Lorraine Heath by Texas Destiny Page B

never noticed before, but as he slept with his face pressed to the cot near her hip, she could clearly see the length and thickness of his lashes. His hair—black as a midnight sky with no stars—curled over his ear, rested against his chin. He needed to shave.
    Staring at his profile, she no longer tried to imagine how he might have looked if he’d never been wounded, but she found herself mourning what he might have had. A life that included a wife and children. A smile that would have warmed many a woman’s heart. A laugh that would have rung out strong and true.
    She’d never heard him laugh, had only seen a ghost of a smile. He wasn’t hers to care about, but she did care. She wanted to hear him laugh. She wanted him to smile without feeling self-conscious. He had fought to give her back her life. Giving him a smile was a small payment.
    She combed her fingers through the thick strands of his hair. It was coarser than hers, as though the wind and sun had battled against it.
    He awakened with a jolt. “Your fever broke.”
    She smiled softly. “I know. You were sleeping.”
    He sat up and stretched his shoulders back. “How do you feel?”
    “Tired.”
    “You’ll be weak for a couple of days.”
    “Have you ever been bitten by a snake?”
    “Nope, but it happens now and then to men on the trail.”
    “Do you take care of the men then?”
    “Nope. The cook usually does the doctoring. Think you could eat a little something?”
    “I’ll try. Are we going to travel today?”
    “Nah, we’ll let you rest for a couple of days.”
    “Won’t Dallas worry if we’re not there on time?”
    “I don’t think he’ll start to worry unless we’re not there within a month.”

    Houston carried her outside during the day to enjoy the sun and carried her back into the tent at night to sleep. He’d taken to sleeping on his pallet, his saddle placed so he was watching the tent. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think she’d mind. She wasn’t giving any shadow shows.
    On the morning of the third day after her fever broke, he awoke, his gaze fixed on the tent. With the early light of dawn filtering through the leaves and dancing over the canvas, he couldn’t see any shadows or movements within the tent, but he could envision Amelia clearly, lying on the cot, sleeping soundly. In the past two days, she’d slept more than she’d been awake.
    He thought they’d be able to travel today. He supposed he should get up and wake her, but he liked the thought of letting her sleep, letting her wake up on her own, stretching, washing her face, brushing her hair. He would be able to see none of the movements, but knowing they would take place almost made him smile.
    She was sweet, so incredibly sweet.
    He threw off the blanket, scrambled to his knees, rested his hands on his thighs, and continued to look at the tent. He’d make her some coffee before he woke her. Thicken it with sugar just the way she liked it. He’d warm up some water for her.
    He turned and froze. She was sitting on a log, her hands pressed between her knees.
    “Good morning,” she said softly.
    “You’re awake,” he croaked, grimacing for telling her something she obviously knew.
    She smiled, and he lost the ability to draw air into his lungs.
    “I wanted to see a Texas sunrise. It was beautiful.”
    He sank to his backside, fighting off the urge to tell her that she was more beautiful than any sunrise he’d ever seen. Her braided hair was draped over one shoulder, her face pink from an early-morning scrubbing, her green eyes bright with appreciation. He thought he’d never again be able to look at the sun easing over the horizon without thinking of her, just so, enjoying the start of a new day. To him, a day was just something to be gotten through.
    “I guess when you think you’re going to die, you start to appreciate things a little more. What was the first thing you wanted to see after you were wounded?” she asked.
    “My ma.” He