Lorraine Heath (10 page)

His heart felt as though someone had just closed a meaty fist around it. He drew the horse to a halt near the porch. “Howdy.”

She crossed one bare foot over the other and put her hands behind her back, causing the worn material of her dress to stretch taut across her breasts. Austin’s mouth went as dry as the West Texas wind in August.

“Did you find the man you were looking for?”

“No.”

She peered around Black Thunder, obvious curiosity furrowing her delicate brow. “What are you holding?”

Austin glanced at his thigh. “Dog.”

Dismounting, he remembered a time when he could have spoken more than one word without his throat closing off. She’d urged him not to return, and he had been leery of the welcome she’d bestow upon him. He wouldn’t have blamed her for leveling her rifle at him and pulling the trigger this time. Cradling the animal in his palm, he extended it toward her. “It’s for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and her smile faltered before returning brighter than before. She took the puppy and rubbed it against her cheek. “He’s beautiful.”

She dropped to the porch and set the dog on her lap, running her small hands over the brown and white fur, and Austin knew a pang of envy.

She leaned close to the dog. “Do you have a name?”

His pink tongue snaked out and licked her chin, her nose. Loree laughed and Austin felt a shaft of pure joy pierce his soul. She looked up at him. “Does he have a name?”

Austin eased down to the porch, keeping a respectful distance, knowing it was ludicrous to even worry about respectability after all they’d shared. “Between town and here, I was calling him Two-bits. That’s what he cost me.”

“Two-bits,” she repeated as she scratched behind the dog’s short ears. The dog’s body visibly quivered, and it released a little sound deep in its throat that had Austin shifting his butt on the porch, wondering what it would take to get Loree to rub her hands over him.

She peered at him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” It truly was his pleasure to see her eyes shining like gold touched by the sun, and he wished he had more to offer her. She turned her attention back to the dog, and Austin shifted his gaze to the sunset, realizing why he’d come here. In town, surrounded by people, the loneliness had sharpened and grown. But here on this porch, sitting beside this woman, the loneliness eased away.

“Were you and Becky engaged?”

He snapped his head around and met her hesitant gaze. She licked her lips. “I was just curious. I always thought I’d know everything there was to know about a man before I … ”

Even in the fading light, he saw the embarrassment flaming her cheeks. He watched her swallow.

“It just seems to me that we … we got ahead of ourselves,” she said softly.

She struggled to hold his gaze, and his heart went out to her. He owed her. More than he could ever pay. Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands tightly together. “No, we weren’t engaged. We’d talked about getting married, but we never announced it. Guess I thought the talking about it etched it in stone, and that wasn’t the way of it.”

“Did you know the man she married?”

“He was my best friend.”

Sympathy filled her eyes. “That must have been so hard—to lose Becky and your best friend.”

He shrugged. “I always told Cameron that he needed to take care of Becky if I couldn’t. Reckon he took my instructions to heart.” He worked his jaw back and forth, knowing he should stop there, but this woman had a way about her that made him want to continue. “They’ve got a son. That hurt, seeing him for the first time. Until then, I thought …”

She leaned toward him. “What did you think?”

His mouth grew dry, and he stared at the scuffed toes of his boots. “That maybe she wasn’t lying in Cameron’s arms at night.” He unclasped his hands, afraid the tension radiating through him would snap a bone.

“Do you think she’s happy?”

He wiped his sweating hands on his thighs. “I hope she is.” Peering over at her, he gave her a sad smile. “Truly I hope she is.”

Reaching out, she threaded her fingers through his. “I imagine she wishes the same for you.”

Strangely, he thought she was probably right. He closed his fingers gently around hers and rubbed the thumb of his free hand back and forth across her knuckles. “So tell me about Jake.”

She drew her brows together. “Jake?”

Unwarranted joy shot through him, and he had to fight like the devil to keep the smile buried deep within his chest, to keep his face serious. He’d suspected that there had been no Jake in her life. “Yeah, Jake. Remember? You were thinking about him—”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Jake.”

She tried to pull her hand from his, but Austin tightened his grip. “So tell me about him.”

The dog tumbled out of her lap, hit the ground with a yip, and pounced after a bug. Loree stopped struggling and lowered her gaze to her bare toes. “There is no Jake.”

Austin slipped his finger beneath her chin and tilted her face back until her gaze met his. “I suspected as much.”

“Why? Because I’m so plain?”

“You’re not plain, Loree. There’s something about you—a sweetness that just bubbles up from deep inside you. It touches your eyes, your lips. Once a man had gained your affections, he’d be a fool to leave you.” He grazed his thumb over her full lower lip. “I have been known to be a fool.”

