Tightening her grip on the bag, she eased farther away from the train. She felt as though she were a shrub surrounded by mighty oak trees. She had little doubt that even the hat was not visible among all these men asking directions, exchanging money and paper with a purpose, and shouldering each other aside.
She considered calling out for Mr. Dallas Leigh, but she didn’t think she could lift her voice above the horrendous yelling that surrounded her. She had expected Texas to be quiet and unsettled, not reminiscent of all the carpetbaggers who had come to stake a claim in the rebuilding of Georgia.
She shuddered as the blurred memories, images of Georgia during and after the war, rushed through her mind. With tremendous effort, she shoved them back into their dark corner where they couldn’t touch her.
The men and women began to drift away. Amelia considered following them, but Mr. Leigh had written that he would meet her at the train station in Fort Worth. The sign on the wooden framed building proudly boasted “Fort Worth.” She was certain she had arrived at the correct depot.
Slowly she turned, searching among the few remaining people for a man wearing a hat that bore her flowers. What if he had been here? What if he had seen her and found her lacking? Perhaps he had expected her to be prettier or made of sturdier stock. She had always been small of stature, but she was competent. If he’d give her the chance, she could prove that she was not afraid of hard, honest work.
She dropped her carpetbag and the platform rattled. Tears stung her eyes. She wanted so little. Just a place away from the memories, a place where the nightmares didn’t dwell. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to sort through her disappointment.
No man would send a woman tickets for a journey and then not come to meet her. Somehow, she had already disappointed him . . . or a tragedy had befallen him, preventing his arrival.
People referred to portions of Texas as a frontier, a dangerous wilderness, a haven for outlaws. Newspaper accounts drifted through her mind. She latched onto one, and her imagination surged forward. Outlaws had ambushed him. On his way to Fort Worth, on his way to meet her, he had been brutally attacked, and now, his body riddled with bullets, her name on his lips, he was crawling across the sunbaked prairie—
“Miss Carson?”
Amelia’s eyes flew open as the deep voice enveloped her like a warm blanket on an autumn evening. Through her tears, she saw the profile of a tall man wearing a long black coat. His very presence was strong enough to block out the afternoon sun.
She could tell little about his appearance except that he’d obviously bought a new hat in order to impress her. He wore it low so it cast a dark shadow over his face, a shadow that shimmered through her tears. Although he wasn’t wearing her flowers on his hat, she was certain she was meeting her future husband.
Brushing the tears away from her eyes, she gave him a tremulous smile. “Mr. Leigh?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Slowly, he pulled his hat from his head. The shadows retreated to reveal a strong, bold profile. His black hair curled over his collar. A strip of leather creased his forehead and circled his head.
Amelia had seen enough soldiers return from the war to recognize that he wore a patch over the eye she couldn’t see. He had failed to mention in his letters that he had sacrificed a portion of his sight for the South.
His obvious discomfort caused an ache to settle within her heart. Anxious to reassure him that his loss mattered not at all, she stepped in front of him. With a tiny gasp, she caught her breath. She had expected the black eye patch. She was unprepared for the uneven scars that bordered it and trailed down his cheek like an unsightly frame of wax melting in the sun. With fresh tears welling in her eyes, she reached out to touch his marred flesh. His powerful hand grabbed her trembling fingers, halting their journey of comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she searched for words of reassurance. “I didn’t know. You didn’t mention . . . but it doesn’t matter. Truly it doesn’t. I’m so grateful—”
“I’m not Dallas,” he said quietly as he released her hand. “I’m Houston. Dallas busted his leg and couldn’t make the journey. He sent me to fetch you.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew her embroidered cloth. “He sent this along so you’d know you’d be safe with me.”
If his knuckles hadn’t turned white as he held the linen, Amelia would have taken it from him. He had shifted his stance slightly so only his profile filled her vision.
A perfect profile.
“He mentioned you in his letters,” she stammered. “He didn’t say a great deal—”
“There’s not much to tell.” He settled his hat on his head. “If you’ll show me where your other bags are, we can get goin’.”
“I only have the one bag.”
He leveled his brown-eyed gaze on her. “One bag?”
“Yes. You can’t imagine how grateful I was every time we had to get off the train that I only had the one bag to worry over.”
No, Houston couldn’t imagine her being grateful for one bag. He allowed his gaze to wander slowly over her white bodice and black skirt, taking note of the worn fabric. Wouldn’t a woman wear her best clothing when she met the man she was to marry?
Hell, he’d worn his best clothing, and he’d only come to fetch her.
He wrapped his fingers around the bag and lifted it off the ground. Judging by its weight, he figured she was hauling nothing but air, and they had plenty of that in West Texas.
She needed to be carrying all the things that they didn’t have at the far side of nowhere. Hadn’t Dallas told the woman anything about the ranch when he wrote her? Hadn’t he told her they were miles from a town, from neighbors, from any conveniences?
Two bullets. He was going to fire two bullets into his brother.
“I’m ready to go,” she said brightly, interrupting his thoughts.
No, she wasn’t ready to go. Only he didn’t know how to tell her without offending her. Without thinking, he removed his hat to wipe his brow. Her green eyes brightened, as though she were pleased with his gesture, as though she thought he’d done it for her benefit as a gentleman would. He fought the urge to jam his hat back on his head and explain the situation to her from beneath the shadows. “Did Dallas mention how long the journey would take?”
