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“Now, why would I want to kiss Cameron when I love you?”

She ducked her head as though embarrassed while his heart pounded like an untamed stallion thundering over the plains.

He’d heard those three little words before, in his youth, but they hadn’t managed then to bring him to his knees.

Right now, he wasn’t certain how long he could remain standing.

She loved him. This sweet little woman loved him.

“Loree?”

Loree glanced up and watched Austin dangle the mistletoe in front of her nose. She smiled warmly. “You don’t need that.”

She raised up on her toes, entwined her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips against his. He welcomed her as he had that first night when they had each needed comfort. His mouth was hot and devouring as though he couldn’t get enough of tasting her.

She hadn’t planned to tell him that she’d come to love him, but she had thought he needed to hear the words as badly as she did. She knew she couldn’t compete with his memories, but she’d grown weary of worrying how the past—his and hers—might affect their future.

She had this moment, when he held her as though he would never release her, this moment, when the world contained all that mattered: warmth, security, and the possibility of love.

She had no doubts that he cared for her and treasured her.

Maybe not in the same manner that he had Becky, but he had been younger then.

Now and then, she would catch glimpses of the young man he might have been.

She could not return to him his youth, but she could give him her love—unconditionally.

And if he continued to love another, she would not allow her love for him to diminish.

He trailed his mouth along the sensitive area below her ear.

She felt as though the fire had jumped from the hearth and was surrounding her, flames licking at her flesh.

He nimbly unbuttoned the top buttons on her bodice and dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, needing his strength to prevent her from melting into the floor.

“Ah, Sugar,” he rasped, his breath skimming along the curve of her bosom, “why don’t we ever do this at home?”

She dropped her head back, giving him easier access. “Your promise, I guess.”

“My promise?” His lips moved lower. “My promise? Dammit to hell!” He pressed his mouth to the valley between her breasts. “I was only thinking of you, Loree. I swear to God, I was only thinking of you.”

He pulled away from her, braced his forearm on the window, and pressed his forehead against the glass, his breathing harsh and labored.

Studying his tortured profile, she watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed.

Tears stung her eyes. Without thought she had answered his question with the excuse that she gave herself each night when he simply held her and didn’t ask for more.

“Austin—”

Reaching out, he took her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “We probably ought to get back to the others. I’ll need to pass out the presents soon.”

Turning he gave her a wayward smile and began to button her bodice. “You make me forget all about propriety, Loree … and promises.” He slipped the last button through its loop and straightened her collar. “One of these days, Sugar, I’m gonna kiss you until you forget about promises.”

“Promise?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

His eyes grew warm. “Promise.”

He slipped his fingers between hers, pressing his rough palm against hers. “Come on. My favorite part of Christmas is nearly here.”

His excitement was infectious as he led her from Dallas’s office. They’d create new memories to replace the old, and she imagined each Christmas would simply be more wonderful than the one that had come before.

They walked into the parlor. Someone had lit the candles on the branches of the evergreen tree. The flames flickered, making the shadows dance around the room.

The drapes were drawn open. The night eased inside. The fire in the hearth burned brightly. Everyone had gathered inside the room, some sitting, some standing, many of the children sprawled over the floor.

“Oh, there you are,” Dee said smiling. She took Loree’s free hand. “We have a tradition of singing a song before we open presents. We were wondering if you’d play the piano while we sang.”

Loree felt the comfort of belonging slip around her like a warm blanket as Austin squeezed her hand. “I’d love to. What should I play?”

“ ‘Silent Night’?”

“One of my favorites,” Loree said as she released Austin’s hand and walked to the piano. She sat on the bench and swiped her damp palms along her skirt. Austin came to stand beside her.

“You’ll do fine,” he mouthed.

She smiled and nodded. “Hope so.”

“All right, everyone, Loree is going to play ‘Silent Night.’ Everyone stand so we can sing together as a family,” Dee commanded.

Loree glanced over her shoulder. The husbands and wives had gathered their children around them, distinct families that came together to form one. Where was a photographer when they needed one?

She wiped her hands again on her skirt before placing her fingers on the ivory keys.

The notes sounded and the room filled with off-key voices—and for the first time ever, she heard her husband’s voice lifted in song.

He carried the tune like no one else in the room, as though the melody were part of him.

His gaze captured hers, holding her entranced, and she wished the song would never end, but eventually it drifted away, leaving a moment of respectful silence in its wake.

Austin smiled at her, rubbed his hands together as though in anticipation, and took a step away from the piano. Loree twisted around on the piano bench to watch the exchange of gifts.

“You can help me pass out presents, Brat,” Rawley said as he knelt in front of the tree.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Maggie countered as she dropped beside him. “I’ve been helping you forever.”

Austin still smiling, stepped back, and sank onto the bench beside Loree, his gaze focused on the tree. He took her hand. “Thought you played really nice,” he said, his voice low.

She thought her heart might break as she remembered him saying earlier that he needed to pass out the presents. In the years while he was away, the responsibility had obviously fallen to Rawley until everyone had forgotten a time when anyone else had passed them out.

She squeezed Austin’s arm. “It surprised me, hearing how well you sang.”

He shrugged. “Use to enjoy music.”

“I wish you’d let me teach you to play—”

“Here, Uncle Austin, this one’s for you,” Maggie said, holding out a large package.

“Well, I’ll be,” Austin said with a smile as he shook the box. “This is almost as big as the box Rawley got the first year that you helped me pass out the presents. You remember that?”

Maggie furrowed her brow and shook her head. “What’d he get?”

“A saddle.”

“I don’t ‘member.”

Austin touched her nose. “Doesn’t matter. You’d better get back to helping him.”

She scurried away. Loree leaned close and whispered, “She couldn’t have been very old when you left—”

“Three.”

He looked at her and smiled sadly. “Guess we can’t always choose which memories we keep when we start growing up.”

But she knew she would forever hold the memory of her husband’s first Christmas after his release from prison. Even with her by his side, she thought he’d never looked more lonely.