Brandon shook his head. "No, I mean, what about your happiness, Allie? What do you want from it?"
She lowered her mouth to his, brushing a light kiss over his lips. "I'm looking at it, Bran. When I look in your eyes, I finally see contentment, love…and…happiness." She kissed him again, long and slow. "Yes. Definitely. The happiness is finally there."
For most of his life, Brandon had assumed he had no heart. Now, he knew that wasn't true at all. It was going to shatter. He could feel it, inside the wall of flesh and bone and muscle that had kept it intact all these years. He'd throttled back any emotion and feelings for so long that he'd actually believed they didn't exist inside him anymore. But all it took was a few hours with Allie Taylor to disabuse him of that notion. And Jay. Jay, who wanted to claim him as his father…Jay, who accepted him unconditionally, like Allie.
He moved his right hand upward, but Allie gently caught his wrist before he could cup her cheek. She shook her head in a gentle reminder, and he finally lowered it to the bed with an exasperated sigh.
"Soon enough," she whispered. Her eyes were warm with laughter, and that elicited a smile from him. She leaned a little farther over him, and her hair trailed across his bare skin.
He groaned. "Make love to me, Allie."
The laughter faded, to be replaced by uncertainty. "I'm not sure…I mean – Brandon, I don't know what to do." Her arm dipped, rubbing across his hardness.
"God," he swore tightly. He reached to push back a strand of her silky hair, using it as an excuse to touch her cheek. She was warm with embarrassment, but he pretended not to notice.
He ached like he hadn't had a woman in months…or years, even. He wanted Allie like he'd never wanted another woman in his life. And she was telling him she didn't know what to do.
"Sit across me," he managed to grind out. She brushed the tip of him again, and his fingers tightened in the silky curtain of her hair.
In the darkness, he felt her grin against his hand. He released her as she moved to comply, very carefully. She sat on her knees, straddling him, her moist valley tantalizingly scant inches above him.
Brandon closed his eyes.
"Now what?" Allie asked.
He arched his hips up to her, brushing against her heat, and felt her shudder. "We fit this way just like we do if I'm on top," he grated. He guided them together.
"Like this?" Allie teased, lowering herself downward.
His breath left him in a rush. "Jesus," he muttered. He stopped breathing, held perfectly still, but Allie couldn't keep from moving. She lifted herself, her fists braced on either side of his head.
Gone was the teasing laughter, to be replaced with a hunger so deep there was no way to conceal it. Brandon figured the want in her expression didn't mirror his own by half. She closed her eyes, and Brandon reached up to trace her jaw with his bandaged right hand. The backs of his knuckles skimmed across her jaw line, and she opened her eyes again at his touch.
His left hand came up to her breasts, and he cupped first one, then the other, the smooth richness mesmerizing him. Paradise swung over him as she leaned up to kiss him, boldly slipping her tongue past his lips and teeth to mate with his. He groaned deep in his throat, thrusting up into her.
She breathed into him, moving against him, and then lifted her mouth, catching her lower lip in her teeth.
He grinned. "You said we were 'right' together."
"You say otherwise?" She moved again, stealing his breath.
"No," he whispered. "We are, Allie. Better than 'right'. Perfect together."
She raised herself up again, very slowly. His breath hissed inward. He lifted his hips and she slid down.
"I just wish we had all those years in between." As soon as he said it, he was sorry. A flash of regret passed across Allie's features in the shadowy darkness.
"You weren't ready then," she murmured, "and neither was I."
He knew it was true, and he loved her for her sweet insight more in that moment than he ever had before. He might not have been ready then, but now… He pulled her to him, craving her as he never had before. He wanted her flesh in his hands, her breath in his lungs, her heart pounding against his own. He surged into her, as she accepted him. All of him. Everything that he was.
"I'm ready now, Allie," he murmured, sure she could hear the raw note of his commitment to her. He must sound like a schoolboy, with the rough, hoarse way his words came out. God, he was on the edge, ready to go over.
