Lorraine Heath (27 page)

“You … don’t … have to wash me.”

“So you said,” he reminded her and she heard the smile in his voice. “I don’t
have
to love you either, but I do.”

She forced her eyes open. “How can you love me when I took so much from you?”

“How can I not love you when you gave me so much back?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “It would have killed me if they’d hanged you.”

“Well they didn’t. Cameron and Dee had a long talk with Duncan after the trial. Think he just couldn’t accept the kind of man his brother was.”

“So he’ll leave you alone?”

He combed her hair back from her face. “He’ll leave us alone.”

“What about your dream?”

“I’m gonna finish washing her up and put her to bed.”

She smiled tiredly. “I meant your music.”

“I’ll play for you. I’ll play for Grant. I’ll play for my family.”

She wondered if he would be forever content with that, knew that if she asked him, he would tell her yes whether it was the truth or not. She held her doubts and worries to herself, and relished the attention he paid her as he washed her, dried her, and carried her to bed.

He tucked the blankets around her, and as she drifted off to sleep, she heard him stroking the bow over the violin creating music that sounded very much like contentment.

*   *   *

“It was the most beautiful song I’d ever heard,” Mr. Cowan said as he reached for another cookie. “Couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

Bouncing Grant on her lap, Loree smiled. “Austin has a way of playing music that comes from his heart. I think it makes it unforgettable.”

“And if the music is unforgettable, so shall he be, my dear.” He leaned forward and winked. “And me, right along with him.”

Loree heard the footsteps on the porch and rose from the chair as Austin stepped through the doorway. She smiled brightly. “Austin, look who’s here.”

Austin removed his hat and studied Mr. Cowan skeptically. “What brings you out here?”

“You do, my dear boy. As I was telling your lovely wife here, your song has been haunting me ever since I heard it. I want you to come play for me.”

Austin hung his hat on the peg. “Appreciate it, Mr. Cowan, but I’m not interested.”

Mr. Cowan looked taken aback. Loree simply stared at her husband. “What do you mean you’re not interested?”

“I wasn’t good enough before. Nothing’s changed that.”

“Everything—”

“No, Loree. This isn’t what I want.”

With pleading eyes, Loree looked at Mr. Cowan. “Let me speak to him privately about this opportunity—”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Austin insisted.

At that moment she wished she had a skillet in her hand so she could bang it against his hard head. She knew pride was making him cast his dream before the wind.

Mr. Cowan brought himself to his feet. “I know this isn’t a decision to be made lightly. It’ll affect your family for many years. I’m staying at The Grand Hotel in Leighton—finest hotel this side of the Mississippi—and I have to confess it was part of the reason I didn’t mind traveling back to this area. But I must catch the train in the morning so I’ll leave a list of my destinations with Mrs. Curtiss at the front desk. If at anytime you change your mind, you just send me a telegram.” He held up a finger. “But you’ll need to decide before next spring because we’ll be leaving for Europe then and it’ll be harder for me to make the arrangements.”

He lifted his bowler hat from the table. “Mrs. Leigh, it was a pleasure to spend the afternoon in your company.”

He strode out of the house like a man without a care in the world.

“You shouldn’t have sent him a telegram without discussing it with me first,” Austin said.

“I didn’t send him telegram.”

“You didn’t tell him that I was innocent?”

“No.”

Austin rushed outside, Loree in his wake. Mr. Cowan was climbing into the buggy.

“Mr. Cowan, how did you hear about my innocence?”

Mr. Cowan pulled his foot out of the buggy and straightened. “Didn’t hear about it until this very second. But that’s excellent news.”

“You came here still thinking I was guilty of murder?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t understand. A week ago—”

“A week ago your song hadn’t kept me awake with regret every night.”

Austin glanced over at Loree and slipped his hand around hers before looking back at Mr. Cowan. “I don’t know how to read music. Loree’s been teaching me, but I’m not a very dedicated student.”

Mr. Cowan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, dear boy. You won’t be playing with the orchestra.”

Austin furrowed his brow. “You’ve lost me again. Why are you here—”

“Because I want you to be my soloist. It’s your songs I want. Your gift.”

“What about my family?”

“They’ll come with you, of course.”

Austin gave him a nod. “Let me talk it over with my wife this evening, and I’ll let you know in the morning.”

“Good enough.”

The night was pleasant as Austin drew their horses to a halt. They had left Grant with Amelia so Loree and Austin could have some time to sort things out. She had allowed him to lead the way in silence because she sensed that something was bothering him.

