Page 25 of Texas Splendor
“Loree, about last night—”
“I’d rather not discuss it.” She lost count of the number of spoonfuls of sugar and decided it didn’t matter. She’d just pour on sugar until she no longer saw the oats.
“I’ve got nothing to offer you, Loree.”
She snapped her gaze up to his. He’d removed his hat and put on a shirt. His black hair curled over his collar. She ached to run her fingers through it. “I don’t recall asking for anything.”
His eyes were somber. “You didn’t, but you deserve everything—everything a man would give a woman if he could.”
“You didn’t force me. I knew where the trail was leading, and I was willing to follow it.”
“I told you sometimes a man makes choices not knowing the cost. Did you know the cost?”
She lowered her gaze to the porridge. “No,” she admitted quietly. “But I’d pay it again.” Looking at him, she forced a tremulous smile. “Although I don’t know how I’m going to look Dewayne in the eye the next time he comes over after what he said yesterday.”
“You can’t look at a woman and know whether or not she’s shared herself with a man.”
Shared herself. She felt as though she’d given nothing and taken everything. “Sometimes you say things in such a way that I wonder if you’re a poet.”
He shook his head. “I have no gift with words. Last night served as evidence of that. I appreciate the coffee. I’d best get back to the barn.”
Watching him walk from house, she wondered how soon it would be before he walked out, never to return. She shoved her bowl of porridge aside, discontent rearing its ugly head. Suddenly greedy for memories that she could hoard away and bring out on the loneliest of nights, she scrambled from her chair and dashed outside, hurrying to the corral. His horse grazed nearby. A beautiful beast that belonged to a beautiful man.
She turned her attention to the barn. With a wistfulness she knew she had no business feeling, she watched Austin work. Last night she had received a sampling of what shewouldnever have. She had not expected to yearn so intensely for that which shecouldnot have.
“Get the kerosene!”
Loree snapped back to the present as Austin climbed lithely down from her barn.
“Fetch some old blankets, too,” he told her. “I’ll get some buckets of water.”
“That’s not very much to burn,” she said, studying the meager pile of ragged lumber.
“Thought it best to start small until we figure out what we can control.”
She fetched the kerosene and blankets as he’d instructed, returning to see him put the last bucket of water in place. He took the kerosene from her and doused the wood. Sweat glistened over his bronzed back, and she worried about his wound. It didn’t look nearly as angry as it had the day before, but it was certain to leave him with a jagged scar.
When he finished, he held up a match. “You want the honors?”
She nodded jerkily. He lifted his foot, struck the match on the bottom of his boot, and handed it to her. She got as close as she dared and tossed the match onto the kerosene drenched wood. She watched the flame grow and spread across the pyre. The wood crackled and blackened. Smoke rose toward the clouds. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, feeling as though she was finally doing something to put the nightmare to rest.
The barn had been a cavernous reminder of how those she loved had died. She hated the rope most of all, but she’d never been able to bring herself to touch it.
“I want to burn the rope, too,” she whispered hoarsely never taking her gaze from the fiery red blaze.
He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her back against his chest. She welcomed the sturdiness of his embrace. He brushed his lips lightly across her temple. “It’s already burning.”
His words didn’t surprise her. Somehow, he seemed capable of anticipating her needs before she knew she had them. “My brother was so young. I wish he’d hanged me instead.”
Austin’s arms tightened around her. “Is that why you live here alone—to punish yourself for living when they died?”
She held her silence because he had the uncanny ability to understand far more than anyone else ever had.
Gently, he turned her within his arms, tucked his knuckle beneath her chin, and tilted her head back. “Loree, I’ve listened to you talking about your family. I know you loved them. For you to love them as much as you do, they had to love you in return. They wouldn’t want you living here alone.”
Gazing into his earnest eyes, she desperately wanted to explain everything—the fear, the fury, the hatred. Surely a man who had lived his life would understand, but if he didn’t understand, something far worse than living a life alone awaited her.
“I’m here because I want to be. I’m … content.” Or at least she had been until last night.
