waist. “What in the hell are you doing in London?”

“Tracking Thaddeus Winstead,” Courtney admitted ruefully, “with the help of Scotland Yard.”

“Well, there he is,” Billy said, pointing unnecessarily to the figure writhing in the hay at the far end of the street. Virgil was in the process of applying a tourniquet to his leg. Esmerelda figured he ought to be thankful it wasn’t his neck.

“Yes, we gathered that was him,” the Scotland Yard detective said dryly. “It’s Mr. Courtney’s belief that the man may have boarded your steamer in New York under an alias.”

Billy rubbed the back of his neck. “One of these days I’m going to learn to pay more attention to that feeling.”

“It seems you’ve earned the bounty on his worthless hide yourself,” Courtney said. “We’ve also been authorized to inform you that the judge has granted you full amnesty. You’re no longer a wanted man.”

“Oh, yes, he is,” Esmerelda said, refusing to loosen her own possessive grip on Billy’s waist.

Courtney exchanged a glance with his deputy before drawing something out of the pocket of his vest. It was another badge, just as shiny and official-looking as his. “The U.S. Treasury Department has also recommended that you be offered a job as a U.S. marshal. So what do you say, Darling? You’re just the kind of man we need.”

Esmerelda held her breath. She could never deny Billy his dream, not even if she needed him more than they did.

Billy glanced at Anne and Drew, who were still gazing into each other’s eyes with starry-eyed devotion. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn down your offer, gentlemen. There’s this little town in New Mexico that I hear tell has need of a sheriff. They say it’s a good place to raise a family.” He winked at Esmerelda. “At least if I have a passel of daughters, they’ll never lack for suitors.”

Esmerelda blinked back tears of joy. “If that’s a proposal, Mr. Darling, then I accept.”

He scowled at her. “Who said anything about marrying you? I got my heart set on this pretty little cousin of mine back in Missouri. She’ll make me a fine wife once she turns thirteen next year.”

Esmerelda’s mouth flew open. She stamped her foot and pointed an accusing finger at Billy. “Grandpapa, this man compromised me! I insist that you force him to marry me. At once.”

Her grandfather drew himself up to his most regal height. “You heard the girl, Darling. You can either choose your weapon and step outside in the street with me or you can marry my granddaughter.” He leaned forward to confide, “And I should warn you, son, that I was a wicked shot in my day.”

“Well, sir,” Billy looked Esmerelda up and down, heat simmering in his eyes, “if you insist.”

Esmerelda bounded back into his arms, squealing with triumph. “But I don’t understand,” she told him. “I thought being a U.S. marshal was your heart’s desire.”

He gave her a lazy smile that she felt all the way to her toes. “It was. Until the day you came marching into that saloon.”

As their lips brushed and lingered, Sadie came loping out to run in circles around them, woofing merrily. A group of eager reporters from the Times and the Morning Post clustered around them as well, pads and pencils at the ready.

“Is it true,” one of them shouted, “that tonight was your last night to be toasted as the ‘Darling of London’?”

Before Billy could reply, Esmerelda cupped his face between her hands. Although she addressed the reporter, her tender gaze was for Billy alone. “That’s right, sir. Because after tonight, he’s nobody’s darling but mine.”

EPILOGUE

Calamity, New Mexico, 1998

Esme Darling ventured deeper into the shadowy lair of the attic, shuddering when a low-hanging spiderweb tickled her face. She swept the beam of her standard issue Maglite across the floor, praying she hadn’t just seen something scuttle out of her field of vision. She’d never much cared for prey she couldn’t handcuff or read its rights.

She’d just about steadied her nerves when a strong, masculine arm snaked around her waist. She might have panicked if she hadn’t sucked in an enticing whiff of aftershave along with enough breath to scream.

“Jesus, Dix, I could have shot you,” she wailed, twisting around to smack the smirking detective on the upper arm. Even in her agitation, she couldn’t fail to appreciate the impressive bulge of bicep encountered by her palm.

“No, you couldn’t,” he said, holding up the pistol he’d confiscated from her holster prior to grabbing her. His chocolate brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

Scowling, she retrieved her gun. “I’ll only forgive you for scaring me half to death if you’ll teach me that move later.”

He swept her into his arms for a playful kiss. “I’ll teach you any move you want to know. I never could resist a woman in uniform. Especially that cotton and polyester blend they make you rookies wear.” He frowned down at her. “The boys down at the precinct told me you had nerves of steel. So why are you so jumpy?”

She plucked a cobweb from his thick, dark hair. “Because I don’t like attics. Or spiders. Or smart-ass detectives who sneak up on you in the dark.”

“Then what are you doing up here? Isn’t it bad enough that you have to pull evening shift on Thanksgiving without you ducking out of dinner before your grandpa can cut the pumpkin pie?”

She made a face. “I hate pumpkin pie. You know perfectly well the only kind of pie I’ll eat is peach.”

“How could I forget? The first time I saw you, you were snout-first into a fresh-baked one at the department picnic. When I reached for that last piece, I thought you were going to take off a couple of my fingers.”

She brought his thumb to her lips for a teasing nip. “I still might.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmured.

She twined her fingers through his and led him through the cluttered maze of mislabeled boxes, outdated appliances, and abandoned toys. His height forced him to duck under some of the lower beams.

“You arrived just in time, Detective. I was about to do some sleuthing of my own. You can’t inherit a name like Esmerelda Darling and not be just a little curious about your ancestors.” She smiled wryly. “Especially not ancestors as colorful as mine.”

“Oh, come on. According to your grandmother, every Darling since the beginning of time has been born to the badge. When Adam and Eve got kicked out of Eden, one of your ancestors was probably waiting outside to arrest them for destroying public property.”

Esme snorted. “Grandma Anne is a bit of a revisionist when it comes to family history. I bet she didn’t tell you this house was once a brothel or that this attic was the very room where my great-great grandmother lost her virginity to that notoriously wicked outlaw, Billy Darling.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Your grandmother was a hooker?”

“Of course not. Billy Darling ended up being my grandfather. We Darlings don’t have skeletons in our closet. We have gunslingers.” She spun around to nutter her eyelashes at him. “I should warn you, sir, that the women in my family have always had a weakness for outlaws.”

Dix immediately turned serious. “Did I ever tell you about my time in prison?”

She squinted up at him. “You’re pulling my leg. Felons aren’t eligible for the police academy.”

“I never said I was a felon. I egged the mayor’s house on Halloween when I was thirteen and spent three hours in the county lockup.”

“Oooooh,” she crooned, pursing her lips in an inviting pout. “You were a very bad boy. I may just have to take you in.”

Growling beneath his breath, Dix leaned forward. Before their lips could touch, Esme whirled around and scampered deeper into the attic. She might have enjoyed the last laugh if her flashlight hadn’t chosen that moment to flicker and go out.