“You say that as though you had gained my affections. If you believe that, you assume too much. I don’t even know you. I was hurting and needed comfort. You offered, and as wrong as it was, I took. That’s all.”

“Was it wrong, Loree?”

In the encroaching darkness, he still saw the tears welling in her eyes as she nodded briskly.

“Why did you have to say her name?” she rasped. “Now, I can’t even pretend you wanted me. I
know
you were thinking of someone else.” She shot off the porch like a bullet fired from a rifle. She waved her hand dismissively in the air. “It doesn’t matter. You used me. I used you.” She scooped up the dog and hugged it close against her breast. “You don’t owe me anything.”

But it did matter, and he did owe her because he didn’t think Loree Grant could
use
someone if her life depended on it. He came slowly to his feet, his gaze never leaving hers. “Maybe I owe me something.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” He mounted Black Thunder and touched his finger to the brim of his hat. “Take care, Miss Grant.”

He set his heels to his horse’s sides and sent him into a lope. Austin had spent five years thinking about an auburn haired blue-eyed beauty. He didn’t intend to spend the rest of his life thinking about a oldeneyed blond haired woman who had touched him one night and sent all his common sense to perdition.

He’d given her the damn dog. He had nothing else to offer her. And she was right. Even his heart wasn’t free.

A
ustin Leigh owed her nothing. Loree repeated that litany in the following days as she watched Two-bits romp through her garden. He was a fierce protector. As she watched him attack the worms he uncovered, she couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so hard.

Two-bits would never replace Digger in her heart, but he was slowly earning his own place, different but just as precious. She wondered if any woman would ever replace the woman Austin held in his heart. She thought it unlikely. She doubted that his heart even held room for another.

She wished she had kept her hurt buried deep inside and hadn’t shown it to him when he visited her. She had driven him away with her accusations. He’d never return now. She knew it was for the best, but the loneliness increased because for some unfathomable reason when she had seen him sitting astride his horse, it felt as though a part of her had come home.

Standing in her garden, she heard the rapid clop of horses’ hooves and the whirl of wheels. She spun around, her heart imitating the rapid motion of the buggy as it approached, two matching bay horses trotting before it. Austin pulled back on the reins, jumped out of the black buggy, and swept his hat from his head. “Morning, Miss Grant.”

Her breath hitched at the warm smile he bestowed upon her. “What are you doing?”

“Well …” He turned his hat in his hands as he walked toward her. “I told you my parents had lived near Austin. My brother drew a map of the area for me before I left. I woke up this morning with a hankering to see the old homestead. I was hoping you’d give me the pleasure of your company.”

He halted his steps and his fingers tightened around the brim of his hat. “But I’m not courting you, Loree. I’ve got nothing to offer you so I want to make that clear at the outset, but since you’d mentioned not knowing me well … and thinking that you should, I just thought you might like to come.” His smile lessened. “And I’d like for you to be there with me.”

“I could pack some food and we could have a picnic.”

His smile returned, deeper than before. “I had the kitchen staff at the hotel fix us something and I bundled up the blankets from my bed …” His gaze slowly roamed over her. “So you wouldn’t have to get your britches dirty.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at her brother’s clothes. “Do you have time for me to change into a dress?”

He settled his hat into place. “I have time for you to do anything you want.”

“I won’t be long,” she assured him as she hurried past him and scurried into the house, her heart beating so hard she was certain he’d been able to hear it. He had come back. His reasons didn’t matter, and she didn’t care that he wasn’t courting her. She would spend the day without the loneliness eating at her.

She washed up quickly before donning the faded yellow dress. She rolled the stockings over her callused feet and up her calves before reaching beneath the bed and dragging out her black shoes. She worked her feet into the hated leather, reached for the button hook, and sealed her feet into what she’d always considered an instrument of torture.

But for reasons she couldn’t understand, today, she was glad she’d kept them. She almost twisted her ankle with the first step she took toward the mirror. She gazed at her reflection, wishing the dress were a bit more fashionable, her hair more colorful. She wasn’t a beauty. Yet Austin had rented a buggy and two horses and driven out here, seeking her company, when surely he had met women in town.

She tossed the braid over her shoulder, hating the way it made her look like a little girl. But she had never tried to sweep it up into a womanly fashion and had no idea where to begin. With a sigh, she grabbed a ragged shawl just in case they didn’t get back before nightfall and headed out the door.

