Allie closed her eyes, the breeze playing with tendrils of her hair. The song brought a smile to her lips again, as Brandon watched. The silver moonlight touched the dark satin of her hair, bathing her face. She'd never been more beautiful. Even the long lost dreams he'd kept close to his heart couldn't match her true beauty. Those half-forgotten fantasies of a young man trying to conjure up the images he remembered through the years had grown faded and blurred with the passage of time. She was here now, finally with him again. No vision, no dream, just the reality he'd longed for all those empty years.
And she wanted him. There was no question of that. She loved him. She'd never stopped.
Contentment washed over him, stronger than the harsh edges of pain that were taxing him; more constant than the weariness that was beginning to overtake him. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She was offering him a trust that couldn't be bought or sold – only given, along with the bounty of her unconditional love.
His breath caught. Such a gift. One the likes of which he'd never expected to receive. He pulled her into his arms gently, ignoring the shooting fire that streaked through the mending bullet wound.
His lips brushed hers in the balmy air, the music enfolding them as Allie's fingers caught in the fabric of his shirt. The harmonies were sweet and clear, filling the night around them with contentment. His mouth moved over Allie's possessively, with the assurance that this was where he belonged. She sighed, her arms going around him carefully.
Her kiss was tender, but Brandon felt the barely controlled desire inside her that equaled his own. His tongue touched hers, and she moaned, melting into him.
Brandon's lips curved, and he lifted his mouth from hers a fraction. "Let's go to bed."
She pulled back and looked up at him, reluctance in her expression. "We can't, Bran. Not now that the boys are here."
"They're not in the bedroom with us, Allie. How would they know where we were sleeping?"
She smiled and looked down. "I imagine the older ones could just take a look at either one of us in the morning and figure it out."
Brandon gave a short laugh. "You think saying a marriage vow's gonna alter that? That's the look of being well-loved, well-fed, and well-bedded. I don't look for that to change tomorrow or twenty years from now. Do you?"
"No. But I don't want them thinking we – that it's all right if – well—"
Brandon pulled her close again with his left hand, his fingers trailing through her auburn hair. "Marry me then, Allie, and quit hemming and hawing over it."
She looked up quickly at the teasing note in his tone. "Got a preacher in your pocket, Mr. Gabriel?"
"As good as. But first…I need to hear you say it again."
"Say what?" Allie's voice was quiet.
He turned serious. "All those things you told me earlier. The reasons about why none of it matters."
She shook her head. "There's only one thing that's important. One thing I need to tell you…I said it – earlier. I love you, Brandon. I always have and I always will." The moonlight shimmered in her eyes. "It's the only thing that matters."
He stood silent for a moment, unable to respond. His tumbling thoughts came into clear focus with those words. It's the only thing that matters. It had been so hard for him to accept, this love, because it was the realization of a dream he'd kept as a talisman for so long – one he'd never expected to see made whole. Yet, here it was, being offered to him so sweetly that it had taken him a while to come around to acceptance.
Allie watched him, blossoming hope in her expression, bringing guilt with it. What did he truly have to offer her? She was the one good, true thing he'd always held in his heart. Would he be a disappointment to her?
"I love you, too, Allie. Now and for always."
She sniffed and moved into his arms.
"Don't cry, sweetheart."
She laid her cheek against his chest, over his heart. "I'm just happy."
He stroked her hair, then kissed the top of her head. "So'm I. For the first time, ever."
They stood that way for a several seconds, then Allie said, "About that preacher—"
Brandon's heart leapt at the eager note in her voice. He smiled, looking over her shoulder at the two figures that had just emerged from the barn. "Headed this way."
Chapter 17
The boys' voices were becoming fewer and fainter in the darkness as Doc and Owen made their way up to the house.
Allie shot Brandon a questioning look, but he remained quiet, looking, she thought, like the cat who'd swallowed a canary.
"Those boys'll be asleep in no time tonight," Doc predicted. "They're worn out."
Brandon nodded. "Guess that'll be the secret for keeping the trouble to a minimum from here on out. They'll be working hard for the next several weeks, getting the cattle pens built and running a fence line."
Owen chuckled. "Well, they seem like good boys, but there's no getting around a few problems with that many of them."
Allie smiled at him. "Did you come from a large family, Doctor Morris?"
"Eight boys and one lone girl." He shook his blond head as he took the two wooden steps and gained the wide porch landing. "And please, call me Owen." He glanced at Brandon. "This land doesn't stand on propriety like my home state of Massachusetts. I'm glad to be here."
"It's rough," Brandon agreed. "Unforgiving."
Owen gave a rueful laugh. "My stage was held up twice."
"You're lucky to be here," Brandon said. "They usually don't leave survivors."