“I never go up to the main house. You know that,” Sam grumbled.
“You also never had a busted-up shoulder before and needed Millie’s care,” Gus prodded. “Might you be afraid of running into one young lady who’s taken up residence there?”
Sam turned to face his mentor. The old man’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Don’t be a fool,” Sam said, more forcefully than he’d intended. Of course that was the reason he didn’t want to go and see Millie for some relief to his aching shoulder. Why did Gus have to point it out?
“She seems like a nice lady.” Gus shrugged. “Might be just what this farm needs.”
Sam coughed to suppress the string of swear words that came to mind. He’d thought the same thing about her, but her true colors had emerged when he’d tried to talk to her three days ago in the broodmare barn. He’d wanted to believe she was different, because for some reason he couldn’t explain, he’d been instantly attracted to her, as ludicrous as the notion was. His kind didn’t mingle with her kind, and she’d set him straight about that real quick when she’d told him he was out of line.
“She’s a blueblood, like the rest of them,” Sam scoffed. “Why would I want to associate with the likes of her?”
“Why, indeed?” The old man’s bushy brows rose. He shook his head and chuckled. “The sparks were purely flying between the two of you the other day in the barn, the way you were looking at each other. I thought the straw you were sitting on might catch fire.”
“You’re seeing things, old man,” Sam grumbled. “And if not for everything I’ve mentioned, there’s also that little detail that she’s engaged to someone.”
Someone you loathe.
Sam’s muscles tensed even more, making his shoulder throb.
Gus laughed heartily. “There’s some things that can’t be explained, or ignored.” He stood and his face turned serious. He touched his hand to Sam’s good shoulder. “I wish things were different. David Benton doesn’t deserve a lady like Miss Emma.”
Sam cracked a smile for the first time to disguise the conflicting emotions whirling through his mind. “You’re right. Benton doesn’t deserve her, but she’s marrying him. And even if she wasn’t, she comes from different stock than you or I. Thoroughbreds and mules don’t mix, Gus.”
Gus nodded, apparently agreeing with him. This discussion was leading nowhere. The old man raised his eyes to look directly at him.
“Your cousin, Trace, married a thoroughbred, and I believe he’s a mule just like you.” He winked.
Sam frowned and swallowed the last of his coffee. He moved to the door. Time to get to work. He pulled his coat from the peg hanging on the wall and slipped his left arm into the sleeve. A sharp hiss escaped his mouth when pain seared through his shoulder at the movement.
“Go and see Millie,” Gus ordered from behind him. “The training can wait. You need to get that shoulder doctored proper, or you’ll be useless handling crazy two-year-old colts.”
Sam clenched his jaw. Gus was right. There was no reason he couldn’t visit the kitchen at the big house for a few minutes and see if Millie had a special salve that could ease the pain in his shoulder. He’d be no use handling young horses in his condition. He’d slip in through the servants’ entrance, which led right into the kitchen. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?
“Fine, I’ll go see Millie,” he relented, and tossed a smile over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. “I’ll send her your love, and tell her you need some more of her healing hands yourself.”
Sam headed up the path that led to the house. His eyes had been on Miss Waterston walking along this path three days ago when she’d left the mare barn. He gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. Why had he even followed her into the broodmare barn that day?
He’d known it was a mistake to do what Gus had suggested, and talk to her. Truth was, though, he’d never wanted to talk to a woman more than he’d wanted to talk to this one. There was something about her that had drawn him to Emmaline . . . Emma, from the first moment he’d glimpsed her at the train station in Lexington. Even if she acted all uppity like a Kentucky blueblood, there was something different about her that he hadn’t been able to put a finger on, yet.
Best to get your mind back on the horses and away from a woman you have no business giving a second glance.
He chuckled. He’d done plenty of glancing and staring at her already. And it had to stop. She was as unattainable to him as owning a horse like Dusty someday.
