BY THE TIME THE FIRST fat raindrops fell, the last of the wedding guests were on their way home. Emma may not cook, she did clean and, as was the custom, all the ladies pitched in to help and in no time at all, everything was in order.

She could no longer delay the inevitable.

“Guess we’re done,” she said to Lupe. “Ty and the crew are putting the tables away.”

“Such a nice wedding, Miss Emma. Your mother would be so happy for you.”

“I hope so.” Even though it’s not a love-match…on his part.

Lupe grabbed her shawl from the hook by the door. “I best get home before the bottom falls out.” She smiled as she started out the door. “Do not worry so. Everything will be fine. You will see.”

Worried did not begin to describe how she felt about the coming night.

She was married.

Her new husband would be coming inside at any moment and…what? Visions of things Sarah hinted about danced in her head. Just thinking about them sent her heart rate soaring and her stomach to flutter and dance. Can I really do that with Ty?

On the one hand, anxiety consumed her but on the other, curiosity tormented her. Was it as wonderful as Sarah led her to believe or something she simply endured as Mable said? Each day, she experienced some new sensation around him. He made her feel things she had never experienced before, made her want to know what the next step would be.

But one thing Sarah said haunted her. There would be pain the first time, maybe quite intense but over quickly, and followed by pleasure. However, Emma had trouble believing pain and pleasure co-existed. Further questioning produced no satisfactory answers.

Her mind churned with uncertainties for which she had no solutions.

Feet like leaden weights, she turned and trudged up the stairs.

Ty stood on the front porch, listening to the rumble of thunder as it drew ever closer, the spattering of rain coming in fits and starts, and knew to his soul, he was home. He had known it for some time just wouldn’t let himself believe it. Something about this place drew him in. Emma, certainly, but it went beyond that, though he couldn’t actually put it into words.

He never thought it would happen, but he had a home.

At last.

He swirled the whiskey in his glass then took a healthy drink, savoring the sharp-tasting liquid as it slid down his throat. His nerves were stressed to the max and he delayed going upstairs as long as he dared. He had no idea what would happen when Emma discovered he intended to spend the night in her bed whether they consummated the marriage or not.

He certainly had high hopes, but he was also a realist. While he might be ready, she wasn’t.

Did he love his new wife? He cared for her, respected her and Lord knows he wanted – needed – her as much as his next breath. And while she may not realize it yet, she had similar feelings for him; he sensed it in her touch, the way she reacted to his kisses, the way she looked at him when she thought he didn’t notice.

Could he keep his promise? Remain aloof until she wanted to move forward? “God I hope so,” he whispered to the night wind, “I hope so.”

A few minutes later, he stood in front of her – their - bedroom door, uncertainty tying his stomach in knots. The hell with it. Two quick raps on the door and he walked in.

She sat on the edge of the bed, that glorious mass of curls unbound and flowing down her back, shoulders slumped, hands clasped in front as if in prayer.

My God. She looks like she’s going to the gallows.

“Emma?” He walked toward her. “What’s wrong?” Like I don’t know.

“I can’t do it.”

Shit.

“I thought I made myself clear. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She straightened but did not face him. “I can’t get undressed.”

His experience with proper women was basically non-existent so he assumed she referred to getting undressed with him in the room.

“I see. I’ll go downstairs a bit and give you some privacy.”

“No!”

The exasperation unmistakable in that one word stopped him in his tracks. He had no idea what to say so wisely said nothing.

She shifted on the edge of the bed, and her hands fisted in the covers. “The damn buttons are in the back.” She glanced toward him and looked away. “I can’t reach them.”

“…Oh.”

The slow, steady hiss as she expelled a long breath spoke volumes.

“Well…ummm…”

She pushed herself up, and turned her back to him, raking her hair over one shoulder. “Please be careful with the buttons,” she whispered. “This was my mother’s dress.”

He wavered, heart pounding furiously, then closed the distance between them. His hands trembled as he reached for the top button; fingers tingling from contact with creamy flesh and desire burst through him like a cannon, causing his whole body to ache with need.

She inhaled sharply, and he felt a shiver run through her.

Please give me strength.

The buttons seemed like tiny pebbles in his large hands and he had a measure of difficulty maneuvering them through the delicate opening, but one by one, he made his way down the back, revealing a light corset and chemise underneath.

Three buttons remained. He forced his hands to move, slid each tiny disc through the opening and moved to the next, trying his best not to think about sliding anything anywhere.

She swayed on her feet and he grabbed her around the waist, drawing her against him, causing her gown to slip from her shoulders and pool around his arms. He stood there, unable to move, her back pressed against him, his breathing nothing more than rough gasps as hunger exploded within him. He held her closer, inhaling the fragrance of woman and roses.

A soft whimper broke through his passion fogged brain and he realized how tightly he held her. Angered with himself, he pushed away, but kept his hands on her waist. “Oh God, Emma. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Remorse tore at his chest, his voice a ragged whisper.

When she didn’t answer, his heart sank. He’d hurt her, or worse, frightened her.

His hands trembled as he pulled the sleeves of her gown up over her shoulders and stepped back. “I’ll leave you to finish.” His voice shook with the effort it took to control himself.

Her gentle voice stopped him at the door.

“My corset…I can’t unlace it.”

He couldn’t hold back the soft groan as he returned, loosened the laces, then turned and left the room.

This is going to be the longest night of my life.