Emma: Bride of Kentucky (American Mail-Order Bride 15) Read online

  Sam’s eyes locked with hers. “You couldn’t have your horse shipped to Kentucky?”

  Emma gave a soft laugh. “I don’t have him anymore. My father sold him years ago.”

  Abruptly, she turned away from him and rummaged through the wooden trunk. Sam gritted his teeth. Instead of cheering her up, he’d clearly upset her. The bitterness in her voice was laced with deep-rooted pain.

  Keep your distance, Hawley.

  There was so much to ask her. Foremost on his mind was the reason Emma would consent to a marriage to David Benton. Instead of opening his mouth to ask, he gave her some space. He fetched a sidesaddle that hadn’t seen use in ages and bridle from the tack room.

  By the time Whiskey was tacked up, Emma smiled again. She stepped up to the horse and pulled the stirrup down the saddle. She reached for the pommel then glanced over her shoulder.

  Sam stepped up to her, bent forward and hooked his hands together for her foot so he could give her a lift. He stood so close behind her, her hair tickled his nose, and he inhaled the soft fragrance of her perfume.

  You’re treading a dangerous line, Hawley.

  Sam’s gaze locked with hers and a ripple of longing spread through him. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and the emotion he read there mirrored his own reaction, sending another dose of awareness through him. She quickly averted her gaze and pulled herself into the saddle, adjusting her skirt over her legs. Sam supported her longer than necessary.

  She’d barely seated herself in the saddle, when Ollie came charging into the barn, breathing hard.

  “Sam, you’re gonna want to come. Quick.”

  Sam’s eyes shot to Emma, then to his frantic-looking groom.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded, his insides still alive from his reaction to touching Emma.

  “There’s big trouble at the mare barn.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I apologize, Emma. I know you were looking forward to this ride.”

  Sam’s words were spoken with such sincerity, they seemed to reach straight inside her and wrap around her heart.

  “The ride can wait.” Emma offered a smile.

  He nodded, regret in his eyes. “Get Whiskey back to his stall, Ollie,” he said to the groom, whose wide eyes darted between them.

  Sam raised his arms, his hands at her waist to support her dismount, and Emma scrambled from Whiskey’s back. His secure hold lingered when her feet touched the ground.

  “Go,” she said and maneuvered away from him. His touch was too unsettling. Not in a bad way, like David’s touch had made her feel. Sam’s touch was more than pleasant, and the feeling was disturbing.

  His eyes connected with hers for another second before he sprinted from the barn. Emma smiled at the groom, to whom she handed Whiskey’s reins. He nodded politely, then quickly averted his gaze and led the gelding back to his stall.

  Emma sighed. What to do now? She could easily tell Ollie not to untack the horse and simply ride out on her own, but something compelled her to follow Sam. From the moment he’d walked into the carriage barn earlier, her heart had started to beat faster than usual.

  He wasn’t the rude man she’d first assumed. He seemed closed off and tense in her company, but could she blame him? The first time they’d met in the mare barn, she’d certainly told him that he was beneath her. He’d turned out to be far more pleasant company than the man she was going to marry in a few short weeks.

  An icy chill spilled down her back. David Benton made her feel as if she was nothing but an acquisition; something bought and paid for.

  In a way, that’s what you are, Emma.

  David may not have sent for her, but his mother certainly had. She’d paid her well in beautiful dresses and other fineries, along with the promise of a life of wealth. This was her opportunity to pretend she was the woman she’d been years ago in Boston.

  Emma quietly shook her head. She was no longer that woman. She’d realized it more and more with each day that passed since coming here. She preferred the company of the cook, or Gus at the stables, to Lizette Benton. Her gaze drifted to where Sam had disappeared through the wide barn doors.

  Her hands smoothed down the front of her riding habit, drifting to her waist where the pleasant feel of Sam’s strong hands still lingered. She preferred his company, and his touch, to that of the man she was going to marry. Never before had two men elicited such strong, but opposite feelings in her.

