She drew an unsteady breath. “I want to go home.” As soon as the words were out she knew he’d mistaken them. He’d offered to release her too many times, and now she saw the hurt and disappointment as he guessed she would leave him after all. Her heart broke for him, thinking once again he was abandoned. “Will you take me home?”
He visibly relaxed. “To Sonoma?”
“I miss Mamma and Papa and—”
“Five brothers, one sister, aunts and uncles and old Guiseppe and all his mules.” His mouth quirked crookedly as she raised surprised brows. “I’ll take you. But there’s one thing I need to do first.”
“What is it?”
“There are DeMornays in Denver. I’d like to know if they’re any relation.”
“Rose’s family?” Carina squeezed the hand that held hers. “Oh yes!”
“I don’t know.”
“But we have to ask! Of course we do!”
“They may not . . .” He raised a hand and dropped it.
“Even if they don’t acknowledge you, you’ll know.” She reached her hand to his beard-roughened cheek.
He tipped it into her palm and rested it there, his eyes holding her captive as always. Wolf’s wonderful stormy eyes.
She smiled. “You need a shave.”
His lips formed the pirate grin. “This is nothing. You’re lucky you didn’t see what I wore into town.”
Carina’s breath stilled. “You had a beard?”
“No mountain man could have done better. Or worse, depending on your tastes.”
Carina caught his face between her hands. “Then it was you.”
“Depends what you’re accusing me of.”
“I knew it. Here.” She pressed one hand over her heart. She could see he didn’t understand, but then, he didn’t have to know everything, eh?
He went down on one knee and caught her hand to his chest. She trembled at his intensity. He had never looked at her with such yearning, such firm decision.
He raised her chin with the side of one finger. “The face of my love is a flower, fair with nectar sweet that harbors there bidding me hover, light and fleet and longing for that honeyed sweet. . . .”
His words jellied her, words she’d never read or heard. “Who are you quoting?”
“My heart.” His gaze deepened.
“They’re your words, Quillan?”
“They’re yours if you want them. And more where they came from. You drive me to poetry, Carina.”
“You? The hard, solitary man of the road?”
“Not anymore.” His grip tightened on her fingers.
Her heart soared with hope. Oh, Lord, you are good. Your grace has accomplished my plea! She searched his charcoal-rimmed eyes and tightened her fingers in his. She could feel his strength and something more, something beyond Quillan, beyond them both. Something else bound their hands together; it was God’s own.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My profound thanks to God for grace in all things. My unfailing thanks to my family and friends. My humble thanks to you, my readers.
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Sweet Boundless Page 29