The backdoor to the kitchen of the estate stood slightly ajar when he approached, allowing Millie’s loud voice to clearly drift outside.
“Pecan Pie is best made with bourbon,” Millie boomed. “And I add enough that you’ll definitely taste it.” She laughed. “No one complains about my Pecan Pie.”
“Have you ever made Boston Cream Pie?”
Sam stopped in his tracks. That soft voice belonged to the very person he’d wanted to avoid. What was she doing in the kitchens?
“Never heard of it,” Millie said. “But if we can add some good ole Kentucky bourbon to the recipe, I’ll gladly try it.”
“It’s more of a cake, actually, than a pie, but I think I remember how to make it,” Emma said, her voice rising with enthusiasm. She laughed softly. “I tried to make it once, for my cousin Rose’s birthday, but I’m afraid neither I nor my friends were very adept at cooking. Gillian was the only competent one, but she wasn’t available to help at the time. I’m not sure what it was that I ended up serving Rose.”
Millie chuckled heartily. “Girl, if you tell me what goes in it, I can make it.”
“That would be wonderful. It was always my favorite dessert growing up.”
Emma’s voice beamed with happiness. Sam stood rooted to the spot. He shouldn’t be here, eavesdropping.
“I’ll tell you the ingredients, at least what I remember, if you let me help and show me the proper way to bake a cake.”
Millie laughed again. “You sure have been a ray of sunshine around this house, Miss Emma. Miz Benton is a decent lady, but she don’t cotton to cooking. She likes her fancy things, and has good taste in food, but she don’t come to the kitchen.”
“I’ve learned how to cook a little, out of necessity.” Emma said almost hesitantly as if she didn’t want to reveal too much.
“Well, I’ll be glad to teach you some of my tricks. As long as I won’t be out of a job once you become the mistress of the house.”
There was a long pause, then Millie spoke again. “It’s gonna be all right,” she said, her words softer than she’d ever spoken.
“I don’t know, Millie. I’m afraid I’ve made a big mistake, coming here.”
“I don’t understand David Benton,” Millie chided. “He’s got a pretty soon-to-be-wife he ought to be spending time with, yet he rides away for days. Miz Benton thought getting her boy a wife would keep him home more.”
Sam clenched his jaw. If he had any sense at all, he’d head back down the road toward the barns. He had no business listening in on this conversation, but he couldn’t leave, hearing Emma’s soft voice.
“It’ll all work out,” Millie said quietly.
There was no doubt she was holding back and wanted to say more. Millie had never said a kind word about David Benton. Her sentiments about the man were the same as Sam’s.
“Thank you for offering to teach me how to cook.”
Sam had to strain his ears to really hear her softly spoken words. “Lizette’s got me standing for measurements for hours at a time, and it’s making my back sore.” She laughed. “I never thought I’d get tired of wardrobe fittings.”
“Glad to help,” Millie chortled. “It’s nice to have company in the kitchen once in a while. The maids don’t like to come in here, ‘cause they tell me I’m too bossy.” Millie chuckled heartily. “I’m sure there’s other ways for you to spend your time other than being poked and prodded with needles, or sneaking in here.”
Millie chuckled again. “Miz Benton is afraid of horses.”
Her voice drew closer. Too late for Sam to react, the door opened wider, and Millie stepped out with a pan in her hand. She swung her arms back and tossed the contents onto the ground. Sam jumped back just in time to avoid the spray of dirty dish water.
“Whoa.” Sam held out his hands in front of him as if fending off an attack. The quick action caused pain to rip through his shoulder.
Millie’s eyes widened and she glared at him. “Sam Hawley, what on earth are you doing, standing outside this door?”
Sam lifted the cap from his head and ran his hand through his hair. He’d been caught like a peeping tom.
“I was coming to see you,” he grumbled quickly. It wasn’t his fault that the door had been partly open to where he could hear the conversation. Millie didn’t have to know how long he’d been standing there, listening.
