fingertips. A kiss that had weakened her. Now she studied that face. His razor sharp cheekbones. A wide but firm mouth. The strong jaw. And knew she'd never forget it. His hair was sleek, black, and brushed back from his face. The man was gorgeous. He stood, shoulders back, as those eyes burned into hers. And he smelled good enough to eat. Clean, spicy cologne and all male.
For the rest of the day not once did his hand relinquish hers.
Not once.
Emma and Oscar had sat at a table in a quiet corner of the vast ballroom of Ludlow Hall and ignored everyone else in the room. Four hours later, they admitted that they'd fallen madly in love. For ten days and nights they'd been inseparable.
Later, back in the real world and her real life in New York, Emma slowly began to understand that the man she'd tumbled into love with had been deliberately vague about his military career. And that was when she'd had the first stirrings of doubt.
Catherine Ludlow had done nothing to allay her daughter's fears.
Once her mother had realised Emma was serious about her relationship, she'd been vocal in her strong opposition to Oscar. At first, Emma couldn't understand her mother’s issue. The man she loved was from a good family. He was in the military. But it wasn't until her mother had made a comment about his ethnicity that Emma had finally understood. For the first time in her life she'd argued with the mother she adored who, Emma made crystal clear, shamed her.
Then, without a word, Oscar had disappeared.
A few days later she'd received his letter.
A letter that had destroyed her dreams and broken her heart.
Terrified and estranged from her mother, Emma had discovered she was pregnant. However, fate wasn't finished with her quite yet. It had been the loss of her baby at twelve weeks that had truly shattered her soul.
And the memory of reliving that experience was all too much.
The agony of her lost child, merged with the nightmare of her marriage and the truth she'd learned today. Now, slumped against the shower wall as water stung her face, the harsh reality of the terrible thing her mother had done to Oscar, to her, burst the heaving dam of Emma's emotions wide open.
Beyond pain, she cried out loud.
A year of therapy had taught her that dealing with the bad stuff as it happened was very important if a person wanted to heal and move on. And Emma let it all out. If there was one thing she'd learned after living with Richard, she'd learned to accept pain. That was the thing about pain, it's a part of life. Pain demanded to be felt because the person who suffered either grew as a human being, became more, or chose to remain broken.
The choice, Emma knew, was up to her.
No way would she break.
No way.
But why on earth had mother done such a thing?
Because, the relentless voice of truth whispered in her ear, Oscar was mixed race. A stunningly beautiful example of mixed race it was true, but an example her mother was determined would never be a part of her family.
And Emma knew, deep in her heart, that she would never, ever forgive her mother for this.
Never.
Now she buried her face in her hands.
Why was it every time she thought she was moving forward, something happened to kick her legs out from under her like this?
Why was life so bloody hard?
Her legs wouldn't hold her upright as she slid down the wall of the shower to the floor, to curl up in a tight little ball. In her relentless ambition for her daughter, and for herself, her mother had done terrible, terrible things. Now Emma wondered why she hadn't questioned the validity of the letter right from the very beginning? But now she admitted she'd been too hurt by losing Oscar, too bewildered by the loss of their child, to think logically never mind clearly.
What daughter could ever imagine a mother so determined to get her own way, she'd commit a criminal act of forgery?
Emma couldn't get her head around it.
And what of Oscar himself?
He was a sensible man, which