Page 24 of Texas Splendor
He tilted up her face, and with his thumb, he wiped a glistening tear from the corner of her eye. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?”
She gave him a hesitant smile and nodded. He cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers, imparting with his kiss the apology she wouldn’t accept in words. She swayed toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He trailed his lips along her throat until he reached the curve of her shoulder. “Loree, know that I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know.”
He slipped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms. Cradling her close, he carried her into the house. With his foot, he closed the door behind him and walked into the bedroom.
Carefully, he laid her on the bed. She curled on her side, and he draped the blanket over her. He walked to the other side of the bed. Without removing his trousers, he lay on top of the covers and wrapped his arm around her. She stiffened. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I’m just going to hold you, Loree. Believe it or not, that’s all I’d intended to do when I came into the house looking for you earlier.”
He heard her muffled sob and tightened his arms around her. Another sob came. Gingerly, he turned her toward him. “Come here, Sugar.”
She rolled into the circle of his arms and pressed her face against his chest. Her warm tears dampened his flesh.
“I’m sorry, Loree. I’m so sorry.”
Her sobs grew louder, her tears flowed more freely, and he could do little more than hold her closely, knowing he was the cause of her heartache.
Chapter 5
Aloud bang startled Loree from her sleep. Her nose stuffy, her eyes stinging, she crawled out of bed. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains.
She heard another crash. What in the world was Austin doing to himself now?
She scurried out of the house and stumbled to a stop. Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the morning sun, she stared at the man crouched on the roof of her barn. He worked a board free and tossed it to the ground. “What are you doing?” she called up to him.
His chest bare, he twisted around and shoved his hat off his brow with his thumb. “Thought you wanted to burn the barn.”
“I do.”
“Then I aim to burn it. Figured it would be easier to break it into piles of lumber we can manage than to cut down the trees surrounding it.”
“You’re gonna open that wound on your back.”
“That’s my worry.”
“It’ll be my worry if it festers.”
He rubbed his thumb over the head of the hammer, studying it. Then he lifted his solemn gaze to her. “I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m done with the barn.”
She heard regret laced through his voice, and her heart tightened as though stretching toward a dream it could never hold. She’d always known he’d leave. Still she hadn’t expected that he might take a part of her with him. “I’ll fix some breakfast.”
“Just coffee for me.”
He returned to his chore. For several minutes she watched him work and came to the realization that although last night had caused her anguish, she had no regrets. Despite the fact that he’d been in prison, she knew he was a good man, honorable in his own way.
And she wondered if the woman he loved ever thought of him, truly knew how firm a place she held in his heart.
She strolled into the house, scrubbed her face, brushed and braided her hair, and slipped into a clean dress. She walked into the kitchen and began to prepare her morning porridge. Her life was filled with routine. She had to remind herself not to set out a bowl of food for Digger, but she couldn’t stop herself from listening for his bark. She keenly felt his absence as she worked about the kitchen, never finding him underfoot. He’d never chase another butterfly or lick her hand.
The tears stinging her eyes increased when she placed a cup of coffee on the table and saw the sugar bowl she’d left outside the night before. She remembered knocking it over, spilling its contents on the quilt. She traced her finger around its rim. Now it was full.
What sort of man was Austin Leigh to go to the trouble to retrieve her bowl and fill it with sugar?
She heard his booted feet hit her front porch and step through her doorway. “Your coffee’s ready,” she told him, averting her gaze, turning to the stove to slap her porridge into a bowl. She listened as he pulled out his chair and took his seat, a gesture that seemed more intimate after all they’d shared last night.
She sat at the table and, with trembling fingers, lifted the spoon and sprinkled sugar over her porridge. She felt his gaze boring into her, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
