“Needed to see you, and I figured it was just as easy to go around the house as to try to push through the crowd. Besides, I wanted your attention. Looks like I got it.” Emerson leaned against the doorjamb and added, “The General sent me. Are you going to let me in?”
“Sent you—to do what?”
Emerson grinned. “To marry you—what else?”
Chapter 2
‡
When Wye sputtered, coughed, then laughed and burst out, “Marry me?” Emerson told himself to keep calm. He’d surprised her, that was all. She hadn’t said no yet—that was a good start.
“That’s right. What’s wrong with that?”
“For one thing, I’m not the General’s daughter. I’m not a part of whatever is going on in this place.” She waved a hand to encompass the ranch. “I don’t predict the future, or hear the garden plants talk to me, or anything like that, and I’m certainly not the type of person someone sends soldiers to marry.”
“You are now.” Although he was glad she wasn’t as fey as the Reed women. Strange things happened at Two Willows, and he was content not to be a part of that.
“Am not.”
“You think I’m lying?” Emerson had known Wye was too cautious to jump at a proposal like the one he’d just made her, but he had hoped to see a little more curiosity, at least.
Instead, Wye straightened as Cass called from the kitchen, “Food’s ready. Form a line, and don’t worry; there’s plenty for everyone.”
Wye lowered her voice, as if anyone could hear over the din as everyone surged into the hall to form a line at the entry to the kitchen. “I think you’re teasing me. And it isn’t very funny, Emerson.”
Uh oh. Wye was a proud woman. If she thought he was making her the butt of a joke, she’d be furious.
“I’m not teasing you,” he assured her, becoming more serious, “and you’re right—it wouldn’t be very funny if I was.” He took her elbow, drew her outside and shut the door so they could hear each other. This was too important to risk her misunderstanding him. Wye shivered in the cold, and he knew he didn’t have much time to make this right. “I’ve been here long enough to know what I feel about you.” He moved in closer, his hand still cupping her elbow. “I like you—a lot. Don’t you think we could be good together?”
“Together… as in married together? You don’t know me nearly well enough to even guess at that. And I don’t know you, either.” She reached for the door handle.
Emerson covered her hand with his, determined not to lose this moment with her. “Yes, as in married together. Maybe not now, but—”
“Of course not now. We haven’t even gone on a single date!” She turned the handle and leaned in to push it open despite his interference, sending the back of her hoopskirt skyward. With a growl of frustration, Wye clapped a hand on her skirt to push it down.
“I’d like to start dating,” Emerson said, biting back a grin.
She turned a baleful look on him. “You could have led with that. Not with this marrying nonsense.”
“Blame the General.” He shifted to insert himself between her and the door. “He ordered me to marry you, not take you to the movies.”
“Is that what this is about? The General? What if I don’t want to marry you? Will he send me packing?” Wye stared up at him.
“You don’t want to marry me?” He folded his arms over his chest, bracing himself for her answer.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She tried once more to reach around him for the doorknob, but as the front of her hoopskirt pressed against his legs, the back of it tilted up again. “This stupid dress!” She retreated, her color high, and Emerson noticed she hadn’t answered his question. Did that mean there was hope?
“So you don’t want to marry me today,” he clarified. “I’ll let the General know, but I’m pretty sure I can guess his next question.”
“What would that be?” Wye snapped. He could tell she was trying to figure out how to get to the doorknob without sending the back of her skirt upward again. He sent a silent thank-you to Alice for picking such an impractical style.
“When will you want to marry me?” He ducked when she shoved him. “Hey, you can’t blame me for asking, can you? Like I said, I like you, Wyoming Smith, and more to the point, I have my orders. If I defy my superior officer, I could be court martialed.”
“I don’t think so.” She crossed her arms, shivering a little. He’d better get her inside soon, but first he wanted an answer.
“Think of it as me serving notice of my intentions,” he said placatingly. “We can take as long as we want to get to the altar, but at some point we have to get there.” He nearly smiled at her incredulous expression. He had a feeling Wye had pegged him as someone as practical as she was, and this outrageous proposal had thrown her for a loop. He figured he might as well make the most of his advantage. “So pick a date,” he said. “It’ll make everyone happy—me especially—and it’ll get the General off our backs.”
Wye snorted in a decidedly unladylike manner. “That’s the problem with men in a nutshell, isn’t it? They’re always on your back. They don’t really want a partner in life; they want a servant.”
“Hold on, wait a minute, that’s not true at all.” Emerson straightened up. He wasn’t going to let her tar him with that brush.
“Isn’t it?” she demanded. “If I became your wife, you’d expect me to cook and clean, take care of the kids, wash your laundry, iron your uniform—” Those were the kind of things her mother had done before she took off for greener pastures. That’s what she’d