After all that had transpired in the past few days, she would not blame him for seeking a divorce.

She heard water rushing over rocks. Through the darkness, she saw a series of waterfalls in the moonlight. Austin helped her dismount, then he guided her onto the quilt he’d spread near the falls. He dropped down beside her.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered in awe.

“Houston married Amelia here. I didn’t even know the place existed until that day.”

A moment of silence echoed between them before he said quietly, “This is where I was the night Boyd died.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Austin—”

“I want to tell you about that night—”

“You don’t have to. Becky did—”

He cradled her cheek. “Loree, I
need
to tell you about that night.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap and nodded. “All right.”

“Dallas had always been there for me—so strong. I began to think of him as invincible. Rawley’s father had taken a whip to Dallas’s back until it looked like raw meat. Dee managed to get Dallas home, but he was fighting a fever. He’d lost a lot of blood. I was terrified that he’d die … and then who would we turn to? We knew Boyd was behind it and I planned to confront him. But I stopped to see Becky first and we came out here.”

He tilted her face until their gazes met. Holding his gaze was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“I want you to understand that I was twenty-one and scared. I loved Becky as much as a twenty-one-year-old man who knows little of life can love. When she offered comfort, I gladly took it.”

She heard him swallow.

“Whores had never appealed to me … until that night, I’d never …” His voice trailed off.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I’d never been with a woman until that night—not in that way. And I never touched another woman until you.”

He released his hold on her and reached for his violin. “Listen to this,” he ordered. He began to play a soothing melody, over and over. “That’s Becky’s song.”

She licked her lips. “It was lovely.”

“But it never changes. It stays the same. It doesn’t grow. It doesn’t deepen. It doesn’t challenge. It never did.” He placed his violin on his shoulder. “I want you to hear the song I played for Mr. Cowan, the song he couldn’t forget.”

She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. The music began softly, gently, and she imagined a child discovering the wonders of a dandelion, blowing the petals, and watching them float upon the breeze. As smoothly as the dawn pushed back the night, the song grew deeper, stronger. The chords echoed around them, thundering against the falls, filling the night until chills swept through her and her heart felt immense gladness. The song rang of destiny and glory and splendor.

She marveled that the melody came from within the man she loved, and she knew that she would forever remember it even as the final chords vibrated into silence.

She knew no words worthy of his efforts, no praise adequate enough for what he had just shared with her, so she said inanely, “That was beautiful.”

“I call it ‘My Loree.’ That’s what I hear in my heart when I look at you, when I hold you, when I love you.” He set the violin aside and scooted up until they were connected hip to hip. He framed her face with his hands. “Becky was a part of my youth and I’ll always love her—just as I’ll always love my mother. That doesn’t mean that I love you any less. She was the first woman I ever made love to, and that memory will never leave me. But everything about her pales in comparison to all that I hold dear regarding you. I loved her as much as a boy can love.” He trailed his thumb along her cheek. “I love you as much as a man can love.”

He settled his mouth over hers with a tenderness that mirrored his words. He removed her clothes in the same manner that dawn removed the darkness, calmly, quietly, with reverence and tranquillity. Then he tore off his own clothes and gently eased her down to the quilt.

The night air carried a hint of spring, and she knew she should feel cold, but all she felt was the glorious warmth of his body covering hers. She touched her fingers to the old scar on his shoulder. “You never told me who shot you.”

He pressed a kiss to the puckered flesh on her shoulder. “The same man who shot you.”

“He was so intricately woven through our lives—”

“Through our pasts, Loree. He’ll never touch us again.”

She was weary of the past having a tight hold on her present. She wanted a future rich with the love this man could give her. “Love me, Austin.”

He gave her a warm lazy smile. “Oh, I do, Sugar. With all my heart.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, and their tongues waltzed to the music created by their hearts. She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, holding him near. He nipped at her chin, before trailing his mouth along the column of her throat.

“So sweet,” he rasped.

And she felt sweet. For the first time in over five years, she truly felt sweet and untainted by the past. He knew her ugly secrets, her foolish mistakes, accepted them and loved her in spite of them. For both of them, she knew the innocence was forever lost, but together they could regain the laughter, the joy, and the promise of tomorrow.

And the music. Although he wasn’t playing his violin, she almost imagined that she heard the chords thrumming through her heart as he brushed his lips over the curve of her breast. His tongue swirled around her nipple, taunting, teasing. She rubbed her hands along the corded muscles of his shoulders, shoulders that had tried to carry her burden.

