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ry was permanent.
It was an incredibly tempting idea.
Luke lifted her from his lap and set her on her own two feet. He held one of her hands in his while she steadied herself on the table with the other. "You best get to bed while I still have a mind to let you go."
For some reason, Emma found the thought of him having a hard time letting her go to bed alone extremely satisfying. Even though she knew her situation was becoming more precarious, his admission that he wanted her was sending a driving need through her that shocked her.
She looked longingly at him one last time and then started to turn away, but he stopped her again with a pull of the hand. "Remember Emma," he paused and swirled his thumb against the pulse point on her wrist. "You owe me."
Emma fell asleep that night to the seductive thought of him collecting.
Chapter Nine
Emma tied the bonnet under her chin and walked as quickly as she could into the kitchen where Luke was waiting for her.
When she walked into the room, his back was to her and he stood looking out of the kitchen window, drinking a glass of water. Her eyes ran over his tall form and she felt that stealthy excitement creep into her veins again. His shoulders were broad, wide and muscular, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the back of his shirt was already damp from sweat, where he'd been outside working all morning.
She must have made a noise, because he turned and ran his eyes over her, and when he did, he made a choking noise and the water in his mouth was spewed back into the glass. He slammed the glass on the counter and cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving her as they ran up and down her body.
"What the hell are you wearing?" His voice was almost a roar.
"Britches," she answered, nonplussed at his question.
"Where'd you get them?" He sounded dismayed.
"I bought them in St. Louis," she answered matter-of-factly.
He was looking at her as if he were about to order her to change clothes.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's not a crime for women to wear pants, Luke."
"What would be wrong with a split-skirt?" he asked with an edge of censure to his voice.
"A split-skirt would have cost three times the price I paid for my britches, and these do the trick nicely."
Luke ran his eyes down the feminine curves displayed in all their glory. Heat inflamed him and he felt his cock, always semi-erect in her present, swell more fully. The girl was going to be the death of him. "Fine. Let's get a move on."
Emma followed him to the door where he stood holding it open. She slipped past him out into the fresh sunshine and inhaled deeply of the clean scent of the sunny day. Freedom. That's all she could think of at the moment; finally being out of the house without having to sneak out.
As they walked side by side to the corral, Luke questioned her. "You've never ridden before?"
"I rode a pony once when I was a child."
"Is your lack of experience because of your leg?"
"No, we just never had horses at the orphanage. Not even work horses. And Mrs. Carson, my past employer, never believed a lady should ride on horseback. She had a horse and buggy, and I learned to drive it. I was quite good at it. We went everywhere."
"Why aren't you still with her?"
"She died," she replied simply.
"And now you're going to be a seamstress."
"I have to have work."
"Why don't you just get married again?"
How should she answer that? He didn't seem to think her injury wasn't an impediment to marriage, so what could be her reason for not seeking out matrimony again? She couldn't think of a suitable reply but she needed to say something. "I didn't care for marriage." She could feel the heat rise on her face when she gave that answer, but he was turned away from her, busy saddling the horses, and she didn't think he noticed.
He smoothed his hand over the rump of the prettiest little mare that Emma had ever seen and turned to look at her. "I wouldn't like it either."
For some reason his answer sent a coil of pain rushing through her belly. "Why not?"
"Don't know. I haven't given it much thought." The only married people he spent any time with were Maria and Jesse and the couple wasn't usually together when he saw them. He was either working with Jesse, or in the house while Maria finished up her chores. But as far as he knew, they got along fine, had a nice family, and that was that. So why didn't he want to get married? When he was younger, there was always the prospect of riding into town on Saturday night and raising hell. Finding a game of cards, having a few drinks in the saloon, and finding a willing woman seemed about the most fun there was to be had. But lately, as he got older, going into town for any reason was a more of a burden than an enjoyment. Going out and finding sex used to be something he wanted to do; lately though, it was something he had to do. And there was a huge difference.
The time he spent when he wasn't working was precious to him because there was so little of it. Lately, all he wanted to do with his free time was relax on his front porch with a cup of coffee or a shot of bourbon as he watched the sun go down. No, chasing into town on a Saturday night didn't bring the enjoyment it had when he was younger.
