Emma's Wish

Nathan's eyebrows lifted as his gaze shifted to Emma. "Really?"

Sam nodded. "She thought you boys deserved a pet."

Joseph smiled and turned to Emma. "Thanks, Ma. This is the best present I ever had. And it isn't even Christmas."

Nathan nibbled on his lip for a few moments, and his forehead creased in a frown. Then he raised his head to look at Emma. "Thanks ..." He hesitated, as if he wanted to add something, but couldn't bring himself to. "Thanks," he repeated, then turned and followed Joseph outside.

Emma watched the children go, and smiled to herself. She'd done the right thing. The children were coming to accept her. Even Nathan. She was sure he'd almost called her 'ma'. Almost. One day soon, he would accept her as his mother. All she had to do was wait. Then her life would be complete. Well, as complete as it possibly could be.

"We'd best get inside," Sam said softly. "It's getting a mite chilly out here." He smiled down at her with those dark eyes, and her heartbeat quickened.

She nodded in agreement, even though she wasn't feeling at all cold. In fact, with her hand still nestled in Sam's, she was feeling decidedly warm. And when he looked at her like that ... why, she could feel herself growing hotter by the second.

Sam picked up the lamp and led her from the barn. A cool breeze tousled her hair as she stepped outside and a drop of rain landed on her cheek. He released her hand to close the door, and for some unexplainable reason, she felt almost ... lonely.

Ridiculous, she chided. Sam was right beside her. Yet still, she recognized the sadness she'd often felt after her father died - as if she would never truly belong to anyone again.

She wanted a man to love her the way her father had loved her mother, the way Amanda and James adored each other, the way Fred and Lou still couldn't keep their hands off each other even after all their years of marriage.

She wanted to feel loved, both emotionally and physically. She wanted to feel the touch of a man's hands and lips, wanted to learn the secrets of love between a husband and a wife, wanted to carry and bear a child of her own, a child conceived in love.

And try as she might, she couldn't deny the truth. It was Sam's lips she craved, Sam's hands, Sam's child.

Heat surged up inside her at her lustful thoughts. Heavens, what would he think if he knew where her thoughts were leading.

"I brought a surprise home for you, too," Sam said, interrupting her musings.

Startled, Emma looked up at him. His eyes held a teasing glint. "You did?"

"Yep." Sam took a step towards the door, drawing her along with him. "And there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

Chapter 10

Finally, the children were asleep and the puppy was settled in a basket in the children's bedroom. The house was quiet. It was the perfect time to speak to Emma about what was on his mind.

He was doing the right thing. Catherine was gone, and it was time to move on. Emma had come into his life and made it worth living again. It was time to tell her, and hope that maybe she cared for him enough that they could have a real marriage.

So why was he so scared? Hell, he was shaking harder than a boy facing his pa in the woodshed. He hadn't even been this nervous when he'd asked Catherine to marry him. Of course, then he'd been sure she'd say yes. She'd made no secret she wanted to get married. Fool that he'd been, he'd believed it was because she loved him. He hadn't learned the truth until it was too late.

This was different. He had no idea how Emma would react to his proposition.

His gaze slid to Emma. His wife. He'd thought he could be satisfied with having a wife in name only, but now ...

Now that he'd gotten to know her, he realized he cared for her far more than he'd ever expected. She filled his thoughts, and even some of his dreams. And waking up every morning with her body snuggled into his was killing him. He couldn't go on that way much longer. Hell, if he didn't start getting some sleep soon, he'd collapse.

He sat down in the rocker beside the fireplace and watched her moving about the kitchen. She began to hum a tune as she wiped a dinner plate and set it on the shelf near the stove, the haunting melody floating in the air. She picked up the sugar bowl and reached to put it on the top shelf. Her blouse stretched across her slim frame, the fabric straining across her breasts.

His blood heated, pooling in his groin. His pants became uncomfortably tight. Oh, damn!

She stopped singing and ran her tongue across her lush bottom lip. Sam's insides curled with desire.

"Emma?" he called out.

Emma turned and smiled at him. "Yes, Sam?"

"Are you just about finished in there?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Almost. Why?"