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Emma couldn't bear to see the expression on Sam's face any longer. Instead, she looked away, concentrating on the flickering of the lantern on the chest of drawers and the shadows dancing across the walls.
When she heard Sam's footsteps on the stairs, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had a few more minutes to settle her nerves.
Opening her carpetbag, she took out a long flannel nightdress and unfolded it. Did she have enough time to undress and change before he came back?
Quickly, she slid the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, followed by her chemise and bloomers. She'd pick the clothes up later. She couldn't risk Sam’s coming back before she was decently covered. She slipped on her nightdress, making sure the buttons were closed right up to the neck.
Although there was a breeze wafting through the room, the heat of the day hadn't cooled the room much. She'd likely be warm wearing flannel to bed, but she had no other choice. This was the only nightdress she owned that covered her completely. Until now, there had been no one to hide her flaws from.
A few minutes later, Sam returned. He knocked softly and waited until Emma invited him to come in. She couldn't help but be pleased by his manners. He obviously realized how uncomfortable Emma was and was trying to make the situation as easy as possible.
She was standing at the window, her arms folded across her chest. She felt her face flame, but she tried to relax. There's no reason to be embarrassed, she thought. He's my husband.
"I thought you might already be asleep," he said, taking off his Stetson and hanging it on a hook behind the door. "It's not easy sleeping in a strange bed, though."
"No, I suppose it isn't." And it isn't easy sleeping with a strange man beside you either, she thought wryly.
"You'll get used to it," he assured her. "I know the ranch isn't much compared to the fine house you have in town, but I hope you'll be happy here."
His voice, deep and rumbling, seemed to fill the room. The apology in his voice was plain.
If I can get through the nights I'll be fine. "I'm sure I will," she said with a smile that belied much more confidence than she actually felt.
Sam crossed the room and opened one side of a large oak wardrobe. "I emptied this out for you, and cleared two of the drawers in the chest. I hope that's enough room."
"Plenty."
"Are you tired?" he asked.
Emma shook her head.
"Hungry? Thirsty?"
Emma's throat was parched, but she was sure thirst had nothing to do with it. She always reacted that way when she was nervous. And nervous didn't begin to describe the emotions surging through her right now.
"I'm fine. Thank you."
"Well, then ..."
"Well, then ..."
Silence filled the room. Finally, he spoke. "I suppose we should get to bed," he said.
"I ... suppose ... so ..."
Sam crossed the room and sat down in a hard-backed chair by the window. With a grunt, he tugged off his scuffed boots, then set them beside the oak wardrobe in the corner of the room.
"Why don't you get into bed? I don't want to blow out the lamp and have you stub your toe or trip over something."
"Uh ... I suppose I should ..."
Emma's heart thudded so loudly in her ears she was sure the whole county could hear it. He was saying something else, but she could barely hear him over the pounding in her ears.
How long could she postpone climbing into the bed? She stared at the swirling red, blue and yellow of the quilt pattern until the colors became one. The room began to tilt, and she felt faint.
"It won't bite, you know." Sam's voice filtered through the fuzziness in her brain.
Emma looked at him.
