EMMA WOKE TO SUNLIGHT STREAMING through her bedroom window and the warmth of Ty’s chest against her cheek, dismayed to note she had drooled on him. She ran her fingers through the springy curls, absently wondering why his chest hair fascinated her so.

Reality swamped her and she stiffened. What I am doing? It took several moments for her to come fully awake and remember how she ended up here.

She eased away from him and saw he slept soundly, one hand fisted in her hair. As slowly as possible, she loosened his fingers and stood.

Immediately, Ty groaned and reached out, mumbling in his sleep. She sat down and took his hand. His head rolled from side to side as he shook off her hand and reached for something only he could see.

She leaned forward, speaking softly, “You’re dreaming, Ty. Shhhh…you’re safe now.” Her hair fell over her shoulder and landed on his hand. He grabbed it, mumbled something that sounded like silk and drifted off again.

She lay still and pondered her next step. For some reason, having his hand in her hair seemed to soothe him. Then she remembered the lock retrieved from his tattered clothing. The strands she gave him their last night together. It rested on top of her dresser. On the other side of the bed.

She worked herself free and grabbed the lock even as Ty started mumbling again. She pressed the hair in his hand and his fingers tightened around it, his breathing calmed and he rested easier.

She rigidly held the tears in check. “Oh Ty, a part of you does remember.” Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek. “Rest easy, my love. I’ll be back soon.”

As she stood, Lupe entered the room, a food tray in her hands.

“Good morning, Señora. He is resting good, no?” Lupe spoke softly as she placed the tray on the dresser. “You both slept good, I think.”

Emma glanced outside, distressed to see the mid-day sun. “Oh my! I needed to get the men started checking for strays today.” She hurried toward the dressing screen. “Please tell me you have coffee on there.”

Si, I do. And lunch which you will eat before you do anything. And besides, you told Wally yesterday to handle that so you sit and eat.”

“I did?” She shook her head. “Oh, right. I remember.” She came back to the chair. “I can’t believe I slept so long.” She looked at Ty, the lock of hair clutched to his chest and once again, fought back tears. “Part of him remembers, Lupe,” she whispered, then turned grief stricken eyes to her friend. “Part of him remembers.”

Lupe bent and hugged her. “Things will work out, Señora. God has his ways. Now, you must eat something and go speak with your father. He is asking for you. I will stay with Señor Ty.”

Lupe placed the tray on the side of the bed and pointed. “Eat. I will be back shortly and you will go see your father.”

Half an hour later, Emma entered her father’s room and smiled when she saw him sitting in his chair by the window. “How did you get here?”

“José helped me. How’s Ty?”

Though his voice sounded stronger, his shoulders slumped forward and his skin held a pasty pallor.

“I think he will be fine. How long have you been up? Do you need to go back to bed?”

He shook his head and continued to look out the window, eyes moving around as he surveyed the yard.

“Need another swing on that old tree there.” He nodded toward the tree on the right.

She didn’t miss the note of melancholy in his voice.

“You sure loved to swing.”

She placed a chair beside him and sat down. “I remember Sarah and me taking turns to see how high we could go.” She grinned. “Mama didn’t much like us doing that.”

He looked at her and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “You’re not getting enough rest worrying about me and him, too.”

“I’m fine, Papa. In fact, I slept for several hours last night.” She adjusted the blanket across his knees. “Ty slept good, too.” Clutching my hair in his hand.

“His memory coming back at all?”

She lifted one shoulder, and shook her head. “Not really. Doc said it will take some time. But he wants to remember and tries to…but, well, it’s still too soon to expect anything.”

His gnarled hand covered hers and squeezed. “He’ll remember in time. He will.”

She didn’t reply, merely gave a half-hearted smile.

He ducked his head, then looked at her again. “I know you think I have doubts about you being able to handle this place when I’m gone.”

She didn’t have the strength to argue with him today. “We can talk about that another time.”

“Dammit, girl, listen to me!”

His stern voice caused her to flinch.

