Love? Emma stood in the middle of the backyard for several minutes watching GW’s retreating form. Had Hays told his father he loved her?
Warmth cascaded through her, and she hugged her arms about her waist. If it was true, then he hadn’t been pursuing her for his land. Maybe his actions the night before weren’t out of disloyalty, maybe they were the only thing he could think to do because he loved her and wanted her to succeed. She had been so overcome with emotion and pain from the past, she hadn’t listened to him.
She owed him an apology.
The wind fluttered the kitchen curtain, and Emma could almost see Martha standing there icing a chocolate cake for GW. The little cottage had taken on a new charm for Emma, and instead of sadness, she only felt joy thinking about the couple who had made it a home for twelve short months.
Maybe GW was right. True love was worth the risk … always.
Chapter Nine
Pa had suggested that Hays stay home from church and take a nap, but instead, he had come to his property along the Sabinal. He hoped to keep his mind off Emma, but she was the only thing he could think about.
Hays lay on the banks of the river, his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. His mind wandered to the day he’d kissed her, and instead of pushing the thought away, he allowed himself to bask in the peace and happiness the memory gave him.
Bella grazed nearby, nibbling on the dry grass while the river gurgled over rocks and roots. The sun shimmered through the canopy of leaves, offering short bursts of light on his face.
There really was no place on earth like this little spot of land. He hated to think that it might not be his.
Bella lifted her head, her ears twisting forward as she looked up at the rise of land.
Hays swiveled his head to see what had caught her attention—and his heart leapt.
“Emma.” He scrambled to his feet as she nudged her horse down the path he’d worn in the soil and followed it to where Bella stood.
She stopped her horse, her gaze fixed on Hays.
Neither one spoke for several moments. Finally, he reached up, placed his hands on her waist, and then lowered her to the ground.
She came willingly. When he set her on her feet, she placed her hands on his chest, her green eyes searching his.
He smiled, and all the love he felt for her was harnessed in the simple expression. “What are you looking for, Em?”
Whatever it was, she must have found it, because she stopped searching and offered him a smile that matched his in intensity. “I’m looking for love.”
His heart pounded hard and he took her hand, putting it on his chest. “You’ve found it.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’ve been so blind, Hays. Is it too late?”
Joy burst inside his chest, and he shook his head. “Never.”
“I owe you an apology—”
“No. I owe you one.”
She shook her head and he laughed.
They looked at one another for a moment, and then finally she spoke. “May I offer you a gift for all your troubles, then?”
He pulled her closer. “What kind of gift did you have in mind?”
Emma stood on tiptoe, and like the last time they were by this river, she gave him a kiss—but this time she placed that kiss on his lips.
It was sweet bliss to hold her in his arms again, and this time she stayed willingly, and didn’t pull away.
He finally broke the kiss only to say, “That’s the sweetest gift anyone has ever given me.”
“Oh!” She giggled, a bit breathless. “That wasn’t the gift. I got distracted and couldn’t help myself for a moment.”
Hays tilted his head back and laughed again. “You can get distracted anytime you’d like.” When his laughter subsided, he grew more serious. “If that wasn’t your gift, what is?”
It was her turn to take his hand in hers. She brought it to her lips, kissed his knuckles, and then laid his hand against her cheek. “My gift to you is my heart, in exchange for yours.”
“Em.” He pulled her close again, reveling in the way she fit perfectly against him. “It’s all yours.”
This time he kissed her.
March 7, 1874
It was hard to believe a month had passed since Emma had stood on the banks of the Sabinal River and accepted Hays’s marriage proposal. Today she waited in the bedroom she had shared with Hope these past three months, as her mama fussed over her gown and veil. The ensemble, as Miss Spanner called it, was more than Emma had ever imagined a humble pastor’s daughter would wear on her wedding day, but GW had insisted on the very best for his first daughter-in-law, and Miss Spanner had agreed. It was a gift she couldn’t refuse.
A knock at the door made both women pause.
“Who is it?” Mama asked, dropping the veil over Emma’s warm face.
“It’s the father of the bride,” Papa said from the hallway.
Mama and Emma exchanged a tender glance, and then Mama went to the door and opened it wide.
The look on Papa’s face brought tears to Emma’s eyes.
“The last time I saw such a beautiful bride was the day I married your mama.” He entered the room and held out his hands. “You’re lovely, Em.”