Austin shoved himself away from the porch beam as she closed the door, the shawl draped over her arm. She hadn’t noticed before how his shirt appeared to be freshly laundered, recently ironed. His hair no longer curled around his collar, but was slightly shorter, cut even along the edges, and when the breeze blew by him and traveled to her, she smelled soap and a scent that was uniquely his. For a man who wasn’t courting, he’d gone to a lot of trouble. When she had finished her slow perusal, she lifted her gaze to his sparkling blue eyes.

“You’re wearing shoes,” he said quietly, but she heard the amusement in his voice. “I was beginning to wonder if you owned a pair.”

“I wear them in winter … and on special occasions.” The heat warmed her cheeks. “I’ve never taken a ride in a buggy.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. This buggy rides well.”

She stepped off the porch, and he fell in step beside her, his hand coming to rest easily on the small of her back. The buggy had two seats. The bench in the back held two boxes.

“What’s in the boxes?” she asked.

“Our lunch is in one, and your dog is in the other.”

Looking up at him, she nearly tripped over her feet. He steadied her and smiled. “Didn’t figure you’d want to leave him here alone. I put him in the box with some blankets and my pocket watch. He went right to sleep.”

He took her hand, helped her into the carriage, and settled beside her, his thigh brushing hers. She pressed her knees together and clenched her hands in her lap. He lifted the reins and gave the horses a gentle rap on the backside. In unison, they surged forward into a trot.

They rode in silence for several moments, the countryside unfolding before them, bathed in the blue of bluebonnets.

“I love this time of year,” Loree said wistfully, “when the flowers coat the hills.”

“Their fragrance reminds me of you.”

Peering at him, finding his gaze fastened on her, she released a self-conscious laugh. “I gather them up, dry them out, and sprinkle the petals around the house. Sometimes I put them in my bath water.”

His eyes darkened and she wondered if he was thinking of the night when he’d washed her. His gaze drifted down to her lips and she knew he was.

“How far away is your old home?” she asked hastily.

“If my brother’s map is accurate, I figure an hour or so.”

The journey took a little over two hours, and Loree thought it was the most pleasant two hours of her life, even though they spoke little. When he finally drew the buggy to a halt, Loree felt a somberness come over him. She couldn’t say that she blamed him. Weeds, overgrowth, and a dilapidated structure that might have once been a one-room cabin greeted them.

Although she had grown up with little, she knew she’d had more than he might have possessed here. The buggy rocked as he climbed out. He walked around the horses and came to her side, extending his hand. He helped her out, then reached beneath the seat and gathered up a handful of bluebonnets. She was surprised to feel the slight trembling in his hand as he wrapped it around hers.

“I don’t remember much about the place,” he said quietly as he led her away from the buggy.

“How old were you when you left?” she asked.

“Five.”

They walked until they reached a towering oak tree, the branches spreading out gracefully, the abundant leaves whispering in the breeze. Hanging from the lowest branch, a swing made of fraying rope and weathered wood swayed slightly. On the ground to the right of it, among the weeds and briars, stood a wooden marker.

Lovita Leigh.

Wife and Mother.

Deeply Loved, Sorely Missed

1829-1865

Austin released Loree’s hand, removed his hat, dropped to one knee beside the grave, pulled at the weeds until he’d made a small clearing, and placed the flowers in front of the marker. He braced his forearm on his thigh and bowed his head.

Loree knew a moment’s hesitation, feeling awkward because she was familiar with every aspect of the outer man and understood so little of the man who dwelled inside. Yet from the beginning, she had been drawn to him and the anguish in his eyes that spoke when his voice didn’t.

She knelt beside him and laid her hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. He turned his hand slightly and moved it back until he was able to intertwine his fingers with hers.

“I don’t remember what she looked like,” he said quietly. “A man should remember his mother.”

“You do remember her or you wouldn’t have felt a need to come here.” She touched the blue petals of the flowers he’d set on the ground. “I bet you picked flowers for her.”

A faraway look came into his eyes and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, I did. She laughed. Not because she thought it was funny, but because it made her happy.” He closed his eyes. “Lord, she had a pretty laugh … like music.”

“Did she tell you stories at bedtime?”

He opened his eyes, and it gladdened her heart to see that a small portion of the sadness had melted away.

“She told me stories, but not with words. She used songs. I remember she’d sit on the edge of my bed, and I’d watch her fingers caress the violin strings as she moved the bow and the most beautiful sounds flowed from the wood through the strings. I tried so hard not to fall asleep so I could keep watching her hands. I loved watching her hands.” Turning his head slightly, he smiled warmly. “I remember her hands. She had the longest fingers—”

“Like yours.”

