"It's the buttons," she muttered, "I didn't really think ..."
"I don't mind," he said. "Turn around."
Emma turned her back to him and held her breath. She felt his fingers gently lift her hair away from the neckline of her gown. His fingers grazed her neck. Her nerve endings tingled.
He began to unbutton her gown. She felt the cool air against her skin as the dress opened. Each time his fingers accidentally touched her, her skin burned. It was all quite disconcerting!
When he was finally finished, he took a step backward. She turned to face him and found him looking at her with an expression she couldn't read. Had he somehow caught a glimpse of the scars she kept hidden so carefully? That would explain the frown, the tightness of his lips, and the dark intense gaze. Was he sorry he'd married her?
His voice was husky when he spoke. "If that's all, I'll go and tend to the horses now."
Emma nodded. He clearly couldn't wait to get away from her.
Emma couldn't bear to see the expression on Sam's face any longer. Instead, she looked away, concentrating on the flickering of the lantern on the chest of drawers and the shadows dancing across the walls.
When she heard Sam's footsteps on the stairs, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had a few more minutes to settle her nerves.
Opening her carpetbag, she took out a long flannel nightdress and unfolded it. Did she have enough time to undress and change before he came back?
Quickly, she slid the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, followed by her chemise and bloomers. She'd pick the clothes up later. She couldn't risk Sam’s coming back before she was decently covered. She slipped on her nightdress, making sure the buttons were closed right up to the neck.
Although there was a breeze wafting through the room, the heat of the day hadn't cooled the room much. She'd likely be warm wearing flannel to bed, but she had no other choice. This was the only nightdress she owned that covered her completely. Until now, there had been no one to hide her flaws from.
A few minutes later, Sam returned. He knocked softly and waited until Emma invited him to come in. She couldn't help but be pleased by his manners. He obviously realized how uncomfortable Emma was and was trying to make the situation as easy as possible.
She was standing at the window, her arms folded across her chest. She felt her face flame, but she tried to relax. There's no reason to be embarrassed, she thought. He's my husband.
"I thought you might already be asleep," he said, taking off his Stetson and hanging it on a hook behind the door. "It's not easy sleeping in a strange bed, though."
"No, I suppose it isn't." And it isn't easy sleeping with a strange man beside you either, she thought wryly.
"You'll get used to it," he assured her. "I know the ranch isn't much compared to the fine house you have in town, but I hope you'll be happy here."
His voice, deep and rumbling, seemed to fill the room. The apology in his voice was plain.
If I can get through the nights I'll be fine. "I'm sure I will," she said with a smile that belied much more confidence than she actually felt.
Sam crossed the room and opened one side of a large oak wardrobe. "I emptied this out for you, and cleared two of the drawers in the chest. I hope that's enough room."
"Plenty."
"Are you tired?" he asked.
Emma shook her head.
"Hungry? Thirsty?"
Emma's throat was parched, but she was sure thirst had nothing to do with it. She always reacted that way when she was nervous. And nervous didn't begin to describe the emotions surging through her right now.
"I'm fine. Thank you."
"Well, then ..."
"Well, then ..."
Silence filled the room. Finally, he spoke. "I suppose we should get to bed," he said.
"I ... suppose ... so ..."
Sam crossed the room and sat down in a hard-backed chair by the window. With a grunt, he tugged off his scuffed boots, then set them beside the oak wardrobe in the corner of the room.
"Why don't you get into bed? I don't want to blow out the lamp and have you stub your toe or trip over something."
"Uh ... I suppose I should ..."
Emma's heart thudded so loudly in her ears she was sure the whole county could hear it. He was saying something else, but she could barely hear him over the pounding in her ears.
How long could she postpone climbing into the bed? She stared at the swirling red, blue and yellow of the quilt pattern until the colors became one. The room began to tilt, and she felt faint.
"It won't bite, you know." Sam's voice filtered through the fuzziness in her brain.
