I could see now that she responded to this unorthodox attention. How Xander somehow knew what she needed, I had no idea. Thank Christ he could read her when I couldn’t.
“Did what, baby?” I asked. I matched Xander’s deep tone.
“I killed him.”
Xander’s hand paused in mid-air and he looked to me, his eyebrows going up. Did she say killed? Catching himself, he pulled his hand back and spanked her. I could see now she needed no reaction on our part besides domination. If we faltered, so would she.
“Who?” he asked, his voice the same even tone.
“Frank,” she cried as Xander spanked her again. Her crying came out in deep sobs now.
Xander didn’t stop, but by the sound of his hand on her red ass alone, I could tell he’d lightened up a little. He peppered her flesh over and over until the entire lush surface glowed hotly.
She’d killed her husband. He hadn’t died falling down the steps, drunk. What had he done to her to warrant her to do such a thing? There was no way in hell Emily would do something like that without being provoked. She wasn’t a murderer. She’d gone to Olivia’s rescue with a rifle, facing off against three big men. Simon, Cross and Rhys wouldn’t have hurt her, but she’d taken that risk to protect her friend.
When her tears had subsided somewhat, Xander asked, “How?”
“I… I hit him with a frying pan.”
Xander’s hand fell to his side and for a moment, we just stared at her, bent over with her ass upturned.
A frying pan?
Xander scooped her up and sat on the bed, her head tucked beneath his chin. When she hissed as her ass came in contact with his thighs, Xander shifted her so she sat more comfortably.
I knelt down before her, stroked my hand over her cheek, my thumb wiping away the remainder of her tears. Seeing her like this was heart-wrenching.
“What did he do to you?”
“He was drunk.” She hiccupped, then sniffed. “He wanted money that I’d hid from him. He needed to give it to Ralph, but I refused. It was the money for food, for the house.” She took a deep breath, then continued. “He came after me as I knew he would. I used the only weapon I had at hand.”
“You hit him with a frying pan?”
She nodded against Xander’s chest. “He said he was going to… to whip me, then take his husband’s rights.”
Jesus. I glanced up at Xander. He’d just spanked her and I hadn’t stopped him.
As if Xander could read my thoughts, he murmured, “Not the same thing.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“So you were in the kitchen and he came after you?”
She shook her head again. “I was upstairs in the bedroom. He woke me up. I’d taken the frying pan with me because he’d become angrier the more he gambled. I was afraid of him.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Xander asked.
Emily pulled back, looked between us. With her blotchy face and messy hair, she looked so lost, vulnerable.
“I thought you wouldn’t want me,” she admitted. “Why would you want a murderer for a wife? But I had to find some way to save myself from Ralph’s plan to have me work in the saloon. I would have told you when you learned about Ralph, but Xander had said he hated liars and that’s what I am.”
She sniffed again.
I frowned. “Did you kill him on purpose?”
Her eyes widened. “No!” she cried, then hopped up from Xander’s lap. She began pacing once again and I doubted she even remembered she was naked. “He was going to hurt me.” She spun to face us, her eyes wild. “He was, truly. You have to believe me. He’d hit me before and this time he was so mad.”
“I believe you,” Xander said plainly.