Chapter Twenty-one

T hey waited until spring, when the wildflowers formed a bright multicolored carpet over the plains.

Amelia stood beside the springs, listening to the babble of the water as it flowed over the moss covered rocks. Her dress of white lace and silk whispered in the breeze, a gift from Houston, one of many he'd brought her from Fort Worth. A gift to capture her memories.

In the years to come, she knew she would take it from the cedar chest, look upon it with fondness, and remember the first of the happiest days of her life.

She had intertwined her arm through Houston's, just as their lives would forever be joined. No brand would emblazon their union. Only the words they exchanged today.

She couldn't take her eyes off Houston as he stood beside her in his new brown jacket and woolen trousers. She thought he more closely resembled a banker than a man who spent the best part of his day with horses … and soon she hoped, the best part of his night with her.

The even, straight brim of his new broad-brimmed hat made her smile, and she wondered how long it would be before old habits crumpled it. Around the brim, he wore her linen of long ago, with its delicate embroidered flowers, faded and frayed. Through the eyes of her heart, she knew she'd never seen a more handsome man.

Reverend Tucker's melodious voice rang out as he once again spoke the words he'd said the previous autumn. Dallas stood solemnly beside her, and she wondered briefly if he was remembering the day she had become his wife or if he was mentally designing the layout of the town he planned to build. She hoped he was thinking of his town, and that it would bring him a wife.

Austin stood on the other side of Houston, smiling broadly, his sparkling blue eyes competing in beauty with the pond as the sun reflected off the rippling waters.

"If anyone knows of any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever"—Reverend Tucker held the gazes of the three men in attendance for the space of a heartbeat—"and I do mean forever hold his peace."

Amelia caught her breath and waited. She knew Dallas had the right to object. A part of her was saddened with the knowledge that she would not give him the son he desperately longed for; a corner of her heart would always be reserved for the memories of the short time that she had been his fiancée, and then his wife. And her love for him would grow over the years as he'd predicted, only it would be the love of a sister toward her brother.

Reverend Tucker cleared his throat. Amelia released her breath and repeated the vows she'd said once before, her gaze never leaving Houston's.

Reverend Tucker shifted his attention to Houston. "And if you'll repeat after me—"

"She's had those words given to her before," Houston said gruffly. "She deserves better than hand-me-downs. I've got my own words to say."

Lifting a brow, Reverend Tucker chuckled low. "Well, I've never heard my words referred to as hand-me-downs, but I suppose they are. I have no objection to you giving your own vows as long as your bride doesn't. Amelia?"

"I have no objections," she said, her heart thrumming with the rhythm of the falls. She imagined that they still carried the sound of Houston's laughter mingling with hers, and after today they would forever echo their vows.

Reaching around her, Houston cupped her elbow, tugging slightly until she faced him completely. He swept his hat from his head, the shadows retreating to reveal the craggy left side, the perfect right side that came together to form the face she loved.

He took the hand that wasn't holding the bouquet of wildflowers and stared at it, holding it so tightly that she thought he might crack her bones. Then his hold gentled. He slipped a gold ring onto her finger and lifted his gaze to hers.

"I'm not a brave man; I'll never be a hero, but I love you more than life itself, and I will until the day I die. With you by my side, I'm a better man than I've ever been alone. I'm scared to death that I'll let you down, but I won't run this time. I'll stand firm and face the challenge and work hard to see that you never have any regrets. You told me once that you wanted to share a corner of my dream. Without you, Amelia, I have no dream. With you, I have everything I could ever dream of wanting."

Tears burned her eyes as he glanced back at the preacher. "I'm done."

Reverend Tucker smiled. "In that case, I pronounce you husband and wife. With my blessing, you may kiss the bride."

Houston cradled her cheek, his gaze lovingly roaming over her features. "I love you, Amelia Carson Leigh," he said huskily as he lowered his lips to hers, sealing the vows with a sweet tender kiss, filled with the promise of tomorrow.

When he ended the kiss, she pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, gathering her happiness around her before she stepped away to face her brother by marriage.

Taking her hand in his, Dallas smiled warmly. "I never thought you'd look prettier than you did the day you married me, but you sure look prettier today. You wear love well, Amelia."

"I hope to say the same to you someday."

"That I look pretty?"

Standing on the tips of her toes, she brushed her lips over his. "That you wear love well."

"Don't hold your breath on that one," he teased.

"You could always order another bride," Houston suggested.

"Hell, no. I'll get my town built, and women will start flocking out here. Then I'll make a selection."

"Love isn't always that practical," Houston said.

"I'm not looking for love. I'm looking for a wife who'll give me a son." He glanced over Amelia's shoulder. "I'll build you a church in my town, Preacher, so I don't have to send my men chasing after you every time I need you."

