keeping his stance relaxed, gently turned her around to look at the long row of buttons down the back of Philamena’s gown.
“You and Abby did a wonderful job sewing your gown. I don’t know when I’ve seen a more beautiful bride. I am wondering, though, how you propose changing your dress?” Luke asked, laughter filling his voice as he watched red creep up his bride’s neck. He knew her entire face was probably flushed. “The last time I saw this many buttons in one spot was when George’s boy Percy dumped a whole box of them across the floor at the mercantile.”
“I hadn’t given it any thought,” Philamena said, unable to hide the heat of embarrassment that filled her face and burned her neck.
Now that Luke mentioned it, she had no idea how to get out of the dress Abby had buttoned her into. Dozens of buttons marched down the back of her gown. Even twisting and turning, she would never be able to reach enough of them to get the dress undone. Maybe Luke could send for Abby, but then Philamena knew her friend was likely exhausted after all her assistance with the wedding.
“Let me help,” Luke said quietly and started to the task. Philamena went ramrod straight and Luke could feel her stiffen beneath his touch. As he undid the top few buttons, he admired the slender column of her neck and inhaled her intoxicating rose scent. He wished, not for the first time today, that Philamena was his wife in more than name only. Maybe in time it would be so.
First, he had to win her trust and, he hoped, her friendship. When her skin flushed with heat and she drew in a sharp breath, Luke stopped working on the buttons and placed a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I promise I won’t do anything immoral, illegal, or compromising in any way. I will simply undo the buttons,” Luke said, trying to sound convincing.
Philamena nodded, so Luke continued. Although his big fingers had quite a time getting the buttons undone, they were spaced so close together Luke didn’t know how Philamena would ever reach them, so he kept on going. He was more than half done when the top of her gown fell slightly open and he could see her fine white chemise as well as the edging of her corset. What caught his attention, though, was Philamena’s scarred flesh.
Fumbling in his shocked state, he hurried to undo the rest of the buttons. Knowing it would embarrass his bride but unable to stop himself, he pulled open the back of her dress and gaped at the ribbons of scars across her shoulders that ran down into her chemise. Luke couldn’t imagine what had caused the scars or how painful it had been for the woman who stood trembling before him.
Placing a finger to one the scars, he traced the raised flesh and felt Philamena shudder.
“What happened,” he whispered, shocked by the suffering her body had borne. “How did this happen?”
Philamena stood with her head hanging down and drew in a ragged breath. “I… um… my…”
“Your father did this, didn’t he?” Luke asked, knowing as he said the words they were true. “Your father beat you?”
“Yes,” Philamena whispered. “He came home drunk one night a few years ago, had spent all our money. I was so tired of his drinking. I ran outside and before he could even get out of the saddle I said something about how ashamed Mama would have been of him. He yanked the bridle off the horse and used the reins to…”
Philamena couldn’t speak through her tears. She was mortified for Luke to discover her scars, ashamed her father had put them there.
“Oh, darlin’,” Luke said, turning her around and holding her. To his surprise, Philamena fit so perfectly there, nestled against his chest. She was a tall woman, much taller than any he’d been around before, but she felt so right in his arms. Holding her, he murmured soothing words, rocking back and forth until he felt her relax a bit.
“Philamena,” Luke said, tipping her chin up so she had to look
“You and Abby did a wonderful job sewing your gown. I don’t know when I’ve seen a more beautiful bride. I am wondering, though, how you propose changing your dress?” Luke asked, laughter filling his voice as he watched red creep up his bride’s neck. He knew her entire face was probably flushed. “The last time I saw this many buttons in one spot was when George’s boy Percy dumped a whole box of them across the floor at the mercantile.”
“I hadn’t given it any thought,” Philamena said, unable to hide the heat of embarrassment that filled her face and burned her neck.
Now that Luke mentioned it, she had no idea how to get out of the dress Abby had buttoned her into. Dozens of buttons marched down the back of her gown. Even twisting and turning, she would never be able to reach enough of them to get the dress undone. Maybe Luke could send for Abby, but then Philamena knew her friend was likely exhausted after all her assistance with the wedding.
“Let me help,” Luke said quietly and started to the task. Philamena went ramrod straight and Luke could feel her stiffen beneath his touch. As he undid the top few buttons, he admired the slender column of her neck and inhaled her intoxicating rose scent. He wished, not for the first time today, that Philamena was his wife in more than name only. Maybe in time it would be so.
First, he had to win her trust and, he hoped, her friendship. When her skin flushed with heat and she drew in a sharp breath, Luke stopped working on the buttons and placed a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I promise I won’t do anything immoral, illegal, or compromising in any way. I will simply undo the buttons,” Luke said, trying to sound convincing.
Philamena nodded, so Luke continued. Although his big fingers had quite a time getting the buttons undone, they were spaced so close together Luke didn’t know how Philamena would ever reach them, so he kept on going. He was more than half done when the top of her gown fell slightly open and he could see her fine white chemise as well as the edging of her corset. What caught his attention, though, was Philamena’s scarred flesh.
Fumbling in his shocked state, he hurried to undo the rest of the buttons. Knowing it would embarrass his bride but unable to stop himself, he pulled open the back of her dress and gaped at the ribbons of scars across her shoulders that ran down into her chemise. Luke couldn’t imagine what had caused the scars or how painful it had been for the woman who stood trembling before him.
Placing a finger to one the scars, he traced the raised flesh and felt Philamena shudder.
“What happened,” he whispered, shocked by the suffering her body had borne. “How did this happen?”
Philamena stood with her head hanging down and drew in a ragged breath. “I… um… my…”
“Your father did this, didn’t he?” Luke asked, knowing as he said the words they were true. “Your father beat you?”
“Yes,” Philamena whispered. “He came home drunk one night a few years ago, had spent all our money. I was so tired of his drinking. I ran outside and before he could even get out of the saddle I said something about how ashamed Mama would have been of him. He yanked the bridle off the horse and used the reins to…”
Philamena couldn’t speak through her tears. She was mortified for Luke to discover her scars, ashamed her father had put them there.
“Oh, darlin’,” Luke said, turning her around and holding her. To his surprise, Philamena fit so perfectly there, nestled against his chest. She was a tall woman, much taller than any he’d been around before, but she felt so right in his arms. Holding her, he murmured soothing words, rocking back and forth until he felt her relax a bit.
“Philamena,” Luke said, tipping her chin up so she had to look
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