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She thought of being held within his arms, her stockinged feet gliding over the smooth hardwood floor….

“Cameron said that you never learned how to dance.”

“He doesn’t know everything.”

The music stilled. “So you have danced before.”

“Once … with Amelia.”

She scooted up in the chair, hope flaring within her. “Only with Amelia?”

“Only with Amelia. I was sharing her with a dozen cowboys at the time, and all we knew how to do was swing her around, stomp our feet, and clap our hands.”

“Have you ever waltzed with anyone?”

“Never.”

Slowly, she rose to her feet. “What else have you never done?”

She knew from the darkening of his eyes that he understood what he was asking.

“Never danced with a woman I love.”

Jealousy was a petty thing, but she’d never known such gladness. She smiled warmly. “I wouldn’t want to miss this opportunity to be your first.”

“Sugar, it’s more important that I intend for you to be my last.”

Before she had the chance to respond, he’d placed his hand on her waist and swept her onto the dance floor. The room contained two hearths, but neither fire burned as brightly as his eyes. Her stockinged feet glided over the floor and she wondered why women bothered to wear shoes at all.

When the music drifted into silence, she slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her from the dance floor.

Cameron and Becky caught up with them. “I’ve never seen you dance before,” Cameron said. “Didn’t know you could.”

Austin shrugged. “Now, you know.”

“I guess it’s because you were always playing the music.”

Austin started to walk away, but Loree stood fast, staring at Cameron, her heart thundering in her ears. “What … what do you mean he played the music?”

“Austin plays the violin and whenever we had occasion to dance, he provided the music.” He glanced at Austin. “I figured you’d be playing tonight.”

“I don’t play anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cameron said. “No one played music the way you did. You should have heard it, Loree. It was beautiful.”

She felt Austin’s gaze boring into her. She slipped her arm from beneath his. “Yes, I should have heard it.”

The strains of the waltz floated around the room. She began to tremble from her head to her toes. “I’m not feeling well. Will you excuse me?”

She didn’t wait for his answer. She didn’t bother to gather up her shoes or her coat. She simply ran. Shouldering her way through the crowd like a mad woman, her heart breaking.

She finally managed to burst through to the lobby. She hurried to the front, shoved open the door, and stumbled into the cold night. Tears stung her eyes. She had told him that she loved him.

And she realized now that she didn’t know anything about him.

The ride home was quiet. Too quiet.

Austin had given their excuses and apologies for having to leave early. Naturally, everyone had wanted to check on Loree and make certain the baby wasn’t planning to come early.

The one time she had met his gaze, he’d seen nothing but hurt in her eyes. He drew the wagon to a halt. Loree shifted on the seat.

“Loree, wait for me to get over there.”

He leapt off the wagon and raced around to the other side. She’d already reached the ground.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself with your stubbornness,” he chastised.

“And you hurt me with your lies.”

“I never lied.”

“You never told me the truth, either.”

She spun on her heel and headed into the house. Austin grabbed their box of presents from the back of the wagon and traipsed in after her. Shafts of moonlight pierced the darkness.

“Will you start a fire in the hearth?” she asked. “I’m cold.”

He set the box on the table, walked to the hearth, and hunkered down. He struck a match to the kindling and watched the flames flare to life. He heard a scrape and bang. He twisted around and watched Loree remove something from the box.

“Your music box is on the bottom,” he told her.

“I’m not looking for the music box.”

Slowly, he unfolded his body. “Loree—”

She spun around, marched to the hearth, and threw something at it.

The sheets of music.

He dropped to his knees, grabbed them from the fire, and beat out the flames that were already greedily devouring the pages. He glared up at Loree. “What did you do that for?”

“You already know how to play the violin. All these months, you let me make a fool out of myself—”

“No, I never meant that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? When I asked you—begged you—to let me teach you, why didn’t you say, ‘I already know how to play, Loree.’ ”

He saw the tears glistening within her eyes. “Loree—”

“You told me that you love me. Do you think love is supposed to hurt? It’s not. Whatever Becky taught you about love is wrong. It’s supposed to heal. It’s supposed to make you feel glad that you’re alive. It’s supposed to help you live with the past.

