Lessons of the Heart (Daughters of the Prairie 2)

“I never told her. Never told Lizzie or the boy.”

“The boy? What was his name?”

Garth winced. It was easier to think of him as “the boy.” “The doctors couldn’t help him. Couldn’t save him. Or Lizzie.”

“That explains why you don’t like doctors much. But Doc Potter is a good man. A good doctor.”

Garth nodded. Perhaps Potter was all right. Perhaps a lot of things would be all right now. Now that he had Ruth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Jonathan Garth.”

“A lovely name. I’m so sorry you lost him.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m used to it.”

“You’re not used to it. No one is. So stop telling yourself you are. You’ve been through a lot of loss in your short life. More than any soul deserves.” She cupped his cheeks and forced his gaze onto hers. “Listen to me, Garth Mackenzie. I love you. Do you understand? I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. I didn’t much even like you at first. But I decided a long time ago to only marry for love. And I married you. I love you, and you are not alone.”

Floodgates opened, and emotion, raw and pure, roared into Garth. His body trembled and he held Ruth against him—a rock in a swirling sea of commotion he’d kept buried far too long. His vision blurred, and wetness trickled from his eyes.

Tears.

She loved him. He wasn’t a ruthless killer, a heartless monster to her. She saw a man. A man worthy of her love. This princess loved him.

Lordy, he loved her, too.

Her soothing words met his ears. “It’s all right, Garth. It’s all right.”

“I love you, Ruth.” The sentiment flowed out of him. “God, I love you so much.”

She continued to hold him, and the demons crept away into the inky blackness of the night.

And somehow, in the depths of his being, he knew the nigh

tmares would be fewer and farther between from now on.

* * *

Garth ambled into the kitchen wearing trousers and an unbuttoned shirt. Tousled and raw, he oozed masculinity. Ruth’s heart quickened at the sight. She’d never tire of his male beauty.

“Good morning.” She reached for the empty plate Mary Alice, seated at the table, handed her. “Good?”

“The best breakfast I’ve had in a long time,” Mary Alice said.

Ruth smiled and turned to Garth. “We thought we’d let you sleep a little longer today since you’re probably still tuckered out from that fire.”

“Morning, Pa.” Mary Alice’s rosy face beamed. She looked good. Good and healthy.

“Your breakfast will be ready in a jiffy,” Ruth said to Garth.

She hurried to the cookstove, but he caught her arm and pulled her into a tight hug. He kissed her lips, and she gasped, looking toward Mary Alice. The girl was engaged with her cup of milk and didn’t give them the time of day.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Her skin bristled and she nuzzled his neck. “I love you too. Now sit. I’ll get you something to eat.”

He patted her bottom—oh, she could get used to those husbandly caresses—and sat down next to his daughter.

“Mary Alice.”

Ruth couldn’t help herself. She turned to watch their exchange. Bronze eyes so like Garth’s own gazed up at him. “Yes, Pa?”