  Emma walked out of the barn. Loud men’s voices came from the mare barn. She lengthened her strides, and her forehead wrinkled. What was going on? As she drew closer, a jolt of dread rushed through her, making her limbs go weak. One of those voices belonged to David, her fiancé. The other one was Sam’s, and there was also Gus’ voice, but it was much calmer.

  “Get the hell out of my way, Hawley,” David roared.

  Emma ran into the barn. Sam stood in front of a stall, the same stall that housed the mare she’d petted the first time she’d come to the stables. He was clearly blocking David’s way. Her fiancé held a rifle in his hand. Emma’s eyes widened.

  “Over my dead body,” Sam growled. “You’re not getting near this mare.” The anger and animosity in his eyes as he stared down David Benton was clear to see, even from a distance.

  “That can easily be arranged,” David retorted. “You’re overstepping your place here, and I’ll have you removed for insubordination. It’s been long overdue.”

  “Mr. Benton,” Gus said, holding out his hand and stepping closer to the enraged man. “Your mother wouldn’t want you to act in the heat of the moment.”

  David shot an angry glare at the old caretaker. Several grooms stood around, watching the scene unfold.

  “I don’t give a damn about what my mother would want me to do,” David slurred. He took a step toward Gus, raising the gun in a threatening gesture which was clearly meant to intimidate. “My mother won’t be in charge of this estate much longer.”

  Emma rushed down the barn aisle.

  “What in heaven’s name is going on here?” she implored, trying to sound like her own mother used to sound when she’d caught Emma doing something she’d deemed unladylike.

  All eyes snapped to her. Emma focused her gaze on her fiancé, not at the man who guarded the stall, staring at her with disbelief on his face.

  “Miss Emma, I don’t think you should be here,” Gus said quickly, trying to ward her off.

  “I’d like to know what three grown men are doing in this barn, acting like a bunch of fighting little boys,” she said with as much force to her voice as she could muster. She cleared her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no authority to be here and make such demands, but hopefully she could diffuse the tense situation enough to calm everyone down.

  “So, my lovely bride has some spunk after all.” David laughed as he lowered the rifle. He moved around Gus and stood in front of her. He leaned forward. “And here I thought you were a passionless, empty shell, Emma.”

  The stench of bourbon wafted from his mouth. He must have bathed in a barrel of liquor for him to be this inebriated in such a short amount of time. She hadn’t left the house more than an hour ago. Emma stared up at him. He was not going to intimidate her again.

  “I thought you were too tired to go riding earlier,” she challenged. “Yet I see you’re not too tired to drink, and make a fool of yourself in front of your staff,” she hissed under her breath. No doubt her words carried to the other men.

  David’s lips twitched and he almost bared his teeth. “Watch your place, Emma. You may be the future mistress here, but that doesn’t give you the right to issue orders, especially to me.”

  Emma straightened and backed up a step. “I demand to know why you’re pointing a rifle at Sam Hawley.”

  David laughed scornfully. “Sam Hawley, is it? Is he the one you were meeting to take you for a ride? I wasn’t good enough?”

  Emma’s mouth opened. Her arm came up before she had time to thin
k about her actions. With a resounding smack, her hand connected with her fiance’s cheek.

  “How dare you make such insinuations,” she hissed. “You’re the one who told me to go, that you were too tired to take me horseback riding.”

  David’s eyes widened and he held his own hand to his cheek, then grabbed for her. In the same instant, Sam rushed forward and yanked David’s rifle from his grip, tossing it to Gus before putting himself between Emma and her enraged fiancé.

  “You need to go and sleep off the alcohol, Benton, before you do something rash. Like Gus said, your mother isn’t going to be happy when she hears what you’re planning to do.”

  His back was to Emma, but every muscle visibly tensed beneath Sam’s shirt. David stood a good inch taller than Sam, but he wasn’t as broad or solidly built. No doubt David hadn’t done much physical work in his life.

