Sam raised his body, resting on his elbow as he faced her. "You testified in court that you care for me."
Emma looked away, focusing on the window. Outside, a solitary star twinkled in the sky, the others hidden behind a cloud. "I thought it would help."
"It did," he agreed. "But the question is, was it true?"
When she didn't answer, he inched closer. He reached out and rested his hand on Emma's arm. "Well? Were you lying?"
She turned to face him. For a second or two, she debated telling him that she had indeed lied about her feelings for him. She opened her mouth to do just that, but instead, the truth spilled out. "No," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "I wasn't lying."
Emma's attention was drawn by the stubble darkening Sam's chin as he ran his hand across his jaw. What would it feel like against my skin? The question popped unbidden into her head. Heat flushed her cheeks.
"You tell the whole town you have feelings for me, but you couldn't tell me to my face."
Emma lowered her head. He made it sound as if she'd deliberately deceived him.
"Why?" He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. His voice lowered. "Why couldn't you tell me?"
Good question. Because it would make life so much more complicated. Because if he knew, he'd assume she could be his wife in every way. Because ...
Emma felt her eyes brim with tears. "Because it doesn't change anything."
Sam raked his fingers through his dark hair, leaving furrows where his fingers had travelled. "How can you say that? It changes everything."
Emma shook her head. "No. It doesn't. Our arrangement still stands."
Sam threw the quilt off and got up. He began to pace. Hell, she had to know he loved her. What more could he do to persuade her to give him a chance to be a real husband to her? He'd admitted to the world he had feelings for her.
He'd never actually said the words to her either, though. And fair was fair. Maybe she needed to hear them.
He stopped at the side of the bed and looked down at her. He loved her. "Dammit, Emma, why? Why are you fighting what we have? Why can't you believe I care about you, that I want us to be a real family? That I love you."
Tears filled Emma's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "I can't ... I'm afraid to trust you ... Everyone I loved turned away from me when I had my accident ..."
It all boiled down to her scars. She had the fool notion that no man could love her because she wasn't perfect. And he had no idea how to convince her that he didn't give a damn about her injuries. Hell, he wasn't perfect either. And when they were both eighty, God willing, the wrinkles would blend in with the scars just fine.
"You're my wife. Forever. I won't turn away from you. The people who pulled away didn't love you enough, that's all."
Emma met his gaze. "Including my own father?"
Sam couldn't hide the surprise in his eyes. How the hell could a father turn away from his children? Hell, his kids could have three heads and he'd still give his life for them.
"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. There was nothing else he could say. No wonder she was afraid to trust. The one person who was supposed to love her no matter what had betrayed her.
"I don't want you to pity me, Sam," Emma said. "I only told you so you'd understand why I can't take the chance ..." Her voice trailed off as she wiped a tear from her cheek with her finger.
Sam resumed his pacing. There had to be a way to get through to her that what he felt for her was definitely not pity. Lust, desire, love - those emotions he recognized. Pity wasn't anywhere close to what he felt when he looked at her. But she wouldn't believe him.
"What I'm feeling right now isn't pity. I love you. And I want you more than I've ever wanted a woman. I want to know every inch of your body. I want to give you babies of your own."
In the golden glow of the lamp, Emma's face flushed.
"I'm a patient man, Emma, but dammit, the thought of living the rest of my life like this ..." His voice trailed off and he turned towards the bureau. Didn't she have any idea how hard it was for him to admit how he felt? Hell, he'd been hurt before, too. If he was willing to take the chance, then why couldn't she?
"We made a deal," she murmured. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
Sam turned. "But it did."
Emma's gaze lowered. The wedding ring pattern on the quilt seemed to mock her, to mock their whole relationship. They were married, both in the eyes of the law and of the church. He had rights. He had the right to take her, willingly or not. Yet he hadn't. He'd kept his part of the bargain, even though she'd seen the tightness in his trousers several times when her glance happened to flit in that direction.
Didn't that show he was trustworthy? Didn't that show he cared about her feelings? Perhaps she'd been wrong. If only she wasn't so afraid ... not only of trusting him, but of the mysteries of marital relations. He'd had a wife, and quite probably had known other woman even before his marriage. He knew what to do. She had no idea how to please a man. Even if she could tuck the fear away, she didn't have the knowledge she needed to satisfy him physically.
"I ... don't know how ..."
Sam slid back into bed, inching over until the fabric of her nightdress grazed his bare chest. Reaching up, he cupped her chin, his thumb gently wiping the dampness from her cheek. "Let me show you. Let me teach you."
Her head listed to the side, resting in his palm. Gently, he loosened the hair ribbon and ran his fingers through her silky blonde braid as it fell into waves across his hand and down his bare arm.
Leaning forward, he kissed her, his lips whisper-soft against hers, then moved to trail kisses along the line of her jaw. His lips found her earlobe, and he gently nibbled it. He heard her breath catch, and she began to tremble. But she didn't ask him to stop.
Sam felt her hand touch his waist, tentatively at first, then reach around. Her fingertips splayed across his back, the heat of her touch like a branding iron. He paused in his ministrations for a moment. He'd take things as slow as she wanted. "You okay, honey?" he asked.