Emma looked at him.
"It's only a bed," Sam said. "And I gave you my word I don't expect to do anything in it except sleep."
Emma tried to smile at his attempt at humor. "I'm sorry ... I just ..."
"It's different for a woman. I know. But you have to trust me if we're going to make this work."
Emma did smile this time. "You're right."
Feeling better, Emma pulled down the covers and climbed into the bed. The mattress sank beneath her weight, and the feather pillow cradled her head
Emma couldn't take her eyes off Sam as he moved about the room. She should turn and face the wall, pretend he wasn't there, and try to sleep.
Yet she was caught like a fly in a spider's web, unable to look away.
She watched as Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and took out a fistful of change and a few dollar bills. Crossing the room to the chest of drawers in the corner, he deposited the coins in a small wooden dish and put the bills beside it along with an ornately carved pocket knife.
"You're looking tired, Emma," he said softly. "I'll be done in two shakes and we'll get a good night's sleep."
Maybe he could get a good night's sleep. She was positive she'd never be able to even close her eyes with him in bed beside her.
He pulled his shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it, revealing a muscled expanse of bare chest. Dark curly hair covered his chest, then tapered into a slim line that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. He really was remarkable, without an ounce of fat on his lean frame.
Emma's eyes widened as he unbuttoned his pants and began to lower them. Her breath stalled in her chest. He couldn't possibly ... he wouldn't ...
He looked up then, and caught her gaze. A lopsided grin stretched his lips. "Sorry, Emma," he said, "force of habit. Livin' alone, a man can sleep naked as a jaybird if he wants to."
Emma tried to smile at his attempt at humor, and failed miserably.
"What's wrong?" he asked, "You feeling all right? You look like you're going to faint."
The thought of him lying naked beside her was making her feel almost ... Heavens, there was no air in this room. She couldn't possibly let him know how she felt, though. Especially when she couldn't explain it to herself.
"Nothing. Nothing at all," she replied brightly." You're right. I'm just tired."
She turned and faced the wall. Moments later, the other side of the mattress shifted under Sam's weight. She heard the clink of glass as Sam lifted the globe from the kerosene lamp. The soft glow of light disappeared, throwing the room into darkness, except for the moonlight dappling the room as it shone through the tree outside the window.
"Emma?" Sam's voice was low and husky in the darkness.
Shivers coursed through her. "Yes?"
"I want you to know how grateful I am to you. I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done for me and my children. If there's ever anything you need, you know you only have to ask."
"You've given me something I never thought I'd ever have - a family. That's all I'll ever need."
"Goodnight, then."
"Goodnight."
Sam's sincerity touched Emma's heart. In fact, everything she'd learned about Sam Jenkins in the past few days touched her - his gentleness, his honor, his love for his children. He was exactly the type of man she'd d
reamed of marrying before ...
Could she really be lucky enough to have found a man she could admire and respect, even if she could never have the type of marriage she'd always wanted? It seemed so, and happiness surged through her. If the only payment she had to make was to share a bed, surely it was worth it.
For several minutes, she lay perfectly still, afraid to move for fear of touching Sam. He seemed to fill the small bed, and his heat radiated to her. At least Emma tried to convince herself that it was only body temperature causing the warmth washing over her, filling her, making her breasts tingle and a spot deep inside feel decidely strange. If not that, what could it possibly be? Certainly nothing she recognized.
She shifted until she rested along the edge of the bed and gripped the edge of the mattress to prevent herself from falling out. The clock on the chest ticked rhythmically, and Emma closed her eyes, hoping if she did manage to fall asleep, she wouldn't land with a thump on the cold floor.
