Heartsong

by Lynn Winchester

  She swallowed and met his gaze. The love in her eyes, a love he knew was reflected in his own eyes, burned right through him.

  “Does this mean you still want to court me, Mac?” she asked, her voice suddenly unsure. No, he’d have none of that. His woman was in his arms, he couldn’t have her doubt how much he loved her.

  So, he kissed her.

  Chapter 18

  Mac’s mouth covered hers hungrily. She’d never been kissed before, had only seen her parents kissing, and Timmy kissing JoJo, but none of those could ever compare to the kiss she was sharing with Mac. The strong hardness of his lips softened as he sought her eagerly and she gave all she had, standing on tiptoes to meet him with a hunger of her own. Soon, what started out as slow and thoughtful, turned to the heat of a lightning strike, searing through her, splitting her in two, then piecing her back together again. It was life, it was joy, it was the most intense heat and pleasure she’d ever experienced—and Mac was the one she was kissing. It was almost too amazing to believe.

  There, beneath the burning desire of his kiss, was the depth of his longing, the total brilliance of his adoration for her. And it was humbling in its power.

  With a groan, Mac pulled away, and Rhetta found that she could no longer stand. Collapsing gracelessly onto the stump, she dragged air into her lungs. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips and looked up, meeting Mac’s awe-filled, blazing, blue gaze.

  “Rhetta,” he gasped, his chest expanding and shuddering with his staggered breaths. “I can’t court you…it…it’s impossible.” The words seemed to tumble from his lips and slammed into her heart.

  What? After the kiss they just shared…he didn’t want to be with her anymore? Dizzy, because her world was spinning, she planted her hands on either side of her to keep herself from falling over. She didn’t need to humiliate herself any further with him.

  She jumped up, nearly tripping over the exposed root, and glared at Mac. “So what? Now that you’ve kissed me you find me wanting? Do I not kiss as well as Bernie? Is that it? I should have known; I’ve never been as pretty or wanted as my sister—I never will be. But I thought…with you…my heartsong…that I’d found someone to want Henrietta the mouse and not Bernadette the butterfly.” She had to get out of there, had to grab that ticket home and never look back. But first…she dared to look into those blue eyes one last time. “I’ve got to go.” She grabbed the skirt of her dress and turned to make a break for it, but Mac roared and grabbed her, hauling her backward into his chest, trapping her there into the band of his arms.

  “No! You have run from me for the last time. No more, thanáǧina. Again, you turned the truth into lies in your head. And again, you’ve seen yourself as the lesser of two choices. You aren’t, Rhetta. You are my choice, the only choice for me.” Grunting, he turned her to face him and gripped her face, one hand on each cheek, to hold her in place. “I don’t want to court you, Rhetta. I want to marry you. I want to give you my heart and I want to cherish yours in return. I want to build a home with you. I want to have children and teach them about their Lakota family, and their true worth as beautiful, amazing men and women. I want to share my bed with you, showing you how much you mean to me without words. I love you, Rhetta, my thanáǧina, the hummingbird who brought color and beauty to my life. You are my heartsong, and more than I ever dared hoped to find. Please…let me mean as much to you as you will always mean to me.”

  Stunned, speechless, breathless…she couldn’t form a word or a thought. Mac…loved her, wanted to marry her. Thump-tha-thump. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  “Mac…are you sure?” Her voice was tremulous and she was shaking from the force of all she needed to say.

  He smiled down at her, joy flooding his features, turning his blue eyes into pools of the deepest, purest love.

  “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” he drawled, his gaze dropping to her mouth. Would he kiss her again? She discovered she wanted that more than her next breath. As if sensing her thirst, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, dragging a disappointed sigh from her mouth. “I can guess that unhappy sound was because you wanted me to kiss you.” He chuckled, the rumbling sound vibrating through her chest and into her belly. She shuddered, the pleasure winding through her, filling ever corner of her body with an indescribable longing.

  “Yes, I want you to kiss me. Don’t you want to kiss me?” she asked, partly teasing, partly impatient.

  He moaned, pressing his cheek against hers. She closed her eyes, absorbing the heat of him into her very soul. “More than anything,” he groaned. “But first…I need you to tell me something…”

  Anything! “What?”

  He pulled his face away, his gaze pinning her to the ground beside their stump. “Please…I need to hear you say it…” The pleading in his voice nearly undid her, and her knees gave out. Mac gathered her into his embrace, right where she wanted to be most.

  She grinned up at him, everything she felt for this man pouring from her. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to whisper against his lips, “I love you, Mac Solomon. You are the song of my heart.”

  With that confession, Mac captured her lips once more, forever sealing them together, their hearts beating in time to a song as old and beautiful as the sun shining down on them.

  Epilogue

  The Hanlon-Solomon Wedding

  Dry Bayou Community Church

  Dry Bayou, Texas

  1891

  “It was so lovely of you to invite us dear,” Aunt Melda cooed, giving Rhetta a firm yet short hug.

  “It was our pleasure. We are just glad you were able to make the trip. Not many people from Morgan’s Crossing would dare to come and spend time in the Texas heat,” Rhetta said, laughing.

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” Aunt Melda said. “Phyllis and Brigette are surprisingly…happy. I didn’t think they would care much about their return to town, but they haven’t complained once.”

