Emma: Bride of Kentucky (American Mail-Order Bride 15) Page 10

  The kitchen was eerily quiet when she entered. The strong aroma of baked goods drifted through the air, making Emma’s mouth water. She hadn’t eaten all day. Several loaves of bread lined a section of the workbench, and one had already been cut. Emma helped herself to a slice and glanced around the galley. The kitchen was spotless, as always. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, and the stove was clean, without a trace of soot anywhere.

  Emma swallowed the last of the bread. She glanced toward the servants’ entrance, then to the corridor that led to Millie’s bedroom. She wouldn’t have retired this early. Perhaps Millie had gone to visit Gus, even though it was already getting dark outside.

  A smile passed over her face. The old caretaker and the outspoken cook cared for each other. Everyone knew it and talked about it, except for those two stubborn old people. They both needed a good nudge in the rear to get them together.

  Emma headed for the servants’ door leading outside. A stroll in the fresh air might do her some good and help clear her jumbled mind. All was quiet and peaceful in the early evening, the final glow of the day disappearing in an orange and red hue into the horizon, giving itself over to the night. Stars already twinkled in the sky, and Emma tilted her head back to see.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and shivered slightly at the cool breeze. She’d forgotten a shawl, but hadn’t expected to come outside at this late hour. Off in the distance, a horse whinnied and another answered its call. She smiled. Everything seemed so peaceful here, and quiet. It was so unlike the loud noises in the city. Except for the man she’d come here to marry, Kentucky was perfect.

  Emma walked down the lane, guided by the feel of gravel beneath her feet. The glow from the house gave her a little light by which to see and it wasn’t completely dark yet. The barns and horses called to her, drawing her closer to them and further away from the life she’d imagined she wanted. Calling to her was a different life, and a man who was so unlike any other. Being in his company would lead to scandal from which she could never recover. Yet, why didn’t it seem to matter?

  Emma stopped just before she reached one of several outbuildings. She turned to look back at the large, white house. It stood tall and imposing against the darkening skies, with all its grandeur. Was she willing to give up her life of luxury?

  Gillian’s message to her in her letter came to mind.

  If you find a man half as good as Rhys, then you will find a wealth far beyond that of money.

  Had she found such a man in Sam Hawley? She laughed. This was ridiculous. What would she even say to him? He had an obvious dislike for the wealthy. She’d seen something in his eyes earlier today; some emotion that both exhilarated and frightened her, but it had quickly vanished when she’d said she’d come here to marry for money. No doubt he thought of her as being no different than David or Lizette Benton.

  The scrunching sound of shoes on gravel reached her ear, and she glanced around. A quick gasp escaped her mouth when a man’s shadow materialized.

  “Sneaking off to visit a filthy stable hand is not becoming of a lady, Emma.”

  David’s lecherous voice sent her heart to racing. She darted a quick look at the house, judging the distance to get back.

  “I was out here for some fresh air, nothing more,” she said with as much force as she could produce. Her throat tightened painfully. “I don’t appreciate your improper inferences, David,” she added for good measure.

  He stood in front of her in the next instant and grabbed her arm, his fingers biting painfully into her skin. Yanking her closer, his breath was hot against her cheek.

  “I don’t take kindly to someone making a fool of me in front of my employees, least of all a female who’s using her charms to impress the hired help.”

  Emma sucked in a quick breath of air. “I was doing no such thing, David.” She leaned away from him. “You made a fool of yourself all on your own.”

  David tugged on her arm, his grip tightening. Emma fought back, digging her shoes into the gravel.

  “Release me this instant,” she demanded.

  David grabbed her more forcefully, dragging her toward one of the sheds.

  “I will not have some female make me the laughingstock here,” he growled. “My mother orders me around enough. It’s time you learned your place here, Emma. If you want to reap the bounty of being my wife, you’re going to have to earn it.”

  “What are you talking about?” she stammered. A chill raced through her at his words. She struggled against him, her hand on his, trying to unclamp his fingers from her arm.