“Hear the music, Loree,” he whispered before returning his mouth to hers, hot and devouring, his fingers stroking, bringing to the surface the symphony housed within her soul.

Then he eased his body into hers and the crescendo reached new heights, thundering around her, with the force of his love. Each thrust carried her higher, farther, until she reached the tallest pinnacle. As he rose above her, she held his startling blue gaze and felt the heat of the hottest flames as he carried her over the edge into fulfillment.

Her body arched as his did, both quivering like the taut strings of a violin, masterfully played. With his final thrust, he cried out her name.

It echoed over the falls and through her heart in such a way that even when it fell into silence … it remained.

“B
limey! What’s that!”

Austin’s fingers tightened around Loree’s hand, and she knew he was cringing at his eight-year-old son’s choice of words. He leaned forward slightly to look out the window of the passenger car as the train rumbled over the tracks. “A cow,” he told Zane. “But it’s got such long ‘orns.” “That’s why we call it a Longhorn. If we could see its backside, we’d know from its brand who it belongs to.”

“I’ll wager it belongs to Uncle Dallas,” Grant said. At ten, he was the authority on all things.

“Father, can I ride one of Uncle ‘Ouston’s ‘orses?” six-year-old Matt asked.

“Sure can. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gives you one.”

“To keep?” Matt asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. “To keep.”

“I’m going to name ‘im ‘Is ‘Ighness,” Matt said, his blue eyes gleaming.

Austin leaned toward Loree. “Please tell me that somewhere in all our luggage you packed their H’s.” Laughing, she squeezed his hand to offer reassuranee. “I’m sure they’ll show up once our sons have spent some time with their cousins.”

“We shouldn’t have stayed in London as long as we did.”

“Does that mean we’ll never go back?”

“Sugar, if you want to back, we’ll go back. I’ll give you whatever you want. You know that.”

Yes, she knew that. In the passing years, he had given her the world—Rome, Paris, London, among others—his hand within hers more often than not, and five sons.

Joseph slipped out of his seat, crossed the short expanse, and placed his small hands on Austin’s knee. Unlike his brothers who had inherited Austin’s long slender fingers, Joseph had Loree’s short stubby fingers. “Can I be a cowboy?” he whispered.

Austin lifted him onto his lap. “You can be anything you want to be.”

“I don’t play music so good,” he said as though sharing a secret.

“You play better than I did when I was four.”

Joseph’s golden eyes widened as the sun glinted off his blond hair. “Truly?”

“Give you my word.”

Loree flashed her husband an appreciative smile. At four, Austin had never played the violin, but she knew he would never mention that fact to Joseph. He loved Joseph because the boy favored Loree. He loved all his other sons because they resembled him in looks, temperament, and talent.

The train whistle pierced the air.

“I see the town!” Zane cried, and the boys scrambled to the window and pressed their noses against the glass.

Austin took Mark from Loree’s lap and held him up so he could see over his brothers’ heads.

“Is that big building Aunt Dee’s theater?” Zane asked.

“Yep.”

“Are we going to perform there?” Grant asked.

“We might. We’ll have to discuss it with your Aunt Dee.”

“I’ll wager that she’ll let us,” Grant assured him.

The train lurched to a stop. Giving the other passengers time to disembark, Loree gathered up the boys while Austin reached for his violin case. Along with the instrument nestled within it, it had gained a few scars to remind them of its journeys over the years.

With two-year-old Mark firmly placed on her hip, she allowed Austin to herd the boys onto the wooden platform. He reached for her hand.

“Not nervous, are you?” she asked.

“It’s been a long time.”

“Uncle Austin?”

Austin turned at the deep slow drawl. Loree watched recognition and surprise dawn in his eyes as he stared at the tall, lanky man dressed as though he’d just come in off the range.

“Good God! Rawley?”

The man smiled and extended a hand. “Yes, sir.”

Austin jerked him into his embrace. “Good Lord, boy. You grew up.”

Rawley stepped back. “Yes, sir, I reckon I did.” He removed his hat and gave Loree a warm smile. “Aunt Loree.”

Austin took Mark from her. She stood on the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around Rawley. “It’s so good to see you.”

He hugged her close. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure.”

He released his hold on her. “Ma said the platform would break beneath the weight of the whole family so everyone else is waiting in the ballroom at the hotel.”

