Doc made a sound of disgust and shook his head. "As if she'd ever choose him – whether you were in the picture or not. No, make no mistake, she wouldn't ever have ended up married to that snake, but she might've wound up dead."
Brandon glanced down, hiding the deadly killing light that entered his expression. "He won't hurt her, Doc. Not unless he kills me first." He raised his eyes to Doc's worried stare. "That's not likely."
"Boy, you're gonna have to be on guard every minute," Doc warned. "He'll never forget."
Brandon was silent a moment, his mind full of the feel of the whip, the self-satisfied snarl on Smith's florid face as he'd drawn back to deliver a staggering punch to Brandon's ribs; the pure joy in Jay's eyes when Brandon had claimed to be his father – and the fear in Jimmy's; the sound of Doc's earlier warning repeating in his ears, echoing what he'd somehow felt in his heart; the soft warmth of Allie's lips on his in the midst of the feverish night, and the silk of her body against his own. This was his world now, a place where he belonged. He'd never give it up, or let any piece of it be harmed.
The memory of the unnamed longing for it that had filled his heart was still sharp. It would never leave him. He didn't want to let it go completely. Keeping it near would help him always remember how sweet the fulfillment of the dream had been, and how unexpected, when death had been so near.
"He may not forget, Doc," Brandon said tightly. "But neither will I."
****
As Brandon came through the bedroom door, Allie turned to him. She shook out the match she was holding and turned up the wick of the extra lamp she'd just lit.
By the way he hesitated, resting his weight against the door briefly, she could see that he had pushed himself to the limit. When he turned to her, the weariness threaded through his midnight dark eyes, even though he made himself smile at the concern on her face.
"Christ, Allie. Quit worryin' about me, will ya?"
She shook her head stubbornly. "No. I'll never stop worrying about you. You need 'worrying' more than any other person alive."
Laughing, he came toward her and pulled her to him. He lowered his head, his lips taking hers with surety. He raised his bandaged right hand to Allie's cheek, tracing her jaw with the pad of his thumb, the edge of the bandage tickling.
She smiled, her lips curving under his, until he lifted his head and swore softly.
"This isn't the picture I imagined, all through the years, of us together," he muttered.
She shook her head. "It's exactly how I saw us, Bran. You, with some kind of bandaging, on our wedding night."
He reluctantly smiled at her tease, but didn't let her go. "Pretty predictable, given our past history – the bandaging. But…I was never so certain of the wedding night." His eyes were shadowed again, and Allie's smile faded. How could he have ever doubted? But there were all those years between them, then – in age and experience, and all the years that had separated them since.
"You always were reckless."
The uncertainty in his eyes deepened, his lips tightening briefly. "This is…probably the most reckless thing I've done, so far, Allie. For both of us." He sighed, and released her.
"No regrets, Brandon." Allie closed the scant distance between them again and began to unbutton his blue chambray shirt. The material was warm beneath her fingers.
Brandon closed his eyes for an instant, drawing a deep breath. "No. Not for me," he murmured.
"Not even…for the fact that you've inherited an instant family?" Allie tried to keep her tone light, but it meant so much to her that she wasn't sure she'd been entirely successful. "I know you didn't plan on any of this – but Jay—" She broke off, finally raising her eyes to Brandon's serious gaze.
"No regrets there either, Allie. Jay is a son any man would be proud of. He's a good boy." He chuckled. "He told me this ranch is going to be great someday, once the cattle got here, and the boys— He's got lots of dreams; something I never had. Not until now."
He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on the chair. Allie began to unbuckle his belt. Her throat was tight, and she couldn't have spoken if she'd tried. She kept her eyes lowered to hide the sheen of tears there; kept her fingers busy unbuttoning the placket of his jeans so he wouldn't notice how her hands shook.
"Allie."
Her fingers stopped.
"Allie."
She couldn't bring herself to look up at him. She couldn't trust her emotions.
"Look at me, honey."
"Brandon—" She finally raised her eyes to his, and he gave her a slow grin.
"I know what you're thinkin'."
She didn't respond. She couldn't.