  “I shouldn’t have been so soft with you this morning, my sweet Emma. No woman’s ever refused me, and I expect the one I marry to be available for me when I demand it.”

  “Let me go, David.” Emma’s heart pounded in her ears and her limbs weakened with panic.

  David pulled the door open to one of the outbuildings and pushed her inside. She stumbled and fell onto hard earth. She scrambled to her feet, but before she’d completely regained a foothold, the back of David’s hand connected with her cheek, sending her against the wall. Emma gasped from the impact.

  “You will learn your place here, and I will not tolerate you fraternizing with the stable help,” he roared. Before she had a chance to move away, David reached for her again, ripping at the bodice of her dress.

  “Don’t do this, David,” she breathed, fear consuming her.

  She clawed at his arms and face, but he was stronger. He pinned her arms to her sides and her back against the wall. She kicked up with her knee, catching David near his groin. He cursed loudly, then backhanded her again with such force, the back of her head crashed against the wooden slats of the wall with a loud thump.

  * * *

  Sam leaned over Queen’s stall. She munched on some hay in the corner and seemed settled enough. He hadn’t been around when she’d gone into labor. Ollie had run to get him when he was about to take Emma Waterston for a ride. That was the first time he had heard that the mare had dropped another stillborn. Anger coursed through him again, thinking about what had happened.

  He’d been ready to kill David Benton when he’d seen him with a rifle in his hand. No doubt he’d been trying to make a point to his mother that he wanted to be in charge. Everyone knew that Lizette controlled the business end of the farm, even if she pretended to let her son be in charge.

  Emma had surprised the hell out of him, the way she’d stood up to Benton. Sam ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else all day. Something had happened to him this morning. He’d been infatuated with her since the first time he saw her, but seeing her defending the mare, he’d fallen in love.

  When she’d told him about why she was here as Benton’s bride, he’d wanted to take her in his arms and tell her to marry him instead. He'd been stopped cold by her words, that she’d wanted to return to the kind of life she’d had in Boston. How could she choose to sell herself to a bastard like Benton? She wanted her life of privilege. It’s what she’d said. She wouldn’t settle for someone like him, a mere horse trainer.

  If she really only cared about money, then she and Benton deserved each other. Something told him, however, that she wasn’t sure what she wanted. What classy lady spent time at the barns with the stable hands, or in the kitchen with the cook? Emma may have grown up among the elite, but her year away from high society had changed her. She may think it’s what she wanted, but maybe he could show her that there was much more to living than having money.

  Sam pushed away from the stall and headed up the barn aisle. The sky outside was getting darker, but he wasn’t ready to go back to the cottage yet. Millie and Gus had gone to visit a mutual friend at a neighboring farm and wouldn’t be back until morning. Being alone in the house would only make him more restless.

  Sam stood just outside the barn and stared up at the sky. The tranquil sounds of horses rustling in their stalls behind him should give him some peace. Every muscle in his body was ta
ut, however. David Benton had been spoiled all his life, and Lizette had to clean up his messes. Now she was trying to clean up his image by ordering him a pretty wife, as if Emma was some trinket to appease her son.

  Sam’s jaw twitched uncontrollably. He stared toward the big house. Lights shone through the trees, beckoning to him. Minutes later, he was walking up the path leading toward those lights. He cursed under his breath.

  What do you think’s gonna happen, Hawley? That she’ll be standing there, waiting for you?

  A dull thud drew his head around. The sound came from one of the equipment sheds. A second later, the sound repeated, followed by a female’s weak voice. A sensation flowed through him as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him. Sam ran toward the sound of the voice. He yanked open the squeaky door to the shed, widening his eyes to the darkness. The silhouettes of two figures came into view. A man towered over a woman, who moaned quietly.

  Sam rushed up to the man. The faint odor of bourbon drifted to his nose. When he grabbed for the man’s shirt, the handful of expensive material in his fingers left no doubt of his identity. Sam hauled David Benton away from the woman and threw him against the opposite wall.

