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Emma felt her face blanch. Before she had a chance to respond, a small voice cried out. "Papa!"
The moment passed. "I'll be right back," Sam said, then disappeared up the stairs.
Emma surveyed the house, taking note of the layers of dust on the fine oak furniture, the dried mud on the floor, the cobwebs in the corners. She knew she should be more concerned, but putting the house into liveable condition was something she knew she could handle. It was the next few hours that had her stomach threatening to revolt.
Her wedding night.
If she could get through this night, nothing else could ever defeat her.
Sam's voice came to her from the top of the stairs. "Emma? Come on up."
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p; She couldn't very well refuse, could she? She supposed she could turn around and run out, hightail it across the prairie and back to Charity. But then what? She'd be back to the life she couldn't wait to leave behind.
As her father had always said when she got herself into situations because of her impulsive nature, "You made your bed. Now you have to lie in it."
How appropriate those words were!
She took a deep breath and picked up her bag. Her knees threatened to buckle with every step as she climbed the stairs to join Sam. Sam gave her an encouraging smile and led her down a narrow hallway. Opening the bedroom door, he stood back to allow her to enter first. "Here we are."
Emma stepped inside, her eyes immediately focusing on the wedding ring quilt-covered four-poster in the centre of the room. She couldn't have said how big the room really was. All she could see was the bed, the bed that seemed far too small to hold two people.
Chapter 6
So small!
How could they both possibly fit in that small space? And if they happened to accidentally touch, what then?
"I'll just go and bed the horse down for the night. Will that give you enough time?"
"Time for what?" she asked, her brows creasing in confusion.
Sam seemed a little embarrassed. "You know ... ladies' things ..."
"Oh!" Suddenly she realized what Sam was doing. He was giving her a little privacy to change her clothes and get ready for bed. Heat crept into her cheeks. "Yes. Thank you."
"Do you need anything before I go?" he asked.
Emma thought for a moment. "No ... Oh, no!" When she decided to wear this gown to be married in, she'd never given a thought to how difficult it would be to get out of it. The long row of tiny pearl buttons running down the back of the gown had been one of the main attractions of the gown at the time, but now - she needed his help.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, clearly concerned.
Heat suffused her face. How could she ask him to unbutton her gown? He'd think she was expecting ... Oh, Heavens!
"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.
