Lorraine Heath (22 page)

She saw his broad smile in the moonlight.

“You should hear the music filling my heart right now,” he said quietly.

“Will you play it for me?” she asked.

“Sure will, Sugar, but not with my violin.”

His mouth descended to cover hers, and his hands began to play a song of love over her body.

T
he January winds blew cold and bitter as Loree scooted across the bench seat of the wagon and snuggled against Austin.

“Stubborn woman,” he mumbled as he slipped his arm around her. “You could be at home sitting in front of a nice warm fire.”

“I’d rather be sitting beside you.”

He leaned toward her and brushed a quick kiss over her lips. “I’m glad.”

She tucked her shawl beneath her chin, bringing it in closer around her ears. The winds howled across the plains like a woman mourning a lost love. She imagined Austin would play the tune for her when they got home.

The town came into view. Her stomach always knotted at the memory it brought to mind. She brought the chilled air deep into her lungs, blowing it out in a smoky breath.

“Looks like Santa brought Cameron a new sign,” Austin said.

Loree looked toward the general store, her breath hitching.

MCQUEEN’S GENERAL STORE.

Her fingers tightened on Austin’s arm. “I thought their name was Oliver.”

“No, that was Becky’s pa.” He glanced sideways at her, an incredulous expression on his face. “All this time you thought their name was Oliver?”

She nodded, fear clogging her throat. “So Dee is a McQueen, too?”

“No, she’s a Leigh. Used to be a McQueen.”

“Do they have other family?”

“They have a brother, Duncan.”

“And that’s all?”

“As far as I know.”

He drew the wagon to a halt in front of the store, clambered down, and held his arms up to her. She scooted across the bench and he helped her down to the ground, his arms coming around her.

“Good God, Loree, you’re shaking like a leaf in the wind.”

“I’m just cold,” she lied.

“Let’s get you inside.”

He headed for the store—the last place she wanted to go. He shoved open the door and hustled her inside. The bells above the door clanged and nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Cameron walked out from the back, drying his hands on a towel. “You picked a bad day to come into town.”

“Wasn’t this cold when we left,” Austin said as he led Loree to the black potbellied stove. “Sit here, Loree.”

She did as he instructed and gave him the freedom to remove her gloves.

“There, just rub your hands in front of the stove.”

“I’ll be all right,” she assured him.

He smiled and leaned low. “I’ll warm you up all over when we get home. How’s that for a promise?”

She returned his smile. “I’ll make you keep it.”

He touched his finger to her nose before turning to Cameron. “You still carry violin strings?”

Cameron’s face split into a wide grin. “You playing again?”

Austin shrugged. “A little. Now and then. When the music comes over me.”

Loree listened with half an ear as their conversation continued. She had once known a man named McQueen, but Cameron didn’t favor him in the least, not in looks or temperament. Maybe they were cousins or distant relatives or had nothing more in common than the same name.

She rubbed her hands together and almost imagined she saw the blood—bright red, glistening in the moonlight. “Austin, could I please have my gloves back?”

“Sure.”

He handed the thick gloves back to her, and she slipped her hands inside. She always felt safer when her hands were covered.

“Did you want to get that rattle you were telling me about?” he asked.

She nodded and forced herself to stand on trembling legs. She glanced at Cameron. He gave her a warm smile that calmed her fears.

No one as nice as he was could be related to the devil who had murdered her family.

“Oh, come on, Loree. Please!”

Loree pursed her lips, crossed her arms over her stomach, and fought hard to resist the plea in those mesmerizing blue eyes. He’d replaced the string he’d broken two days before, and no longer had an excuse not to practice. “No. Not until you’ve mastered this.”

Austin slumped back in the chair like a petulant child and started to randomly pluck the strings on his violin. “It’s such a boring song. Just the same sounds over and over and over. No wonder Rawley hated his piano lessons.”

“You can’t play the complicated songs until you’ve learned the easy ones.”

He sprung forward. “Take pity on me, and just let me try. If you’re right … I’ll go back to ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ … unless I kill the lamb first.”

Loree couldn’t stop her laughter from bubbling up. How could she expect a man who played from his heart to be content with other people’s music? For the first time, she was catching true glimpses of the young man he had been before he went to prison.