  “Help me.” A weak plea reached him from out of the darkness.

  Another surge of anger turned Sam’s blood to boiling. Emma? How had she ended up in this shed with Benton? He had no time to help her. The man came at him, sending a fist against his jaw. Sam took the blow and delivered one of his own.

  Rage took over. He lunged at Benton, sending them both crashing against the wall. His shirt tore when Benton grabbed at him. Again and again, he swung at the man he’d loathed since they were boys. They wrestled on the ground, then ended up outside somehow. Benton managed to get to his feet at the same time Sam stood. Sam advanced on him again, but Emma’s quiet call from inside stopped him. What had the bastard done to her?

  “You’re going to regret this, Hawley,” Benton panted, then backed away into the darkness.

  Sam rushed into the shed.

  “Emma?”

  He dropped to his knees beside her, feeling for her. His fingers made contact with bare skin below her neck. The front of her dress was torn. In the darkness, it was impossible to see how much of her was exposed, but it was best not to find out. He stripped his coat down his arms and wrapped it around her, lifting her head.

  “Emma?” he called again, and touched her cheek.

  A soft groan was his answer. “Sam,” she barely whispered.

  Sam lifted her into his arms, ignoring the dull pain that lingered in his shoulder from his healing injury. As fast as his legs would move, he carried her to his cottage.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam sat at the small table in the kitchen, clutching a hot cup of coffee between his hands. His elbows rested heavily on the grainy wood. He stared out the window, where the sun was slowly rising to give way to a new day. Any other morning, he’d be out with the horses already. Not today.

  His jaw clenched tight and his gaze drifted to the door leading to his bedroom. His shoulder ached, not just the injured one, but the good side, too. He hadn’t relaxed all night, his muscles strung tighter than a young racehorse eager to run. He’d never wanted to do harm to anyone the way he’d wanted to hurt David Benton last night, and still wanted to hurt him some more today.

  He’d carried Emma to the cottage last night, and had lowered her into his bed, afraid to ask her how badly she was injured. Her eyes had been filled with fear, but she’d clung to him, sobbing against his chest, and he’d simply held her until she’d cried herself to sleep.

  When she’d finally relaxed, he’d covered her with a blanket, his coat still draped around her. He’d spent a restless night in the front room, conjuring up all sorts of thoughts of what he would do to Benton the next time he saw him.

  “Sam.”

  Sam bolted to his feet at the softly spoken sound of his name, the chair legs scraping against the wooden floor. His coffee spilled over the side of the cup, scalding his hand. Sam wiped the hot liquid on his pants and turned toward his bedroom. Emma stood under the door, her hair hanging in a disheveled mess around her face.

  Sam stopped in front of her, just staring. There was nothing he could say to her at the moment to take away the confusion and pain in her eyes. She clutched his coat around her shoulders and returned his stare. The soft, grateful smile that hesitantly spread across her face melted his heart.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what you did last night.”

  Sam swallowed. He glanced down at his hands, then back at her. “Emma, I’m sorry that bast . . . that he hurt you.”

  She shook her head and raised her hand to the back of her head. “The pain in my head where he knocked me against the wall will go away. I’ve known that David is short-tempered, but I never thought he’d turn violent and do what he tried to do.”

  “Tried?” Sam reached for Emma’s hand. Hope sprang to life in him. Had he gotten to her in time, before Benton violated her?

  Emma nodded. She clutched Sam’s hand. “You came, and saved me before . . . before he had the chance to—” She broke off. There was no need for her to say the rest.

  He gripped her small hand in his, consumed with the urge to pull her to him, wrap her in his arms, and tell her he’d always protect her. He broke eye contact and glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink? I’ve got coffee.”

  Hell. She probably didn’t drink coffee.

  “A cup of coffee sounds lovely.” Her smile widened.

  He moved aside for her to pass and move fully into the room. Sam pulled out a chair for her to sit, then poured a mug of the hot brew for her.

