Page 33 of The Beloved Woman


  She raised her head and burned him with a look of sheer desire. “More children should be easy to accomplish, sweetheart.”

  “Sweetheart.” He smiled, savoring the endearment, the first one they’d ever shared. “I’m lonely under this blanket, honey.”

  She eased him onto his back. “I’ll be very, very gentle with your poor, battered self.”

  Katherine stripped off her clothes and stretched out beside him, one leg draped over his thighs, her head on his shoulder. They held each other in silent wonder, both still stunned by the love that could be shared so openly now.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Justis whispered, his lips against her hair. “God, so many things to explain, so much I want you to understand about things I said and did.”

  “No need to hurry.” She looked up at him with pure adoration. “I will always stand in your soul. We have forever to share.”

  “Glory,” he said as her hands began to replace his pain with pleasure. “Glory.”

  GLEN MARY. They both spoke the rancho’s name aloud as they stood atop a hill looking over the valley. “We’ll be happy here,” she told him.

  He nodded contentedly, then reached into his trousers pocket and retrieved something. “I’ve got a present for you.”

  She watched as he opened a small leather pouch. “Hold out your hand,” he said. When she did, he filled it with gold nuggets. “All straight out of the Blue Song property,” he told her gruffly. “I got ’em when I was in Georgia the last time.”

  She curled her fingers over the magnificent gift. “They have such power,” she murmured. “I can feel the Sun Land in them. Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

  He hugged her and she cried a little, a bittersweet sound that made him kiss her hair in sympathy. “You’ll always miss the old homeland,” he whispered. “I know. But at least you’ve got some of its treasure—and something that ain’t so much a treasure—me. I’ll always love you.”

  “My best treasure,” she said, smiling.

  They kissed, then she drew her head back and looked up at him. “I’ve dreamed that we’ll go back there someday. It’s a very unusual dream, filled with people I don’t know, and yet I do know them. We’ll go back—or our children will, or perhaps their children. I’m not certain. It’s puzzling, my dream, but very reassuring.” She removed his gold nugget from around her neck and slipped the leather thong over his head.

  He frowned. “Why did you give it back?”

  “Because I want to share the spirit of home with you,” she said, touching the nugget as it lay gleaming against his shirt. “Because I never want to be apart from you again, and the gold is a talisman that will always lead us to each other if we’re lost.”

  He kissed her tenderly. “Build us a future, gal. Weave it with your dreams. I’ll always be there.”

  A breeze swept over the hillsides, whispering promises. The legacy of their love would reach far beyond the sunset.

 


 

  Deborah Smith, The Beloved Woman

 


 

 
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