“Blimey! Are you a cowboy?” Zane asked.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Rawley’s mouth. “I reckon I am.”

“Have you got a gun?”

“Yep, but I can’t wear it into town on account of the city ordinance that prohibits guns.”

“And a ‘orse?”

“Yep.” Rawley reached for the violin case. “I’ll carry that for you.”

“Thanks,” Austin said as he handed it over.

Rawley jerked his thumb back. “We’d best head to the hotel before Ma sends the posse out lookin’ for us.”

“You ever seen a posse?” Zane asked as he hurried to keep pace with Rawley’s long strides.

“Once I rode with one. Some men held up the bank here in town, and that didn’t sit well with us.”

“Did you catch them?” Zane asked.

“Nope. Last I heard they were hiding out in some hole in the wall.” Rawley stepped off the platform and hit his thigh. “Two-bits!”

The dog eased out from beneath the shade and trotted to his side. Loree knelt in the dirt, laughing with the delight as the dog licked her face.

“You ‘ave a dog?” Zane asked as the boys began petting Two-bits.

“Nah, he’s your ma’s dog. I’ve just been taking care of him.”

“Does that mean ‘e gets to live with us?” Matt asked.

“Reckon it does,” Rawley said.

Loree rose to her feet. “Won’t you miss him?”

Rawley glanced over his shoulder. “We really need to get to the hotel.”

“Is Two-bits going to live with us, Mother?” Zane asked.

“I don’t think so. I think he’d miss Rawley too much.” Rawley turned his head, and she saw the relief in his eyes. “But I’m sure we can find another dog somewhere.”

“That’s if we decide to stay,” Austin reminded her and the boys.

“I want to stay,” Zane said, “if it means we can have a dog.”

“And a ‘orse,” Matt chimed in.

Austin slipped his hand around Loree’s. “Come on.”

The town had grown, and Austin couldn’t help but feel that his brother had done himself proud. And any man would have busted his buttons to have fathered the young man who patiently answered the boys’ questions as they entered the hotel.

Rawley threw open the door to the ballroom. Tightening his hand around Loree’s, Austin took a deep breath and stepped beneath the archway. Screams and cheers resounded around him. Tiny bits of paper and ribbon flew in front of his face.

More than his family welcomed him home. It looked as though most of the damn town had crowded into the room.

“Uncle Austin!”

Turning, Austin felt as though he’d been thrown back in time—over twenty years—looking at Amelia again, smiling and radiant … only he had never been Amelia’s uncle. “Maggie May?”

She nodded briskly and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much,” she cried.

“I missed you, too,” Austin said hoarsely.

Rawley leaned close. “Watch what you say to her. She thinks she’s smarter than all of us now that she’s going to that university in Austin.”

“You could go, too, Rawley,” Maggie said, a daring glint in her green eyes.

“Not on your life, Brat. I got cows to watch.”

“You and your cows.” She looked at Austin’s sons. “Are you boys gonna help Rawley take care of his cattle?”

All his sons bobbed their heads excitedly.

“Good God, don’t you know how to make girls?” Houston asked.

Austin smiled at his brother. “You don’t look like you’ve changed at all.”

“It’s just not as noticeable when a face is as unattractive as mine.”

Austin saw tears spill from the eyes of the woman standing beside Houston. Her hair wasn’t as blond as it had once been, but he thought it still looked as though it had been woven from moonbeams. He held out his arms. “Amelia.”

She hugged him closely.

“You started all this you know,” he whispered. “You were the first, the one who taught us that we didn’t have to be so strong.”

She patted his back. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“I need a hug.”

Austin looked over Amelia’s head and smiled at Dee. “Who would have thought you’d turn out to be

so bossy?”

Her arms came around him in a fierce hug. “You haven’t seen me be bossy yet. I have you scheduled for three performances at my theater.”

“Dee—”

She wagged her finger at him. “I am not going to have a world-famous violinist in our town and not have him play in my theater.”

“I don’t know how world famous I am—”

“Loree sent us all your newspaper clippings—”

He glanced at his wife, who simply smiled at him.

“Of course, we can’t read most of them what with their being written in a foreign language and all—”

“I can read the ones from France now,” Maggie said.

Rawley rolled his eyes. “See, I told you she thinks she’s smarter than us—”

“Not smarter, just more educated,” she said.

“Experience is the best educator,” Rawley said. “Dallas taught me that.”

