The Texan's Dream by Jodi Thomas Page B

the door open. Maybe someone had carried in her handbag and ledger case. She would probably find her glasses downstairs with them.
    Kara didn’t bother to look for her shoes. She didn’t want to be responsible for waking anyone.
    Dark shadows haunted the hallway, angling across like barricades, warning her to stay put. A light shone from below, flickering through the carved spindles of the staircase.
    In a strange way, she liked the look of the world without her glasses. All lines were softer; tiny imperfections were invisible.
    Kara wondered why no one had opened the shutters. She saw the long thin outline of windows closed to any light. Surely the house wasn’t meant to remain in darkness all day.
    Moving slowly down a wide staircase, she felt a chill, as if the house were occupied more by ghosts than flesh and blood. The wind murmured through tiny cracks in doors and windows, fabricating a conversation just beyond the forming of words.
    “May the saints and guardian angels watch over me double today,” she whispered, suddenly remembering the frightening stories her cousins used to tell around the fire late at night. If every person was only allowed a part-time guardian angel, she’d wear hers out before half her life was done.
    The stairway spilled into a wide passage bordered with doors. Thick rugs were warm beneath her stockinged feet. Two massive doors stood open, inviting her into a great room with its carved, backed chairs and needlepoint cushions, rich oak paneling and a fireplace almost tall enough for her to stand in.
    Kara walked around the shadowy room, seeing it more clearly by touch than by sight. Fine furnishings greeted her, still perfection even though aged.
    She brushed the wood-carved design of the hearth. Most of the fire had died within the fireplace, but the warmth still penetrated her clothes.
    With a start, Kara noticed Jonathan sleeping on one of two long couches several feet away. He’d removed his boots and used his coat as a blanket. He looked like he’d just collapsed there moments before. In his vest pocket she could barely make out the tip of her glasses.
    Kara crept toward him, planning to get her glasses and be gone without waking him. But when her hand brushed his coat, Jonathan’s fingers closed over hers.
    She looked at his face and saw no sign that he’d been asleep.
    “What do you want?” he asked without turning loose her hand.
    “My glasses,” she answered calmly over the pounding of her heart.
    He let go of her hand and sat up. “Oh.” He handed them to her. “I forgot I had them.”
    Kara’s cheeks burned as she adjusted the glasses on her face. “I’m sorry I fell asleep before we arrived. If it ever happens again, please wake me. There is no need for you to carry me. I’m not a child.”
    Jonathan grinned. “And how does one wake you?”
    “Grab me by my shoulders.” She reached to demonstrate, but his cold stare made her hesitate. “Just shake me while you call my name,” she finished in a whisper.
    He swung so swiftly off the couch, she rocked back. The man had a way of moving quickly without giving any hint that he was about to do so. He crossed to the fireplace and stood, his back to her.
    His coldness iced the air between them. Kara changed the subject. “Do we bury the child today?”
    “I already did,” he said without turning around. “I found a place deep into a part of the ranch we never use.”
    Kara brushed her hand along his shoulder. “I would have helped if I could have.”
    His muscles tightened beneath her touch and she pulled away. For a while he was silent and she wondered how often he’d been comforted in his life. An ocean of pain seemed locked inside him and he wanted no one to share it.
    “If we are to work together,” he finally said without turning around, “I think it best we establish a few rules.”
    Kara straightened, wondering if the man ever faced anyone directly in conversation. “Is this about the kissing again?”
    “No.” He shifted so their eyes met.