"You want me to take something?" Joseph asked, just as Becky noticed the sparkling water and ran towards it. Joseph raced after her.
"Isn't it lovely?" Emma said to Sam as she took in the beauty surrounding her.
"Sure is," Sam replied softly. He'd never been here before, didn't even know such a place existed. Of course, he'd never had much time to waste on picnics before, either. "How'd you know about this place?"
"I was born and raised here, remember? We used to come here to catch tadpoles in the summer--"
"Tadpoles? There's tadpoles in the water here?" Nathan's eyes were like saucers. "Can we go catch some, huh? Can we, Pa?"
"You don't have anything to put them in," Sam said. "If I'd known--"
Emma eyed him with amused tolerance. "Sam, give me some credit." Reaching into a bushel basket in the back of the wagon, Emma extracted a tin can and handed it to Nathan. "You should always be prepared," she said with a laugh. "You never know when you might have a chance to catch tadpoles."
"Gee, thanks, M-- Emma," Nathan said. "Hey, Joseph," he called out. "Wanna catch some tadpoles?"
Joseph, kneeling beside the water's edge with his hand firmly holding Becky's, looked up. "Sure."
"Me catch tapoes, too?" Becky's forehead squinted in confusion. "What's tapoes, Joseph?"
Joseph laughed. "They're like little fish, Beck. Look. There's one right now."
Becky leaned over and caught a glimpse of the wriggling tadpole. "Eeewww!" she screeched, yanking her hand out of Joseph's grasp and racing back up the hill to where Emma was unpacking the food for their picnic.
"Icky fish," she proclaimed. "Me don't like icky fish."
Emma chuckled, then crouched down beside Becky. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You don't have to catch tadpoles. We'll find something nice to do. What about if we make daisy chains after lunch? Would you like that?"
"Daisy chains?"
"We'll make a pretty crown, and a necklace and bracelet with flowers."
Becky's eyes widened and she nodded fiercely. "Me go get flowers, okay?"
"Good idea."
Sam watched as Becky raced off, then he turned his attention to Emma. "Here, let me help," he said, taking the checkered blanket that was going to serve as their tablecloth and spreading it on the grass.
For the next few minutes, they worked quietly, setting the food and plates on the blanket. Sam's mouth watered at the tantalizing aroma of the fried chicken Emma had prepared. Again, he realized just how lucky he'd been to find a woman like her - a woman who was not only a capable housekeeper and mother, but a desirable woman as well.
He hadn't had a chance to ask her if she'd given any thought to their conversation the night before. Sure, he hadn't come right out and asked her about changing their arrangement, but he'd bet she was well aware of what he was thinking.
That was why she'd hightailed it out of the room when she heard Becky call, and he'd bet that was why she didn't come to bed. She'd slept in Becky's room. And even though he'd figured he'd finally get a decent night's sleep without her soft bottom pressing into his groin, he hadn't slept a wink.
"Sam?" Emma's voice intruded on his thoughts.
"Uh ... yes?"
Emma smiled. "Would you mind gathering up the children? The food is ready."
"Sure."
Minutes later, they were settled on the blanket feasting on fried chicken, potato salad, fresh bread and honey, with cold apple dumplings and cream for dessert.
"This is fun," Nathan said, his milk-mustached mouth spreading in a smile. "How come we never had picnics before, Pa? Didn't Mama like them?"
Sam's smile disappeared, and his eyes hardened. He wouldn't criticize the children's mother to them. "She would have, son, but ... the sun bothered her," he lied.
Emma frowned, but said nothing.
"Oh." Nathan seemed to accept Sam’s explanation and turned to Joseph. "Wanna go see if we can catch more tadpoles?"
"Nah," Joseph replied. "We've got enough. Can we go fishing, Pa?" he asked, turning to Sam.
"I didn't bring any string for fishing poles," he replied. Damn, why hadn't he thought of that?
His eyebrows lifted when he caught sight of Emma grinning. "Did you--?"
She nodded. "In the wagon. As well as hooks and a pail for worms."