***
Something was tickling Sam's chin. Dragging himself from the depths of the fatigue that had claimed him just before dawn, he opened his eyes. A shocked gasp escaped his lips. He was spooned around Emma, her soft bottom pressed into him. His arm was curved around her waist, his hand resting on the swell of her breast. Under his fingers, her nipple was a hardened bud. Her arm rested on top of his, virtually pinning his hand on her breast. Her hair, a cloud of yellow curls, tumbled over her shoulders. The scent of roses met his nostrils, and he realized it was a stray lock of hair causing the itch he needed to scratch.
And he also figured out what was causing the tightness he was suddenly feeling deep in his belly. Emma's body lying so close to him felt so good, he realized. Much better than it should. How could that happen? Where was his loyalty to his wife when the mere touch of another woman's body could make him forget?
And what of Emma? How could he have betrayed her trust? He'd given his word, and he'd broken his promise. At least she was asleep. She wouldn't know he'd betrayed her trust as she slept. True, he'd been asleep and unaware of what he was doing, but if she woke up, would she believe him? He doubted it.
He had to get out of the room, away from Emma before he did something he'd regret.
He wanted her. He recognized the ache deep in his belly. Having her soft body lying beside him ignited a fire he'd thought long dead.
Slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, he moved his arm until finally, he drew it free. Emma murmured something, then rolled over and snuggled back into the pillow. Thank Heavens she was a sound sleeper. He didn't know how he'd explain himself if she'd wakened. She'd never believe he hadn't touched her on purpose. She'd assume he'd gone back on his word already.
In future, he'd have to make sure he kept his distance. The hard part was going to be forgetting how she felt tucked into his body, wrapped up in his arms.
Sliding from the bed, he tugged on his trousers, trying to ignore the temptation to crawl back into bed and claim his husbandly rights.
For the first time, he noticed just how beautiful Emma really was. In sleep, her face took on an angelic expression, her lips curved in a half-smile, as if she was in the midst of a pleasant dream.
Tamping down the desire filling him, he picked up his boots and left the room.
***
"I have to go into town today," Sam said at breakfast a few days later. "You deserve a break. How about coming with me?"
Emma looked up from the skillet and smiled. "I'd love to. In fact, I've been making a list of supplies we need."
Sam grinned. Why wasn't he surprised? Of course she had a list. In the time they'd been married, he'd learned Emma had a list for just about everything.
Joseph stuffed a chunk of bread slathered with butter and strawberry preserves into his mouth. "Can we go, too?" he mumbled.
Nathan sat quietly beside Joseph, his fork paused in mid-air as he waited expectantly for Sam's answer. When he didn't respond immediately, Emma butted in. "Of course you're coming with us," she said. "We wouldn't leave you here alone."
"Yippee!" Both boys cried out in unison.
"But we can't leave until all of you finish breakfast and get cleaned up. We can't go into town looking like something the cat dragged in."
Nathan eyed the egg on Becky's plate. "Hurry up, Becky," he scolded. "We ain't got all day."
"Me go store?" Becky asked, her eyes wide.
"Yep," Nathan put in. "If you hurry up and eat."
Becky picked up her fork and stabbed the egg. Soft yellow yolk flowed out. Dipping a piece of bread in the egg, she looked up at Emma. "We get pretty ribbon?" She reached up and fisted her pale hair.
Emma laughed. "Yes, sweetheart, we'll go to the mercantile and buy pretty ribbon. What color would you like?"
Becky chewed thoughtfully, her gaze skimming the kitchen, searching for just the right color. Then she picked up the yellow crockery sugar bowl and held it out to Emma. "Blue."
"You're so dumb, Becky," Nathan chastised. "That's yellow."
"Nathan!" Emma's voice thundered through the room.
All eyes turned to stare at her.
"What?" Nathan asked innocently.
Emma lowered her voice, but the scolding tone remained. "Becky is not dumb. She is a little girl who hasn't learned all that you have yet. She needs you and Joseph to teach her and help her, not to be cruel and rude."
"Aw, I didn't mean nothin' ..."
"I don't want to hear any of that kind of talk again. This is your family, and you must always treat them with kindness and respect."
