having regrets?
“You haven’t opened your gift.” Cutting her off before she could speak, he shoved the small package across the smooth wood to her.
She didn’t want to open the gift. What she wanted to know was if he were wishing he hadn’t proposed. No, that couldn’t be true, because he’d been so persistent. And last night…Pleasure thrilled through her at the memory of his touch, his kiss, his loving.
She tugged the string and the bow unraveled. She tore away the brown paper to the small wooden box beneath.
A carved box. “You did this?”
He nodded. “I made it a long time ago. I meant to make a cigar box, but it didn’t turn out that way. I figured that maybe it was a sign that I would meet a woman to fall in love with one day. And when I did, I would give it to her.”
“It’s beautiful.” She ran her fingertips over the etched layers of roses embedded in the lustrous cherry-wood grain.
“Look inside.”
Dillon appeared intense, shoulders straight, back straight, his jaw clamped tight. Or was he worried?
She lifted the lid. Inside, on a snug bed of blue satin, winked a row of small diamonds strung on gold. The bracelet felt like a silken thread between her fingers.
“To replace the one you lost. The one your stepfather tried to pay me with.”
“How did you know it was mine?”
“It sure as hell wasn’t his, and a small dainty thing like that wouldn’t fit your mother. That only left you.” He curved his hand against the side of her face, bold and gentle in the same moment.
Uncertainty pinched the corners of his eyes, and he appeared so vulnerable, his heart wide open, this great warrior of a man. “It’s not as expensive and the diamonds aren’t as big as the original, and I’m sorry for that, but I hope you like it anyhow.”
“I love it. Because it’s from you.” On tiptoe, she brought her lips to his. “You don’t need to buy me diamonds and gold to make me happy.”
“I do want you to be happy here.” He drew her to him when she moved away, sealing her against his hips and chest, against his heart. “I do love you.”
His kiss was like dawn. Shy and sweet, a gentle glow that warmed her and gave her hope.
“I married you,” she confessed, “because I had to know what this was. This feeling inside me.” She clasped her fist between her breasts. “What I feel for you, I’ve never known before.”
Relief left Dillon feeling as if he’d downed a good portion of a whiskey bottle. “Me, too, darlin’.”
To hell with breakfast. He felt her melt against him, felt her need as if it were his own. A need not for a husband to provide a roof, food and safety.
But a need of the soul for its match. For completion.
He was
With her new bracelet sparkling in the gray winter’s light, Katelyn reined in the red gelding Dillon had hitched to his smallest sleigh. “He’s a tame fellow who will do what you want, not at all like me.” She remembered how Dillon had winked, as if he knew darn well he wasn’t always a tame kind of man.
Remembering their lovemaking in the kitchen, her pulse skipped through her veins. She’d driven less than a mile, and already she missed him. He’d be working with his horses right now, in one of the corrals with a lariat in hand. Or maybe he’d be riding today, putting the mares through their paces.
“Katelyn, welcome.” Mariah swept down from the porch step. A shawl draped her shoulders to protect her and the baby she snuggled in her arms from the falling snow. “Just leave your horse and rig. My husband will be by to take care of them. I’m so glad you came. I hope you like chicken.”
“I do. It’s so good to be here.” Katelyn tried not to look at the baby, snuggling close to his mother.
“Come in and take off those wraps.” Mariah led the way into a spacious, warm kitchen that smelled like chocolate cake and coffee.
Two women sat at a large oak table in the corner. One had long curling dark hair and the other was fairer of hair and complexion. “Hello,” the women greeted in friendly unison.
“We have all been friends together since public school,” Mariah explained after laying the baby down in his cradle near her chair at the table. “You are the first woman we’ve invited to join us. Wait, no, not the first.”
“Remember, we invited that woman from the farm down by the river,” the dark-haired woman added. “But she was awful. She was a gossiping sort.”
“We’re given to gossip now and then,” the blond woman chimed in. “But we only tell nice gossip.”
“And she brought this horrible sauerkraut dish. Now, I like good sauerkraut.” Mariah took Katelyn’s wraps with efficiency, shook the snow out of them in front of the stove, and began hanging them up on wall pegs with the other coats and scarves. “But the woman put what had to be raw fish in that perfectly good dish.”
“No, I don’t think it was raw,” the blond woman said with great consideration. “Just not terribly well cooked.”
“How well cooked does a fish have to be? A few minutes on the stove and it’s done. I’m
“I would be,” the blond woman confessed.
“Rayna, what a thing to say!”
“Well, it’s true. If I didn’t know us, I’d think, who are these crazy women? Get me away from them as fast as greased lightning.”
This wasn’t the sort of social gathering Katelyn had been to in nearly a decade. What a waste, all those stuffy, proper dinners with Brett’s somber friends. Years passed by, whether a person lived them or not.
Brett casting her out and severing all legal ties had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. He couldn’t love her-well, that didn’t mean much. He couldn’t love anyone, save himself. And she’d been existing in shadows for too long.
She had a whole new life. She had a cozy house to take care of, a great man to love and who honestly cherished her, and now this chance for real friends, the kind she used to have long ago when she was young.
She set her sewing basket on the floor, took the offered chair and joined in the merriment.
Dillon noticed the small brown sparrows stopped in midsong to scatter in their hiding places in the deep white meadows. He drew the gray mare to a halt on a tight rein, reassuring her when she started to sidestep. Was someone coming? Or was it a wild predator? A cougar or a wolf come to cause trouble?
He quieted. Listened. A gopher dove into his burrow with a loud protest, his snow-clearing task interrupted. The road was clear. Katelyn wasn’t back yet from her visiting. The mare was scenting something, lifting her well- shaped head to the east, nostrils flaring and ears pricked.
It sure as hell wasn’t danger, or she wouldn’t be so interested in the newcomer. He caught a flash of color in the dips and draws of the snowy meadows. Yep, it was Dakota, riding his white pinto bareback, the reins knotted and left to lie on the mare’s neck.
“C’mon, girl.” He reined the mare around, opened the gate and pushed her hard across the silent prairie.
“Brother.” Dakota greeted with a nod. “I heard you made it official. You made her your bride. Is that wise?”
“I think so.”
“You look like hell, but then your ugly mug always does.” Dakota turned his pony toward the ranch, leading the way home. “Does she make you happy?”
“That’s all a man can expect from a woman.”
Dakota’s judgment of marriage had never been a good one. Dillon understood that. He’d seen a lot of unhappy marriages in his life. In his line of work. It was rare to find your match, he knew.
He knew she felt this, too, the indefinable connection between them. A bond that was deeper than emotion, more substantial than flesh and bone. That went so deep that his love for her was everything. Everything he was. Everything he wanted. Everything he would ever be.
