Page 12

A loud 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.

“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 she would never have. She had not expected to yearn so intensely for that which she could not 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.

His gaze told her that he didn’t believe her. “I spent five years surrounded by men, but I was alone because there was no one I cared about, no one I trusted. You don’t have to live like that, Loree. Pack up your belongings and I’ll move you to Austin—”

She jerked away from him. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because that night still lives inside me! You don’t know what I did!”

“You survived.”

Tears burned her eyes. “If only it was that simple. I’m here because I deserve to be.

Call it a punishment. Call it a life sentence.

Call it whatever you want. I made my decision and I’m not leaving.

” The tears rolled over onto her cheeks.

“Despite what you thought, I knew exactly what you meant when you said a person makes decisions not knowing the cost—but regardless, once you act on the decision, you still have to pay the price.” Five years ago, the price had been her dreams.

“Even if it costs you your life? Loree, your friend Dewayne was right. You didn’t know anything about me when you accepted my offer to chop your wood for a bowl of stew. I could have been intent on hurting you.”

“I took your weapons.”

He released a mirthless laugh. “You think that would have stopped me?”

“Digger would have stopped you.”

“You don’t have Digger anymore.”

She flinched at the reminder. He cursed harshly and reached for her. “Come here.”

She tried to resist, but he was insistent, drawing her into his arms and pressing her face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m worried about you, Sugar. I don’t like the idea of you living out here alone.”

“I’ll be all right,” she assured him, even though she knew it wasn’t the absolute truth. After he left, she’d be lonelier than she’d ever been in her life.

He held her, his hands gliding up and down her back, comforting and strong, the silence broken only by the snap and crackle of the fire. It seemed an eternity passed before he finally spoke, and when he did, it was as though their argument had never taken place.