"Where are the children, Sam? They must be famished."
"Lou will take care of them," Sam replied. "In fact, Fred and Lou offered to keep them for the night."
Emma's hand flew to her throat. Oh ... that could only mean ... Her face flamed. Amanda was right. Now that Sam had the legal right, he'd changed his mind ...
"I told them that wasn't necessary."
Her racing heart slowed. "Oh ... of course ..."
"I mean, even though we're married now, it isn't as if we love each other or anything."
"Exactly."
His dark eyes caught hers and seemed to read her thoughts.. "I keep my promises, Emma. At least until I know I can break them and get away with it," he added, the teasing glint in his eye assuring her he was trying to lighten the sudden tension between them.
The voices around them faded away, and Emma was lost in Sam's gaze. This was what she wanted, wasn't it?
Her gaze lowered, and rested on his hands. Strong hands. Calloused hands. Fine pale hairs on the backs of his fingers. What would those hands feel like against her skin?
"Come on. Let's get something to eat before the food is all gone." Sam's voice interrupted her musings, and she allowed him to guide her through the crowd to the table.
Emma filled plates for both Sam and herself. Sam took his, then was separated from her by three of the guests. Emma watched as one spoke, then they all burst into loud laughter.
Patsy McConnell came up to stand beside her. "How did you manage to catch him?" she asked.
Emma dipped the ladle into the punch bowl and filled a glass with the ice-cold lemonade.
"He's very nice," Patsy went on. "But I would never want to be saddled with another woman's children."
Patsy's vicious tongue was well known in Charity, so Emma ignored the snide comment. She refused to let anyone spoil this day.
"This was all so sudden," Lily Gardener said from behind her in a high-pitched shrill voice. "Why, no one even knew the two of you were betrothed."
"We decided there was no reason to wait."
The woman eyed Emma curiously. "My, that dress is very becoming," she said, her gaze settling on Emma's middle. "A little snug, though, isn't it?"
Emma flushed. She knew exactly what the woman was getting at. She was assuming the wedding had been rushed for one reason - that Emma had gotten herself with child and Sam had had to marry her.
Before she had a chance to voice the retort on the tip of her tongue, the children appeared beside her.
"Are you all right?" she asked, noticing the serious expression on Joseph's face.
Joseph nodded. "I s'pose so."
The tone of his voice belied his assurance, and Emma wasn't sure how to proceed. Something was bothering the children, but unless they told her what it was, she couldn't help them.
"Did you have enough to eat?" she asked, trying to draw them out.
The children nodded in unison.
"Me eat meat ... and pickles ... and pie." Becky said. "Me eat two pieces." She emphasized how many by holding up four fingers. Joseph shook his head, then tucked two of her fingers back into her fist. "That's two, Becky."
"I eat two." Becky held up the fist for Emma's perusal.
Emma chuckled. By the bright purple stain on her dress, it appeared more pie had landed on her dress than had made its way to her mouth.
"Pretty dress," Becky said, then grabbed a fistful of the silk fabric and rested it against her cheek.
Emma crouched down to her level. "We'll pack the dress away and you can wear it at your wedding."
Becky's eyes lit up. "Me have a wedding? When? Tomorrow?"
The guests standing close enough to hear Becky's excited chatter laughed.
"No, not tomorrow," Emma said with a smile. "When you grow up."
Becky's smile disappeared. "But me want to wear a pretty dress."
Right then, Emma made a note to herself to buy a length of silk and make Becky a dress.
Joseph stood quietly, his dark eyes reminding her so much of his father’s. "So you're our ma now?" The question was more a statement.
Emma nodded. "That's right."
A look passed between Joseph and Nathan.
So this was the reason the two boys looked so glum.
"So we have to call you Ma?" Joseph asked.
"You don't have to," Emma said. "I'd like that, but only if you wouldn't mind."
Joseph nodded, and again, that same look passed between the two boys. "I s'pose that would be okay."
