He knew he loved her. He had for some time. Maybe from the first time he smelled her jasmine perfume. He’d felt something for her the minute she’d taken his bandages from his eyes. He’d waited for her in the hospital every day, uneasy until she came into the ward.
And she’d fought so hard to keep him at the hospital, and she’d cried when they’d hauled him away. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out the lace-trimmed handkerchief. It bore her initials, and he’d carried it with him for more than ten years, through the long months in prison camps, on the journey home after the War, on cattle drives. Elise had dropped it one day in the hospital, and he’d snatched it up, inhaling the scent of jasmine. The lace was frayed and the monogram stitching had almost all come loose. But he still had it, and if he hadn’t wanted to lose this small link to her, why was he sitting here in his empty house risking losing her love?
Was he brave enough to be that vulnerable, to go to her with his heart in his hands and offer it into her safekeeping?
Maybe not, but he had to try.
He jumped up, startling Stonewall. Taking the stairs two at a time, he had no plan in mind other than to try to be the man Elise deserved. And that meant making some changes for her.
Elise needed to get out of there. The ballroom closed in on her, the laughter and music and movement. It all meant nothing when her heart was breaking, when she carried this great emptiness with her. GW was saying something, but she could only think about getting away. She gathered her skirts and stood, but before she could take a step, her heart shot into her throat.
Bowie.
She blinked, sure she was imagining things, but it was him.
He was so handsome, he took her breath away.
The crowd parted, everyone staring as he glided toward her, catlike. He wore a black suit with a white shirt that showed off his tanned skin, and he had a determined gleam in his eye, but that wasn’t the most startling transformation,
He’d pulled his hair back from his face and tied it behind his head … and he’d shaved off his beard.
No rifle, no dogs, no protective barriers to hide behind. The black-powder burns and shiny scars so easily visible did nothing to detract from his appearance, and his eye patch was just a part of him.
He came to a stop in front of her, not touching her. His family formed a circle around them, surprise and delight on their faces.
“My knees are shaking.” He sounded hoarse.
Tears burned her eyes at the vulnerability in his voice. “Mine, too.”
“Elise Hart, I’m not good with words, and I know I don’t deserve a woman like you, but I’m asking you to be my wife, for real this time. I love you.”
Several of her sisters-in-law sighed, and she thought she heard Hays whistle. Elise was overwhelmed by the sacrifice Bowie was making, coming to town, exposing his scars for all to see, and all for her. All because he loved her. Her voice had deserted her, but she nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
“Well, go ahead and kiss her already. I’m hungry.” Hays poked Bowie in the shoulder and everyone laughed.
Bowie held his arms open, and Elise went into them. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, and a glimmer of fear shot into his eye, but she didn’t stop. She caressed his lean cheeks, admiring the strength of his jaw and chin. Her arms went around his neck, and he crushed her close, bringing his lips down on hers. She kissed him back with all the love in her heart, hardly believing that he was here and that he really loved her.
The music started for the last waltz before supper, and Austin clapped Bowie on the back. “Dance with your bride already. She’s been waiting for you all night.”
“Thanks, Austin. For everything.”
His brother nodded and turned to his own bride.
Elise went into Bowie’s arms, and he held her much tighter than convention dictated. Elise didn’t care a bit. She couldn’t stop touching his face and hair. Friends called to them, welcoming Bowie to the dance, and no one mentioned anything other than Christmas greetings. Even Miss Spanner smiled as she whirled by with Harley Burton.
“This feels unreal,” she whispered.
Bowie squeezed her tighter. “It’s real. We’ll make it real.”
She didn’t know if she could stand the joy pulsing through her veins.
When the dance ended, Elise found herself standing under a ball of mistletoe. Bowie looked up, and he smiled, a broad smile that showed his teeth. “Coincidence?” He gathered her close, kissing her thoroughly until her stays felt too tight and her head whirled.
When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, taking deep breaths. “I love you, Elise Hart. I have for a long time.”
“I love you, Bowie Hart, and I will forever.”