“I… um…” Disconcerted by his bright gaze, she stammered before recalling the purpose for her visit. “I apologize for the unannounced visit, Ian, but I have a favor to ask. If you prefer not to help, please just say so.”
“I can’t give you an aye or a nae until you ask the question, lass. What is it you need?” Ian’s lopsided grin tugged at her heart.
Maggie pointed to the fireplace in the sitting room. “Your targe.”
“My targe?” Ian placed a hand to her elbow and guided Maggie into the room. “What on earth do you need with my targe? Is there a war about to commence in town and someone forgot to tell me? Are invaders right now prepared to yell a battle cry and take down Baker City?”
Maggie laughed and shook her head. “Of course not. If that were the case, I’d ask to borrow the axe. What did you call it?”
“The Lochaber axe. Merciful heavens, woman, I shudder to think of the damage you’d cause wielding that bit of weaponry.”
Ian’s teasing smile was like sunshine on her face after a bad storm. It filled her with happiness to see it.
“Indeed.” Maggie took a step closer to the fireplace, her gaze rested on the object of her desire, at least the one she wanted to copy for her dress. The pattern was even more intricate and detailed than she remembered. “If you’ve no objection, I’d like to copy the design on the shield for a dress I’m making. I want to embroider it around the hem of the skirt and stitch the knots on a panel that would run along the front of the gown.”
Ian’s face seemed impassive as he studied her, gauging if her request was genuine or if she’d invented some reason to call on him at his home. He noted the way she stared at the shield with rapt attention and decided she really had come to borrow it.
“I don’t mind if you copy the pattern, lass, but I can’t let you carry this through town.” Ian lifted the targe from the hooks that held it above the mantle and set it on the sofa.
Maggie hurried to remove the sheet of paper and pencil stub she’d stuffed into her reticule. “I could copy it here, if that would be acceptable?”
Ian shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. The shield is far too heavy for you to carry. I’ll see you home and carry it for you. When you’ve finished with it, let me know and I’ll retrieve it from you.”
Excited at the prospect of fulfilling her plans for the dress, Maggie grabbed Ian’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “That’s wonderful, Ian. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, lass. Now, I have a favor to ask in return.”
Uncertain what Ian might possibly need from her, Maggie gave him an inquisitive glance. “Yes?”
“You may borrow the shield and use the pattern, but only if you’ll have supper with me tonight.”
Caught off guard by Ian’s request, Maggie stared at him a moment. The sensible, prudent part of her ordered her to leave immediately and not look back. The part of her that could barely contain her enthusiasm at seeing Ian, inhaling his masculine fragrance, and witnessing his teasing smiles, suggested she agree without question.
“I’d love to.”
“Wonderful. If you’d be so kind to accompany me to the kitchen, I was just sitting down to eat when you knocked.” Ian took her hand and tugged her down the hall, but Maggie stopped before they made it past the grand staircase.
“Oh, Ian, I didn’t mean to interrupt your supper. I’ll come back another time.”
Before she took a step toward the door, Ian put a hand to the small of her back and propelled her down the hall to his kitchen. He seated her at the table beneath the window, took down a plate from a cupboard and set it in front of her, then poured her a glass of milk.
Ian opened the oven door and a waft of savory perfume filled the kitchen. Maggie removed her hat and gloves, setting them aside as Ian lifted a steaming pie from the oven and set it on the table on a folded dishtowel.
“I hope you like chicken pot pie.” Ian took a seat and offered thanks for the meal. He picked up a knife and cut two wedges of the pie, placing one on Maggie’s plate, then his.
She lifted her fork and studied the flaky crust covering tender chunks of chicken and vegetables swimming in thick, creamy gravy. “The pie looks delicious, Ian. I didn’t realize you were so accomplished in the kitchen.”
Derisively, Ian laughed and shook his head. “I’m not. I do well not to burn toast, but Mrs. Byron sometimes makes a little something for my dinner on the days she comes to clean. You’re lucky today was a cleaning day.”
Maggie took a bite of the pie, enjoying a hot meal she didn’t have to prepare. After dabbing her lips with a napkin, she tipped her head to him. “I’m very lucky. What else do she and Mr. Byron do for you?”
“Everything.” Ian grinned. “In all seriousness, I couldn’t manage without them. He keeps everything green and growing outside, tends to the animals, and does minor repairs around the house if needed. Martha Byron is a wonder, I tell you. She comes twice a week and dusts the house from top to bottom, cleans the baths, and makes sure everything is spit-spot, as my grandmother likes to say. On Tuesdays, she might do a bit of baking or leave supper in the oven. On Thursdays, she does my laundry. The poor woman has never complained, but I know my clothes have to be a challenge to clean. Some days, I look like I’ve wrestled filthy beasts and come up on the losing end.”