Emma smiled. It might take a little time, but the children were already beginning to accept her as their mother.
Nathan's forehead creased in a frown, and his eyes narrowed. "I ain't callin' you Ma."
The confidence Emma had felt only moments ago disappeared.
Sam approached just in time to hear Nathan's comment. He frowned, and Emma noticed his jaw tighten. "Nathan, mind your--"
"Nathan," Emma interrupted, "Can I talk to you for a moment? By ourselves?"
Nathan shrugged. Emma gave Sam a look that asked for his indulgence and led the little boy to a quiet corner.
"Let's sit here," she suggested, then sat down on one of the hard-backed wooden chairs. Nathan sat on a chair beside her.
How could she win the trust of this little boy? She had no experience in dealing with children, but she recognized pain and suffering when she saw it. Nathan was hurting inside, and only time and patience would heal the grief he held inside. But how could she convince him to allow her to help him?
Nathan sat silently and stared at the floor, swinging his legs back and forth. His hands were clenched together, and his lips were pursed.
"Nathan?" Emma said softly.
He looked up, and Emma noticed his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"You want to make me call you ma, don't you?" he asked sullenly. "But you ain't my ma. Not really."
Emma thought for a moment. She refused to begin her relationship with Nathan as his enemy.
"No," she said softly. "I'm not your mother, but I would like to be your friend. Can we start with that?"
Nathan kept his head down, apparently concentrating on the crease in his pants. After several long moments, he shrugged. "I suppose," he muttered finally.
"I understand why you don't want to call me 'Ma', so if you can think of something else, that's fine with me. Okay?"
Nathan looked up, his forehead creased in a frown. "You ain't gonna make me?"
"No. When you're ready for me to be your mother, that'll be the right time to call me 'Ma'."
Emma reached around the little boy's shoulders and drew her to him in a gentle hug. She felt him tense under her touch, but he didn't pull away. She smiled down at him, and for a moment, she thought she saw his lips quiver in a smile of their own.
Yes, Emma thought, it would take time to become a real mother to Sam's children, but she'd made a good start.
***
Sam appeared beside Emma several minutes later and took her hand. "Would you like to dance, Mrs. Jenkins? I believe this is your favorite song."
The strains of a ballad filled the church hall, and Emma smiled. "Did you arrange...?"
Sam nodded. "Amanda told me."
Emma smiled. What a lovely thing to do! With every passing minute, she was learning more about the man who was now her husband, and was becoming more and more pleased about the decision she'd made. He was a good man, and he'd make a good husband.
Life was perfect. Well, as perfect as it ever could be. Of course it would have been better to marry for love and to be able to bear her own children, but this was the best she could hope for.
"Well?" Sam's deep voice broke into her thoughts. "The music will be over by the time we get on the dance floor."
"Oh ... yes ... I love to dance ..."
Yet when she went into Sam's arms and began to move to the rhythm of the waltz, her knees almost buckled. Heat from the touch of his hand on her back scorched her, and the way he clasped
her other hand in his ...
Emma caught a glimpse of Becky curled up on a chair. One fist was rubbing her eye while the other hand twirled one of her ringlets, a sure sign she was tired.
"I think we should get the children home," Emma said. "It's been a long day for them."
"You're right," Sam agreed. “We have a fair ride home, and we only have an hour or so of daylight left.”
“It'll be past time for bed by the time we get the children settled."
As soon as the word left her mouth, Emma felt her face grow scarlet. What was she thinking to even say the word 'bed' in the company of a man? Embarrassed, she clamped her lips shut and turned away, praying Sam wouldn't notice her flushed face.
"Yep, I'm pretty tired myself. I didn't sleep too well last night. Bed's sounding pretty good right about now. 'Course sharing it'll take a little gettin' used to, I suppose."
The first stirrings of panic flitted through Emma at the thought.
