“Did you kill Berringer?”
By the time Rawley and Faith got to the house, Dallas was in his office, looking over some papers. Faith had joined her mother and Callie for breakfast, but Rawley had needed a word with Dallas first.
The man who had raised him leaned back in his chair, planted his elbow on its arm, and stroked his forefinger along his mustache. “She told you.”
Rawley gave a brusque nod and repeated his question. “Did you kill him?”
Dallas got up, walked to the marble-topped table, lifted a decanter, and poured whiskey into two glasses. In spite of the early hour, Rawley took the one Dallas offered him.
“He was still breathing when I left him. Barely.” He downed the contents. “Don’t think I wasn’t tempted to put a bullet in him. Instead, I told him if I ever saw him in these parts again, I would. I let him ride out.”
“Do you know where I’d find him?”
Dallas shook his head. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. The last thing Faith and your ma need is to see you strung up for murder.”
“I could do it without getting caught.”
“You’ve never killed a man. I have. It’s not something to be done lightly. I’ve put word out about the man. I get reports on him from time to time. He won’t be courting anyone else’s daughter.”
That wasn’t enough. If Rawley ever crossed paths with Berringer, he’d see to it the man drew his last breath.
He tossed back his whiskey, set the glass on the edge of the desk. “I love Faith.”
Dallas stood still for a few seconds, then nodded. “I know.”
“Not like a sister, not like a friend. I’m going to be where she needs me to be, and if that means I’m not sleeping in this house—to be honest, Dallas, it’s none of your damn business. What happens between Faith and me is between Faith and me.”
Another nod. “For what it’s worth, I’d be damn proud to call you son-in-law.”
“I don’t know if it’s going to come to that. I’m not quite sure how Faith feels about things or if it’s something she wants, but regardless, no one is ever going to hurt her again.”
Rawley had avoided courting or getting involved with anyone because his heart had belonged to Faith for the longest, but he’d always felt too broken for her. But now she was broken, too, and he was determined to see that she mended. If in the end, it took her away from him, carried her into someone else’s arms, he’d find a way to survive. All that mattered was that she was well and happy.
So he asked his mother to let Callie stay another night, and he told Faith that when they were done for the day, he’d meet her at the cabin, that he had something special in mind. He made all the plans, was quite pleased with how they’d turned out.
The one thing he hadn’t counted on was the rain that hit just before he got to the cabin.
She was not nervous. But there was a measure of anticipation thrumming through her as she stood in the open doorway, watched the rain pounding the ground, and listened as it hammered out a steady staccato beat on the roof. It had been years since she’d looked forward to spending time alone with a man—she didn’t count last night because they’d been together as friends. She had a feeling tonight was going to be a little different. The way his eyes had warmed when he told her he was making plans for them—and that Callie would be staying with her mother—had caused her to smile for the remainder of the day.
While she’d found herself nervous around other men, hadn’t wanted to be alone with them, she’d never had the same reaction when it came to Rawley—except when he’d taken her by surprise in the river. She couldn’t deny a connection had always existed between them. It pleased her to know that tonight they would have some time alone together.
Still, she had expected him to arrive on his horse, not in the buggy. When he brought it to a halt, he darted around to the back, picked up a large wicker basket, and bounded up the steps.
His grin was wry, self-deprecating. “So much for my plans.”
She smiled. “A picnic.”
With a nod, he glanced over his shoulder. “I wasn’t counting on Mother Nature spoiling things.”
“We need the rain,” she pointed out, trying not to sound too disappointed for herself and for him, for the trouble he’d gone to. “We can picnic inside.”
“It won’t be the same.”
“It’ll certainly be different from any other picnic I’ve ever had.”
His eyes warmed. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
He carried the basket indoors, then took the time to unhitch the duo of horses and get them into a shelter. When he came back inside, she tossed a towel at him, watched as he scrubbed it through his drenched hair.
“You left some of your clothes behind if you want to get into something dry.”
His brows lifted in surprise. “They’re still here?”
She wasn’t ready to confess that some nights she slept with a shirt he’d worn before he left because it still carried his scent—faint but noticeable. With a shrug, she said, “Bottom drawer of the bureau.”
While he went into the bedroom, to avoid thinking about his removing his clothes, she busied herself getting things ready. She spread a quilt out on the floor and set the basket on it. Although it was near twilight, the thick clouds and heavy rain had blocked the sun as it dipped toward the horizon, darkened the sky. Preferring the dimness, she lit only one lamp, then opened the door to welcome in the outside. The porch eaves prevented the dampness from getting inside, but the scent of rain wafted in on a cool breeze.
She was gazing out when Rawley came up behind her and gingerly placed his hands on her waist. With a sigh, she leaned against him, reached back, and brought his arms around her, folding them over her chest just below her breasts. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over her temple.
“I’ve always loved the rain,” he said quietly.
I’ve always loved you, she thought.
Slowly he turned her around. “I’d planned to feed you first.”
“I’m not hungry for food.” She skimmed her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, around his neck. “But what I am hungry for . . .” Tears burned her eyes. “I don’t know that I’m ready, that I can do it. I feel so dirty—and you know how grimy I am.”
“Like I told you last night—it wasn’t your fault, Faith. When I look at you, I don’t see him. I see only you. I see a woman who endured something terrible and rose above it to become a wonderful mother, an extraordinary woman.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand, Rawley. You can’t know what it’s like—”
“I do know, Faith. I don’t know how old I was. I remember my two front teeth were missing the first time the man who called himself my pa sold me to a depraved bastard.”