The Horseman

One more time. She was given this chance to love him once more. It was magic, his kiss, his touch. Thrilling as he laid her across the cool sheets and hovered over her.

“You are overdressed for this occasion, ma’am.” Flashing her a dimple, he tugged at her collar and freed her from her dress. While he kissed her throat and breasts, he unlaced her corset. The stroke of his tongue grew hot and wet as the lace gave way and his mouth closed over her nipple, suckling hard.

Desire snapped like a tight line through the core of her. She dug her fingers into his hair.

“Oh, yes.” She wanted him forever, to remember him just like this. The excited thrill of her body as he kissed his way down her stomach and the white-hot flash of pleasure as his fingers parted her. His low, deep groan when he found her wet and ready and lifting up for all of him. The amazing glide of his thickness stretching her open, filling her, making them one, making them whole.

Two hearts, one soul.

Chapter Eighteen

How was she ever going to find the strength to walk away? Katelyn watched Dillon sleep, his hair tousled from lovemaking, the sweat drying on his brow. She loved him so much her spirit ached with it. She couldn’t tell him the truth now. She loved him too much.

As he loved her.

“Katelyn,” he murmured in his sleep and reached out for her.

She put her hand in his but didn’t let him pull her close. He sighed, holding on to her hand so tight, even in sleep. As if to say he intended to hold her forever.

And at what cost? She had failed him. It was only a matter of time before his love eroded slowly and as surely as sand on an ocean shore, moved by a current too strong to resist. Time would pass, and if Dillon could accept her barrenness, then his desire for a child would go unrequited. Become stronger until one day he would gaze at her with disappointment in his eyes.

The slow death of their love would be twice as painful. And if she stayed, she would be asking too much of him.

The fear that she wasn’t enough, wasn’t good enough, rose up hard and fast and blinding. She loved Dillon too much to fail him. She couldn’t do that to him. To herself. The end result would be the same anyway.

Walk away. It was the only solution for them both. He would hurt, but he’d get over it. She couldn’t take this pain anymore. It rose up like a serpent from the sea, twining around her spine, twisting around her entire being. Crushing her body, heart and soul. There was no escape from the black sorrow.

There never would be.

He will be happier without me. Thinking of all the ways Dillon would benefit from her leaving was the only way she found the strength to let go of his hand. The courage to slip the wedding ring from her finger. The faith to face a future without the love of her life.

She took one look back before she crossed the threshold. Love for him burned inside her as bright as a summer sun, radiant and everlasting and strong enough to bring light to anything. Even to the darkness of her fear and her sorrow.

She was doing this for him. So he would have a better life. So he would be free to find a woman who could give him a son. Her legs trembled as she descended the stairs. The deepest part of her was breaking.

Keep going. She was doing the right thing. Walking through the parlor, her steps whispering around her. This house wouldn’t always be empty. Isn’t that why Dillon had always chosen to travel, when he had the land and the money and the horses to stay here and build a life?

The yard was sullen and silent, long with shadows as the daylight waned. Dark came early this time of year, and it felt as if it were coming into her. The shadows inside her lengthened, blotting out all the happiness she’d known here.

One day children would run in this yard, shrieking as they played tag and blindman’s buff. Little boys with Dillon’s dark untamable hair ruffling in the wind as they threw baseballs back and forth. Or wrestled in the grass. Or pulled toboggans along the snowy ground in search of the perfect slope to speed down. Little girls with Dillon’s dimples playing with their dolls on the front steps or riding horses in the endless fields.

She could see Dillon seated on the front porch on a summer’s evening, reading his ranching magazines, content while his children played around him. And a pretty, kind woman who would bring a tray of lemonade and coffee as an evening treat.

It was a happy picture. The best gift she could give him. Her lifetime of unhappiness without him was worth happiness in his.

Forgive me, Dillon. Guilt assailed her as she padded down the road. She wanted to turn back. With all her soul she wanted to race into his house, fall onto their bed and make binding, passionate love to him. To never let him go. Ever.

Each step she took was agony. Every breath was torture. What if she did turn back? What would be waiting for her? Dillon’s rejection? Or his love? And how about the future? No, it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t enough. She never would be. And she loved Dillon too much.

She had to keep going. Although it felt as if she were breaking from the inside out. And leaving little pieces of her heart, of her soul behind her as she went. With every step she took away from Dillon’s home, she lost more of herself.

She’d figure out a way to survive. She would exist, grow older as time passed. But live? No, it was impossible. She’d left her heart and soul behind, the deepest and most vulnerable part of her, which was somehow a part of Dillon, too.

She would always love him. Always be grateful to him. He’d given her a gift far more precious than gold. He’d given her love. He’d shown her what true love was. And that she was worthy of it, for one brief time. Being loved had changed her.

She would be able to get through the bleak days ahead because of him. Because of the memories he’d given her. And the love that still lived inside her.

It always would.

Twilight wrung the last rays of light from the day. A somber sunset of storm clouds and darkness descended upon her, oppressive and lonely.

Dillon woke in the heavy shadows and knew she was gone. He could feel it. He wasn’t surprised to see the wedding ring on the pillow where she’d left it for him to find, as if to prove that he’d been right all along, that tiny fear inside him that could not be silenced. She’d had enough of this life with him and walked away.

Why was she doing this to him? It was raw emotion that propelled him off the bed. He grabbed the ring, crushing it in his palm, yanking on his trousers and searching in the thickening darkness for his damn shirt. Where was it? He gave up and grabbed a new one from the bureau drawer.

One thing was for sure. Katelyn wasn’t going to walk away from him like this. Not now. Not ever. She wasn’t going to keep him strung tight like this, full of doubt that she’d leave him. Not after he’d figured she was going to stay. She was settled. She was happy.

Hadn’t she lain there beneath him, clinging to him while he pleasured her, moved with him as they came together? Hadn’t she given him all she had, all she was, the same way he’d given her? How could she do this to him? First strip him bare and then drive the dagger in when he was as vulnerable as a man could be?

He didn’t bother to grab tack from the barn. He called to the brown-and-white pinto, whistling a command to her. She lifted her head from the manger, pricked her ears and took out in a full gallop toward him. He opened the gate, grabbed her by the tuft of her mane and mounted in one easy glide.

Damn, he was angry. So damn angry he couldn’t remember the last time he had been this mad. The dark hid her trail on the snow, but he knew where she was going. Away. Just away. From him and his love for her.

He pushed the pinto hard as the darkness claimed the land, but he found her anyway. Walking along the road, head down, hands jammed into her skirt. Wrapped in nothing more than a cardigan sweater over her blue calico dress.