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  She had avoided facing that question. She continued to avoid it as she responded with the partial truth, “Because whether you realize it or not, my time is valuable to me. I don’t like to think that I wasted my effort those first nights while you lay delirious in Chantalle’s house, or that you’re going to neglect your wound so that it will happen again.”

  “That’s my business.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Tricia was uncertain of why Drew did not press her any further, but she was grateful as he instructed abruptly, “Put your bedroll beside the fire and go to sleep. We’ll be getting up at dawn.”

  Tricia followed his directions silently. She caught her breath as he laid his bedroll beside hers. She waited, then released her breath when he turned his back toward her and was soon breathing evenly in sleep.

  Mrs. Childers stared at him wordlessly as the hot midmorning sun beat down on them relentlessly. Drew remained silent, at a loss for words; Tricia stood equally silent beside him.

  Drew had spoken little as Tricia and he resumed their journey earlier that morning. Myriad thoughts of the day to come had tormented him, and the sober mission had grown tenser with every mile. Willie’s homestead was small and proud. He had described the modest farm so well that it had almost been familiar to Drew as Tricia and he had approached it. In a way, it had almost been like coming home.

  Now as he stood there silently, he recalled that he had ridden up to the front porch of the house as a small woman walked out to greet them with a smile; a graying man had approached from the corral. Drew hardly remembered dismounting and then lifting Tricia down from her horse. He only recalled the feeling of dread that had started deep inside him as he walked up the stairs.

  What he did remember was that Myra Childers had looked up at him with eyes so reminiscent of Willie’s that it had been like a blow to the gut, and that anxiety had flashed briefly there, preceding tears as he said the words forever burned into his heart.

  Drew mumbled inadequately as Willie’s parents gasped with grief, “I’m so sorry.”

  Nathan Childers wrapped his arms around his distraught wife, ignoring the tears that streamed down his wrinkled cheeks. Drew felt Tricia’s presence beside him and he glanced at her to see that her cheeks were wet as well.

  He listened as Tricia softly spoke, heartfelt words that came from the well of sorrow deep inside her.

  Drew held his breath as Myra Childers turned toward him again at last. Her lips trembling, she whispered, “You said you’re Drew Hawk, Willie’s friend?”

  Drew did not note Tricia’s surprise when he nodded his assent. He listened as Myra continued hoarsely, “Willie wrote us so many times about you. You were like a brother to him.”

  Unable to say more, he managed, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “He was worried about you. He said he was going back to Galveston to find you because you had gotten separated somehow.”

  Drew could not reply.

  Raising her chin, Myra said in a broken rasp, “Willie valued your friendship as much as he loved his family and his country. I only wish that Willie could have been walking beside you when we met you for the first time.”

  Those words rang over and again in Drew’s mind. Remaining at the Childers family farm as long as he could bear it, he finally mumbled an excuse for leaving and took Tricia’s arm to lead her back toward their horses.

  Turning back to the aging couple, his heart aching for their grief, Drew shook Nathan Childers’s hand, and waited as Myra Childers bade Tricia a tearful good-bye before turning toward him. The ache inside him turned to a pain so sharp that it momentarily stole his breath as Myra abruptly hugged him tight against her motherly form. His throat thickened as s he whispered, “Come back to see us, please, Drew. That would please Nathan and me greatly, and Willie would be happy to know that you considered this house your home.”

  Drew boosted Tricia up onto her saddle, then mounted as well before turning his horse toward the trail back to Galveston.

  Twilight had turned the wooded trail into dark shadows that inhibited further travel. Directing his mount into a clear area, Drew pulled back on the reins and said to Tricia, “We’ll camp here for the night.”

  He dismounted, lifted Tricia to the ground, and then turned his back on her, making himself busy setting up camp. There had been very little conversation between Tricia and him after leaving the Childers farm; he had gone over and over again in his mind his conversation with Nathan and Myra Childers.

