Page 36 of Texas Destiny
He closed his eye. Amelia had been in the water before him. Although Beth had added more hot water to the tub after Amelia got out, if he concentrated hard enough, he imagined he could smell her sweet scent. Her scent had to be that of a flower, but it wasn’t any flower he knew. He imagined her tiny feet resting against the bottom of the wooden tub where his were now. He imagined the lye soap skimming over her body, touching her before it touched him. It seemed such an intimate image, to have the same water, soap, and air caressing both their bodies.
His mouth went as dry as the West Texas breeze. He was sitting in a tub of water, dying of thirst. He opened his eye. The cake of soap slipped out of his hands, spiraled through the air, hit the porch, and skidded toward the dirt.
Amelia bent down and picked it up.
“What are you doing out here?” he croaked.
She straightened and leaned against the porch railing, her gaze holding his. “I’ve never seen you enjoy anything.”
“I was enjoying the bath.”
“I know.” She smiled so sweetly that he wondered if his thoughts had been visible. He held out his hand. “I need the soap and some privacy.”
She handed him the soap and held up a cup brimming with shaving lather. “The beard doesn’t suit you.”
He rubbed his hand over his rough jaw. “I’ll shave it, then.”
“I’d be happy to shave it for you.”
“I can do it.”
She gnawed on her lower lip. “I’m very experienced at shaving a man’s face. I shaved Mr. Bryant every morning.”
Amelia watched the expressions flitting over his face, and she knew that he wanted to ask, but as always, with rare exception, he held his silence.
She walked forward and knelt beside the tub, her courage faltering as he plunged his hands under the murky water, splashing her with his frantic efforts.
“Woman, I’m not wearing any clothes!”
She’d seen him without clothes, but she saw no reason to remind him of that fact. He’d argue that the circumstances had been different, and she’d have no choice but to agree. Although she had no intentions of dropping her gaze below his bare shoulders, she jerked a blanket off the porch railing and draped it over the tub. “I can’t see anything but your face and shoulders now. I’d like very much to shave you. It’s such a small thing, a way to thank you for caring for me while I was sick.”
He glanced around the porch.
“Beth and Sarah have already gone to bed. John’s closing the barn.”
Watching his throat muscles work, she would have sworn he was terrified. “I won’t hurt you,” she assured him, smiling softly. “I just want to help you forget.”
“You’re using my words,” he grumbled.
“They’re easy to remember. You don’t say very many.”
“You’re aggravating, you know that?”
She smiled warmly at his disgruntled expression and began to swish the brush in the cup, hoping to put them both at ease before night fell, and they found themselves together in the same bed.
“My father owned a plantation before the war.” She had his undivided attention as she brushed the lather over his face and along his throat. “We had slaves, cotton fields, a big house. I had two sisters. No brothers. I was the youngest. Papa’s favorite. I was quite pudgy and he used to call me his little pumpkin.”
He furrowed his brow. “Can’t imagine you pudgy.”
“War changes people.”
His brow relaxed. “Yeah, I reckon it does.”
She set the lather cup down and slipped the razor out of her pocket, giving him time to ask a question, but no question came.
Placing her finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head back. “I told you that Papa died. It was just before the war ended. Mama said he took the fever, but I think he just grieved for the South he loved, the South that was disappearing. My sisters died shortly after he did. Then it was just Mama and me.”
She took a moment to enjoy the sound of the razor scraping over his unmarred jaw. “Mr. Bryant came from the north and paid the taxes on the plantation. He let me and Mama stay on to serve him. We moved to the slave quarters.”
