Desert Dreams (29 page)

"Rafe," she whispered shakily.

He didn't turn to look at her. He was too intent on
gazing at the baby in the cradle. She heard a faint whimper. The baby was
awake.

Slowly, soundlessly, she crossed the room to stand
behind him. She ached to touch him as tears clogged her throat, but she didn't
dare, not yet.

"She won't break," Anne assured him.

"She's... she's beautiful," Rafe murmured,
his voice husky with emotion.

"Pick her up."

He backed away slightly. "No."

She smiled and stepped around him. Slipping her hands
beneath the familiar little body, she lifted the baby from the cradle.

"It's just Papa," she said.

The baby gurgled and made incoherent sounds, the
sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

He looked at Anne in wide-eyed wonder, and she
realized he hadn't known until she called him Papa that the baby was his.

"You mean, she's...?"

"I've waited for you, Rafe," she said as she
rocked the child gently in her arms. "There's been no one else."

"You must hate me."

A sob escaped her lips at the pain in his eyes.
"Where have you been?"

"I...
I didn't know what to do,"
he whispered.

He didn't look at her. His gaze seemed fixed on some
distant object.

He seemed older and more vulnerable. He was as lean as
ever, perhaps a little more so than before. His face was covered with a growth
of beard, as it had been the first time she'd seen him. His eyes reflected a
profound emptiness. It startled her because she had never been able to see into
his soul so clearly, not even the night they'd made love under the stars.

She touched his face and he pressed his cheek into her
palm, his tears warm and wet on her fingers.

"For a while, I just drifted. Then I went back to
New Mexico," he said slowly, softly, in the voice Anne had feared never to
hear again.

He's here. He's truly here. He's
come back.

"I had to settle things with my brother," he
went on, "and with the army. I went to Fort Stanton and pleaded my case.
Because of the extenuating circumstances, they agreed to pardon me if I'd serve
in the Union army and fight in the war for six months, which I did. I'm a free
man now, in more ways than one."

"That's good, Rafe, that's good. Here, you put
her to bed," she said, holding the sleeping baby toward him.

He took the infant with great care, gazing at her as
if mesmerized as he carried her to the crib, and then placing her gently on the
mattress.

"I could stand here and watch her all night
long," he said.

"Her name is Marie, for my mother. I hope you
don't mind."

"I wasn't here," he said, his voice breaking
slightly as he turned to gaze into her eyes. "You went through it all
alone."

A shadow of remembered pain crossed her face and was
replaced by a smile, a new smile. Her face was the same, her hair, her soft
skin. But her eyes were the eyes of a woman full grown, a woman who had
survived hardship and travail and emerged stronger, resilient.

"You didn't get a chance to watch me get
fat," she said.

Rafe went to her. He fell on his knees, wrapping his
arms around her hips, burying his head against her flat stomach. "Oh, God,
Annie, I need you. I've missed you. I tried to forget, to stay away."

"Why?" she asked, as she ran her hands
through dark hair that curled around her fingers.

"I thought you'd be better off without me. I had
to find out who I was, what I was."

"And?" she asked.

"Please tell me you have room in your life for me
now."

Anne wrapped her arms around his head as the tears
rolled down her face unchecked. "There will always be room in my life for
you," she assured him. "Always."

THE END

Other books by
Deborah Cox

From This Day
Forward
excerpt:

She couldn't move, couldn't
tear her eyes away from his powerful, superb body. Her heart lurched, pounding
forcefully against the wall of her chest as her mouth went dry and her face
grew hot.

Water gushed from an overhead spigot
in a steady stream that pummeled his body with bruising force. His every
movement spoke of symmetry and strength. How could she have imagined he was
less elegant than his cousin? Despite his larger frame and dwarfing height, he
possessed all the predatory grace of a jaguar. His shoulders and arms were
powerful enough to challenge an ox, and his broad, muscled back, made darker
than his legs by constant exposure to the tropical sun, tapered into a narrow
waist and sleek, narrower hips and buttocks.

She made no sound, but he seemed to
sense her presence and turned to face her. A light feathering of golden hair
covered his chest, growing darker and thicker as it plunged down his

Her gaze returned to his face and
locked with his rigid, unreadable expression before he cursed under his breath
and reached for a towel. His movement broke the spell that had possessed her,
leaving her dazed and mortified. With a violent jerk on the reins, she turned
and plunged into the jungle, not knowing where she was going but trusting the
horse to find its way back to the stable.

Read
From This Day Forward

Author Deborah Cox

A true
daughter of the South, Deborah Cox was born in Montgomery, Alabama, grew up in
Jackson, Mississippi, and finally moved to New Orleans, Louisiana, the city of her
heart, eleven years ago. No sooner had her dream of living in the Crescent City
come true than it turned into a nightmare. Hurricane Katrina tore her life
apart, as it did so many others, and sent her into exile for six long years.
Finally she returned and her heart and soul were reunited.

Deborah has
been writing stories since she was old enough to hold a pencil. Her love or
reading and writing found their purpose in historical romance. She won her
first literary award at the age of twelve and published her first novel in
1995. She now lives happily in New Orleans with two adorable Shih-
Tzus
(Harry and Sally) and a group of friends who call
themselves TANDJAS. If you ply her with wine, she might tell you the story of
how Harry got his name the night of Super Bowl 2010 (a month before he was
born) or what TANDJAS stands for.

To receive notification of
upcoming releases, email Deborah at:
[email protected]