"Your ma is quite a woman," he said to the boys.
"So can we go?" Nathan asked again. "Huh"?
"Well, in that case, I don't see why not," Sam said to the boys. "You go find us some branches and I'll help you string up a couple poles."
Nathan and Joseph ran off, chattering loudly, leaving Sam with Emma. Becky was still sitting on the blanket, her small hands clutching a cookie. Her lips were ringed with milk and dotted with crumbs. Noisily, she gulped down the last of her milk, making it difficult for Emma not to smile.
Sam stacked two empty bowls and set the spoons inside. "Do you mind?" he asked Emma as she took them from him and stowed them in the picnic basket.
Emma shook her head. How could she object to a man spending time with his sons? In fact, that was one of the things she admired most about the man she'd married - his devotion to his children.
While Sam went off to make fishing poles for the boys, Emma finished clearing the dishes and packing away the remnants of their meal.
"Now?" Becky asked a few minutes later. "We make pretty flowers now, okay??"
"Okay."
Settling herself on the blanket with Becky beside her, Emma picked up two of the daisies Becky had collected. Making a small slit in the stem of one of the flowers with her finger nail, she slipped the stem of another daisy through it. "See, Becky. It'll be beautiful."
Becky's eyes sparkled, showing the dimple in her cheek. "Me do it."
Emma helped the little girl to make the chain, and soon, it was long enough to join to make a crown. When it was finished, Emma set it gently on Becky's hair. "You look beautiful, Becky. Just like a princess."
Becky gingerly reached up and touched the petals in her hair. "A princess," she repeated, then bounded to her feet and raced to the water's edge.
Sam and the boys were collecting worms in a tin can he'd found in the wagon. "Papa! Look!" Becky cried out. "Me a princess."
Sam crouched down to meet her gaze. "And a beautiful princess you are," he agreed. "The most beautiful princess in the whole world."
"Yep," she agreed, her face alight with pleasure. "What you doing?"
Sam picked up one of the worms and held it in his palm. Becky shrieked as it wriggled. "Yucky!" she said, backing away. "Yucky." Turning, she ran back up the hill to where Emma was sitting on the blanket.
As Becky approached, she shifted. Her skirt slid up, revealing a length of creamy skin.
Sam's face heated, and he tore his gaze away. He'd felt that skin against his while she slept, but she had no idea he knew exactly how silky that skin of hers was.
Quickly, as if she could read his thoughts, she tucked her skirt around her legs. Becky dropped to the blanket beside her, the daisy crown sliding off her head to land at her feet. Emma picked it up and set it aside as she slipped a smaller circle of flowers over Becky's hand.
Becky's eyes sparkled with pleasure as she fingered the petals with her other hand. "Pretty," she exclaimed, resting her adorned arm gently on her lap. Then she yawned.
"Are you sleepy, sweetheart?" Emma asked.
Becky shook her head, even as another yawn escaped her.
She needed a nap, Emma realized. But she knew Becky well enough to know that she fought against sleep, especially during the day.
"I think I'll just lie down here for a few minutes and close my eyes," Emma said.
A frown crossed Becky's forehead. "Why?"
"To listen to the birds." Emma stretched out on the blanket and closed her eyes. She felt Becky move beside her, and opened her eyes only wide enough to watch as Becky lay down beside her and squeezed her eyes closed.
"How long we gotta keep our eyes shut?" Becky asked a
few seconds later.
"Not long," Emma replied. "But we have to lie quietly or we won't hear them."
Emma lay still, feeling herself relax in the warmth of the sun's rays. Overhead, birds chirped in the trees, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves. She could hear the boys' laughter, and Sam's voice in the distance.
Sam. How she'd come to care for him and the children. If only things were different ... if she could believe he truly was different ... that he could care for her even though she wasn't perfect.
As if something impelled him to look, Sam's attention shifted from the boys to the blanket where Emma and Becky were lying. As he watched, Emma leaned over and gently kissed Becky's forehead, then picked up a knitted shawl and tucked it around the little girl.