“You can’t love me if you won’t let me inside your heart. Either open your heart and invite me in or take me back home. But don’t tell me you love me when you don’t know what it is to love.”

She spun on her heel, walked into their bedroom, and slammed the door.

Austin bit back the agonizing wail that would have been her name.

What did she know about the things in his heart?

What did she know about love? Love looked deeply within a person.

Hadn’t Amelia looked beyond Houston’s scars to his soul?

Love understood what others couldn’t begin to fathom.

Hadn’t Dee understood Dallas’s hard nature when no one else had?

Loree was the one who knew nothing about love. He stalked to the bedroom door, put his hand on the knob, and heard her wrenching sobs. He pressed his forehead to the door.

Christ, how many times had he made her cry? How often had he hurt her?

She was right. He should take her back home. She had his name. That was all she needed.

He stormed across the room, opened the front door, rushed through it, and slammed it in his wake. The last thing he needed her to hear was his heart breaking.

Loree awoke to the sound of a child crying.

She rubbed the salt of her dried tears from the corners of her eyes and squinted through the darkness.

Shafts of moonlight sliced through the window, forming the silhouette of a man, standing, his head bowed, his arm pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling the bow slowly across the taut strings of a violin.

The resonant chords deepened and an immense lonesomeness filled the room.

Loree sat up in bed, sniffing through her stuffed nose.

She clutched her handkerchief as the wailing continued.

She wanted to slip out of bed and wrap her arms around someone, ease the pain she heard in the echoing strains of the violin.

The poignant melody released fresh tears and caused her heart to tighten.

In all her life, she’d never had a song reach out to capture her soul.

The melody drifted into an aching silence. Austin lifted his head, and she saw his tears, trailing along his cheeks, glistening in the moonlight.

She slipped from beneath the blankets, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. “What were you playing?” she asked reverently, not wanting to disturb the ambiance that remained in the room.

“That was my heart breaking,” he said, his voice ragged.

She felt as though her own heart might shatter as she took a step toward him. “Austin—”

“Don’t stop loving me, Loree. You want me to learn what those little black bugs on those pieces of paper mean, I’ll learn. You want me to play the violin from dawn until dusk, hell, I’ll play till midnight, just don’t stop loving me.”

She flung her arms around his neck and felt his arms come around her back, the violin tapping against her backside. “Oh, Austin, I couldn’t stop loving you if I wanted.”

“I do know how to love, Loree. I just don’t know how to keep a woman loving me.”

“I’ll always love you, Austin,” she said trailing kisses over his face. “Always.”

She felt a slight movement away from her as he set the violin aside, and then his arms came around her, tighter than before. “Let me love you, Loree. I need to love you.”

His mouth swooped down, capturing hers, desperation evident as his tongue delved swiftly, deeply. And then, as though, sensing her surrender, his exploration gentled. His hands came around, bracing either side of her hips, hips that had widened as she carried his child.

His hands traveled upward, until her breasts filled his palms. His long fingers shaped and molded what nature had already altered, preparing for the day when she would nourish their child.

He cradled her cheek, deepening the kiss, as his other hand worked the buttons of her nightgown free.

He slipped his hand through the parted material, his roughened palm cupping her smooth breast. She felt his fingers tremble as his thumb circled her nipple, causing it to harden and strain for his touch.

His breathing harsh, he trailed his mouth along the column of her throat. He dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat.

“I’m only thinking of you, Loree,” he rasped.

She dropped her head back. “I know.” And she did know, deep within her soul, where his music had dared to travel only moments before, she did know that he was thinking of her. The tears he had shed had been for her. The music he had played had been for her.

His kiss, his gentle touch—they belonged to her now, just as he did.

His mouth skimmed along her flesh, between the valley of her breasts, his breath warm like a summer breeze. He trailed his mouth over the curve of her breast. His tongue circled her nipple before he closed his mouth around the taut tip and suckled.

Like a match struck to kindling, her body responded, heat flaming to life. Her knees buckled and he caught her against him, steadying her. Slowly, he unfolded his body and within the faint moonbeams, she saw the deep blue of his smoldering gaze.