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"We need to settle some things," he said. Coins jingled on the wooden bureau. "I asked Fred and Lou to take the children so we could talk in private, but since you're sleeping so soundly ..." He paused, and Emma could sense his eyes on her. Her face flamed. Luckily, it was buried in the pillow. "If you don't want to talk about this tonight, we'll do it tomorrow night, or the night after that. Your choice."
Oh ... no ... The children would be home tomorrow, and the walls were very thin. She couldn't expose the children to such a personal discussion.
He left her no choice.
Emma felt his weight as he climbed into bed and rolled to his side, facing her.
Raising her head a few inches, she turned to meet his gaze. "There's really nothing to talk about," she said, wishing Sam would leave well enough alone. They had a good marriage, the children were coming to accept her as their mother, and now that the threat of losing them was gone, they could look forward to a pleasant life together. Why did he have to ask more of her than she was able to give?
"Like hell there isn't." Sam's voice boomed.
"Fine." Emma sat up, her fist still clutching the opening of her nightdress. With her other hand, she punched her pillow and tucked it behind her back, then tugged her braided hair from behind her head and flicked it over her shoulder. It came to rest on swell of her breast, and the pale blue ribbon dipped into the hollow. Looking up, she saw Sam's gaze resting on the braid, and she felt her nipples tighten under his scrutiny. "Then let's settle it."
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.
