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Allie sat up slowly, reaching for her undergarments on the chair. She knew Brandon wasn't asleep. His breathing quickened just the slightest bit as she raised her arms and shrugged into the camisole, pulling it over her breasts. She stood and pulled on her drawers, then the denim pants, fastening them before she turned to look at him.
He watched her lazily, through eyes still bruised and swollen. His lips curved upward in a faint grin. "You're somethin', Allie."
She looked down. She was sure her outright need for him was etched plainly in her face. She'd come close to begging him to stay already. That was one line she wouldn't cross. If he stayed, it had to be because he wanted to be here – not because he felt some kind of obligation to her.
"What kind of 'something' would that be?"
Brandon's grin faded, to be replaced by a serious look of understanding. "Allie, I don't know what you want – or expect – of me."
She laid her dress back on the chair and turned to face him fully. Blood rushed through her veins in a dull, angry roar, her cheeks burning at his reply.
"Marriage to me—" Brandon shook his head slowly. "Can't you see that would be the worst thing you could do, if you intend to stay here and make a go of this crazy plan of yours—"
"It's not crazy!" She swallowed back her disappointment. She'd thought he understood. Again, she'd been wrong. She'd thought there were no barriers between them. But, he was still fighting the whole notion that they were meant to be together. Why couldn't he understand that? A small voice told her he did understand – he just didn't accept it. And maybe that's what made him dig his heels in so hard.
"Is it marriage in general that frightens you, Brandon? Or just marriage to me?" She kept the trembling angry disappointment at bay, blinking back the hateful tears that threatened. He would not see how weak he made her.
He sat up, bristling for a moment. "Marriage in general, Allie. You know I'm not afraid of marrying you – if it was ever gonna happen, you'd be the one I'd pick."
She pulled the blouse on and began to fasten the row of small buttons up the front. At this last statement, her fingers hesitated along their nimble trail before picking up speed again. She took a steadying breath. "I see. So what am I—"
"Don't get in a huff, Allison." He lay back on the pillows. "I didn't say I wouldn't marry you. I said it would be the worst thing you could do. And I mean that with everything in me."
Allie stopped buttoning the blouse. "Well, you needn't look like you're – you're the lamb, going to slaughter! There are a lot worse things that could happen to you! I might actually make you happy, Brandon. We might – have a good life..."
He propped himself on one elbow, looking at her as if he'd never seen her before. "Allie," he breathed. "You don't understand at all."
"Enlighten me," she snapped. She was coming unraveled by the kindness and knowledge in his dark eyes. Hanging on to her anger would keep her strong. The bronze of his skin was even darker in contrast to the white sheets, and she was reminded once more of the mixed blood he carried – blood he thought would keep them apart. Her fingers curved into fists. All she wanted to do was get back in bed with him and let her hands glide gently over that expanse of flesh followed by her lips, and love some kind of reasoning into him.
"There is nothing worse than being without you," he said solemnly. "You do make me happy – even in these circumstances. I was talking about – from your perspective. All those points I made earlier that you so easily punched holes in." The love in his eyes bolted straight through her. "I don't know how to be a husband, or a father, Allie. I may be a poor excuse for both. But I think – I'm done trying to talk sense to you, to make you understand that you could do…so much better."
Allie sank down slowly to the side of the bed, relief filling her. "I don't want to look for 'better.' I have what I want. The best. You."
"Only you would see it that way, Allison. See me that way."
"I love you, Brandon." Tears welled in her eyes, shaming her. She looked down. There was no way to hold them back. God. She hated to cry, especially in front of a man. She'd had to be strong for so long. She'd been so alone. A large, rough knuckle wiped her face as the tears overflowed.
"Mean it, sweetheart," Brandon whispered. "Mean it – because I'll never let you go. Doc told me about Smith's marriage proposal. I fight for what's mine."
She looked up at him quickly. "Gabriel's Law?"
A smile tugged at his lips. "Are you ready for that? Or do you need some time?"
Allie leaned forward, her lips brushing his. "I've waited ten years." She put her hand out to caress his cheek gently. "I'm ready."
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