Lorraine Heath (8 page)

“I wish he’d give me one.”

Amelia began to brush her hair. “I’ll never forget what he said to me that night … when he let me go.”

Cordelia didn’t want to know anything more about the man she’d married, certain she knew all she needed to know. He had a temper worse than any she’d ever seen, that ignited like a piece of kindling.

Yet she remembered earlier in the day how he’d banked his temper when his niece had tugged on his trousers. The lemon drops. His unwillingness to let Boyd speak for her during the ceremony. Against her will, she heard herself ask, “What did he say?”

“ ‘I don’t need love, Amelia, but I think you do, and if you find it with a man who dreams of raising horses, know you do so with my blessing.’ ” Amelia stood and handed Cordelia the brush. “I’ll leave you with a little secret. Dallas does need love—more than any of us. I know your marriage hasn’t begun under the best of circumstances, but I think if you give him a chance, he will worship the ground you walk on.”

His elbows digging into his thighs, Dallas stared blankly at the low fire flickering within the hearth in his office. He remembered the day he’d married Amelia. He’d seen disappointment in her eyes, a touch of sadness, but there had also been hope and trust.

He thought about the day she had married Houston. She had glowed with love and happiness.

He hadn’t expected the woman he married today to glow, but neither had he planned to fill her with raw fear. What had he been thinking to marry a woman he’d never met? He’d arranged to marry her as though she were little more than a carefully selected brood mare. He couldn’t blame her for being offended, wary, and frightened.

“I fixed the door,” Houston said.

Without turning his attention away from the fire, Dallas merely nodded. “ ’Preciate it.”

“You scared the hell out of Cordelia … again.”

Dallas grimaced. “I know.” He sighed deeply. “I know how to bed a whore. I’ve got no earthly idea how to go about bedding a wife.”

“You didn’t seem to have any problem when you were married to Amelia.”

Dallas glanced up at the anger reflected in his brother’s voice. He’d offended someone else without trying. “You know as well as I do that we never got that far. With Amelia getting kidnapped on our wedding night and you getting shot when we rescued her, I barely had the opportunity to kiss her. I never saw her standing in front of the fire in some flimsy gown that was little more than shadows. Cordelia has legs that go clear up to her shoulders.”

Houston gave him an understanding smile. “I know all about shadows.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Dallas, this is none of my business, but there’s no law that says you gotta bed her tonight. Knowing her pa, she probably didn’t have much say in this marriage. What would it hurt to give her a couple of days to get used to it?”

Dallas stood. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s getting late. Did you and your family want to stay here tonight?”

“ ’Preciate the offer, but there’s a good moon tonight and a clear sky. We’ll be fine.”

Dallas followed his brother from his office and stood at the stairs, waiting while Houston walked through the front door. Dallas glanced up. The stairs had never before seemed so high. As he began to climb them, he started running apologies through his mind, trying to find the right one, the one that would undo all the damage he’d unwittingly inflicted on his wife’s peace of mind.

When he reached his bedroom, he tapped lightly on the door and waited an eternity for her to open it.

Cordelia peered out at the formidable man standing in the hallway. She opened the door farther, giving him access to the room, offering him access to her. She watched as his Adam’s apple slowly slid up and down.

“Be ready to ride before dawn,” he said gruffly and turned toward the stairs.

Stunned, Cordelia stepped into the hallway. “You mean to ride a horse?”

He stopped walking and stared at her. “What the hell else do you think we ride? Cows?”

She shook her head. “No … I just … I have something to wear. I’ve just never … ridden a horse.”

She thought if she released a deep breath, he’d fall over and tumble down the stairs.

“You’ve never ridden a horse?”

“Father said it was too dangerous. I always traveled in my coach.”

“There is no way in hell my wife is going to travel around the countryside in that red contraption. I had your brothers take it with them.”

“Oh.” She pressed her hand to her throat, trying to think of something to say.

“I’ve got a gentle horse you can ride, and if you don’t want her, you can ride with me.”