“I ain’t never for one minute thought you couldn’t run this place. Never!”

“But –”

“I wanted to know you’d be happy without me.” He took her hand again. “The way you went after Ty…the look on your face. I knew then you loved him. That’s all I ever wanted for you, Emma Rose…to find somebody to love like I loved your Ma.” He shook his head and his voice trembled. “I know I went about it all wrong, but I ain’t got much time. I had to know my baby girl would have someone to love.”

Her heart seized at the love on his face.

“And she does.”

Tears clogged her throat. “He doesn’t remember me, Papa.” Her voice cracked. “He doesn’t remember.”

And then he did the one thing she had no defenses against.

He pulled her to him in a clumsy embrace.

She couldn’t remember the last time he hugged her. That realization shattered the last vestige of control and she made no effort to stop the hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

Rafe tightened his embrace and she sobbed harder.

A rustle of movement penetrated the veil of sleep and Ty focused on the sound, anticipating the headache that accompanied waking. Satisfied he would only be subjected to a dull throb for the moment, he gradually opened his eyes.

His wife stood with her back to him, messing with something on the dresser…wearing pants. Tight pants. He blinked several times as his eyes focused on the well-formed derriere that twitched as she moved.

“I let you wear pants?” His croaky voice held a note of disbelief.

She squeaked and spun around. Surprise quickly became pissed off.

“Let me?” Her hands fisted on her hips and her chin came up. “You let me wear pants?”

Rendered speechless by the passion in her eyes, the play of light on her hair which draped her shoulders like a tobacco-colored shawl, he stared.

She stood beside the bed, emerald orbs flashing fire. “Now see here, Tyler Roundtree, that piece of paper is a marriage certificate not a bill of sale!” She puffed out a breath. “I realize you are not yourself right now, but you do not let me do anything!”

With sudden clarity, he knew. They had a similar discussion before. And he lost. He chased the elusive memory like a hound after a rabbit, almost had it, then it bounded away, leaving only the damnable headache. He compressed his lips against the groan hung in his throat and closed his eyes.

“Oh, no!”

The bed sagged when she sat down and placed a soft hand on his arm.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you. Do you need the pain drops?”

A grunt had to suffice for a reply as he battled an unsettled stomach, his other constant companion.

She shifted on the bed, one hand resting on his arm. “I have the basin if you’re going to be sick again.”

He willed himself not to, focusing instead on the warmth of her touch, the gentleness of her voice.

His brain pulsed with flashes that appeared and left before his mind’s eye distinguished one from another. Though he couldn’t say he actually remembered something, a part of him accepted her as his wife. He cared for her.

The nausea passed a little quicker this time. The pain lessened to a bearable stage. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, face pinched with concern.

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

It took two attempts to speak. “Not you. Memory.”

She sat up straighter, eyes bright with anticipation. “You remembered something?”

“Not exactly.” He closed his eyes and concentrated on what he wanted to say, ignoring the pain. “It’s like a memory is right there. When I try to…to latch on to it, the pain starts and I lose it.”

Her hand slid slowly up and down his arm, her touch a soothing balm to his soul.

He sighed and looked at her. “We argued before, didn’t we? About you wearing pants?”

She lowered her eyes, stains of pink high on each cheek. “Well, we didn’t exactly argue since you, um, you…”

“I what?”

She avoided making eye contact. “You…liked me in them.”

“I did?” I can sure see why.

“Uh-huh.” She glanced at him and lowered her eyes, golden-brown lashes sweeping down. “You said – ” She straightened and met his steady gaze. “Aw hell. You said you should stop me from wearing them before you had to kick someone’s ass for looking at mine.”

A smile edged up the corner of his mouth. “Did I? Have to kick someone’s ass?”

She blew out a breath. “No. But we were only together only a couple of days before you left for the drive.”

He snorted, the sound rusty from lack of use. “I bet we argue a lot.”

“Why do you say that?”

“We’re very different.”

“Men and women usually are.”

He didn’t disagree.