I'm ready now, he'd said. A double entendre if he ever heard one.
Allie slanted him a teasing grin. "I think you are, too."
Her voice sounded far away as he surged upward again. Blood roared through his veins. Above it, he heard her say his name in a breathless whisper, then cry out as her body shuddered atop his. She lay draped over him in boneless surrender, and he absorbed the love flowing between them.
Sleep's languor began to steal over him, his meager activities of the day catching up with him, finally. His hand glided over Allie's back and speared into her hair, fingering the long soft length. She snuggled close, turning her face into his neck.
"I love you," she whispered.
Although he loved to hear her say it, there would never be a need for her to voice it again. Forever. Sleep hovered at the edge of his mind. His thoughts cleared, but for that one lovely word. It was meant to be–something good. Allie. Forever.
* * * * *
Through the hazy fog of sleep, Brandon became aware of a feeling that meant one thing: danger. Something wasn't right. He came awake suddenly, with none of the lingering relaxation left from their hot lovemaking. Allie's arm lay across him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Her long hair tumbled across his chest and the sheet, like a curtain of dark silk.
Her arm tightened around him as she felt his wakefulness, as though she meant to keep him safe, or at least keep him from the fitful dreams that had haunted his fever-ridden sleep the night before.
Brandon lay still, listening. The window was open, but the warm breath of the faint night breeze was no comfort. It was almost non-existent. The night was sluggish too it seemed, along with the breeze. And there was a faraway sound that wasn't enough to have awakened him of itself. It was the oddity of it, at this time of night.
The boys had left the barn door open to receive some of the air movement, little as it was. The noise of the horses moving restively in their stalls, along with the low, anxious sounds they made, were enough to pull Brandon fully awake. He carefully lifted Allie's arm and laid it on the bed, then slipped away from her, moving her head to the pillow.
"Brandon?" Her voice was sleepy and he leaned to kiss her forehead, and then reached for his pants. "Whatsamatter?"
He smiled in the darkness. "I'm not sure. I just want to check on things. I'll be back."
"Take the Henry."
He chuckled. "I will." He drew on a shirt, then walked to the corner to retrieve the rifle. When he picked it up, he lifted the curtains to look outside, toward the barn.
His heart took a wild leap. Orange flames licked at the west wall of the building, lighting up the blackness of the night.
"Jesus! The barn's on fire!" He ran past her and through the door, yelling for Doc and Owen. Damn Arnie Smith and Tom Carver. Damn them to hell. If any of the boys were hurt –
He pushed that thought away as he ran toward the burning structure, the air filled with the sound of the frightened horses, the smell of smoke pungent. Sam was just inside the barn door, waking the others, as Brandon rushed in. "Get the boys up to the house," he shouted above the roar of the flames. "Count heads. Be sure they're all safe."
"I will. The horses—"
"I'll get them." He turned for the stalls, leaving Sam who had been joined by Ben, to awaken the others.
The horses were stamping furiously in their stalls, neighing in a plea for release as the smell of smoke became stronger.
Brandon threw open the door to the stall where his black was already frantically
butting his head against the wood. "Easy, boy, easy." He laid his hand on the horse's neck and guided him toward the open door, keeping between the animal and the boys who were scurrying toward the safety of the house under Ben's guidance.
Brandon caught a glimpse of Allie running toward him, Owen behind her. Turning, he went back for Ol' Rooster, speaking in low tones as he slipped the catch on the stall door and guided the horse toward the barn entry.
"Let me help," Allie said quickly as he freed Reya and Stoney, Allie's two horses. He nodded, turning back toward the two sorry looking animals that had pulled the orphans' wagon all those many miles.
As he led the horses hurriedly to the door, he could see that Sam and Doc had organized a bucket brigade, and the boys were valiantly trying to fight the fire. They were losing ground. The barn was going up quickly, the flames burning higher and faster than the boys could control them.
Brandon stopped Ben. "Are they all accounted for?"
"Yes, sir. Now, we're just trying to keep ahead of the fire."