"You do that, Mr. Leigh," Reverend Tucker said as he slipped his Bible into his coat pocket. "Meanwhile, I think my job is done here so I'm gonna get back to looking for a lost soul." He shook hands with the men and brushed a kiss against Amelia's cheek. "You be happy, now."

"I will."

He mounted a black stallion, and with little more than a gentle kick to the horse's sides, sent it into a flying gallop.

Dallas cleared his throat. "Well, reckon Austin and I ought to head back to the ranch."

"I need to give Amelia her gift first," Austin said. He walked over to his horse and returned carrying his violin. He sat on a boulder, stretched out one leg, worked the heel of his other boot into a crack in the rock, and rested the violin on his shoulder. "The first time I ever saw you, Amelia … well, this is what I heard in my heart."

The music began softly, little more than a soughing sigh. Amelia felt a touch on her shoulder and glanced up at her husband.

"Your wedding gift from me," he said as he stepped back and held out his arms. "A waltz."

Her eyes widened. "I didn't think you danced."

"Mimi St. Claire, proprietor and expert dressmaker, happens to give dancin' lessons." He reddened. "They cost more than the wedding dress."

"I love the wedding dress." She smiled as she stepped into his embrace, and they began to sway in rhythm to the music.

The lyrical strains of the violin wove around the falls, through the breeze, kissing the petals of wildflowers. They rose in crescendo, grand, beautiful, and bold, before drifting into silence.

Amelia and Houston waltzed while Austin tucked his violin under his arm. They waltzed after Dallas and Austin mounted their horses and rode away.

They waltzed until twilight, until it was time to go home.

The cabin was dark except for the fire burning lazily in the hearth. Houston had shoved the table to one side of the room and moved the bed closer to the hearth.

Amelia had imagined this night a hundred times since the evening Houston had asked her to marry him. She'd anticipated it, longed for it, but as she gazed at her full reflection in the cheval glass, she had a feeling her imaginings would pale in comparison to all this night would bring.

Her husband stood behind her, slowly releasing the buttons of her wedding dress. He parted the material and placed a kiss on her nape.

He met and held her gaze in the mirror, his knuckles brushing along either side of her throat. "You haven't asked me a question all evening."

"I can't think of anything I need answered right now."

"You can't think of anything?"

She rubbed her cheek against his hand. "I'm having a hard time thinking of anything to say, much less to ask."

"I have a lot of questions that need answering."

He nibbled on her earlobe and trailed his tongue along the shell of her ear. She thought she might melt to the floor. "You do?"

"Mmmm-huh. I'd like to watch a shadow show without the canvas between us."

"It wouldn't be a shadow show without the canvas."

He smiled, one side of his mouth moving more than the other. "Exactly, but a lot of my questions sure would be answered without me having to ask them."

He stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. She pivoted slowly and angled her chin. "What's good for the goose—"

"Understood."

Smiling serenely, she tugged first on one sleeve and then the other, watching as her husband's gaze darkened. The gown pooled at her feet, and she stepped over it, stepped nearer to him. Slowly she removed her undergarments. Her husband swallowed hard, his lips parted slightly, and he leaned forward.

Standing before him with nothing but the air surrounding her flesh, she was surprised she felt no self-consciousness. She cupped her breasts. "You must have thought me terribly wanton the first time you saw me do this."

"I didn't think anything at all," he rasped as he came to his feet. He shrugged out of his jacket, tore his shirt over his head, and removed his trousers in one fluid movement. Then he was standing before her, cradling her cheek. "If you hadn't asked me questions, I think I might have made that whole journey without a clear thought in my head. The first time I saw you, I couldn't think of anything to say."

She trailed her fingers over his chest, admiring every aspect of his hard lean body. "‘And now?"

"A question?" He smiled warmly. "God, I hope you like my answer."

His lips swept down to cover hers, his mouth hot, his tongue exploring hers as though he'd never kissed her before when he'd actually kissed her through the winter and the beginning of spring. She had come to know his kisses intimately, but they'd never promised all that he seemed to be promising her now. The kiss promised no end … only a beginning.

Groaning deeply, he trailed his mouth along her chin, nibbling as he went until he pressed his mouth against her ear. "Remember how I wanted to touch you?"

"As my husband, you have that right."

"Only if it's what you want."

"How could you possibly think I wouldn't want you to touch me?"

"Good, 'cuz I'm gonna touch all of you."

He moved his large hands up her sides and cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling the sensitive flesh until her nipples hardened. Moaning, she collapsed against his broad chest. He slipped his arm beneath her knees and lifted her against his chest. She had never felt more at home than she did as he carried her to the bed and gently laid her on the thick feather mattress, stretching his body alongside hers.

She loved the length of his body, the breadth of his shoulders. She trailed her fingers over the scars that ran along his face. "Can you feel that?"

"Barely." He took her hand and placed it over his beating heart. "But I feel that."

