Sighing, he pulled off his other boot. Knowing that Emily would never be happy here on the ranch—never be happy with him or their marriage—bothered him in ways he didn’t fully understand. Nor did he know why the memory of her laugh, her voice, and her indomitable spirit followed him even out on the range.

She had turned down Royce’s offer. That made Chase feel even more indebted to her, and that was a problem. He tossed his boot down. Gratitude was a lousy reason to want someone, but where Emily was concerned, it didn’t take much to tempt him. A smile. The way she turned her head or wrinkled her nose. Anything would do.

Still, he didn’t know what shocked him more—his stepbrother’s underhanded offer or Emily’s refusal to take it.

She said she was a woman of her word, and she’d proven it. It seemed only right that he show his appreciation in some way. But how?

After a few minutes of racking his brain, something occurred to him. She’d been cooped up on the ranch. No wonder she had seemed restless and bored of late. No doubt she missed the teas and parties she’d talked about. Missed whatever Bostonian women did to fill their days.

It was time to start socializing as husband and wife. Not only was it bound to please her, but it would send a message to Royce that any effort on his part to break them up would be a waste of time.

Convinced he was on the right trail, Chase decided that attending a worship service would be a good place to start.

He was tempted to tell her his plan at once but stopped short of ducking through the black curtains to her room. He didn’t trust himself around her. The temptation to take her in his arms grew stronger with each passing day, but never had it been as strong as it had been tonight.

That was another reason why socializing might be a good idea. Having more people around might help defuse the tension he felt whenever they were alone.

For that reason, he forced himself to wait until the following morning when she arrived at the stables to tell her his plan. “It’s time to introduce you to the townsfolk,” he announced without preamble.

Once he’d formally introduced her around, invitations to social functions were bound to follow.

Certain she’d welcome the news, he continued without waiting for her response. “On Sunday, we’ll ride to the gospel…uh…church.” He didn’t trust her yet to ride that distance by herself, but he was relatively certain she could make the trip with him by her side.

Instead of looking pleased as he’d hoped, she stared at him with a look of dismay. “Ride to church,” she gasped, as if he’d suggested some ghastly deed. “In my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes?”

A vision popped into his head of her dressed in a fancy frock with a straight skirt and one of those ridiculous padded seats in back. What were they called? Bristles? Bustles? He much preferred her in her present attire, her feminine form left in its natural state the way the good Lord intended.