When he awoke at dawn, he still carried his coffee out to the porch and sat on the top step, but instead of staring into the distance, he’d tuck his violin beneath his chin, and Loree would hear the sunrise as well as see it.

She knew the sound of twilight and midnight … and her husband’s easy laughter. The ranch chores that had once exhausted him no longer phased him. He came home, anxious for her kiss and her arms around his neck. Through his gift, he would give her an accounting of his day until she could hear the bawling of the cattle he’d branded or the snap of the barbed wire he’d mended. He might not be a man who could explain things with words, but with his music, he had the ability to create worlds.

Against her better judgment, she unfolded a more complicated piece of music and slapped it down in front of him. “There. Play that.”

Eagerly, he scooted up and studied the sheet of music. Then he took a deep breath, lifted his violin, and without shifting his gaze from the notes, he began to play—the most beautiful melody she’d ever heard.

She sat in awe, watching his fingers coax the notes from the strings, following the path of the bow as he stroked it—slow and long—over and over. It was little wonder that the man was skilled at stroking her.

She lifted her gaze to his only to find his eyes closed, his expression serene. He stilled the bow, opened his eyes, and met her gaze.

“You were right,” he said quietly. With a sigh, he tossed the sheet of music aside and turned his attention back to the tune he’d been playing earlier.

“I was wrong,” she said as she pulled the sheet away from him. “What were you playing?”

“Did you like it?”

“I thought it was beautiful.”

“How beautiful?”

“How much praise do you want?”

“A lot. How beautiful was it?”

She sat back in the chair, narrowing her eyes, wondering if the truth would go to his head, but how could she lie? “I thought it was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”

A slow warm smile spread over his face. “I call it ‘Loree.’ It’s what I hear in my heart whenever I look at you.”

“Either you or your heart needs spectacles.”

He set the violin aside, came out of his chair, and knelt beside her, wrapping his hands around her arms. “Why can’t you believe that you’re beautiful?”

She had become angry at him for not telling her that he played the violin. How would he feel if she revealed the truth about herself now? She had just gained his love. With a few well-chosen words, she knew she could lose it … and never regain it.

He leaned forward, latching his mouth onto hers, sweeping the past and the doubts away. Her bones turned to mush, her thoughts scattered like autumn leaves before the winter winds. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“You are beautiful, Loree,” he rasped as he trailed his mouth along her throat. “God, I want you.”

She loved those words, whispered from his lips. “I know, but the doctor says we have to practice abstinence now.”

With a heavy sigh, he rocked back on his heels. “That’s worse than practicing ‘Mary had a Little Lamb.’ ”

“It won’t be for much longer.”

Reaching behind him, he grabbed the violin and tapped the bow against her protruding stomach. “Listen up, young fella.”

Open-mouthed, Loree stared at him as he slipped the violin between his chin and shoulder. “You said it was foolish to talk to a child before it was born.”

“It is foolish to talk to it,” he said, grinning. “But I’m going to play for him. That ain’t foolish at all.”

“What are you going to play?”

“Something fast and spirited to take my mind off the long slow kiss that I want to play against his mother’s lips.”

Sipping on his coffee, Austin sat on the porch in the predawn darkness. His coat warded off the chill in the late winter air. Spring would arrive soon. Last year it had heralded his release from prison. This year he would celebrate the coming of spring with a wife and a child.

And un uncertain future.

Fewer people stared at him than before. He no longer heard whispers behind his back. But the fact remained that in the eyes of the law he was a murderer.

That fact had reached out to touch Loree.

He feared it would touch their child.

He understood ranching, but Dallas was the only rancher he knew who would hire on a family man. He hated ranching, but it was the only skill he possessed. He wanted to give Loree the world, but he couldn’t see that ever happening.

He heard his wife’s gentle footsteps. Smiling, he twisted around. The fear on her face sent panic surging through him. He came to his feet. “Loree, what’s wrong?”

“I felt a pull in my stomach and heard a loud pop. When I slipped out of bed, water ran down the inside of my legs. There was a little blood.”

“You think maybe the baby’s coming?”