Quickly she shook her head. “The gentle horse is fine.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you before dawn.”

He spun on his heel and stomped down the stairs. Cordelia slipped back into her room, closed the door, and leaned against it. She pressed her fingers against her mouth. He had made her brothers take the hideous coach away!

Tomorrow, she was going to start riding a horse around the countryside.

She wrapped her arms around herself. He had said he’d see her in the morning. Did that mean she would be safe tonight? She could sleep alone?

She walked to the bed. It wasn’t until she reached up to pull the blankets down that she noticed the flowers resting between the pillows.

Wilted now, their fragrance still wafted over the bed. She picked up a yellow flower and trailed her finger over the fragile petal. They grew over the prairie. Easy enough to find. Not much trouble to pick.

Yet tears welled in her eyes. So simple a gesture. She wanted to believe Amelia had left them for her, but somehow she knew they had been a gift from Dallas.

She walked to the far side of the room, drew the heavy draperies aside, opened a door of windows, and stepped onto the balcony.

In the distance, she saw the silhouette of her husband sitting on the top railing of the corral, his shoulders hunched, as he gazed in the direction of the moon.

Cordelia lay in the massive oak bed listening for her husband’s footsteps. Several minutes past midnight, she finally heard them on the stairs. She followed the sound along the hallway until she heard him stop outside her door. She held her breath, waiting for the click of the turning doorknob, the echo that would announce he was coming to claim her as his wife.

But all she heard was the fading tread of his boots as he walked away.

She rolled to her side and watched as the shadows played around the room. Her room.

She wondered how long he would give her before he insisted on making it “their” room.

She slept fitfully through the night and finally crawled from the bed in the early hours of the morning to prepare herself for her first ride on a horse. It was then, in the quietness before dawn, that she noticed the many things she’d overlooked the night before.

She washed her face using the water that filled the heavy oak washstand. She gazed at her reflection in the oval mirror that hung on the wall. She imagined Dallas usually shaved here. His shaving equipment rested on a small table beside the washstand. She knew he was skilled with a razor. His chin and cheeks
had been smooth and carried no nicks or scars, save one small one just below his left eye, but she didn’t think a careless razor had created it. His mustache had been evenly trimmed.

Using one of the two towels he had set beside the washstand, she patted the moisture from her face. Then she walked to the mirrored dresser, sat in the straight-backed chair, and unraveled her braid.

On the dresser, he had placed a small bottle of bay rum. Her brothers often doused themselves with it, yet it had smelled different on Dallas’s tanned skin. He owned this ranch, but she didn’t think he spent nearly as much time in his office as her father did. Dallas’s features were too brown, too weathered.

She swept up her hair, then quickly donned her red riding habit. She’d only worn it once. The day Mimi St. Claire had delivered it to her, a gift from Cameron in hopes he could convince their father to let her ride. She had admired the woman for traveling to the ranch, unescorted, in a buggy. She had envied the woman the freedom she had to come and go as she pleased because she was not shackled to a man.

Cordelia had asked her father if perhaps she could do the same, but he had forbidden her to travel unescorted, as though he didn’t quite trust her to return. No one had found the time to escort her to town after the day Dallas had set aside the land.

She had devoted so many years to caring for her mother that staying at home had become a way of life that she had seldom questioned. She had grown up with her father’s adage, “A woman’s place is in the home, tending her menfolk.”

Cordelia jumped at the rapid-fire knock. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room and opened the door. She was struck once again with the handsome shape of Dallas’s chiseled features. His gaze slowly traveled from the tip of her hat to the tips of her toes.

“We need to go,” he said in a voice that sounded as though he were strangling.

She followed him down the stairs and into the early morning darkness. He had tethered two horses to the front veranda.

“This is Beauty,” Dallas said as he placed his hand on the mare’s chestnut rump. “She’s about as docile a horse as you’ll ever find. Pull back on the reins to stop her. Give her a gentle nudge in the sides to make her go. For the most part, she’ll just follow my horse.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Cordelia said.