Emma was more than okay. A delicious warmth was spreading through her, and every nerve ending seemed to be on edge. Waiting.
Sam's lips returned to her mouth, teasing first her bottom lip, then the top.
The pressure tantalized her, and she shifted, moving into his kiss, surprised that she wanted more. Her breath hitched when she felt his tongue move against the seam of her mouth. She was unsure of what she was expected to do, and when she opened her mouth to ask, his tongue slipped inside.
Mercy! She couldn't contain the soft moan that escaped. As his tongue filled her mouth, Emma realized what was happening. His gentle touch, the feel of his chest brushing against the thin cotton of her nightdress, the taste of his tongue ... This was what she'd waited for her whole life. But could she trust him enough ...?
She held on, sliding down in the bed, taking Sam with her. Turning to her side, she strained against him, feeling his hardness against the junction of her thighs.
Sam's hands caressed her neck, her face, as his lips found the hollow in her throat where her pulse fluttered wildly. His lips dipped into the opening of her nightdress and his hand brushed the underside of her breast. She gasped as he took her fullness into his hand and grazed the hardened nub with his thumb.
Sam was no saint, and it was taking every ounce of self control not to tear off her nightdress and bury himself inside her right then. But he had to let her set the pace. He heard her breath catch as he took her breast into his palm, and he half expected her to push him away. He was surprised when instead, her fingertips clenched his shoulders. His mouth shifted, trailing kisses across the satiny swell of her breast, and took the nipple into his mouth.
She moaned, a hungry little sound.
He lifted his head and kissed her again, his tongue meeting hers. She moved against him, and he felt her hands on his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers grazed his nipple.
She pulled away. "Do ... I sh
ouldn't touch you ..."
Sam groaned. "Oh, honey, you can touch me anywhere, any time you have a mind to."
She smiled softly, then stretched against him and shifted until his hardness strained against the soft flesh at the juncture of her thighs.
Heat suffused him, spilling down into his groin. He couldn't wait much longer. His arousal was becoming almost painful.
Reaching down, he found the hem of her nightdress. It had bunched around her knees, and he and slipped his hand beneath it, his fingers grazing the soft flesh of her thigh.
The heat of his hands scorched her, and she gasped, tearing her mouth away from his kiss. This was all happening too fast. Never before had she wanted a man as much as she wanted Sam. She'd heard tales about what took place in the marriage bed, and now, for the first time, she understood how all-consuming desire could be. She'd had no idea being intimate with a man could be like this. His hands - and his lips - were creating havoc with her senses.
"Emma, I want to see you. I want to feel your skin against mine." As he breathed the words, his lips burned a line of kisses across her chest towards her other breast. His hands bunched the fabric of her nightdress and he began to pull it up over her hips. "Lift your behind so we can get rid of all these clothes," he whispered.
His hand slipped under the fabric and slid across her abdomen to her stomach, towards her breast.
Oh, God, no... Emma clutched his hand, stopping him before he could reach her breast. "Sam ... no, don't ..."
Sam stilled. "What's wrong?"
"Not there ... just don't touch me there ..."
He lifted his head to look at her. Moonlight spilled through the window, and even though he couldn't see the details of her face, her distress was obvious. "I thought you wanted this as much as I do."
Emma touched his cheek. "I do. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. Please let me do this my way."
"I want to know all of you--"
"You can know almost all of me. Just not there."
Emma lifted his hand and placed it on her other breast. She let out a soft moan as his callused thumb grazed the nipple. "Please, Sam?"
God, how could he refuse her? He needed her so badly he was willing to give her anything. Much as he wanted to touch every square inch of her, wanted to see her - and taste her, if all she asked was to keep one small part from him, he could give her that much. Couldn't he?
"Then what--?"
Emma leaned into him, touching his throat with her lips. "Anything else, Sam. Just not that."
His hands slid down her back, drawing her against his length. Sliding them beneath the fabric of her nightdress, he cupped her buttocks.
"Please?" she whispered.
"Okay, Emma. This time."
"Thank you." She breathed the words into his ear, then gently guided his mouth back to her other breast. His tongue laved the nipple, gently nipping and sucking on it until he heard Emma's soft moan.
The cool air brushed her bare skin as Sam bunched up the nightdress around her waist. His hands caressed her thighs, her belly, the curve of her hip, over her flat stomach to find her mound of golden curls. Shifting her so that she was lying on her back, his knee wedged between her legs. His fingers dipped between her thighs, and when he touched the most intimate part of her, she gasped. Never had she felt anything so absolutely delicious. Heat, like sparks, exploded inside her. His fingers moved against her, gently stroking in tiny circles. Sensation after sensation swirled inside her. Yet it wasn't enough. She didn't know exactly what she wanted, but she knew she wanted more. Much more. Straining herself against his hand, her hips rocked until his fingers were inside her, sending streaks of flame shooting in all directions through her.
"Oh, my Heavens …"
Sam stopped. "I'm sorry, honey. Did I hurt you?"
Emma shook her head. "No. Not at all. It feels wonderful," she whispered against his chest. "I thought this was supposed to be unpleasant. I mean, I heard--"
"Who told you that?"