  His throat tight, Drew recalled the emotion that had clouded Willie’s eyes each time he had spoken about them. That same emotion had been reflected in his parents’ eyes each time they said his name. The love between them had been vividly clear.

  Drew inwardly winced as he recalled his own parents—the mother who had deserted the family when their lives grew difficult; the father who had left them promising to return, but who had never been heard from again. In direct contrast, Willie’s family had been separated by miles, but their hearts had remained close. Drew would never forget Willie’s tales of his hearty welcome home.

  He was glad Willie had had that—a welcome home. He’d had so little time afterwards.

  It irked Drew that he had needed to tell Willie’s parents they must get a release from the Adjutant General’s Office before taking Willie’s body home. He supposed those were the rules when a murder investigation was being conducted in a city under martial law, but he knew it would not be easy for those two good people to petition a Yankee’s permission to bury their son.

  Drew’s mind moved briefly to Colonel Clay Madison. Despite his dislike of the uniform the fellow wore, the officer had appeared sincere in his determination to find the man responsible for Willie’s death. Under other circumstances, Drew might have liked the fellow who had held his gaze forthrightly as he expressed his condolences and promised to find Willie’s killer; but as things stood, he had no other thought but to avoid the colonel.

  It didn’t matter, in any case. Drew would find the person who’d killed Willie, and he would not leave it to Yankee justice to see that the murderer received what was coming to him. The war had been long, and it had taught him many lessons; not the least of which was to take opportunity when it presented itself, for the chance might never come again. He would not forget that lesson when Willie’s killer stood in the sights of his gun.

  But in the meantime, Willie was dead simply because he had been unable to turn his back on a friend.

  That thought suddenly more than he could bear, Drew stumbled, then sat down on a log as grief overwhelmed him. He did not hear Tricia approaching. He did not see the sorrow that briefly convulsed her features before she knelt beside him and slid her arms around him.

  So close to him, hugging him tight, she whispered, “Don’t . . . please don’t, Drew. I can’t stand to see you grieve.”

  The pain inside Tricia was excruciating as she embraced Drew tightly. His strong body shook with the intensity of his sorrow, and she whispered against his damp cheek, “Your going to Willie’s parents . . . the fact that you traveled all the way there . . . that you thought so much of Willie that you would not allow anyone else to break the sad news to them, meant more than you realize.”

  Drew looked up at her, his expression fierce. “I didn’t do anything noble. Willie died because of me. It was only right that I should be the person to tell them.”

  “You weren’t responsible!”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “No—Willie would be the first one to tell you that.”

  “Willie . . . he was always too generous for his own good.”

  “Is that the way you see it, Drew? What if I were to tell you that you’re a better man than you seem to believe you are—that Willie knew it and understood it, and that was the reason he came back for you?”

  “Tricia . . . please . . .”

  “What if I were to tell you I believe that, too, because I know you better than you seem to know yourself?”

&
nbsp; “Tricia . . .”

  Drew raised his eyes to hers, and Tricia’s throat choked tight at the sorrow reflected there. Sorrow ached inside her, too. It was a knot of torment that wrung her heart dry as she whispered, “Drew, please, don’t talk any more. I can’t bear to hear your selfrecriminations when I know they’re unjust. There’s only one thing I want from you right now.” Her eyes holding his directly, Tricia whispered a truth she had withheld even from herself as she said, “I want you to hold me . . . to show me that I’m the only one who can help you through this sadness—that there’s no one you want more than me.”

  Drew went still. His eyes were moist, and the pain inside her clenched tighter. She said earnestly, “Make love to me, Drew. It will never be more right than it is at this moment. I want to be a part of you. I want you to know that whatever you feel, I feel it, too, because I’m linked to you in every way.”

  “Tricia . . .” Drew’s voice was hoarse with emotion as he said, “I don’t want your pity.”

  “It’s not pity that I feel for you, Drew.” Her eyes intense, she added in a whisper, “Of all the emotions you’ve raised inside me, pity has never been one of them.” When he still hesitated, she added, “Maybe this will prove to you how I feel.”