  Rhetta was shocked. Aunt Melda had never spoken about her daughters with such openness before. Maybe it was the air of joviality surrounding them—it was her wedding day after all.

  Smiling, she turned to take in her reflection in the full-length mirror her mother had brought in for the event. Her dressing room, which was really Reverend Marcus’ office, was small but just big enough to hold her, all the different pieces of her wedding trousseau—what dressmaker, Tilly Bartlett, called it, her closest friends, her quietly weeping mother, and all the hopes and dreams she’d had of her wedding since she was a little girl.

  Her dress, a simple dove white gown, was cinched at her waist with a rose wine ribbon. The bodice was lined with pearls and the hem was stitched with rose wine embroidered hummingbirds. Bernie had suggested it and Tilly had exclaimed excitedly about it, so Rhetta gave in—not that she minded at all. It was a lovely idea, one that made her blush as she looked down at it. She couldn’t believe it. She was marrying the man of her dreams. Mahkah Solomon, her heartsong, the fire in her soul. She was the luckiest woman alive.

  “Rhetta, you look stunning. You’re actually glowing,” Bernie effused, coming into the room and closing the door. Clasping her hands in front of her, she smiled at Rhetta with a dreamy, wistful expression. Rhetta twirled and giggled, her heart soaring.

  “Do you think so?” she asked, knowing full well she was happier in that moment than any moment before. And she’d be happier still in just under two hours.

  Her mother, Sally Hanlon, came up behind Bernie, wiped at her eyes and nose with a dainty kerchief, and squeezed Bernie’s shoulder. “You look lovely, too, darling.” Bernie, Hannah Ducharme, Bethany Watkins, and JoJo were all wearing rose wine gowns with dove white sashes, and they were just as lovely as Rhetta knew they would be. She looked about the room, sighing contentedly. She was surrounded by people who loved her, who’d chosen her despite her own lack of self-worth. Mac saw something in her and, once she realized she’d had it all along, she lived each day with that c
onfidence.

  Fifteen minutes passed as Bernie and her mother fussed with her dress, her veil, and her bouquet of bluebells. With her veil in place, she held her breath and turned to take one last look in the mirror. Her breath left her on a rush.

  “Oh, Henrietta…” her mother breathed, awe in her voice. “You are stunning.” Tears formed in her mother’s eyes.

  Rhetta forced back her own tears, trying to hold off the flood until after the ceremony. “Thank you, Mother.”

  A knock on the door was the signal that it was time for her to take her place at the back of the church on her father’s arm. She met her father, Richard Hanlon, in front of the closed foyer doors leading to the church sanctuary. Her father had been crying but now he was standing there, pride in his eyes and an anxious smile on his face. She didn’t have time to thank him for his love and his support. She wanted to but she couldn’t; the soft piano music stopped and, immediately, the louder, familiar notes of The Wedding March rang out.

  Her belly flipped as the doors opened and the crowded church opened up before her. Pew after pew was filled with people she’d grown up with, people she’d met in Morgan’s Crossing—Marshal Gregson, and Sheriff Temogen and his wife, Margaret, and their young son, Charlie, were there, smiling at her. She couldn’t help but smile back.

  Then, she felt him. Swallowing, Rhetta looked toward the pulpit, beside which stood the man her heart was singing for. Mac was dressed in black, from head to toe, the only bit of color being the rose wine bow tie around his neck. He was hatless, which suited Rhetta just fine, because she loved seeing his thick, black hair shining in the light. As she walked down the aisle, side by side with her father, she met and held Mac’s gaze. His indigo eyes followed her advancement, penetrating her, filling her with the heat and depth of his love, his longing to call her his. And she longed to call him hers.

  It seemed to take forever to reach the front of the church but once she was there, the music faded, and she turned to greet her almost husband. His handsome face became the only thing she could see, and it was all she cared to see.

  Mac took her hands and the shock that sizzled through her stole her breath. This man; tall, strong, gentle, and adoring, loved her. And she’d never get over it.

  As Reverend Marcus began the ceremony, Rhetta let the world fall away as she stared up into the face of her forever. Mac smiled down at her, a library of words in his expression. Rhetta, joy building within her, smiled back at him when, “I do”, spoken in his deep, velvet voice, echoed in her ears in time to the beating of her heart.

  About the Author

  Lynn Winchester is the pseudonym of a hardworking California-born conservative, now living in the wilds of Northeast Pennsylvania. Lynn has been writing fiction since the 5th grade, and enjoys creating worlds, characters, and stories for her readers.

  Lynn writes charming, romantic romance that focuses on the growth of the relationship and the power of true love.

  When Lynn isn't writing, she is running a successful editing business, reading whatever she can get her hands on, raising her four children, making sure her husband is happy, and binge watching shows on Netflix.

  Connect with Lynn online: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

  Read more charming, romantic romance by Lynn Winchester:

  Dry Bayou Brides Series

  The Shepherd’s Daughter

  The Seamstress

  The Widow

  The Rogue’s Bride

  The Rake’s Bride

  The Gentleman’s Heart

  The Gambler’s Prize

  Dry Bayou Legacy Series

  Legacy

  Brides of Blessings Series

  The Blessed Bride