Surprise flitted across his face. He lifted the hand she wasn’t holding, turned it, and studied it from all angles. “I reckon so. I never noticed before.”

“You should learn to play the violin.”

She felt his hand stiffen within hers.

“You have to hear the music in your heart before you can create it with a fiddle. I can’t do that,” he said.

“You could try—”

“I can’t.”

He surged to his feet, pulling her up with him, his fingers tightening around hers as he walked away from the grave. Loree stumbled as she followed. He swung around, caught, and steadied her.

“You all right?” he asked, concern clearly reflected in his eyes.

Her cheeks grew warm, and she suddenly wished she’d spent the last five years practicing to be a lady as her mother had wanted instead of a hoyden thinking no man would ever look at her the way Austin Leigh was looking at her now. She nodded jerkily and gave him a wan smile. “I’m just used to ground beneath my feet instead of leather.”

As though amused, he slowly shook his head and glanced at her scuffed shoes. Unexpectedly he dropped to one knee and slapped his raised thigh. “Put your foot up here.”

“What are you going to do?”

He grabbed her ankle and lifted her foot. Thrown off-balance, she clamped her fingers onto his shoulder to brace herself. She watched in amazement as he freed the buttons on her shoe. She thought about jerking her foot back, insisting the shoes stay where they were, but he dropped his head back and she fell into the depths of his blue, blue eyes. How many times during the past week had she caught herself staring into the flames of a fire, searching for the warmth of his gaze?

He worked her shoe off, and when she would have removed her stockinged foot from his thigh, he covered it with his palm and held it in place. His gaze holding hers, he slowly guided his hands over her ankle, beneath her skirt, up her calf, past her knee, until his fingers grazed the bare flesh of her thigh just above her stockings. Scalding heat shot through her, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

Using his thumbs, he rolled her stocking down her leg, while his fingers trailed over her skin, his gaze never leaving hers, the blue darkening until she felt as though he had ignited something within her. Her heart beat so hard that she was certain he’d be able to feel the pounding in her toes. He skimmed her stocking over her foot, and finally lowered his gaze to her bare foot. He rubbed his finger over the top of her foot.

“You’ve got the cutest toes.”

“They’re crooked,” she told him as though he didn’t have a clear view of her toes as he massaged each toe thoroughly before moving onto the next.

Feeling as though every bone in her body was melting, she was surprised she still had the ability to stand.

“Did you break this toe?” he asked when he reached the toe next to her biggest toe.

“No. My pa had toes like that. He called it a hammer toe. See, it looks like a hammer.”

He gave her a grin that very nearly caused all the breath to leave her body. She was too aware of him. Memories of his touching her in the ways that a man touched a woman threatened to turn from cold ashes into a blazing fire. She jerked her foot off his thigh.

As though he knew exactly what she’d been remembering, he patted his thigh and his smile grew. “Other foot.”

She took a deep calming breath. “I can take it off.” To her embarrassment, her voice hitched, but he didn’t laugh. He just turned those blue eyes on her, challenging her. “Come on, Sugar. Give me your other foot before you break your pretty neck.”

She had never been able to resist a challenge. She stomped her foot onto his thigh. He laughed deeply, richly, like a man remembering what it was to enjoy life.

“So you’ve got a bit of a temper,” he said as he attacked the buttons.

“Sometimes.” She watched the deftness with which his fingers worked. “Not often.”

He dropped her shoe to the ground and started gliding his hands over her leg. She wasn’t certain she could survive his removing the other stocking, and when he lifted his gaze to hers, she was certain she wouldn’t.

“Where’s your father?” she blurted, to distract herself from the heavenly sensation of his fingers sliding beneath her skirt.

He blinked, halting his hands behind her knee. “He died at Chickamauga.”

“So he fought in the war.”

“Yep.”

“Who raised you then?”

“My brothers.”

He had mentioned the one. “How many do you have?”

“Two. They’re considerably older than me. Both fought in the war alongside my pa. I don’t remember my pa at all, but my oldest brother supposedly looks just like him.”

He began to massage her knee.

“Aren’t you getting tired of kneeling?”

He smiled warmly. “Nope.”

“I’m getting tired of standing on one leg.”

He barely looked contrite as he apologized and rolled down her stocking. As soon as her stocking cleared her toes, she removed her foot from his thigh. He didn’t appear offended as he stuffed her stocking into her shoe.