A faint warmth touched his eyes. "Though I admit that is useful."
Rachel let out one small breath of laughter. Matthew seemed to gather courage from it.
"I want you here because when I walk into the cookhouse before sunrise and you're not there yet, I notice."
Rachel's smile disappeared.
"I notice when you ride into town."
He swallowed. "I notice when you laugh."
The yard seemed impossibly quiet.
"I notice when you don't."
Rachel's eyes burned. Matthew took a breath.
"And when I saw that bag this morning, after spending the whole night thinking the herd might wash apart and the contract might be gone, I realized the thing I was most afraid of losing wasn't any of that."
Rachel looked at him. He lowered himself onto one knee. Right there in the mud.
Rachel's hand flew to her mouth. Matthew Holloway, who towered over nearly every man in Colorado Territory, knelt in the wet cookyard with his hat in one hand. A few cowboys nearby stirred.
Eli sat up slowly. Rebecca, standing near the dying fire with a coffee cup, went perfectly still. Matthew did not look at any of them.
Only Rachel.
"I'm not doing this because you saved the ranch."
His voice was low enough that she had to listen. "And I'm not asking because I need someone in my kitchen."
Rachel's eyes filled. Matthew looked almost alarmed by that, but he kept going.
"You're the smartest person I've ever known."
Rachel gave a shaky laugh through her tears. "That is a dangerous thing to say before breakfast."
"I'm not finished."
"All right."
"You see people."
His fingers tightened slightly around his hat. "You see what they're trying not to say."
Rachel's mouth trembled.
"You make tired men feel like somebody expected them back at the table."
Matthew paused. "You make me feel that way too."
Rachel closed her eyes for one second. When she opened them, he was still there. Still kneeling.
Still waiting.
"And you're beautiful," he said.
Rachel went very still. Matthew did not rush the words.
"Not because I'm trying to convince you of something. Not because I think you need to hear it."
His gaze moved over her face with a tenderness he had never allowed himself before. "Because you are."
Rachel looked down at herself. Apron smoke-stained. Hair half fallen from its pins.
Cornmeal on one sleeve. Mud on the hem of her dress. Matthew followed her glance.
"Yes," he said. "Right now too."
She laughed then. A broken, wet little sound. Matthew smiled.
It changed his whole face. Rachel wiped at one cheek with the back of her hand.