Sam felt as if a fist hit him square in the chest. God, how he loved those two females. The realization shocked him more than a dousing with ice water in July. He'd always adored Becky, but that was normal. What shocked him ... and to be honest with himself, scared the hell of out him ... was the way he felt about Emma. What the hell had happened?
He'd lusted after her. He admitted that. It was natural. Men had lusted after women since the beginning of time. But the feelings washing over him weren't only lust. They weren't simply a man's physical needs. This was more. So much more. Somehow she had crept into his heart.
He loved her. Loved her more than he'd ever thought it was possible to love a woman.
He'd loved Catherine, too. But he recognized now that what he'd felt for her wasn't real love. He'd been flattered that a woman like Catherine had wanted him. And he'd wanted her. But that was all it was. He'd never felt about Catherine the way he felt about Emma.
And it was time he told her. They'd never finished their talk the night before. He'd waited for Emma to come back down, but she'd stayed away. Eventually he'd given up and gone to bed.
Leaving the boys settled on a boulder at the water's edge, Sam made his way up the hill to Emma. She opened her eyes as his shadow fell over her.
"Have the boys caught any fish yet?" she whispered.
Sam shook his head. "They're still trying. Knowing them, we'll have to drag them home come nightfall."
Emma's lips curved in a smile. Sam's boys weren't unlike their father - stubborn.
"Looks like Becky tuckered herself out." Sam lowered himself to the blanket beside Emma. "I could use forty winks myself."
"Why don't you nap for a few minutes?" Emma offered. "I'll keep an eye on the boys."
"I'd rather talk."
Emma's heart fluttered. "About what?"
"About us."
"Sam--"
"I don't really know much about you," he went on.
Emma let out the breath she'd been holding. He didn't want to discuss their relationship after all. Strangely enough, she was a little disappointed. She didn't want to face the possibility that he wanted something more than she was capable of giving, but for a few moments she'd been flattered that he found her desirable.
But that wouldn't last. He'd learn too soon how undesirable she was, if she ever let him close enough to touch her.
"What do you want to know?" she asked quietly.
"You're a beautiful woman." He took her hand in his, his warmth sending streaks of heat up her arm to pool in her stomach.
His eyes held hers. "Why have you never married?" he asked.
Emma took so long to answer Sam thought she hadn't heard the question. He was about to ask again when she said softly, "I was engaged once."
Her response surprised Sam. He'd assumed there had never been a man in Emma's life, "So why didn't you marry him?" he asked.
Emma paused, as if she was considering how much to tell Sam about the man she'd planned to marry. She looked away, her gaze resting on the wildflowers swaying in the warm breeze. "He wasn't the man I thought he was."
He knew exactly how that felt, to be deceived by the person you loved.
"Did you love him?" he asked.
"I thought I did."
"What happened, Emma?"
Emma looked up at him, her eyes filled with pain. "It doesn't matter. It's over now."
"Why can't you tell me?"
"Maybe some day."
The breeze whisked a few wisps of blonde hair onto Emma's forehead. Sam leaned forward and brushed them back with his finger. "You are such a beautiful woman," he murmured huskily.
His breath caressed her cheek. Their eyes met, then his gaze drifted downward to rest on her full lips.
He was going to kiss her! Emma's throat tightened. She couldn't ... "Sam--"
His mouth touched hers, and suddenly she couldn't even remember the objections she'd been about to voice. The scent of leather and soap filled her nostrils.
His lips covered hers, warming her with softness. She heard him murmur sounds she couldn't understand. Pleasure flowed over her, from the tips of her fingers to her toes, and to every part of her body in between as his tongue traced the outline of her lips, seeking entrance to the dark recesses of her mouth.
His lips left hers and moved to the curve of her jaw.
"Sam ..."
"You're so tense, Emma. Are you afraid of me?" he murmured against her throat.
"No ... yes ... I don't know ..."
"I'll never hurt you." His lips brushed against her soft flesh as he spoke. Again, his mouth sought hers. Her lips parted beneath his, and his tongue met hers.