  Slowly, gently, Tricia pressed her mouth to his.

  The touch of her mouth . . . the taste of her lips . . .

  Drew’s arms slid slowly around Tricia. He pressed her warmth against him, just as he had dreamed.

  His angel . . .

  His mouth searched hers, desperate to taste its sweetness. His lips moved over the soft contours of her cheeks, her chin, only to move back, suddenly fierce when he covered her mouth with his again. He could not seem to get enough of her. His hunger for her was so intense that he devoured her with his kisses. He fought the restrictions of clothing in his desire to touch her more intimately, groaning aloud when their naked flesh met hotly for the first time.

  The firm softness of her breasts against his lips . . . the silky smoothness of her intimate flesh underneath his palms . . . the moist heat as he slipped his fingers into the crevice at the juncture of her thighs.

  Holding himself strictly in check, he caressed her intimately and watched with a sense of growing heat the myriad emotions flickering across Tricia’s flawless features. He saw her flush. He felt the impact when her eyes glazed over with passion. He shuddered with his own passion barely controlled as the first quaking began inside her.

  “Drew . . .”

  Panic invaded her gaze and Drew whispered hoarsely, “Give to me, Tricia. Help me to believe that you want me as much as I’ve always . . . always wanted you.”

  Tricia gasped as his seeking caresses moved more deeply into her intimate heat. She raised her body, instinctively allowing him further access as her eyelids began fluttering and she groaned softly.

  “That’s right, Tricia.” His passion almost beyond control, Drew rasped, “Show me . . . I need to know.”

  Tricia’s slender body reacted spontaneously to his prompting. Convulsive shudders shook her as her body quaked in loving tribute, and Drew felt control slip away. Her quaking had barely ceased when he slipped himself fully atop her at last. Hushing her response with a whisper, he paused briefly to indulge the sensation as he brushed her moist nest with his male organ. He caught his breath as he entered her slowly, then, unable to further control his passion, thrust himself deep inside her.

  Her gasp echoed his own, and a sense of wonder overwhelmed him. Moving with gradually increasing impetus, he plunged more intimately inside her. His movements jerked to a halt when his control slipped away at her impassioned gasp and she joined him in a sudden, consuming rush of fulfillment that held them helpless in its grip.

  Throbbing to mutual stillness, they remained joined for long moments with an unwillingness to end the beauty of the moment. Finally breaking the silence between them, Drew spoke in a whisper that came from the heart.

  “My angel.”

  Tricia looked up at him. Her delicate features still colored with emotion, she was more beautiful to him than she had ever been before.

  Chapter Eight

  “Wake up, Tricia.”

  Tricia awakened slowly. Momentarily disoriented, she felt the comfort of warm body heat wrapped around her, and she burrowed instinctively closer.

  “Tricia . . .”

  She opened her eyes to the sudden reality that she was lying on a blanket in a forested clearing barely lit by dawn, and that she was looking up into the eyes of the man she loved. Emotion swelled as Drew touched his mouth to hers. She slid her arms around his neck when his kiss deepened, accommodating him with a need that rose to meet his. She felt the swell of his passion as his body moved against hers, and her own passion expanded as well. She gasped when he slid himself atop her. His mouth covered hers, and his male organ sought her intimate heat.

  He entered her, and she briefly held her breath at the wonder of the moment. Looking up at Drew, at the passion reflected on his strong features, she encouraged him softly, and the dance of love began. She was breathless when he stilled briefly, as if wanting to say something, but his words went unexpressed in the rush of emotion that thrust them unexpectedly over the brink of passion.

  When their bodies grew still minutes later, Tricia felt Drew turn her face up to his.

  “Tricia . . . it wasn’t my intention to wake you up this way, but it all got beyond my control somehow.”

  Tricia took a breath and glanced away. Reality. They could avoid it no longer.