Brandon shook his head. "Let it go. There's no saving it now."
"But—" Ben turned as something crashed inside the barn, then the side where the flames had been set slowly began to fold inward.
Sam flinched at the sound, then slowly put down his bucket. He trudged toward where Ben and Brandon stood. "I'm sorry. We weren't quick enough with the water. It already had a good start on us."
Brandon nodded. "I know. You tried. It doesn't matter, Sam. You're all safe, and the horses are all right."
Doc walked up and placed a fatherly hand on Brandon's arm. "Not wasting any time, are they?" He shook his head, surveying the burning structure. "I think Tom's more of a threat than Arnie at this point, Brandon," he murmured thoughtfully. "Arnie's too badly injured to have…participated."
Brandon didn't respond for a moment. The flames crackled and rolled, sending a plume of sparks into the dark night sky. There had been no loss of life…this time. But he'd be damned if he sat around and waited for it to happen again.
Sam spoke up. "Jay told us what happened, Mr. Gabriel. He told us…everything. This is a good place, and we want to do…whatever we can to help."
Brandon met his eyes, and for that instant, he felt as if he were looking into a much-younger mirror of himself. Sam was asking to belong; volunteering to help make it his place too. "Thanks, Sam," he said gruffly, looking back at the burning barn. He lightened his tone. "Guess we'll add barn building onto our chore list."
"And killing some vermin," Sam said, low.
Brandon gave him a long look. "You let me do the killin', Sam. That's a road it's hard to turn back from once you start down it."
Sam's expression was wise beyond his years, Brandon thought; his words disquieting when he spoke. "Yes, sir. I reckon I know that, too."
Chapter 19
Allie stood apart, upwind from the still-burning remains of the barn. It hadn't taken all that long, she thought, for everything to go up in flames. Not everything, she chided herself. She couldn't have borne it if one of the boys had been injured… or killed. They'd been so lucky this time. They'd lost some of the tools, but had even managed to save most of those. The saddles and tack had been spared due to Owen going back in for them. Ben and Sam had saved the buckets, which had done precious little to keep the fire at bay in the end.
The structure itself had been the main loss, and it could be rebuilt. But watching Brandon, she could almost feel the oppressive weight bearing down on him.
So much, she'd thrust on him. She'd had the luxury of planning, of knowing what her ideas and thoughts would lead to. Brandon had found out haphazardly, and she was suddenly sorry for the way she'd brought him back into her life, in the middle of her plans. It was more than a little unfair.
She walked toward where he half-knelt, alone, and sank to her knees beside him. He didn't acknowledge her, his gaze on the burning remains of the building. She imagined that his thoughts had gone the same direction hers had. She laid a hand on his arm, the muscles tense beneath her fingertips. His jaw flexed, and still he didn't look her way.
"It'll be okay, Bran," she said softly. "Everyone's safe—"
"This time." His voice was quiet, but there was steel underlying his tone. Finally, he turned to look at her, his face illuminated in the orange glow of the fire. The shadows of the night couldn't conceal his desolation.
Her breath caught in her throat. "You – you blame yourself for this, Brandon?"
His eyes blazed in the darkness. "Who else, Allison? Who else should I blame?"
She shook her head. "This wasn't your fault!"
"I'm here. They want me gone – out of your life. Message's plain enough."
"No. That's not all they want. They want you gone, the boys sent back, and Jay to disappear. They want me…just like I was before—" She broke off, looking past him at the fire. "I didn't realize…but why?"
Brandon reached to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. "It's not just you, sweetheart. You've been vulnerable all these years, that's for sure. But as long as Smith had a hope in hell of marrying you, you've been somewhat protected – in an odd way. Now – all bets are off. And you blasting his kneecap away, bringing me here, and going on with your plans has made him uncomfortable – to say the least."
"What else could I do?" Allie whispered softly. "I couldn't walk away – from any of it. "I wouldn't have, even if I could!"
"I know that." He sighed. "I know you're determined to stay—"
"And more." Allie's voice heated with the inner fire of righteous anger. "This is my land. Our land. Jay is our son, and you're my husband now."
