Warren’s charm is impossible to resist, and when I stand on tiptoe to press my lips to his cheek, he turns at the last second so our lips meet instead.
The sweet kiss is over all too soon. That’s clear enough by the way his eyes boldly rove over my chest and face. I secretly crave his open admiration. Sometimes in the past, I’d longed for men to think me as ugly as I felt inside just so they would leave me alone.
Warren, though…it’s altogether different with him. Everything is. He never makes me feel dirty in the things we do together. If anything, he’s taught me how beautiful the love between us can be.
And I find a masculine sort of beauty in him, too. The warm brown eyes that forever twinkle with his roguish charm. The defined line of his freshly shaven jaw. The way the blue checks of his shirt strain around his solid shoulders and arms…
I never realized how the sight of a man’s arms and hands could affect me so strongly. I swallow a blissful sigh. If I weren’t so excited that we were finally headed to town to get our photograph taken, I’d be tempted to put Emmaline down for a nap so Warren could wrap those rugged arms around me and we could finish?—
“Mara Shay, whatever you’re thinking about, keep on thinking it. Your cheeks are even pinker than the blooming rosebuds right about now.”
“I’m not thinking about anything.” Lie. Absolute lie. A naughty grin spreads across his handsome face at my flustered answer, so I redirect my attention to our dog as he settles into his spot by the door to guard it. After three full months of food and love, the difference from when we rescued him is night and day. His limp is long gone, and his ribs no longer show. His fur grew back in black, stragglystrands, but his name still fits him well because he has a brown patch around each amber eye and a white patch from the middle of his face down to his belly. “Goodbye, Patches! Be a good boy while we’re gone.”
He barks in return, tail thumping against the porch, and Warren shakes his head in mock dismay. “Oh, I see how it is. Not fit to say in front of the baby or dog, eh? Just you keep that thought in mind for when we get back home then.”
That pesky little thought stays in the back of my mind the entire trip to town, and when we pull up to the photographer’s small building, it’s only made worse by the way his hands span my waist and lift both me and Emmaline down with such ease after he ties the horses. I’ve never known love like this, but I don’t think he’ll ever stop making my heart flutter.
Warren nips at my earlobe as he murmurs, “I swear, woman. When we get home, you’re telling me exactly what I’m doing in that head of yours that has you looking at me like that. Now hold my hand so that man in there knows you’re taken.”
I slide my free hand into his much larger one to placate him and peer through the window. The man in question is well-dressed and what most young women would no doubt find attractive, but the mere thought of anyone other than Warren taking an interest in me turns my stomach. “Wouldn’t he already have an idea of it since I’m holding a baby and am accompanied by a strong, handsome man?”
“You can never be too clear in matters such as these. I don’t like the way he’s smiling at you.”
I laugh at his scowl, but knowing my husband wants to proclaim to all the world that he’s my protector only makes me love him even more. “It’s directed at all three of us. Andwouldn’t you agree that clientele would prefer to be greeted with a friendly smile rather than a frown?”
“Not if it’s a man like him directing it at my happily married wife.” Warren almost growls the last part, and his scowl only deepens once we’re inside and the unsuspecting man tries to pose us.
Or me, rather.
“Have a seat in this chair, please.” The photographer reaches for my elbow to guide me. I grimace in preparation for his touch, but Warren’s hand gets there first.
“She’s my wife. I’ll help her sit.”
Briefly caught off guard, the man quickly recovers with a wry, knowing smile at Warren’s possessiveness. “I see. Very well, then. I’ll just have you stand behind and place a hand on her shoulder. There you go, just like that. Hold…”
None of us have ever had our photographs taken before, but the noisy flash of white smoke surprises Emmaline the most. Her little body jolts, and she can’t decide if she should smile or cry at the strange experience as she looks to Warren and me for reassurance.
“It’s all right, my sweet girl,” I murmur with a kiss to her forehead.
She remains calm enough until we’ve paid and exited the building, but once Warren helps us into the wagon, she begins crying in earnest. I do my best to quiet her while ignoring the curious looks of townsfolk passing by, but there’s only so much I can do. At least most of the people are polite and offer quick nods in greeting instead of disdain.
“Do you want me to try?”
“No, not yet.” Emmaline shouldn’t be hungry since I fed her shortly before we left. My frustration mounts when she cries even harder at my attempt to rock her to sleep, and I sigh as I look to Warren in defeat. “You’re going to have tosing to her or she’ll never calm down enough for us to leave.”
With her first tooth and the three that followed, we quickly learned that she wants her papa to hold her and sing to her. Or hum, rather. But while I’m beyond grateful that his humming calms her down, part of me hurts that I can’t do the same for her as the mother who carried her through our hellish beginning.
“It doesn’t mean she loves you any less, you know,” he says gently as he takes her from me and pats her small back. “You do everything a mother should do for her, and she’s well aware of that. Maybe she just wants to make sure her papa’s pulling his fair share of responsibilities, isn’t that right, Little Bit?” Her little face rubs back and forth on his neck as she cries, and I cringe on his behalf at the wet mixture of snot and tears dampening his skin since he apparently doesn’t notice. “Now what’s the matter with my sweet baby girl? Is it another mean old tooth hurting your poor little gums or are you just being a little cranky britches who needs to take a nap? Let’s hush all that before you rub your nose raw.”
He begins to hum, and once Emmaline notices the vibrations, she lifts up and smiles wobbly at him through her tears, showing off all four of her small, white teeth before her head falls onto his shoulder. My own shoulders drop with the release of tension, and I shake my head. “I don’t know how you do it. What magic is in these songs of yours?”
Warren’s hum strangles on a cough, and his expression turns cagey. “No magic at all. I think she just likes the melody.”
“But what song is it?” I persist. “Does it have any words? I just can’t understand why she likes it so much.”
He tugs at his collar and mumbles something.
“I didn’t hear you.”
