Page 105 of Texas Destiny
A mirror would give a clearer reflection and if he looked deeply enough, it would drag him back into the past. If he looked long enough, perhaps it would set him free.
Houston’s mouth grew dry as his gaze shifted between the mirror and the flowers she had sewn with delicate stitches and pink thread.
With a trembling hand, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the mirror, lifted it from the table, and held it before him.
In the fading evening light, Amelia stood on the balcony and pulled her shawl more closely around her. Somewhere, out there, where the wind blew free and wild mustangs surrendered their freedom, lived a man with the heart of a fifteen-year-old boy.
How in God’s name had Houston’s mother allowed her husband to take her sons off to war? How did any woman let her son go off to war, regardless of his age?
The war had claimed so many boys, even those it hadn’t killed. She wondered how differently her journey with Houston might have ended if he hadn’t marched onto a field of battle before he’d ever shaved.
The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled as the cool breeze rushed past. She heard a small hushed movement and turned to see Dallas leaning against the wall, studying her, his gaze intense, penetrating.
He needed only one step to span the distance separating them. He touched his knuckles to her cheek, and she couldn’t stop herself from stiffening. His hand fell to his side. “I’ve never forced a woman. I’m not going to start with my wife.”
Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around his and shook her head slightly. “You won’t have to force me.”
He eased closer until only a whisper’s breath separated their bodies. “Do you love Houston?”
“I’m your wife.”
“I know whose wife you are. I’m asking if you love Houston.”
The tears flooded her eyes. She squeezed them shut, battling the river of sorrow. “Once.” She opened her eyes and met his gaze.
“Why did you marry me?”
She took a deep breath. “I had nothing in Georgia. No home, no family. You offered me a chance to have a home, a family, and a dream.”
“In other words, I asked and Houston didn’t.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “You asked. He didn’t.”
He held out his arms. With quiet acceptance, she laid her head against his chest as he enfolded her in his strong embrace. She cared for him. She liked him. Perhaps, in time, her heart would flutter when he neared, her skin would tingle when he touched her, and her toes would curl when he kissed her.
He slipped his finger beneath her chin, tilted her face, and brushed his lips over hers before lifting her into his arms and carrying her into their bedroom.
Dallas’s warm mouth settled over hers as she sank into the bed. His kiss was … nice. His hand cradled her breast. Nice. He groaned and laid his body over hers. Lean, strong … nice.
The door burst open and banged against the wall. Dallas came off her like a fired bullet. He grabbed his revolver out of the holster dangling from the bedpost and put himself between her and the door, his breathing heavy. “What is it?”
Amelia scooted back against the headboard, pressing her hand above her beating heart, her breath catching in her throat.
She peered around Dallas. Houston stood in the doorway, his legs spread wide. He stared at his brother. “I need to talk to you.”
Dallas slipped his gun back into his holster and wrapped his hand around the bedpost, his knuckles turning white as he faced his brother. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
“No.” Houston’s gaze shot to Amelia, then back to Dallas. “No, it can’t.”
Dallas tunneled his fingers through his hair and glanced at Amelia. “Will you excuse me?”
She could do little more than nod.
Dallas stood before the window in his office, the whiskey he’d poured himself forgotten as he watched the woman standing beside the corral Austin had made the men rebuild. Dallas had known she’d slip out of the house and go to the corral. He wondered how long it would be before he knew her as well as Houston did. The palomino approached, nudged her arm, and she pressed her face against the mare’s neck.
He could hear Houston pacing behind him. For a man who had wanted to talk so desperately, he’d suddenly grown eerily quiet.
Dallas turned and, for the first time in years, didn’t flinch when he met his brother’s gaze. “You should sit down before you fall down.”