Bed. She was expected to share a bed with this man, this man who'd caused sensations and feelings she didn't recognize and didn't know how to deal with. This was supposed to be a business arrangement. So why did she enjoy feeling his arms around her? Why did the touch of his hand make her insides quiver? And why did his feather-light caress make her hunger for more?
***
"We're almost there." Sam slid a glance at Emma beside him on the seat of the wagon. "The house is just over the next rise." The sun had almost disappeared below the horizon, but there was still enough light for him to make out the long lashes framing her emerald eyes and the way a few tendrils of pale hair curled to frame her cheeks. And he could still see her soft, full lips. Those lips had lingered in his thoughts ever since he'd touched them in church. And though guilt filled him every time he thought of them, his mind couldn't seem to let go.
Emma didn't respond. She just sat there, her back ramrod-straight, with her hands clenched together in her lap. She was looking straight ahead, ignoring the children's constant chatter in the wagon bed behind them. A tiny pulse point in her neck beat erratically.
She hadn't said a word since they'd left Charity behind. For the first few minutes, Sam had tried to make conversation, but as the sun dipped further towards the horizon, he'd given up.
She was clearly terrified. Either that, or she already regretted her decision.
Sam glanced behind him. The boys were lying on the floor of the buggy gazing at the sky. Becky was sound asleep, curled up beside Nathan. Nathan's hand rested possessively on Becky's arm. Sam's heart tripped. God, he loved those children of his! If only Catherine could have ...
His thoughts drifted to the first time he'd seen this land, with Catherine beside him. He'd had such ambition then, such big plans. And Catherine had even seemed excited by the prospect of transforming the desolate stretch of wilderness into a cattle ranch.
Anger knotted in his stomach. Why did she have to die?
She's gone, he reminded himself for the thousandth time. He had to get on with his life. And it was thanks to the woman sitting beside him that he had the chance to do that. Why she had offered to sacrifice her freedom for him he couldn't begin to guess, but he would be grateful for the rest of his life. And he would spend the rest of his days showing her just how much he appreciated it.
Rounding the hill, Sam drew the buggy to a stop. The house lay nestled in a small valley beside a stream that ran clear and cold all year long. Beside the house, there was a barn, as well as three sheds for storing the tools necessary to run a ranch. Two fenced corrals stretched out behind the house waiting for the horses Sam would breed and train when he managed to save enough money to start the ranch he dreamed of.
He heard Emma's gasp, and looked over to see her eyes widen in shock.
Shame flowed through him. What had seemed acceptable only a week ago now seemed shabby. The roof needed repair, the front porch sagged, and the paint had begun to peel. Catherine's garden, the only thing about Texas she had liked, was overgrown with weeds.
"I should have warned you," he murmured apologetically. "I wouldn't be surprised if you asked me to turn right around and take you back to town."
Emma lips moved slightly as she tried to smile, without much success.
"I know it isn't what you expected--" he went on.
"I understand. You couldn't possibly take care of the children, the house and the ranch by yourself. How long has it been since you lost your wife?"
"Seven months," he replied. "And four days."
"It doesn't take long for a home to fall into disrepair."
Sam nodded in agreement, even though he knew that Catherine's death wasn't the sole cause of the house's condition. It had been neglected long before his wife succumbed to her illness.
Becky stirred as Sam climbed down from the wagon. Gently, he lifted her out and set her on the ground, then turned to Emma. "Stay here while I light a lamp. You aren't used to it out here, and I don't want you to trip and hurt yourself."
Emma nodded.
"Let's go," he said to the children. "You boys get ready for bed and help Becky. We'll be inside in a minute."
Joseph's gaze shifted from his father to Emma, but he said nothing. Taking Becky's hand, he turned and followed his father up the stairs and into the house.
Emma waited, her gaze drifting to the sky above. It was dark, but so clear it seemed as though the stars were within touching distance. In the distance, a coyote howled mournfully, while close by, crickets sang.