“He wrote that it was a far piece. I thought of a piece of cloth that I might use for quilting.” She spread her hands apart slightly and her smooth-skinned cheeks flamed red. “But that’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Three bullets. He was going to shoot three bullets into his brother.
“It’s at least three weeks by wagon.”
She lowered her gaze, her eyelashes resting gently on her cheeks. They were golden and so delicate—not thick like his. He wondered if they’d be able to keep the West Texas dust out of her eyes.
“You must think I’m an idiot,” she said quietly.
“I don’t think that at all, but I need you to understand that this is the last town of any size you’ll see. If there’s anything you need, you need to purchase it before we leave.”
“I have everything I need,” she said.
“If there’s anything you want—”
“I have everything,” she assured him. “We can leave for the ranch whenever you’re ready.”
He’d been ready three hours ago, consciously packing and arranging all his supplies so he left half the wagon available for her belongings—only she didn’t have any belongings. No boxes, no trunks, no bags. He cleared his throat. “I . . . I still need to pick up some supplies.” He crammed his hat on his head, spun on his heel, and started walking. He heard the rapid patter of her feet and slowed the urgency of his stride.
“Excuse me, Mr. Leigh, but how did my fiancé break his leg?” she called from behind him in a voice sweeter than the memory he held of his mother’s voice.
He turned to face her, and she came to a staggering stop, the bird on her hat bobbing like an apple in a bucket of water. Balling his free hand into a fist t
o prevent it from snatching off the bird, he wished now that he’d given Dallas his honest opinion on the damn thing when he’d asked him what he thought of it. “He fell off a horse.”
Her delicate brows drew together. “As a rancher, surely he knows how to ride a horse.”
“He can ride just fine. He took it into his head that he could break this rangy mustang, and it broke him instead.” He spun back around, increasing the length of his stride. If Dallas had just listened to him, heeded Houston’s warning, Houston would be back at his own place smelling the sweat of horses instead of the flowery scent of a woman, hearing the harsh snort of horses instead of a woman’s gentle voice. He wouldn’t have to watch a stupid bird nod. He wouldn’t be carrying a bag, wondering what the hell she didn’t have.
Four bullets. And even then he wasn’t certain that thought could sustain him through the hell that tomorrow was sure to bring.
Announcement page to Texas Series Titles
And discover the rest of the Leigh men in
TEXAS GLORY
She never dreamed of the happiness . . .
Cordelia McQueen is little more than a prisoner in her father’s house until he barters her off to a stranger in exchange for land and water rights. Now in a new place and married to a man as big and bold as untamed Texas, Cordelia prepares to live within her husband’s shadow and help him achieve his goals.
Only he could promise her . . .
Dallas has one driving ambition: to put West Texas on the map. Convinced he’s too harsh a man to be loved, he expects nothing except a son from his shy wife. But with each passing day, Dallas discovers a woman of immense hidden courage and fortitude. He is determined to give her his heart, even if it means letting her go to achieve her own dreams and find her own glory.
TEXAS SPLENDOR
A man on a mission . . .
After five grueling years in a Texas prison, Austin Leigh is finally a free man. He can’t wait to go home and be reunited with his sweetheart. But when he discovers she didn’t wait for him and is now married, he becomes more determined to clear his name of the crime he never committed.
Meets the one woman who could offer him salvation—and love . . .
En route to the state capital, he meets a young woman, Loree Grant, and her dog. When he learns that they have survived a mysterious tragedy, he is moved—and curious. And as he spends more time with the lovely, intriguing woman, he sees glimpses of a future he had thought was no longer possible as they both find a new lease on life—and a love that can overcome any obstacle . . .
About the Author
LORRAINE HEATH always dreamed of being a writer. After graduating from the University of Texas, she wrote training manuals, press releases, articles, and computer code, but something was always missing. When she read a romance novel, she not only became hooked on the genre, but quickly realized what her writing lacked: rebels, scoundrels, and rogues. She’s been writing about them ever since. Her work has been recognized with numerous industry awards, including RWA’s prestigious RITA®. Her novels have appeared on the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Lorraine Heath
The Scoundrel in Her Bed
When a Duke Loves a Woman
Beyond Scandal and Desire
Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
The Viscount and the Vixen
The Earl Takes All
Falling into Bed with a Duke
The Duke and the Lady in Red
Once More, My Darling Rogue
When the Duke Was Wicked
Lord of Wicked Intentions
Lord of Temptation
She Tempts the Duke
Waking Up with the Duke
Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman
Passions of a Wicked Earl
Midnight Pleasures with a Scoundrel
Surrender to the Devil
Between the Devil and Desire
In Bed with the Devil
Just Wicked Enough
A Duke of Her Own
Promise Me Forever
A Matter of Temptation
As an Earl Desires
An Invitation to Seduction
Love with a Scandalous Lord
To Marry an Heiress
The Outlaw and the Lady
Never Marry a Cowboy
Never Love a Cowboy
A Rogue in Texas
Texas Splendor
Texas Glory
Texas Destiny
Always to Remember
Parting Gifts
Sweet Lullaby
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Texas Destiny copyright © 1997 by Jan Nowasky.
texas legacy. Copyright © 2019 by Jan Nowasky. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition JANUARY 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-285609-8
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-285610-4
Cover art by Christine M. Ruhnke
Cover photographs © TonyNg/salajandani/Shutterstock (2 images); © Period images (couple)
Avon Impulse and the Avon Impulse logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America.
Avon and HarperCollins are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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Texas Legacy Page 14