Millie’s hand shot to her hip and she narrowed her eyes on him. “Since when do you come and see me here at the big house? You avoid this place like the plague.” She paused, then a wave of concern washed over her face. She grabbed his arm. “It’s not Gus, is it? Is he all right?”
Sam grinned. “Gus is fine, but he wanted me to come and tell you that his horse liniment isn’t working on my shoulder. And, that he misses your food.”
A smug smile passed over Millie’s lips and she tilted her head. “So, you finally come and see me, huh? Been three days since that colt got you, isn’t it? You must be in some serious pain, boy.”
She stepped aside to make room for him to enter the kitchen and waved her hand to speed him along. Sam’s heart pounded inexplicably. He entered the spacious kitchen and his gaze instantly fell to the woman sitting on a stool along Millie’s long workbench.
Emma watched him walk in, a curious look in her eyes. Her back straightened and she held his gaze.
“Miss Waterston,” Sam said stiffly, for lack of another greeting.
“Hawley.” She nodded.
“Sam,” he corrected before she finished saying his last name.
Her eyes didn’t waver from his challenging stare. Sam’s lips twitched. She sure was a spunky thing. His heart sped up like a young colt racing for the homestretch.
Millie shot curious glances from him to Emma. Her hands were on her hips and her lips pressed together in a knowing smirk.
“Pull up a chair and sit down, Sam. You’re gonna have to take off that shirt so I can look at your shoulder.”
Emma shot from her seat as if she’d sat in a pile of fire ants.
“I’d best get going. I’m sure Lizette is looking for me by now. The seamstress is supposed to be here today with more dress alterations.”
Millie nodded. “We’ll work on your Boston Cream Pie tomorrow. If this boy comes to see me for an injured shoulder, I know he’s hurting, and I’d best take care of it.”
Emma smiled softly. There was a distinct note of sadness in her eyes. They didn’t sparkle the way they had the day she was in the barn.
“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll write down a list of ingredients. I just hope I can remember them all.”
Millie waved her off. “As long as I know the basic ingredients, I can make anything taste good, ain’t that right, Sam?”
He nodded dutifully. Emma’s smile brightened. “I know you’ll take Boston Cream Pie to new heights.” Her eyes moved to Sam and she nodded before turning to leave.
“Sam,” she said.
Sam raised his eyebrows that she’d called him by his given name. He caught himself in time before calling her Emma in return.
“Miss Waterston.”
“Say, Miss Emma.” Millie’s voice was slow, almost calculating.
Emma turned to look at the cook, her brows raised.
“You were asking about going riding,” Millie continued. Her eyes moved discretely to Sam for a fraction of a second and that smugness passed over her lips again. “You ought to ask Gus next time you visit the barn to recommend someone to take you for a ride. Seeing as you told me you’d like to get out of the house and go horseback riding.”
Emma’s eyes widened. Her gaze drifted to Sam before quickly making eye contact with Millie again. “I will,” she stammered, and hurried from the kitchen.
Millie chuckled, obviously satisfied about something.
“Sit down, boy, and get your head out of the clouds.” She pushed him toward the chair Emma had occupied a minute ago.
Sam stared at the door through which Emma disappeared. He unbuttoned his shirt while Millie rummaged through her cupboards.
“I think I’ve made a big mistake.”
Emma’s words from earlier came back to him. Was she having second thoughts about marrying Benton? Nothing would make him happier, knowing she wouldn’t be with Benton, but that didn’t mean anything where he was concerned. A blueblood didn’t mingle with the hired help. There was that little matter of coming from different social classes for him to associate with her.
Sam shook his head and peeled his shirt off, then braced himself for Millie’s ministrations to his injured shoulder.
Chapter Ten
Emma folded the last sheet of paper and stuffed it in its proper envelope, which was already addressed to Rose. Gillian’s and Willow’s letters were sealed. All she had to do now was ask Lizzy if someone could deliver the letters to Lexington so they could get mailed.