Maggie laughed and the sound winged straight to Ian’s heart. She took a sip of milk then smiled at him. “I do believe I could use a Mrs. Byron.”
“I’m not sharing, but if I hear of anyone even half her equal, I’ll let you know.”
They continued a lively conversation while they ate, then Maggie helped Ian with the dishes. After the last fork was dried and put away, Ian offered her an imploring look.
“Will you wait right here, for just a moment? I’ve got something for you.”
At her nod, he disappeared up the back stairs. She leaned against his counter, envisioning herself in Ian’s large kitchen, preparing a meal for him. In her imagination, she listened to his teasing while his lips caressed her neck with a tender kiss. He would talk about his day and ask about hers before sitting down to a meal together.
Maggie shook her head to dislodge her thoughts and pasted on a smile as Ian returned to the kitchen carrying a long paper-wrapped parcel.
He held it out to her with a sheepish grin. “This is for you.”
“What is it?” Maggie took the package and waited for an explanation.
“Open it and find out,” Ian said, anxious to know if she liked his gift. “It’s a little something I saw in Portland and thought of you.”
Maggie started to hand it back. “You already gave me the scissors from your trip to Portland. Honestly, Ian, you’ve been so generous, I simply cannot accept another gift.”
Ian placed his hands, over hers. “Please, Maggie. Just open it. I promise I’d look utterly ridiculous walking down the street with it and my mother has a dozen, so you might as well take it off my hands. You’d be doing me a favor.”
Hesitant, Maggie untied the string and removed the plain brown paper. When it fell away, she sucked in her breath and gaped at a lovely parasol, dripping with rich ecru lace. Her fingers trailed along the smooth wood of the handle. It was the finest parasol she’d ever beheld. “Oh, Ian, it’s the most lovely thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Do you see why, try as I might, I just couldn’t pull off twirling it over my shoulder and sauntering down the street?” Ian took a few mincing steps, tilting his head to gaze at her over his shoulder and batting his eyes.
Maggie laughed at his theatrics. “I suppose if you’re sure it won’t match your new suit, I will take it off your hands.” She surprised them both when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ian’s cheek. Embarrassed by her bold action, she ducked her head, focusing on her gift. “Thank you for this, Ian. It’s thoughtful and wonderful.”
“You’re welcome, lass. I hope you enjoy it. With the summer season nearly upon us, I thought it might come in handy.”<
br />
“Yes, it will.” Maggie didn’t mention the parasols she already owned or the fact that she didn’t care if her skin turned a little tan from the sun. She loved the gift because Ian had thought of her when he was out of town on his business trip and chosen it especially for her.
For one long, intense moment, Maggie thought Ian might kiss her. His eyes darted to her suddenly dry lips. She licked them then realized what she’d done and turned away. “I suppose I should get home.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Ian sounded disappointed as she pinned on her hat and slipped on her gloves. She picked up her reticule and the parasol then followed him down the hall to the entry.
Ian lifted the targe from the sitting room sofa before opening the door and motioning for Maggie to precede him outside.
“Have you been out to Thane and Jemma’s lately?” Ian asked, wanting to diffuse the tense silence between them. He’d nearly given in to the urge to kiss her, but Maggie wouldn’t welcome his affection. Not when she was practically wed to Tully.
However, practically was a long way from getting the job done, so he held out hope there was still a chance at winning her heart.
The parasol had made her face light with joy. He’d continue to lavish her with the gifts he selected and see if that didn’t help make inroads into her heart.
“I haven’t been out to the ranch since the day we all helped them move in. Have you?” Maggie asked as they entered town and strolled down a side street.
“Yes. I was there yesterday. I helped the sheriff haul a huge crate out to the ranch. He asked if we could take one of my lumber wagons.” Ian took Maggie’s elbow in his hand and guided her around a puddle in the street. It appeared as though Mr. Bentley had let the water get away from him in the sprinkler wagon. Either that, or some of the hooligans in town had been playing pranks on the poor man again.
“Huge crate? What was in it?” Maggie didn’t recall Jemma mentioning anything at church Sunday.
“A piano.” Ian’s face broke into a good-natured grin. “I felt so bad for Jack when we unloaded it and moved it into the parlor. I’ve never seen a lad look so woe begotten.”
Maggie’s laughter danced around him, offering bursts of light, excitement, and warmth. “Oh, poor Jack. He told me how happy he was they didn’t have a piano because he hated practicing. Jemma holds to the notion that learning to play will help him secure a well-rounded education. Perhaps Thane can convince her to let the boy pursue some other activity.”