Then his body was covering hers, flesh against flesh, warmth against warmth. His mouth blazed a trail of kisses along her throat, traveling lower to circle the crest of each breast. She scraped her fingers through his hair until a leather strip barred further exploration. "Do you mind if I remove this?" she asked.

He lifted his gaze, and she watched as his Adam's apple slowly slid up and down. "If you want," he said in a strangled voice.

"I love everything about you, Houston. Everything."

"Even the ugliness."

"That's just it. I don't see any ugliness when I look at you."

He closed his eye as she untied the leather strip and gently removed the patch covering his face. He released a ragged breath before lifting his gaze back to hers.

"I think you're handsome as sin," she said softly.

He buried his face between her breasts. "You can't love me that much." "I love you more."

"Oh, Lord." Houston thought he might weep. That'd be one hell of a manly action on his wedding night. His father would tan his hide—

Only his father wasn't here, and he wasn't the man his father had wanted him to become. But he was the man this woman loved.

She accepted his weaknesses and his scars, inside and out. The tears burned his throat, burned his eye as he raised his face from the soft pillow of her flesh. "I haven't got the words to tell you how much I love you, but I'm hoping I can show you."

He called on the skills he'd acquired while working with horses, hoping to tame her passions, bend them to his will, to her desires. He skimmed his hands along her body, from her shoulder to her tiny bare toes. Shadows waltzed over her flesh in rhythm to the dancing flames within the hearth. He relished the sight of her skin glowing beneath his fingers.

Years ago, he'd stopped dreaming, and when he began to dream again, all his dreams revolved around her. The feel of her beside him, beneath him, around him.

He fought against rushing to have all that he wanted, forcing himself to gift her with the patience he gave his horses. She meant so much more to him than his horses. Without her, they were nothing more than animals. With her, they were a dream waiting on the horizon, a dream they would touch together.

He kissed her deeply, inhaling the scent of magnolias that would forever remain in his bed. Then he began to trail his mouth over her flesh, following the path his hands had blazed earlier.

He heard her sigh like the soughing of the wind. He took his time, allowing her to grow accustomed to the feel of his mouth on her breasts, suckling, taunting, before he trailed down to her thighs.

Slowly, leisurely, he kissed her intimately, passionately until she quivered beneath him. "Houston? I need—"

He swirled his tongue along her sensitive flesh. "I want you to buck for me."

"Buck for you?" Amelia rasped, her fingers pressing against his face. "Oh, God." Sensations she'd never known existed swept through her: lightning flashed and thunder rumbled as he created a tempest within her body. Her entire body curled as tightly as her toes, and then the storm exploded, raining pleasure and rapture throughout until she did buck like a wild mustang.

She opened her eyes to find him gazing at her, a smile of pure joy etched across his face. "You know there are some mustangs that can't be broken, but they're always worth the ride."

"I think you just broke me," she confessed breathlessly.

"Nope. You have too much spirit, Amelia. I'd never try to break you, but I always want you to enjoy the ride as much as I do."

With one long smooth stroke, he joined his body to hers. The pain was fleeting as her body instinctively tightened around him. Then he was riding her, she was riding him, two people with one destination.

The journey was like none she'd ever taken, none she'd ever dreamed of taking. She ran her hands along the taut muscles of his chest and back, kissed the dew from his throat, relished the sight of his clenched jaw.

His mouth swooped down, covering hers, kissing her, mating their tongues just as he'd mated their bodies. She whimpered, he groaned. Her breathing became shallow, his harsh.

His thrusts grew swifter, and she kept pace as the sensations stampeded through her until her body hurled her into an abyss of pleasure, and he arched and shuddered above her.

In awe, she languorously trailed her fingers over his glistening back.

He rubbed his cheek against hers. "I love you," he whispered on a tired breath.

"Those whores were fools for charging you double."

He chuckled low, lifted his head, and brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. "I never gave them this. I never gave anyone this. I didn't know I had it to give." He held her gaze. "I want you to know that when I took Austin to Dusty Flats, I didn't touch a woman."

She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. "I'm glad. Even though you weren't married to me at the time, I'm glad."

He rolled to his side and brought her up against him. She nestled against his shoulder, relishing the day's memories and the night's wonders before drifting off to sleep.

Amelia awoke several hours later, her body sore, her heart content. Houston's body was draped over hers, his leg slung over her thigh, his large palm cradling her breast, his breath blowing across her nape like the constant West Texas breeze. It took her a moment to recognize that she was not only surrounded by him, but by darkness as well. "Houston?"

"Mmmm?" he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"The fire went out."

"Are you cold?"

"No, but there's no light."

"Want me to find the lantern?"

"Just hold me a little tighter."

"I can do better than that," he promised as he gently rolled her over and kissed her deeply, giving her what he would always give her from that night forward … the best of himself.