  “I’ll take sugar if you have it.”

  Sam set the mug, along with a spoon and a crock of sugar, in front of her.

  “Gus has a sweet tooth.” He grinned. “He uses sugar in everything.”

  Emma laughed softly. “No wonder he enjoys Millie’s baking.”

  Sam sat across from her and sipped at his own coffee. The small talk was killing him. There was no delicate way to approach last evening’s incident, and ask her what she planned to do now. Surely, she wasn’t going to go through with marrying David?

  “You risked a lot for me, Sam.” Emma stared at him from across the table. She spooned sugar into her coffee, then leaned forward. “Lizette is going to know about this. I will tell her what her son tried to do, and that you came to my aid. Your position here will not be compromised.”

  Sam straightened. She was worried about his job? She ought to be more worried about her reputation. She’d just spent the night in the cottage of a stable employee. That didn’t look good in anyone’s eyes, no matter what the truth was.

  “Benton had it coming to him for a long time,” he said gruffly. “I enjoyed every punch I threw at him.” He leaned forward and stared her in the eyes. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat to keep you safe.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. Confusion marred her pretty face. The look in her soft gaze was filled with an emotion Sam had only dreamt about.

  “I’ve never met a man like you, Sam Hawley,” she whispered, and reached across the table. He met her halfway with his hand. She grazed her fingers across the raw skin of his knuckles.

  “And I’ve never met a lady quite like you, Emma Waterston.”

  His lips widened in a tentative grin.

  She averted her gaze, but the faint smile that drifted across her face before she lowered her head sent a surge of awareness through him. He had to tell her that he cared for her; that he loved her. He gave her hand a squeeze and opened his mouth to speak. A knock at the door killed the mood. Emma jerked her hand away and straightened. Her eyes widened, clouded with worry.

  Sam stood. The knock came again, louder this time.

  “I’m coming,” he grumbled.

  He pulled the door open. His eyes narrowed to hide his surprise. Standing in front of him, look
ing like an enraged polecat, was Lizette Benton. Right next to her stood her son, a smug sneer on his face. Sam glanced from Mrs. Benton to David and smiled at the discoloration around the taller man’s eye and along his jaw.

  “What have you done with Miss Waterston?” Mrs. Benton demanded. “I should send for the authorities to have you arrested.”

  Sam stood taller, blocking the door to his home.

  “Pack your bags, Hawley,” David chimed in. “You’re finished here.”

  Lizette Benton shot a warning stare at her son before turning back to Sam.

  “Where is she?” she demanded. “If you’ve ruined her, I will have you thrown in jail for the rest of your life.”

  Sam smirked. “Ruined her?” He stared from her to David. “I gave her a safe place to rest for the night. What do you call it when your son violates a lady, Mrs. Benton? I came along just in time to prevent that from happening. Or is that something that is acceptable in your social circles?”

  Lizette Benton’s mouth widened in apparent shock. “Those are some strong insinuations. David told me you attacked him while he was taking his fiancé for a walk.”

  Sam couldn’t keep from laughing. “Maybe you ought to ask Miss Waterston what she has to say about that, and let her tell you the real story.”

  “Where is she?” Mrs. Benton implored.

  “I’m right here, Lizette.”

  Sam glanced over his shoulder, frowning. Emma walked up behind him, tightly clutching his coat around herself. She held her chin high and looked directly at Mrs. Benton, whose eyes widened even more.

  “I hope you realize what this looks like, Emma,” the woman implored, her piercing stare going from her to Sam. “Come along, so I can do some damage control before it’s too late.”

  She took a step forward. Sam blocked her entrance to his home. He didn’t flinch at her demanding stare. It was Emma’s soft hand on his arm that made him move aside. She stepped up to Lizette and met the woman’s eyes for several seconds. Slowly, she lifted aside the coat she’d clutched around herself. Mrs. Benton gasped, her eyes flying to Sam with a murderous gleam.