Page 31 of Texas Destiny
He touched the damp cloth to her throat. “Flowers. You’ll see beautiful flowers come spring: blue, red, yellow. Not as pretty as what you sew, but pretty just the same.”
“What else?”
“There’s nothing to block your view of the sunset. You can just watch it sweep across the land, making you feel so small.”
“I am small.”
He lifted a corner of his mouth. “Yeah, you are small.”
Smiling softly, she touched the corner of his mouth. “A smile. I thought I’d die without ever seeing you smile.”
“You’re not gonna die.”
She lifted a brow. “Dallas will have your hide if I do.”
Leaning low, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Damn right, he will.”
“Can’t let that happen,” she said as she drifted off to sleep.
He had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen. She’d never noticed before, but as he slept with his face pressed to the cot near her hip, she could clearly see the length and thickness of his lashes. His hair—black as a midnight sky with no stars—curled over his ear, rested against his chin. He needed to shave.
Staring at his profile, she no longer tried to imagine how he might have looked if he’d never been wounded, but she found herself mourning what he might have had. A life that included a wife and children. A smile that would have warmed many a woman’s heart. A laugh that would have rung out strong and true.
She’d never heard him laugh, had only seen a ghost of a smile. He wasn’t hers to care about, but she did care. She wanted to hear him laugh. She wanted him to smile without feeling self-conscious. He had fought to give her back her life. Giving him a smile was a small payment.
She combed her fingers through the thick strands of his hair. It was coarser than hers, as though the wind and sun had battled against it.
He awakened with a jolt. “Your fever broke.”
She smiled softly. “I know. You were sleeping.”
He sat up and stretched his shoulders back. “How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
“You’ll be weak for a couple of days.”
“Have you ever been bitten by a snake?”
“Nope, but it happens now and then to men on the trail.”
“Do you take care of the men then?”
“Nope. The cook usually does the doctoring. Think you could eat a little something?”
“I’ll try. Are we going to travel today?”
“Nah, we’ll let you rest for a couple of days.”
“Won’t Dallas worry if we’re not there on time?”
“I don’t think he’ll start to worry unless we’re not there within a month.”
Houston carried her outside during the day to enjoy the sun and carried her back into the tent at night to sleep. He’d taken to sleeping on his pallet, his saddle placed so he was watching the tent. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think she’d mind. She wasn’t giving any shadow shows.
On the morning of the third day after her fever broke, he awoke, his gaze fixed on the tent. With the early light of dawn filtering through the leaves and dancing over the canvas, he couldn’t see any shadows or movements within the tent, but he could envision Amelia clearly, lying on the cot, sleeping soundly. In the past two days, she’d slept more than she’d been awake.
He thought they’d be able to travel today. He supposed he should get up and wake her, but he liked the thought of letting her sleep, letting her wake up on her own, stretching, washing her face, brushing her hair. He would be able to see none of the movements, but knowing they would take place almost made him smile.
