"How do you look at your dream?" His voice was hushed. "How do you watch it come true? You get afraid that something's gonna happen to ruin it all…afraid everything's going too well to be real." He brushed back a strand of her hair, his gaze skimming over her features. "That's why I didn't dare to have any dreams until now." He swallowed hard in the stillness of the dim light. "I promise you, now that I have you and Jay, I won't let anything happen. As long as we all have the same…vision, Allie, there's no stopping us. No piss ant like Arnie Smith is gonna screw this up. I won't let it happen."
She nodded, the warmth of his words washing over her in a rush of comfort.
"Trust me, Allison."
Chapter 18
As Allie came into his arms again, Brandon realized she was still holding a part of herself away from him. She laid her head on his bare chest. He pulled her closer and she resisted briefly before fitting her body with his. "Just trying to be careful…"
Brandon laughed. "Okay. Help me get undressed so you can take care of me properly." He felt her smile against him.
"Sit down and let me pull off your boots."
"Then, the pants," he said in a low voice.
She giggled, and put her hand to her mouth. "Yes, sir. Then, the pants."
He moved back and sat down on the side of the bed, squelching a groan at the pull in his ribs and the jagged fire that lanced through him from the bullet wound in his side. But Allie had her head down, reaching for the left boot, then the right, followed by the socks. He stood up once more, her hands instantly at his waist, pulling at the rough denim.
Hiding a smile at her impatience, he reached to help her.
"No, let me," she said, grasping his wrists. "Doc said—"
Brandon sighed. "Yeah, I know, I know."
Allie leaned up to kiss his jaw. "Then do what he says."
She pushed his jeans to the floor and he kicked them aside. She hurriedly began to open the buttons of her blouse, then unclasped the waist of her skirt and let it drop to the floor, followed by the rest of her clothing.
Brandon sat on the bedside watching her. He lay back in the soft sheets. With his movement, she glanced at him, suddenly aware of his steady gaze. After a moment, she tilted her head, her nose in the air, and let the pantalets fall on top of the heap.
She was silhouetted in the dim glow of the lamp behind her, standing before him with an odd mixture of shyness and defiance. Was she unsure of herself now, this woman who had held that pack of wolves at bay with nothing but a rifle and guts? Once again, he felt the summer heat bearing down on them, the flesh scored across his back, and suddenly, the warmth of Allie's cotton dress pressed to him momentarily, soaking up his blood and burning sweat, absorbing the next stroke of Preacher Tolliver's whip. She'd held the wolves at bay that day, too, without even the rifle – only the guts.
"We don't need that extra lamp, do we, Allie?" Brandon's voice sounded odd to his own ears; dry and low.
"No." She turned and walked to where the lamp set, blowing it out completely.
Brandon reached to turn the wick down lower on the lamp, smiling at the delectable picture Allie's cute little backside made as she walked away from him. But when she turned, his breath caught in his chest.
She was so beautiful. And she was his – to love, to cherish, and to protect. She hesitated at the foot of the iron bedstead. Brandon pushed up on his elbows, putting his left hand out to her.
She took his hand, carefully climbing over him to the other side of the bed to lie beside him in the darkness. The smell of the smoky kerosene was faint, and through the filmy curtains they could see fireflies in the deep night. The air was still, but for an occasional puff of a breeze, the sheets cool and soft.
Brandon shifted, drawing her to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. They lay together in silence for several moments before Allie spoke.
"This is my dream, Bran. For as long as I can remember. When I was lonely or afraid, I'd think of you…draw my strength from you, even though you weren't there. Somehow, I knew you'd find your way back to me. That eventually, we'd be together."
He smiled in the darkness. "How'd you know that?" Her words tangled around his heart, and he heard the unsteady note in his question.
She shrugged against him. "I just knew. I had faith in my dream, I guess." She hesitated a moment. "It paid off. You're here."
"You made it happen, Allie. I don't think anyone else was about to come to the rescue when you did. You were on your own." He shook his head, remembering. "You didn't mind a bit, either."
"You have to fight for what you want. Including your dreams."
Brandon ran his hand up the silk of her side, cupping her breast. Her skin was sweet, warm…too fine for his rough touch. "You're lucky. You knew what your dreams were. I didn't have any – until recently." He couldn't draw his hand away from her, even though he felt the softness beneath his calluses.
The soft creamy texture of her tantalized him even more in the darkness than in the light. Here, he knew her by touch, by sensation, by the smell of her clean washed hair and the silk of it as it drifted across his chest and stomach.