  “I’ll escort you back to the house, Mr. Benton,” Gus said calmly. “Some rest, and we can discuss this a little more civilly, and make a decision on what to do about the mare.”

  Emma stepped around Sam to look at David.

  “I still don’t know what’s going on.” Her eyes volleyed between the two men.

  Sam turned to her. “Queen foaled a stillborn, just like last year.”

  “The mare is useless. She’s an expense we don’t need if she can’t produce,” David slurred.

  Sam leaned forward, his face inches from David’s. “If you had listened to what Gus and everyone else told you last year, and not insisted she be bred again so soon, this might not have happened. She’s given this farm eight excellent foals over the past nine years. Her body needs a rest.”

  The two men stared at each other, hatred gleaming in both their eyes. Emma held her breath. A physical fight between them could break out at any second. She touched her hand to David’s arm and smiled up at him when he shot her a startled look. If this argument turned violent, Sam could well lose his job.

  “Please don’t do this, David,” she implored. “Return to the house with me, and I’ll ask Millie to brew you some coffee or whatever else you’d like.”

  She cringed when he leered at her. Gus tugged on Sam’s arm and he backed away. David swayed slightly, then yanked his arm from her hand. He glared at Sam.

  “This isn’t over, Hawley,” he threatened, then pushed his way past Gus and staggered out of the barn alone.

  Gus glanced from Sam to Emma, then hobbled as fast as he could after the inebriated man.

  Emma breathed a sigh of relief. Her eye caught Sam’s stare. He looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns and a tail. Around them, the grooms who had witnessed the scene all murmured at once. Sam raised his head.

  “Get back to your jobs,” he ordered and they dispersed, leaving the barn empty and quiet again.

  Sam ran a hand through his hair. He paced in front of the mare’s stall, not looking at Emma. Finally, he stopped and raised his head to her.

  “What do you see in that bastard to come all the way from Boston to marry him?” His chin jutted down the barn aisle in the direction David had gone.

  Emma stiffened at the forward question. There was an almost pleading look in Sam’s blue eyes, which were filled with longing. She dropped eye contact as her heart sped up. Why couldn’t this man be the one she had come to marry? David Benton didn’t deserve all of his wealth and privileges.

  She raised her chin when he continued to look at her, waiting for an answer. Inhaling deeply, she blew the air slowly from her mouth. Did it matter if he knew the truth about her? That she wasn’t the wealthy lady he and, no doubt everyone else, thought she was? She’d already confided in Millie.

  “Lizette Benton placed an ad for a wife in a paper called the Grooms’ Gazette.”

  Sam’s forehead wrinkled, and he shook his head slightly. He stepped up to her, his gaze roaming over her face. Emma’s limbs weakened in reaction to his perusal.

  “I’m a mail order bride,” she continued in a soft whisper. “I had no other choice but to find a husband or I would have been out on the street.” She laughed softly. “The more I see of David Benton, the more I understand why Lizette would go through such extremes to find her son a wife.”

  “Lizette Benton is too much of a blueblood to do something like that,” Sam said slowly. His eyes were still filled with incomprehension. “She believes in pure bloodlines, in her horses as well as in people.”

  Emma nodded. “I come from a wealthy family. I was raised in Boston’s elite society. My father liked to gamble, and unbeknownst to my mother, lost most of her money in various business deals that failed. When she died, the creditors came and took what was left. My father moved on, and I was left to my own devices.”

  Sam’s hand reached up, hesitated, then touched her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her body’s reaction to his touch was instant. The air left her lungs and a warm feeling rushed through her limbs. She licked at her lips and stared up into his sincere eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly at a loss for words.

