The thought of being held against her will filled her with horror. Running barefooted across the room, she ripped the door open. It wasn’t locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, she quietly shut the door and slumped against the cool, smooth wood.

Maybe Mr. McKnight was just being thoughtful. So far, he had been a gentleman and had seemed as eager to set things straight as she was. Feeling better, she crossed the room to take care of her morning ablutions. It was easier to face life’s challenges when looking one’s best.

After filling the porcelain basin with water and washing her face, she picked out the plainest dress she owned. The rust-colored print brought out the golden highlights of her blond hair. The dress molded around her small waist and trim hips and fell into a modest bustle in back. Lace trimmed the square neckline and sleeves.

She’d worn the dress in the past when shopping and visiting friends. Never could she have imagined that one day, she would wear it to end a marriage.

After finishing her ablutions and arranging her long, blond hair into a tidy bun at the back of her neck, she stared at the wedding dress tossed carelessly on a chair. The opulent gown reminded her of everything she’d come to Texas to forget. She should have burned it along with all the other reminders.

Sighing, she turned. She was reluctant to leave the safety of the room, but she was anxious to take care of business. The sooner her marriage was annulled, the sooner she could wed the man she was supposed to wed and get on with her life. With that in mind, she quietly cracked open the door. Silence greeting her, she stepped into the hall.

It was but a short distance to the staircase. She’d been too tired from her journey and too overwhelmed by her disastrous wedding to take much notice of the ranch house the night before. Now it commanded her full attention.

The stairs led down to a large masculine-looking room filled with oversized leather furniture. Used to the lavishly furnished rooms back home, Emily found the ranch house stark, almost cave-like in appearance. No heavy draperies or curtains adorned the windows that stretched from baseboard to ceiling. Instead, the windows had been left bare, allowing for panoramic views of sparse land and rolling hills. Never had Emily been able to look so far and see so little until coming west.

Pulling her gaze away from the windows, she studied her surroundings. Framed photographs adorned the upright piano, most of the subjects looking as grim as the decor. The only embellishments on the painted white walls were steer horns and antlers and the stuffed head of a snarling wild cat.

Shuddering, she followed the smell of coffee through a large dining room with an oak table that could seat twelve. An open door led to a barn-size kitchen.

She was greeted by a man with a broad face and a wide smile. His long, white hair was brushed from his forehead and tied at his neck with a length of rawhide.