Emma sighed and pressed her forehead against Mariposa’s withers. Exhaustion crept through her like a thief, stealing her energy and her will. It had been an incredibly long day and it was bound to be an even longer night.
She’d sleep in her new husband’s house tonight. The thought of being in close proximity to Rafe in just her nightgown gave her the chills. She dared not think about whether the chills were excitement or dread. After making sure all her horses had food and water, she finally left the barn.
Rafe had disappeared at least half an hour earlier. She’d expected him to hover and try to take over her chores. Instead, he’d left her alone, exactly what she needed. Rowdy knew better than to bother her. He’d headed straight for the bunkhouse and a whiskey.
Her new husband was turning out to be a different man than she thought he was, either that or he was really good at pretending to be someone else. It didn’t matter one way or the other. Until she was good and ready, if ever, Emma wouldn’t trust any man, much less Rafe.
She trudged to the house with a heavy heart and a dose of homesickness. Emma had spent her entire life on her family’s ranch. In fact, she’d never slept anywhere else or woken up anywhere else. Everything about this whole marriage thing was turning every aspect of her life sideways.
By the time she reached the house, Emma had built up a head of steam laced with resentment. She opened the kitchen door, ready to give Rafe a piece of her mind. The room was empty of people, but holy hell, he’d been there for sure.
A huge wooden bathtub sat in front of a cheery, crackling fire. Steamy wisps rose from the water. A pitcher of water, a mug and a plate with biscuits and cheese sat on the table. She closed the door behind her with a thump.
What was he up to? Did he think to seduce her already? It hadn’t even been twelve hours and he was breaking their contract. Emma wasn’t about to let that happen. She tossed her hat on one of the chairs and headed for the living room.
Rafe sat in the chair, an empty glass clutched in his hand. In the firelight, his face was a study in angles and shadows, his eyes hidden. For a moment it was as if she was looking at a different man, one she didn’t know. The floor felt unsteady under her feet.
“I, uh, what’s going on in the kitchen?”
He peered at the fire through the glass. “I thought you might want a bath and something to eat.”
She frowned. “So you weren’t trying to seduce me then?”
Rafe sighed. “I’m tired, Emma. Do we have to argue tonight? I wanted to get through our wedding day without fighting.” He stood and stretched.
Emma watched his shirt strain from the effect of his muscles tightening and loosening. Her mouth went cotton dry and be damned if her heart didn’t kick up a notch. It appeared her body hadn’t gotten over her childhood obsession with Rafe.
“I’m headed upstairs. Just leave the bathwater when you’re done. One of the men will empty the tub in the morning.” Rafe walked over to her, as if he sensed how much she’d reacted to his body. Her hands fisted as the urge to touch him almost overcame her. “Good night, Mrs. Sinclair.”
He touched her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. The silvery orbs glittered in the half-light. She’d give him credit, he gave her the option to pull away but she didn’t, she couldn’t. Instead, she waited for what was coming next.
A kiss.
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