  Emma swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. “Through a friend of the family, I found work at a textile mill in Lawrence. For the last year, that’s where I worked, until the factory burned down. One by one, my friends moved on, taking the advice of others to find husbands.” She laughed again. “Of the four of us who lived together, I was the last one to give in. When I saw the ad David’s mother had placed in his name, I thought my prayers had been answered, and I could go back to the life I had before.”

  A flash of annoyance passed through Sam’s eyes. He dropped his hand from her arm and stepped away.

  “You’re going to go through with this marriage?” he asked, almost angrily.

  “I have no choice, Sam. I don’t have a penny to my name, and Lizette made it clear to me that I would be on my own if I didn’t marry David.”

  He was in front of her again in the next instant. “You don’t have to marry him,” he nearly growled.

  Emma avoided eye contact. She stepped away from him when he reached for her again.

  “I have to go,” she stammered.

  Her legs were as heavy as lead when she rushed from the barn. Her feelings for Sam Hawley scared her more than anything ever had, and she had to get away. What she’d read in his eyes could never be. How could he show such tender feelings for her, not even knowing her? And likewise, how was it possible that she’d been so instantly attracted to him, from the moment she’d first seen him at the train station?

  Emma raced up the stairs to her room and leaned against her closed door. She held her hand over her pounding heart and squeezed her eyes shut. Right now, she needed the advice of her friends, but they were too far away. She spoke each of their names out loud and laughed bitterly.

  “Willow. Rose. Gillian. Is it possible to fall in love with someone at first sight?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emma’s heart pounded when she slipped from her room and descended the stairs, intent to head for the kitchen. She hadn’t left her chambers since the incident at the barn earlier today. She’d spent the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon staring out the balcony window, thinking about a man who shouldn’t be in her thoughts.

  All her life, she’d watched her parents in a loveless marriage. Her mother had always told her that marriages were for convenience. It was a mutual partnership where both parties gained something. Emma had always been at a loss about what her mother had gained from her father, because he seemed to have benefitted the most from their marriage. He’d spent Mother’s wealth freely.

  Giving her heart to a man had never been an option. That’s why it hadn’t been difficult to come to Kentucky. Marrying David would provide her with a home of luxury. In exchange, she’d grace his arm in public. Lizette had hinted at children during one of their conversations, and Emma had accepted that part of the marriage arrangement, although the thought of being intimate with David made her stomach churn.

  Never had she expected to fin
d a man who could make her pulse quicken with a simple smile, or her skin tingle with a soft touch. She shook her head. She had to stop thinking about Sam Hawley. They were two people who were worlds apart. He would never fit into polite society.

  You’ve lived in his world, Emma.

  Did she want to go back to that? Could she? A life of poverty, always struggling to make ends meet. Sam wasn’t exactly poor. He had a secure position here at the Three Elms and a roof over his head. The near-fight between him and David flashed before her eyes.

  David could easily terminate Sam’s employment. As an employee, he’d crossed the line, no matter the reason. Emma had been appalled to hear that David wanted to shoot the mare simply because she hadn’t produced a live foal. How could someone have so little regard for another living being?

  She scoffed. David didn’t seem to regard anything or anyone, other than himself. She’d heard shouting earlier between him and Lizette, but she hadn’t dared leave her room. Even when Judith, the maid, had knocked on her door to let her know that supper was being served, she’d feigned a stomachache and said she was already in bed.

  She had no desire for another confrontation with her fiancé today. Perhaps by morning, he would be more reasonable again. Hopefully his mother and Gus, or whoever was overseer of the horse operation, had talked some sense into David, and the mare would be safe. It had been clear that he hadn’t thought his actions through. Who in their right mind would simply shoot an animal in the heat of the moment?

  Emma sighed and tiptoed down the final steps of the staircase. She glanced in both directions of the great entrance hall, then headed for the kitchen. Millie was the person with whom she needed to speak. The cook was the closest she had to a true friend here, and she trusted her to keep things confidential. Would it be wise to tell her about Sam, and her feelings for him? What good would it do? In a couple of weeks she was going to marry David.