“And here I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

Austin turned at his oldest brother’s booming voice. The years had turned Dallas’s hair silver and shadowed his mustache with varying shades of gray. The creases had deepened around his eyes and mouth. Dallas’s gaze slowly roamed over Austin, and he hoped with all his heart that his brother didn’t find him wanting.

A slow smile eased onto Dallas’s face. “I always knew your dreams would take you away from us. Just didn’t expect them to keep you away so long.”

“Well, we’re home now.” He hadn’t known the words were true until he embraced his brother. He had given Loree the world … and now he wanted to give her and their boys a home.

Rawley stepped out of the ballroom onto the veranda. “Faith, Uncle Austin and Aunt Loree are here. Aren’t you gonna come in and welcome them home?”

She spun around, tears brimming in her eyes. “Oh, Rawley, I don’t want him to see me like this, not after all these years.”

He looked her up and down. He didn’t understand ladies’ fashions, but he thought she looked beautiful in the red gown. “Nothing wrong with the way you look.” “I’ve got no bosom.”

His gaze fell to her chest, flat as a well-sanded plank of wood. Irritation surged through him because he’d looked. “Jesus, Faith, you’re only thirteen. You’re not supposed to have a bosom.”

“I’m almost fourteen. A. J.’s only eleven and she has a bosom.”

“I wouldn’t call those two little bumps on her chest—”

“You noticed!”

He slammed his eyes closed. “You’re gonna get me skinned alive.” He opened his eyes. “It’s not like I was lusting after her or anything. She’s my cousin, for God’s sake.”

“But you noticed.”

And who wouldn’t? All of Uncle Houston’s daughters had nice curves, but it didn’t mean he had lascivious thoughts just because he’d noticed. He leaned against the wall, dug the heel of his boot between the bricks, and decided to hold his tongue because there was no way in hell he could win an argument with her. He pulled a sarsaparilla stick from his pocket.

“Gimme,” she ordered holding out her hand.

“It’s my last one,” he said as he broke it in half and handed her a piece. “Want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“I love John Byerly and he loves Samantha Curtiss. I know it’s because she already has a bosom and I don’t.”

“What do you want with John anyway? He’s a runt.”

“All the boys are runts next to me.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She already came up to his shoulder, and he had a feeling she wasn’t finished growing.

“No one is ever gonna love me, Rawley.”

He shoved himself away from the wall and put his arm around her. “I love you, Faith.”

“But you’re my brother so that doesn’t count.”

He cupped her chin. “You don’t want somebody that’s just looking at the outside of you. You want somebody who cares enough to look inside because what’s inside never grows old or wrinkled or gray.”

She sniffed. “If no one asks me to dance, will you dance with me?”

“Why, Miss Leigh, I’d be honored.”

He slipped her arm through his and led her into the Grand Ballroom. He had a feeling in future years, Faith was destined to break an abundance of hearts. His greatest fear was that one of them would be his.

With his brothers flanking him on either side, Austin allowed his gaze to wander the room. Cookie played his fiddle and couples waltzed. Men still outnumbered women, but not by much. His nieces were growing into young ladies, his nephew a fine young man.

“Is this what you envisioned when you answered Amelia’s ad all those years back?” he asked Dallas.

“Nope. I had no idea it would turn out this good,” Dallas said.

“Even if you didn’t end up with her?” Houston asked.

“Even though you stole her from me,” Dallas emphasized.

“I always thought that worked out for the best,” Austin said.

“It did,” his brothers concurred at once.

Austin watched as Rawley sauntered over. “Dallas, I need to get back to the ranch and check on the herd.”

Dallas gave him a long slow nod. “Whatever you think best.”

Rawley held his hand out to Austin. “Uncle Austin, it’s good to have you home. Reckon we’ll see you up at the house later.”

“Reckon so.”

“Uncle Houston, I’d keep an eye on that fella dancing with Maggie.”

“Him and the other three that followed her home from school. I told her she could miss school because this was a special occasion, but those fellas … not dedicated to their studies from what I can tell.”

“They’re dedicated to her.” Laughing, Rawley patted Houston’s shoulder before wandering out of the room.

“Still can’t get him to call you ‘Pa’?” Austin asked.

Dallas shook his head. “Nope, but it doesn’t matter. He’s my son and he damn well knows it.”

Austin caught sight of his own son ambling toward him, a young girl in tow.

“Father, this is Mary McQueen,” Grant said.

The girl had eyes the blue of a summer sky and hair that glinted red. Austin hunkered down. “Hello, Mary McQueen.”