And even so, marriage seemed like it would be a noose around his neck. Even though his ranch was thriving and more than plentiful, he always knew in the back of his mind that if it failed, he could saddle up his horse and take off, wander around until he found a new place to put down roots. With a wife he wouldn't be able to do that. He'd be taking on the responsibility of not only a woman, but any children the union would bring.
And there was also the sexual and emotional aspect of marriage. It didn't bother him so much the idea of having sex with only one woman for the rest of his life, but more like, what if he chose the wrong woman? Marriage wasn't something you could easily get out of, it was a commitment he'd be making for the rest of his life. What if he married a shrew, someone that couldn't stand him, someone that didn't enjoy sex for what it was?
His mind turned to the game of poker he'd shared with Emma the night before and the game of checkers before that. If he thought about it at all, he figured that's what marriage was supposed to be like. Those few hours he'd passed in her company had been relaxing, even though he'd been sexually on edge most of the time. She was good company, undemanding, and her face and form were pleasant to look upon. He actually couldn't remember any time in the recent past when he'd had a better time.
But his emotions were volatile around Emma and that worried him. He'd never much cared what other people did or the chances they took. But Emma was different. The day he'd found her surrounded by snakes haunted him. He remembered the edgy, paralyzed feeling he'd had when he thought how close he'd come to ignoring that nagging feeling in his heart that something was wrong. She could have died so easily. And he'd been so angry with her. He'd never wanted to take somebody over his knee as badly as he'd wanted to with Emma that day. But he knew he couldn't. He was supposed to protect her, not endanger her, and the response she'd wrought in him made him uneasy.
He'd felt something almost violent that day. If he could have ripped her clothes from her body and expressed his feelings in a sexual way, he would have been able to calm down and know she was safe. If he could have had her under him, could have sunk into her and held her in his arms, felt her heart beating in her neck and under her breast, it would have gone a long way to relieve him of his fear. But he couldn't have that, he didn't have a sexual relationship with her, and his anger and fear had manifested itself in another way. He'd wanted to spank her bare bottom until she understood how scared he'd been, how much danger she'd put herself into, and make her see that she couldn't take chances like that again.
Emma needed to be in a nice town with nice people and nice doctors in case she ever needed one. If he ever married, the woman he married needed to be made of sturdy stuff, be able to saddle her own horse, needed to be able to run if the circumstances warranted it, needed to b
e able to tolerate the rough life living on a secluded ranch would bring.
Emma couldn't do those things. She was small and delicate with little wrists and tiny ankles and a leg that denied her the ability to get anywhere quickly.
He thought about the hot kisses they had shared the night before and the kisses he intended to give her before the day was over. Judging from her response to him, and his to her, no doubt Emma would make the kind of lifelong lover he'd choose if it were up to him. She was soft and beautiful, full of heat and desire, but he couldn't have her for keeps, even though he intended to be her lover before she left for Denver.
His voice was sharper than he intended when he spoke again. "I doubt I'll ever get married. Ranch life would be too hard for a woman."
Emma moved up beside him to run her hand lovingly over the mare's flank. "Maria seems to enjoy it," she said absently as she gave her attention to the animal.
"Maria's old. You're young."
Emma turned to him, a stunned expression on her face. "What do I have to do with anything?"
He studied her a long moment, trying to see inside her woman's mind. "Just making it clear to you now that even if I was in the market for a wife, you'd never fit." His words were harsher than he intended, but he said them more as a warning to himself than to her.
Her heart-shaped faced paled and sudden tears glistened in her eyes. But it took only a moment before her spine stiffened and she held herself rigidly before him. "I don't remember offering my services in that kind of domestic arrangement, sir."
"I didn't intend to hurt your feelings, Emma."
"You didn't. You couldn't," she denied.
"Then why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying," she hissed. "I'm not the one who's been instigating kisses. I've never thrown myself at you and hardly think I need a warning that I'm not good enough for you or your ranch. I'm not stupid enough to think you'd ever want a wife who is lame." Her words coming to an abrupt end, she lifted her hand from the animal and turned away from him.
