She laughed softly, and her shoulders shook slightly. He lifted up on an elbow and stared at her. Her mouth had formed a sweet tender smile.
Kirk hadn’t told him about this. The laughter came again, washing over him in its innocence. The smile eased off her face, and he supposed the dream or whatever had given her a brief moment of happiness had passed.
Sitting up, he unrolled the blanket that had served as his pillow and spread it over her. She made one hell of a night guard. If she slept through her own laughter, she’d probably sleep through someone wandering into their camp.
Stretching out on his side, he glanced toward the horizon. Dawn would soon lift away the darkness. He knew he should get up and find them something to eat, but he’d never watched a woman sleep. He supposed he should find it boring. After all, she wasn’t doing anything.
But even while she slept, Meg fascinated him.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled softly. Clay ached for all the soft smiles he’d been denied in the passing years, and he braced himself for the moment when she realized exactly at whom she was smiling.
“Morning,” she said quietly.
Clay’s voice knotted in his throat and threatened to strangle him. She was no doubt still dreaming and thought Kirk was lying on the ground beside her. All hell was going to break loose when she did come fully awake.
Rolling, she arched the small of her back. Clay’s mouth went as dry as a desert.
Returning to her side, she slipped her palm beneath her cheek. “This used to be my favorite time of day, just before dawn, knowing I had a whole day to enjoy.” She sighed wistfully. “Now I don’t care if the sun never comes up.”
Lord, he wished he were Kirk. He didn’t want to see the hatred return to her eyes.
She turned onto her stomach and rested her face on her forearm. Her smile grew. “Kirk told me something about you,” she said.
His breath caught. She was talking to him, with dawn easing over the horizon, bathing the earth in a new day. Good Lord, what had happened while he slept? It made him nervous to think about it. “What’d he tell you?” he croaked.
He didn’t think her smile could grow any bigger, but it did. “I’d dearly love to tell you, but I promised him I wouldn’t.”
“He told me you do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Start talking about something days after he’s finished talking about it.”
“Kirk really did tell you a lot of things about me, didn’t he?”
He nodded.
“I dreamed about him last night,” she said, with longing laced through her voice. “I figured you did.” Her smile eased away.
“You laughed in your sleep,” he hastened to explain, wanting to hold onto these moments before she remembered she hated him.
“I laughed while I was asleep?”
“Not loud. Soft. Like you were enjoying something.”
Her face took on a hue more lovely than the dawn, and Clay realized she’d probably been dreaming about something that was absolutely none of his damn business. He grabbed his rifle and jumped to his feet. “I’ll find us something to eat.”
Stalking into the woods, he thought about the yearning in her blue eyes when she mentioned the dream.
He stopped walking, wrapped his arm around a tree, and pressed his forehead against the rough bark. He wished he could find a woman willing to dream about him.
They arrived at the Holland farm at twilight. Clay halted the wagon in front of the house as the door swung open, and the twins bounded out, Lucian sauntering behind them.
“Gawd Almighty!” one twin yelled. “You gonna make Miz Warner somethin’ out of that?”
Clay climbed down from the wagon and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I aim to try, but remember, Josh, it’s supposed to be a secret.”
“We ain’t got nobody to tell,” Joe said as he climbed onto the wheel and looked into the wagon.
