This Loving Land
Authors: Dorothy Garlock
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #General, #Romance
D
OROTHY
G
ARLOCK
THIS
L
OVING
L
AND
A Time Warner Company
THIS LOVING LAND
. Copyright © 1981 by Dorothy Garlock. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
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.
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ISBN: 978-0-7595-2248-0
First eBook Edition: April 2001
Slater’s eyes were suddenly like dark glowing coals. They met Summer’s. Hers were startled. He had said “belong to me.” And she could see he meant it. Suddenly, something had changed. Forever. They both knew it.
Slater took the mug from her hand. Then his arm went around her and she was so firmly held against him that she could feel the hard bones and muscles of his body thrusting through her thin cotton dress. The intimacy of that contact sent waves of surprise and pleasure through her. Strange, tempestuous feelings threatened to swamp her, and she struggled desperately to keep her head.
His lips touched the side of her neck and his hand moved up and down her back, the wild beat of her heart against his. “Do I frighten you?” His lips were against her cheek.
“No.” It was scarcely more than a whisper. Her brain commanded her to fight free of him, but her senses ignored the order . . .
“The counterpart to Louis L’Amour in the genre of women’s romance set in the frontier West, Ms. Garlock does not disappoint any of her fans!”
—
Heartland Critiques
“For those who like their romances emotionally complex and brimful of grit, Garlock holds the reins masterfully.”
—
Publishers Weekly
Books by Dorothy Garlock
Almost Eden
Annie Lash
Dream River
Forever Victoria
A Gentle Giving
Glorious Dawn
Homeplace
Lonesome River
Love and Cherish
Midnight Blue
Nightrose
Restless Wind
Ribbon in the Sky
River of Tomorrow
Sins of Summer
Tenderness
Wayward Wind
Wild Sweet Wilderness
Wind of Promise
Yesteryear
Published by
WARNER BOOKS
T
O
L
INDY
Be proud of yourself. You are truly a beautiful person, with a special kind of courage.
M
OM
McLean’s Keep, the Rocking S Ranch and all the characters in this book exist only in my imagination, with the exception of the Kuykendall family—my ancestors—who came to Texas with Stephen F. Austin in 1823 and helped establish San Felipe, the first Anglo-American settlement.
The town of Hamilton Valley, later named Burnet, is not to be confused with the present-day town of Hamilton, county seat of Hamilton County, which is to the north of Burnet County and was established in 1858.
D
OROTHY
G
ARLOCK
THIS
L
OVING
L
AND
“Sam! Sam . . . !” The girl in the loose, homespun garment ran down the oak-shadowed path, jumped lightly over a fallen branch and threw herself into the man’s arms. Closing her eyes tightly, she knew she was blushing with the thrill that leaped through her at the feel of his muscular, pulsing body pressed closely against hers.
“Ye looney lass!” He held her away from him. “And how many times must I be a tellin’ ye not to run and leap like a frog? Ach, but ye’ll be a fallin’ and a hurtin’ y’rself . . . or the bairn.” The voice was rough and masculine and musical with its strong Scottish accent.
“Sam,” she murmured urgently, “I’m so happy! I’m so happy I’m scared, Sam.”
“Scared?” he murmured against her ear.
“I’m scared something terrible will happen. This has been the most wonderful summer of my life, Sam. It’s been so wonderful, but it’s so wrong. . . .” Her voice was muffled against his throat. “J.R. is fighting the Mexicans, and I’m so gloriously happy. A wife should be sad when her husband is gone. Oh, Sam, I find myself, sometimes, hoping he don’t come back!”
A growl of protest came from his throat. “Nye, sweet lass, ye don’t be a wishin’ that.”
“Then I think, Sam, about Libby and the boy. Something terrible will happen to me for the wicked thing I’ve done to Libby.”
“Hush, darlin’ lass. Libby is safe in her dream world. She can never really be me wife, and I’ll not fault her, for it’s not of her own doin’. I love the laddie, and I’ll be lovin’ this bairn, too.” He placed his big hand over her swollen abdomen. “If y’r man don’t come for ye, my sweet lassie, I’ll be a takin’ care of ye and the bairn.”
He gathered her against him, his hands stroking her back with long, slow caresses until she was molded so closely against him that she couldn’t catch her breath for the excitement that beat through her.
“I want this summer to go on forever. “ It came out in a sort of gasping sigh, half-questioning, half-exulting, as suddenly, beyond her control, her body arched against his.
“It couldn’t be wicked to love like this,” he whispered breathlessly, suddenly lifting her and carrying her to where they could both lie in the soft grass, mouth to mouth, breast to breast. He kissed her tenderly, lovingly, again and again. “Don’t be a thinkin’ about the right or the wrong of it, think about now, and how I love ye.”
All thoughts of being wicked retreated from Nannie’s mind before the strength of the force throbbing through her in answer to his passion. And then it was as if a dam, which had been holding back wild, tempestuous waters, broke and washed over her. Her mouth was against his so that breathing was almost impossible, his weight held her pinned to the sweet-smelling grass and it was like drowning as she was swept along on the turbulence of their desire. Through the bursting darkness sudden joy, like a great flashing light, exploded within her. Afterwards, there was the warm, sensuous afterglow, as she curled up in his arms, the wetness of tears on her face and on his. She rested her cheek against the smooth silky hardness of his shoulder. Lying motionless in the kind of peace she knew only when she was with him, she fell asleep.
* * *
When she awoke, she felt quite different, and for a while she lay with her eyes closed, wondering why she was so tired, why she was alone. No arms held her comfortingly, no hard, muscled shoulder was beneath her cheek.
It was night-time. She could sense the brightness of the lamp through her closed lids. Gone was the sweet-smelling grass; she could feel coarse sheets on her bare skin. The only thing that was the same was her wet cheeks. Everything else was different. She was different. Feeling lighter than air, she floated like a feather, happy because soon she would be free. She knew what heaven would be like.
Nannie opened her eyes to find her daughter bending over her.
“Mama, you’ve been dreaming.”
“Summer.” She smiled a little. “My beautiful Summer.”
“Can I get you something, Mama?” Gentle, anxious fingers touched the tears on her mother’s face.
“No.” It was a weary whisper. She couldn’t help but be disappointed at finding herself in another time and another place. She closed her eyes again, hoping to feel the warmth, the ecstasy, to hear the passionate whispers. With a little groan of anguish, she knew the time was not yet. But soon . . . soon. Her eyes filled with anxiety and she lifted a hand to tug at her daughter’s dress. “Soon,” she whispered weakly. “Soon you’ll be alone with John Austin. I want you to go to Sam McLean. Find Sam, Summer, and tell him who you are. He’ll help you. He’ll take care of you and John Austin. In my little chest is a letter telling you where to find him.”
“Mama . . .” Tears brimmed in the violet eyes. “Mama . . . no—”
“Promise me, Summer. Promise me you’ll go to Sam. Sam. . . .” The weak voice trailed away and Nannie Kuykendall closed her eyes, never to open them again.