She rose from her seat and moved to the door leading to the balcony. Looking out at the fields each morning had become a ritual, and today she wasn’t going to sit in this great big house with nothing to do. She’d pestered Millie enough in the kitchen over the last few days.
To her great astonishment, the talented cook had produced a Boston Cream Pie that rivaled anything she’d tasted at home. Although, true to her word, Millie had added a generous dose of bourbon which had added to the cake’s rich flavor.
Emma buttoned up her shirtwaist and reached for the new pair of leather gloves on her dresser. The riding skirt she wore had arrived just yesterday. Lizette’s seamstress truly did remarkable work, in a short amount of time. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and smiled despite the constant feeling of dread that she’d made a terrible mistake in answering the ad to become David Benton’s wife.
He’d been gone for nearly a week. No one seemed to be concerned about his absence, especially the house staff. Millie had cut off mid-sentence several times when their conversations had turned to David. There were things she clearly didn’t want to say about her employer. No doubt, if he behaved as badly all the time as he had during their one and only brief meeting, Emma could well understand. On the up side, his extended absences from the estate meant she didn’t have to spend any time with him.
Emma pinned her hat to her head and left the room. Lizette was eating breakfast in the dining room when Emma entered. The older woman’s eyes swept over her with a satisfied smile.
“You look lovely, my dear,” she beamed, and indicated for her to sit. “Have some breakfast with me. Millie is rather put out that you don’t seem to enjoy her cooking.”
Emma smiled and shook her head to decline the offer.
“Millie knows I like her cooking. She also knows I prefer not to eat in the morning. I think she’s slowly coming around to that idea.”
Lizette nodded. “Your outfit looks nice. Hetty has done a wonderful job on your wardrobe so far.” She sipped her coffee and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “The material for your wedding gown should arrive any day.”
A quick jolt of apprehension at the word wedding seeped through Emma, but she plastered a smile on her face.
“Are you sure you don’t mind that I go to the stables this morning?”
Even if Lizette answered i
n the negative, Emma would find a way to get to the barns. The temptation of the horses beckoning to her from her view on the balcony had grown stronger every day.
“Of course not, dear,” Lizette sang. “I can have Judith escort you to the carriage house, where you’ll find Gus. He’s been the caretaker and my family’s personal driver here at the Three Elms for nearly forty years. I trust him explicitly. Without him, I’m afraid half of my staff and stable help would walk out on me.” Lizette chuckled.
She stood and strode over to Emma, patting her arm. “David will be back any day now. I’m sure he’d be delighted to take you for a ride and show you the grounds, but I see that you’re restless. Gus will find a trustworthy groom to escort you.”
“Did someone say my name?”
Emma’s head snapped around to the entry, where David Benton strode into the room with long, sweeping strides. Her eyes widened. He looked noticeably different than the last time she’d seen him. Dressed impeccably in a dark blue suit, he wore a bright smile. His gaze swept from his mother and settled on Emma. She swallowed.
“Hello, Mother,” he said, and bowed slightly before Lizette. He kissed the top of her hand, then turned his attention on Emma.
His eyes roamed over her appreciatively. Although there was no hint that he was drunk, there was something dark in his stare, like some hungry predator on the prowl. He took her hand in his and held it to his lips. His gaze held hers while his mouth lingered on the top of her hand.
“I almost forgot how absolutely lovely you are, Emma. I do apologize for my behavior the other day. I hope we can start fresh, and pretend that incident never happened.”
Emma caught the wide-eyed look on Lizette’s face before she turned her full attention to her intended husband.
“I would like that.” She offered an uneasy smile.
Her heart drummed against her ribs, not in an exhilarated way, but one laced with trepidation, and she tugged her hand back from his grip. His overly-friendly demeanor was unsettling. The memory of another man’s face obscured her vision of David.
Emma: Bride of Kentucky (American Mail-Order Bride 15) Page 7