"My mother."
Sam laughed, his chest moving against her. "Not if it's done right," he said.
"I feel all ... tingly inside."
"Good. That's real good."
Her warm breath caressed his chest, and her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer. "Should I be doing something?" she asked. "I feel as if I should be doing something, too."
"You do whatever feels good to you," he murmured.
Knowing he wouldn't mind, Emma began to move her hands, savoring the feel of his hard muscles beneath her hands. He tensed as her fingers ran across his chest and slid around to his back. Her hands moved across his lower back, across his buttocks. She paused, her fingers grazing a length of raised flesh.
"Sam?"
"Mmm?"
"What's that?" she asked, tracing the outline of a raised length of skin.
"It's a scar," he replied, then looked into her eyes. "None of us is perfect, Emma."
Emma looked away. It was easy for him. It was only a small blemish. Not like hers. But she wouldn't think about that now. She would relax, relish the moment.
Moving her hands, she heard him take in a shuddering breath as she grazed his abdomen with her knuckles.
His bare abdomen. When had he removed his clothes? She couldn't remember. But right now, she didn't care. His skin felt wonderful, so warm, so soft under her touch.
He groaned, and took her hand, drawing it away before it inched any lower. "Emma, stop!"
She'd done something wrong. She'd been too forward. That was it. He thought she was brazen, a ... hussy ...
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
"Oh, hell, Emma. It's not that. But I'm trying to take this slow, to be gentle with you since it's your first time. But you're not making it easy."
"I'm sorry--"
"Stop apologizing. You're not doing anything wrong. In fact, you're doing everything so right, I won't be able to control myself if you keep it up."
Emma grinned. "Really?"
"Don't look so pleased with yourself," he grumbled good-naturedly. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Show me."
Sam let out a groan, then captured her lips in a soul-searing kiss. While his lips and tongue assaulted her mouth, he slipped inside her. He felt her tense as he entered, and he held her tightly, absorbing her cry into his mouth as he filled her completely.
"It won't hurt any more, Emma. I promise. The rest will be pleasure." He began to move, slowly at first, then faster as he felt Emma meet each thrust with her own. Her hands clawed at his back, and her teeth nipped at the tender flesh of his chest. Higher and higher he took her, sensing the exact moment when she was ready. With one long thrust, he felt her shudder in his arms as she cried out his name. His own release came seconds later.
It seemed like hours later when Emma opened her eyes. Sam was still on top of her, still inside her. His weight crushed her, yet she savored the sensation. She smiled to herself as her fingers lightly brushed his back, his shoulders. He jerked when she touched the sensitive nape of his neck.
He kissed her then, a soft, tender kiss that she felt clear to her toes. He rolled to his side, taking her with him. "Are you okay?" he asked, tucking a damp blonde curl behind her ear.
"Never better," she replied, scattering tiny kisses on his chest, his arms, his shoulders.
Sam took her hand and kissed each knuckle. "I've wanted you since the minute I saw you, but I couldn't admit it to myself. Now that we're really husband and wife, I'm planning to love every inch of you for the rest of my life. Is that okay with you?"
Every inch. No, not every inch. Because no matter how much he loved her - or thought he did - she couldn't risk losing him. Especially not now. Not now that she'd discovered what loving was all about. And, she had to admit, this loving business was far nicer than she'd ever imagined.
She reached up and kissed him, boldly searching for his tongue with hers. He groaned and tightened his hold, meetin
g her kiss. She shifted, loving the feel of the hard planes of his chest lying against her.
"How often do married people do this?" she asked.
Sam's lips quirked in a smile. "As often as they want to."
"So we could do it again right now? We could do it all night if we wanted to."
Sam cupped her buttocks and drew her closer until she was pressed against his stomach. He was growing hard again. "We sure could, if you just give me a few minutes."
The moon slid behind a cloud, and in the inky blackness Sam searched for Emma's lips.
***
Emma opened her eyes, squinting against the bright morning sunshine. She was tucked against Sam, her bottom resting against his groin, his hand resting on her breast. She flushed at the recollection of her behavior the night before. With each kiss Sam gave her, she'd become bolder and bolder in her response. He'd been pleased, though, and even though each time they'd made love, he'd asked her to remove her nightdress so he could see and touch all of her, he'd accepted her refusal. He hadn't been able to understand why she was so adamant about hiding herself from him, and sometime towards morning, he'd actually seemed a little annoyed. But he'd let her have her way.
Life was perfect. She had the family she'd always wanted. She had a husband who loved her. And she loved him. What more could one person ask for?
Sam stirred, and Emma snuggled tighter against him.
"Good morning," he murmured, his lips moving against the nape of her neck. His hand cupped the breast he'd been holding, and he gently tweaked the nipple with this thumb and forefinger.
Emma shivered a response.
"This is the first time you've been in bed when I woke up," she commented.
Sam laughed. "That's because every morning since the day we got married, I woke up with my arms around you and your behind snuggled up against me. I figured you'd be pretty upset if you woke up and found us like that."
Emma's Wish Page 20