  Drew whispered, “Don’t turn away from me, Tricia. I need to have you tell me you’re not sorry this happened between us. I need to hear you say it wasn’t only sorrow that brought you into my arms, and that you still feel the same way you did last night. I need—”

  “Here’s my answer to all your questions, Drew.” Tricia brought her lips to his for a kiss that said more than words ever could.

  Staring wordlessly into her eyes for long moments after she pulled back, Drew said, “You know there are things I need to do when we get back to Galveston . . . things that can’t wait.”

  Tricia’s gaze locked with his as she whispered, “I understand that last night didn’t change any of the bad things that happened before it. Willie was your friend, and you have to do all you can to find the person who killed him. That precedes everything else in your mind.”

  “Not everything.”

  Responding to his fleeting smile, Tricia whispered, “I know, but reality is hard. It intrudes into the most intimate moments and it won’t let you forget. No one knows that better than I.”

  “There’s more I need to deal with than you know. My personal past as well as things that happened before the war ended . . . they’re all mixed up together somehow. I know now that’s part of the reason why I came back to Galveston with Willie in the first place. But the thing that sticks in my mind . . . the thought I can’t avoid . . . is the feeling that my past had something to do with the reason Willie was killed. I need to know the truth before I’ll feel free to go on.”

  Hesitating, Drew continued, “I’d explain it all to you if I could, Tricia. There are only two things I’m really sure of now. The first is that I can’t forget what happened to Willie and I need to go back to Galveston to get to the bottom of all this.”

  “What’s the second thing?”

  Drew froze.

  “Drew?” she pressed.

  Drew took a breath. “Do you trust me, Tricia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then trust me to give you that answer as soon as I’m able.”

  Taking a moment longer, Tricia nodded. She saw relief on his face, followed by determination. Yet his features softened as he stood up and handed her clothes to her.

  Tricia stood and dressed. Her fingers worked selfconsciously at the buttons of her shirtwaist as Drew dressed, watching her every move.

  When she was finally fully clothed, Drew stepped up close to her and said softly, “I made you n
ervous. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help staring. I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you are in every way. My eyes couldn’t get their fill.”

  Her throat suddenly tight, Tricia smoothed his cheek with her palm as she whispered simply, “Me, too.”

  Drew took her mouth with a passionate, soulsearching kiss that stole all thought from Tricia’s mind. She caught her breath when he pushed down her split skirt, thrust aside her undergarments, and entered her. She stood still, enraptured and helpless against his loving assault as he cupped her buttocks with his palms, supporting her with his strength as he paid tribute to the intense emotions they shared. Culmination came slowly, heatedly, with a prolonged ecstasy that left her weak-kneed.

  Breathing heavily, Tricia was attempting to speak when Drew adjusted his clothes and said in a gruff tone at odds with the sated passion in his eyes, “Wait here and don’t say anything or we’ll never get out of here.”

  Able to do little else, Tricia struggled to catch her breath as Drew quickly packed the saddlebags and readied the horses. Turning back to her when he had tied her horse’s reins to his saddle, he then swept her up into his arms and placed her on his horse. Mounting behind her, he nudged his horse into motion as he settled her back against his chest and whispered into her ear, “Relax . . . sleep a little if you need to. It’s going to be a long day.”

  Turning around to face him, Tricia protested, “I’m fine . . . really. You didn’t have to worry about me.”

  The ardor in Drew’s gaze halted her dissent as he replied, “If you think I’m going to let you out of my arms a minute before I have to, you’re wrong. So just lean back and rest. You can ride back into Galveston on your own horse . . . that’s a promise . . . but until then, I want you near me.”

  I want you near me.

  Drew’s words sent tremors of emotion down Tricia’s spine. Facing forward again, she leaned back against his chest and closed her eyes as Drew pulled her closer.

  Chantalle heard the growing activity downstairs with irritation. The sun was beginning to set, and patrons were arriving at a steady rate. They probably thought it strange that she wasn’t there to greet them at the door as was her custom, but she presently had little patience for that task.