Nathan's eyes shifted to Sam, apparently waiting for him to intercede on his behalf. Sam sat silently, watching.
"Nathan?" Emma's voice softened. "Do you understand?"
Nathan lowered his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered.
"Then apologize to your sister."
"What?"
"Tell her you're sorry you spoke so unkindly to her."
Nathan sighed loudly, but did as Emma asked. "Sorry, Beck. I didn't mean nothin'."
Becky smiled up at Nathan, and held out the sugar bowl. "Lellow."
Nathan grinned. "Yeah, Becky, lellow," he repeated with a chuckle. “This is blue," he said, pointing to the checkered pattern on Becky's dress. "So which do you want?"
"Lellow ... and blue."
"Why don't we decide when we get there?" Emma suggested. "Now finish your breakfast so we can go."
Silence descended on the room as the children gobbled down their breakfast, anxious for the trip into town.
"You shouldn't have promised Becky a new ribbon," Sam said a few minutes later when they were alone in the kitchen.
"Why not?"
"Because money is tight right now. There isn't any extra for frivolous things."
"I don't expect you to pay for it."
"You don't?"
"No. I have my own money, Sam."
Sam's expression darkened. "I'll support this family. It might not be in the style you're accustomed to, but I'll be damned if I'll take charity." Catherine's family had never let him forget his roots, and there was no way in hell he was going to let a woman make him feel like a failure again.
"It's not charity."
"What would you call it - using my wife's money?"
"I assumed that since we're a family, we would share whatever we have."
"I'm not taking money from you."
"I'm not giving you money. I'm buying a ribbon for Becky's hair."
"I forbid it."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I won't allow it."
"Is it your pride, Sam? You'd rather see your children do without than allow me to share what I have with my family."
"It's not pride, dammit!"
"Then what is it?"
"It's just ... Damn it, Emma. Can't you see how much it bothers me that I can't provide nice things for my kids?"
Emma set the skillet on the stove. "Of course I can. And I'm not trying to make you feel inadequate. Honestly, I'm not. But
Sam, I have my own income. What else can I do with it? I'd like to share it with you and the children. You're my family now, and I want to help. Please let me do this. It's only a piece of ribbon."
Dammit, they hadn't been married long, but it seemed she'd found his weak spot already. When she gazed at him like that, with that wide-eyed look holding only kindness and her teeth worrying her bottom lip, he couldn't refuse her anything.
"Well ... as long as it's only a ribbon ..."
"And some fabric. The boys really could use some new shirts. And I noticed that Becky's dresses are getting rather snug."
"Emma--"
"That's all. I swear."
"Fine. But that's it.
"Definitely." Emma gave him a smile and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "this time".
Chapter 7
It was almost noon by the time Sam drew the wagon to a stop in front of Connor's Mercantile. With a wild whoop, the boys leaped out of the wagon and raced up the steps and into the store. Emma allowed Sam to help her down, then lifted Becky down and set her on her feet, keeping her tiny hand tucked in hers to prevent her running out into the street.
Becky tugged on Emma's hand. "Me get ribbon now."
"Just a minute, Becky."
Becky's forehead creased in a frown, and her eyes narrowed. Her bottom lip slowly stuck out. "Me go now." She pulled again on Emma's hand. "Now!"
Emma gripped Becky's hand a little tighter as the youngster tried to pull away. She crouched down until she was on the same level. "We'll go when I'm finished talking to your father. Now be still!"
Turning to Sam, Emma shook her head. "I didn't realize she was so impatient."
"Gets it from her mother," Sam informed her. "Has her mother's temper, too."
"I see. I thought she may have inherited that particular trait from her father."
Sam ignored her comment. She was referring to his outburst that morning, and he had no intention of dragging it up again. It still rankled that she was using her own money to buy things for his children, but deep down, he knew she was right. If they were going to be a family, he had to learn to share.
Emma's Wish Page 8