"You forgot something."
The last of the burning timbers shifted, sending up a noisy shower of sparks. Brandon reached for her hand. The gesture was so reminiscent of that long-ago morning they'd shared as adolescents, it made Allie's eyes prickle with sudden tears.
"What?"
"The dream." Brandon's response was quiet, but heartfelt.
Allie fought for control. The dream. By the way he'd said it, she knew he'd embraced it and recognized her fear that she was trying to make it come true alone.
As if to be sure she understood, he said, "Our dream, Allison."
He reached to smooth away a strand of her hair, and she laid her cheek into his palm. "It's going to happen," she whispered. She wanted to tell him she felt invincible, which would sound crazy in light of what just happened. But with him beside her, she felt like nothing could stop them, nothing could take away the world they were going to create here for themselves and the boys who trusted them.
Brandon laughed softly. "I know it, sweetheart." His calloused touch was gentle on her skin. "You won't have it any other way. And neither will I."
* * * * *
Allie awoke in the early gray of morning. She lay close to Brandon, their legs tangled together atop the sheets. The night had cooled some, but this May had been oppressively hot, and there was no hint of a breeze in the air. Sticky already. Allie grimaced as she disentangled herself from Brandon's added warmth, trying not to wake him.
He cracked an eye open and gave a sleepy groan as she stirred. "Allie?" He moved into the space she'd vacated, lying on his stomach.
"I have to get up," she said reluctantly. "You rest a while longer."
"Five minutes." His eyes closed again.
Allie smiled as she stood up, reaching to open the dresser drawer. "Okay. Five minutes." Her gaze roamed over the contours of his hard, lean body. The bandaging had slipped, she noted. He breathed evenly, asleep again, his dark lashes more prominent now that some of the swelling had receded. He slept hard, his face bearing the lines of concentration.
Allie quickly dressed in the semi-darkness of the early morning. Should she wake him? He didn't look as though sleep was offering much of a haven of rest, even though he had to be bone weary from the harrowing night before. The smell of smoke still hung heavy in the air, seeming to wrap about their little home. She turned away towa
rd the small dressing table. Brushing her long hair, she twisted it into a bun and pinned it in place.
There was a soft knock at the door as she put the last hairpin in place. She opened it to Jay, his face lighting up in a wide grin. "Could we have pancakes, Mama?" he whispered. "The others, they don't get that very often."
She nodded, kneeling in front of him. "I think that's a wonderful idea." Her brows drew together. "We may have to use some sugar – we're short on syrup."
"It's okay, Mama. They won't mind." He peered around the doorframe at Brandon's sleeping figure. "Pa gets the syrup. If there's any left, well…we'll just see how far it goes, won't we?"
Allie hugged him quickly. "You're a good boy, Jay." She stood up, pulling the door closed behind her as she stepped into the front room. "I'm going to need some eggs."
"I'll get 'em."
"Take some of the younger boys with you," she said. He looked up at her questioningly. He was growing up. Time for the younger boys to take over the chores they could do. Everyone was going to have to pull their weight if this was going to work. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Show them how to collect the eggs."
"Why?"
"You can't do everything, Jay – not with so many to care for now. The younger boys need some chores to do too. And you'll be learning new things as you get older."
"More important jobs?"
Allie had started for the kitchen, but she stopped and turned to face him again. "They're all important, Jay. Can't make pancakes if the eggs don't get brought in and the cow milked. Eating's pretty important."
He nodded sagely. "I understand. I know who can help." He turned to go, stopping on the way out to give Big Mack a pat.
As he opened the door, Allie could hear other voices calling to him in greeting.
"She said yes!" he yelled.
It brought a smile to her lips as she began to measure the flour and baking powder into a large mixing bowl.
In the next second, she gasped as two strong arms came around her from behind. Brandon kissed her neck. "I was about that excited when you said yes too," he murmured close to her skin.
Gabriel's Law Page 15