"God, Emma ... I've wanted to do this for so long ... " A soft groan escaped him as his lips moved to where her pulse fluttered in her throat. "When we get home ..."
Emma felt something touch her arm, then a small voice spoke. "What'cha doin', Pa?"
Emma drew back, startled. Her hands flew to her throat. Heat suffused her face as Nathan eyed them curiously.
A movement beside her caught Emma's attention. Nathan's voice had woken Becky, and the two of them were staring at Sam. "Does Mama gots somethin' in her eye?" Becky asked.
Sam's eyes were twinkling mischievously. He didn't seem the least embarrassed by being caught in such a compromising position. "Yes." He drew away. "I was trying to see what it was."
Joseph, who had been standing a few feet away, took a step closer. "Is it out now?" he asked.
Sam's eyes met Emma's. The way he was looking at her was downright ... sinful. "I think I'd best have another look when we get home," he replied, his eyes never leaving her lips.
"Does it hurt?" Becky asked, her eyes narrowing in concern.
Emma could barely breathe under Sam's gaze. Mercy, she knew exactly what he intended when they reached the house, and much as she was fighting against it, she wanted exactly what he did. She wanted ... no she craved ... his touch. She needed to know how a man could love a woman. "Not a bit."
"Well, I think we'd best be heading back," Sam said gruffly. "You boys start packing the wagon."
"Sure, Pa," Joseph muttered, then walked away, Nathan and Becky following close behind.
"They was kissin', you know," Emma heard Joseph say.
"How do you know?" Nathan asked
"I'm older. I know things."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why was they kissin'?" Nathan persisted.
Joseph shrugged. "Aw, who knows. Grownups do all sorts of stupid things."
Trying desperately to hide the laugh threatening to bubble up, Sam grunted something about wasting time talking when they had things to do.
As they rode back to the ranch, Joseph's comment came back to Emma.
Stupid.
He had hit the nail on the head. She'd been incredibly stupid allowing Sam's lips and his touch to make her forget the reality - that she was disfigured, that her body was something to be pitied, not desired.
She really should thank the boy for reminding her of the truth.
Chapter 11
"That was a fine meal, Emma, as always," Sam said, wiping his mouth then setting the crumpled checkered napkin back on the table. "You keep feeding me like this
and pretty soon you'll have to let out the seams in my pants."
Emma flushed at his compliment, and he smiled. He still couldn't get over it. She really had no idea what a prize she was. He'd never get used to the fact that she didn't expect thanks for all she did for him and the children.
She worked day and night to make their home warm and inviting, and never once had he heard a complaint. To top it off, she had no idea how desirable she was. She kept her creamy skin hidden beneath high collars and long sleeves she insisted on wearing no matter how warm the weather. The few glimpses he'd had of that skin made him crave her more than he'd ever thought possible.
He loved her, and he was almost positive she cared for him, too. He was a happy man.
Yessir, life was good.
"Can we go now, Pa?" Joseph asked, gulping down the last of his milk and running the back of his hand across his mouth. "We want to go outside and play with Apollo."
"You finished your chores?"
Both boys nodded. "Yes sir."
Sam looked at Emma. "Anything you need the boys to do?"
"No."
Sam turned back to the two boys. "Fine. A half hour."
Their chairs scraped against the floor as the boys raced from the table and disappeared out the door, letting the screen slam behind them.
"Me go play, too," Becky cried out, sliding down from her chair.
Emma scooped her up before she followed the boys outside. "It's bedtime, Becky."
Becky's bottom lip slowly formed a pout, and her eyes narrowed. "No."
"Yes."
"No," Becky repeated, her small body squirming in Emma's grasp. "Me play."
"Hush," Emma said. "You can play in the morning. Right now, it's time for you to get ready for bed. Why don't I read you a story? Would you like that?"
Becky's protests died on her lips. "Story. Read me a story."
Emma chuckled, then set Becky down. "Go and get your nightdress and find a storybook. I'll be up to help you in a few minutes, as soon as I finish the dishes."
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