Dallas looked at her and squinted. “You’ve never ridden?” he asked as though he thought he’d misunderstood her the night before.

She shook her head. “My father considered it unseemly and dangerous for a woman to ride a horse.”

He walked backward until he stood by the horse’s shoulder. “You just grab the saddle horn, put a foot in the stirrup, pull up, and swing your other leg over.”

Although she was tall, she still found the horn to be exceptionally high as she wrapped her hands around it. Dallas grabbed the stirrup and held it steady after her foot missed it twice. She slipped her booted foot into the stirrup, took a deep breath, and bounced up. Dallas grabbed her waist with one hand, pressed his other hand to her backside, and hoisted her over. Heat flaming her cheeks, Cordelia settled into the saddle. No one had ever touched her so intimately.

As the horse shied to the side, Cordelia dug her fingers into the saddle horn. Dallas grabbed the bridle, and the horse calmed.

“Take these,” he said, holding the reins up to her.

Cordelia stared at the strips of leather threaded through his fingers. Long fingers that had easily spanned half her waist. She reached out and took the reins. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he grumbled as he stalked around to his horse and mounted in one fluid movement. “Come on. Give Beauty a gentle kick.”

She did as he instructed, and Beauty followed Dallas’s horse at a slow pace. She wondered how it would feel to gallop across the plains, the wind blowing in her face. She could feel the breeze now, just a slight breath over her cheeks.

The man riding beside her looked as though he’d been born to the saddle, as though he and his horse were one.

Cordelia glanced around, expecting others to join them. “Where’s the escort?”

Dallas stared at her. “What escort?”

“My father always insisted that I travel with at least six men to guard me. I just assumed your men—”

“I protect what’s mine,” he said in a taut voice.

He didn’t have to move his hand to the gun resting along his thigh or the rifle housed in his saddle to convince her that he spoke truthfully.

“What … what is your horse’s name?” she asked.

“Satan.”

The black devil rode Satan. It somehow seemed appropriate.

“I had a devil of a time breaking him,” Dallas explained. “In the end, I had to let Houston handle him.”

“You sound disappointed.”

He shrugged. “That’s where Houston’s talent lies, taming horses.”

“What is your talent?”

He held her gaze. “I build empires.”

They rode west for over an hour with nothing but silence and a soft breeze between them.

Dallas fought to keep his gaze focused on the far horizon instead of on his new wife. He’d thought she had looked lovely dressed in white yesterday. In red, she was devastatingly beautiful. The deep shade brought out the richness of her porcelain skin, black hair, and brown eyes.

The combination was almost enough to make him change his mind about what he’d decided to do this morning. But the hesitancy in her voice when she spoke to him and the fear that still resided in her eyes kept him from altering his plans.

He drew Satan to a halt at the top of the small rise and turned the horse slightly. Beauty stopped beside him.

“Why did we stop?” Cordelia asked. “To watch the sunrise.”

He couldn’t explain why he wanted to watch the sun ease over the horizon with this woman by his side. Dawn wasn’t his favorite time of day. He preferred the night, when the clouds faded away to reveal the stars. The stars had guided him home countless times. As a boy, he’d even wished on them.

He had thought about asking Cordelia to ride with him last night when he couldn’t sleep, but he’d needed time alone to think, to wade through the quagmire he’d inadvertently created. He didn’t know if he could untangle the mess, but he was hoping he could give them a smoother trail to follow.

He heard her small intake of breath as the sun began to wash away the darkness. He wondered if she’d ever watched the start of a new day. He knew so little about her. It had all seemed unimportant until last night.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.

So are you
hung on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, not knowing how the morning would end.

Barely turning her face in his direction, she gave him a hesitant smile. “Thank you.”

He grimaced. “I didn’t make the sunrise. I just brought you to see it.”

She nodded slightly and averted her gaze. He would have taken back the gruffness in his voice if he could. He didn’t know why he always sounded angry when he spoke to her. Perhaps because the fulfillment of his final dream rested on her willingness to give it to him.