Page 5 of Texas Destiny
Home. How easily the word slipped into her mind. How difficult to remember that she no longer had a home or a family. Everything of importance, everything that meant anything to her at all was carefully packed away in the bag resting near her feet, along with the marriage contract Dallas Leigh had asked her to sign. His wording had been practical and straightforward, a guarantee that he would take her as his wife if she journeyed to Fort Worth, a guarantee that she would take him as her husband if he provided her with the funds with which to travel.
She did not begrudge him his caution. He knew as little about her as she knew of him. Trust, like love, would come with time.
As the scowling man returned to her side, she could only hope that Dallas’s moods were not as dark.
“This way,” he grumbled as he snatched up her bag.
She followed him through the lobby and up a distant set of stairs. At the top landing, he took a right and charged down the hallway. He inserted a key into the lock, turned it, and flung open the door. He stepped back and waited for her to enter the room.
Amelia walked into the small room. The bed beside the window immediately drew her attention. Dallas had sent her tickets that allowed her to sleep in a berth. She had taken one look at the small compartment and traded in the tickets, using the refunded money to purchase him a wedding gift—a gold pocket watch, second hand.
During her journey, she had snatched sleep here and there, sitting up, whenever she’d dared to sleep. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to sleep in a bed.
She faced the man standing in the doorway. He was holding his hat, presenting her with his right side.
“I need to take the wagon and animals to the livery and let the hostler know I’ll be keeping them there overnight. I thought you might want to”—he waved his hat helplessly by his thigh—“do whatever it is ladies do when they get off a train. I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour, and we’ll go get those supplies.”
“Where is your room?” she asked.
“This was the last room. I’ll stay at the livery.”
“That hardly seems fair. You’re paying for the room—”
“You’re gonna sleep with the horses?”
“I’ve slept with worse.” Amelia dropped her gaze as the heat rushed to her face. She should explain that statement, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to give freedom to the blurred memory lurking in a shadowed corner of her mind. “I simply meant … I am most grateful for the room, but if you wished to share it—”
“That wouldn’t be proper.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Won’t we be sleeping together while we travel?”
The cheek that was visible to her reddened as he turned his hat in his hands. “No, ma’am. You’ll sleep in a tent, and I’ll sleep by the fire.” He settled his hat onto his head. “Tonight I’ll sleep at the livery. I’ll be back in an hour. I’d appreciate not havin’ to wait on you.”
Before she could remind him that she’d had to wait on him at the depot, he slammed the door closed. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Three weeks. She would be in that man’s company for three weeks, and if the past fifteen minutes were any indication of what she could expect on the journey, she anticipated an extremely lengthy three weeks.
She closed her eyes. Grateful, grateful, grateful. He had to possess some redeeming quality. She opened her eyes and smiled. She could be grateful that he appeared to be a man of few words, and she was incredibly grateful that he’d left.
He no doubt thought she had the brain of a gnat, and perhaps she did: traveling from Georgia to Texas in order to marry a man she knew only through correspondence. What if she had misjudged the tone of Dallas Leigh’s letters? What if she had created in her mind a man who did not exist beyond her imagination?
Since the war, she had received offers to better her life, but none had carried the respectability of marriage. To the victor go the spoils. Her father’s plantation, his wife, and his daughters had been the spoils.
Shuddering, she squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around herself. She was too tired to hold the memories and fears at bay. Too tired.
With longing, she gazed at the bed. She would sleep for just a few moments. Then she would wash away the dust of her journey and meet Houston Leigh in the lobby. She imagined it would be quite interesting to watch him bargain for supplies. With his temperament, she had little doubt he would end up paying double for anything he wanted.
She eased onto the bed, sighing with contentment. The mattress, as soft as a cloud, sank beneath her weight.
Heaven.
Just a few moments of heaven.
Hell’s fury had surrounded Houston for so long that he couldn’t remember if he’d ever known heaven’s touch. He was afraid that if he wasn’t careful, he’d drag the woman into hell with him.
He’d already hurt her feelings. He knew he had. Otherwise, she would have met him in the lobby.
He was angry at Dallas, and he had taken his anger out on the woman. He hadn’t meant to, but in looking back he could see that he had.
He stood outside her door, practicing his apology. He couldn’t recall ever giving an apology, and the best words to use wouldn’t come to his mind. An apology to a woman should be like the piece of cloth she’d sewn for Dallas: flowery, dainty, and pretty.