A few moments later, a soft glow filled the window, and Sam came back outside. Reaching into the back of the wagon, he lifted out Emma's carpetbag and set it on the porch.
"Welcome home," he said, smiling.
Emma's heart raced. Home. She had a husband, children, her own home. It wasn't exactly the way she'd dreamed of it, but nevertheless it was real.
Sam took Emma's elbow and gently guided her up the steps. He opened the door, and then suddenly, he reached under her and easily swept her off her feet.
A startled cry escaped her lips, and without thought, her arms snaked around his neck. "What are you--?"
"It's customary for the groom to carry the bride over the threshold. It's good luck, so I hear."
"Oh. But--"
"This might not be a conventional marriage, but I'm still the groom, and you're still a bride." He smiled at her then, and she felt his arms tighten as he moved across the doorway into the house.
She breathed deeply, trying to still the rapid beating of her heart. He was far too close, and where his hands touched her, fire streaked through her. He smelled of soap and leather, and she felt his breath on her cheek. A strange feeling settled deep in her belly, the force so strong she almost gasped.
Heavens, what’s happening to me?
Sam released her, gently lowering her to the floor. Their eyes met, and Emma felt her breath catch in her throat. She couldn't speak.
He looked around. He wished he’d taken Fred's advice and hired someone to clean up the house so that Emma wouldn't be faced with months of neglect.
He cleared his throat. "I’ll show you the rest of the house," he said. "It isn't much," he added, guiding her through the parlor, the kitchen and the back porch. "The bedrooms are upstairs. I suppose you'd like to get settled in."
Emma felt her face blanch. Before she had a chance to respond, a small voice cried out. "Papa!"
The moment passed. "I'll be right back," Sam said, then disappeared up the stairs.
Emma surveyed the house, taking note of the layers of dust on the fine oak furniture, the dried mud on the floor, the cobwebs in the corners. She knew she should be more concerned, but putting the house into liveable condition was something she knew she could handle. It was the next few hours that had her stomach threatening to revolt.
Her wedding night.
If she could get through this night, nothing else could ever defeat her.
Sam's voice came to her from the top of the stairs. "Emma? Come on up."
&nbs
p; She couldn't very well refuse, could she? She supposed she could turn around and run out, hightail it across the prairie and back to Charity. But then what? She'd be back to the life she couldn't wait to leave behind.
As her father had always said when she got herself into situations because of her impulsive nature, "You made your bed. Now you have to lie in it."
How appropriate those words were!
She took a deep breath and picked up her bag. Her knees threatened to buckle with every step as she climbed the stairs to join Sam. Sam gave her an encouraging smile and led her down a narrow hallway. Opening the bedroom door, he stood back to allow her to enter first. "Here we are."
Emma stepped inside, her eyes immediately focusing on the wedding ring quilt-covered four-poster in the centre of the room. She couldn't have said how big the room really was. All she could see was the bed, the bed that seemed far too small to hold two people.
Chapter 6
So small!
How could they both possibly fit in that small space? And if they happened to accidentally touch, what then?
"I'll just go and bed the horse down for the night. Will that give you enough time?"
"Time for what?" she asked, her brows creasing in confusion.
Sam seemed a little embarrassed. "You know ... ladies' things ..."
"Oh!" Suddenly she realized what Sam was doing. He was giving her a little privacy to change her clothes and get ready for bed. Heat crept into her cheeks. "Yes. Thank you."
"Do you need anything before I go?" he asked.
Emma thought for a moment. "No ... Oh, no!" When she decided to wear this gown to be married in, she'd never given a thought to how difficult it would be to get out of it. The long row of tiny pearl buttons running down the back of the gown had been one of the main attractions of the gown at the time, but now - she needed his help.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, clearly concerned.
Heat suffused her face. How could she ask him to unbutton her gown? He'd think she was expecting ... Oh, Heavens!
Emma's Wish Page 7