She shifted on the bed and faced him. “We talked about our differences and agreed to accept each other as we are…good, bad, and otherwise.”

He couldn’t imagine having such a deep discussion with anyone let alone someone he supposedly barely knew. But at the same time, it felt…right.

“What else?”

The color on her cheeks heightened but she didn’t look away.

“You said the best part of arguing…” Her gaze dropped to his lips. “…was making up afterwards.”

The instant flash of desire the remark garnered surprised him. Well, parts of me obviously remembers something. “Did we…make up often?”

Her voice dropped to a sexy whisper and desire kicked up a notch. So did the throbbing in his head. He ignored it.

Her gaze held his for several heartbeats. “A couple of times.”

He shifted his attention to the vee in her shirt where the top button strained against full breasts. The flicker of yet another not-exactly-a-memory played hide-and-seek with his brain and he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply before speaking. “What’s this?” He held up the long strand of hair.

“A piece of my hair.”

“Where did I get it?”

She paused. “I gave it to you before you left.” The flicker of a smile bloomed then faded. “You like touching my hair.” She smoothed out the rumpled bed covers. “I put it in your hand this morning when I had to get up because you grew so restless when I left.”

He rubbed the silken curls between his thumb and index fingers. “It’s so soft.”

The tenderness in her expression left him speechless.

“Lupe made some light soup for you. I know you probably don’t feel much like eating but you have to try. I’ll help you sit up.”

He didn’t bother to disguise his lack of enthusiasm for the idea. “It probably won’t stay down.”

“One way to find out.”

Once positioned to her liking, she strode to the dresser and returned with his dinner

She placed the basin within reach then sat beside him on the bed, bowl and spoon in her hand.

“We’ll do this slow and easy. One spoon at a time. If you start feeling ill, tell me right away.”

His eyes were drawn to the top button so he shut them and concentrated on not throwing up as she brought the spoon to his lips. The thick soup, warm, lightly spiced and filled with tiny chunks of vegetables, delighted his taste buds, and he prayed he would not need the basin as he swallowed the first spoonful.

It appeared the more he ate, the hungrier he got and in no time at all, the bowl was empty.

“How do you feel?” A faint tremor filtered through her voice as though some strong emotion touched her.

“Like I could eat a gallon of it.”

Joy bubbled in her laugher. “I’d say that’s a good sign.” She placed the empty bowl on the tray and returned it to the dresser. “When you’re ready, I’ll give you a shave.”

He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the moment. “You don’t like the beard?”

“Ummm, not really. It makes you look, well, fierce.”

Surprised, he opened his eyes. “Fierce?”

The bed sagged when she sat back down. “Like a pirate might look. Did you have a beard before?” Her brow furrowed and her expression grew serious as she studied his face.

“No. Well, during the war, I’d go some time without shaving, but never really liked a beard.”

“Is that how you got the scar? In the war?”

He scowled and rubbed the white streak on his jaw. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“I didn’t tell you before?”

She shook her head. “We never talked about it.”

“Were we happy?” His question made her flinch and he wondered if he really wanted to know the answer.

She rubbed her palms on jean-clad thighs, then straightened her shoulders and faced him. “The first few days were…a challenge, but after we…after…” The pink on her cheeks turned bright red and she turned away.

Suddenly, he knew what after meant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I just…”

She shook her head and kept her back to him. “Like I said before, ours is not a typical marriage. We were married for three days before we – you know, and then you had to leave on the drive.” She looked at him and continued. “We had — have — a bond, a friendship, if you will. It’s very strong and started before we ever married.”

“You said you loved me.”

“I do,” she whispered.

When she smiled at him, his heart turned over. The transformation left him speechless.

“I know you don’t believe it’s true, but it is. I fell in love with you the first time I ever saw you though I admit it took some time for me to realize that’s what it was. You’re a kind and honorable man. You are my husband and I love you.” She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his bearded cheek. “Nothing will ever change that.”

He remained silent as she rose and walked out, afraid words would break the spell she cast over him.

How could I ever be worthy of such love?