Her eyes grew wide and she gripped the doorjamb. Austin rushed to her side, holding her while she breathed heavily. Finally her breathing eased and she looked up at him. “I think the baby’s coming.”

“All right. Don’t panic.”

“I’m not,” she assured him.

He scooped her into his arms and started down the steps.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’m gonna take you to the doctor.”

“What if there’s not time? I don’t want to be out on the prairie—”

“You’re right. You’re right. We’ll just—” He turned and headed into the house. “We’ll just put you back into bed …” Gingerly he laid her on the mattress. He wrapped his hand around hers and pressed his forehead against her temple. “Sugar, I don’t know what to do.”

“Go get Amelia and send Houston for the doctor.”

Relief coursed through him, and he wondered where the hell his common sense had gone. He lifted his head and brushed the hair from her brow. “I can do that.”

Her hand tightened around his, and she began to breathe harshly again, her face a grimace of pain. What in the hell had possessed Houston to put his wife through this five times? Austin planned to practice abstinence for the remainder of his life.

Her hold on him loosened, and the fear reflected in her eyes was deeper than before. “I don’t think the pains are supposed to come this fast, this soon.”

“Sure they are,” he lied. “I remember when Amelia had Maggie, it all happened so fast that we barely had time to catch our breaths.”

“I want a girl,” she said breathlessly.

“Then that’s what we’ll have.”

“Or a boy.”

He chuckled low. “It’ll be one of the two, Sugar. That I can promise you.”

“I don’t understand why we have to be out here while she’s in there,” Austin said as he wore down the weeds in front of his porch with his constant pacing. Two-bits shadowed his every step as though he, too, realized there was cause for concern. Twilight was settling in. What was taking so damn long?

“That’s just the way it’s done,” Houston said.

“I think it’s a dumb way to do it,” Austin said.

“I agree,” Dallas said. “I think if you want to be in there watching her suffer, you ought to be in there.”

Austin staggered to a stop. “How much do you think she’s suffering?”

Dallas shrugged. “Well, she’s not screaming …”

“That don’t mean anything. Amelia never screams and she suffers plenty,” Houston said.

“Then why do we do this to them?” Austin asked.

His brothers stared at him as though he’d just eaten loco weed.

“Why does it take so long?” he asked.

“That’s just the way it is,” Houston said.

He glared at his brother. “Think you could come up with some better answers?”

“Nope. I ask these same questions every time.”

“I’m never touching her again,” Austin swore.

“You’ll touch her,” his brothers said in unison.

And damn it, he knew he would, first chance he got. He leapt onto the porch, stormed into the house, and threw open the door to his bedroom—and wished to God he hadn’t.

Loree’s face was contorted with pain as she strained and pushed, grunted and groaned. Then she dropped back on the bed, breathing heavily. Austin heard a tiny indignant wail, and Loree’s lovely face filled with wonder and love.

“It’s a boy,” Dr. Freeman announced.

Austin watched the physician place the child in the crook of Loree’s arm. Loree smiled softly, then she looked at Austin, her eyes brimming with tears through which the gold glistened like treasure.

But the treasure was nestled within her arms.

“It’s a boy,” she said breathlessly. “I knew it would be.”

Smiling, Austin walked toward the bed like a man ensconced in a dream. He had a wife. He had a son. The responsibility should have weighed heavy on him, but he thought he might actually float to the clouds.

He knelt beside the bed. She touched the child’s head. “Look, he has black hair just like you.” Her smile was radiant as she proceeded to stroke the baby’s hand. “And your long fingers.”

She snapped her gaze to Austin. “I’m so glad he has your hands and not mine.”

He cradled her cheek. “He’s beautiful, Loree. Just like his mother.” He brushed his lips over hers. “God, I love you.”

“Do you want to hold him?”

He jerked his gaze to his son. “Hold him?”

“Uh-huh.” She moved the child closer to him. “Surely you want to hold him.”

“What if I drop him?”

“Did you ever drop your nieces?”

“I never held them while they were this tiny. I waited until they were big enough to latch onto me.”

“He doesn’t have teeth yet, so he won’t bite,” she assured him.