“Thane’s the one who ordered the piano as a surprise for Jemma. When we left, Lily was banging on it, singing one of her songs about fairies and frogs.”
“That sounds like Lily. She keeps me on my toes.”
Ian chuckled. “You and everyone else. Those cowboys at Thane’s ranch walk around like she’s got them roped and tied. I pity the man who sets his cap for that girl. He’s not only going to have a live wire, but a whole herd of overbearing uncles to scare him witless.”
“I’d rather she be lively and inquisitive than not show any gumption.” Maggie removed a key from her pocket and unlocked her back door. Ian followed her inside and laid the battle shield on her big worktable.
“I agree. There’s nothing quite like a lass full of sass and spirit. I admire a woman with a mind of her own and the fortitude to follow her heart.”
The way Ian gazed at her made it clear he included her in his admiration. “Yes, well…” Maggie walked back to the door, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation turned. “I do thank you, Ian, for allowing me to borrow the targe. I’ll draw my design and get it back to you right away.”
“Och, there’s no rush, Maggie. Take as much time as you need. If a legion of warriors descends on our fair town and I’m called to defensive action, I know where to find it.”
Maggie grinned at him. “Are you always so fanciful? I’m beginning to think Lily is rubbing off on you, or perhaps you’re the one influencing her wild tales?”
“Neither. We’re both unappreciated storytellers of grand adventures. It’s as simple as that.” Ian lingered in the doorway and smiled at Maggie. How he wished he could take her in his arms and kiss her. Just one little taste of those ripe lips. That’s all he needed.
Something flickered in her eyes, making them glow like warm honey. Every bit as trapped as if he’d attempted to wade through the real thing, Ian fell into her gaze.
One step brought him back inside. A second placed him directly in front of her. He lifted his hands and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, lost in the feel of her soft skin, the heady scent of her, the uncontrollable need to kiss her.
“Maggie…” Ian whispered, lowering his head toward hers. The warmth of her lips brushed his for the briefest, most amazing moment. She jerked away and took a staggering step back.
A frightened look replaced the tenderness that had danced in her eyes. Maggie’s breath came in short gasps and she grasped the counter behind her for support. “Perhaps it’s best if you leave now, Ian. Thank you, again.”
“Lass, I’m sorry. I…”
Maggie turned her back to him and the apology died on Ian’s lips, unspoken. He wasn’t sorry he tried to kiss her. Not in the least. He was remorseful that it upset her, though. Despite what he wanted, the fact remained she loved another.
“Good night, Maggie.” Ian walked out and pulled the door shut behind him.
Maggie listened to the latch click then let out the breath she’d been holding. Ian had no idea what he’d done to her, how he’d unsettled her with his gentle touch.
Oh, she’d wanted his kiss. Wanted it desperately. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t go down that painful road again. Besides, she owed it to Daniel to stay true to his love and his memory.
No matter how much she wished it otherwise, she had to find some way to get past her feelings for Ian.
Chapter Seventeen
Grateful she had the day off, Maggie needed to go for a ride and clear her head. It was impossible to think in town. She wanted to go to her special place in the woods where she could sit quietly and decide what to do with her future.
Right after breakfast, she strolled over to Tully’s place and saddled Danny Boy, riding him through town. She waved at Tully as she rode past the sheriff’s office. He stood outside talking to one of his deputies and motioned for her to stop. She reined Danny Boy over to the edge of the boardwalk.
“Where are you headed, Maggie?” he asked.
She glanced toward the distant mountains. “Up to my thinking rock.”
Tully had followed her there more than once to make sure she was okay. He gave her a pointed look. “There was a bank robbery in Sumpter last night. Until we catch the robbers, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out alone, Maggie. The outlaws could be anywhere.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Tully, you are worse than a fussy mother hen. Most likely, they’re nowhere around these parts by now and I honestly doubt they’d be anywhere near where I plan to go. From all the times you’ve skulked about following me, you know my special spot isn’t on any path.”
Tully glowered darkly. “I don’t skulk about, as you put it, and I’m not a fussy mother hen. If you didn’t run off in a snit with alarming frequency, I wouldn’t have any need to follow you. Please, Mags, for once in your life, listen to what I’m saying and take my advice. I don’t want you riding around alone today.” Tully rocked back on one hip and glared at her as she stubbornly lifted her chin. “Before you insult me again, please just consider my words. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Maggie leaned forward and patted Tully’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll be careful. I’ve got my revolver. Despite your qualms, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Tully released a frustrated sigh and placed a hand on her leg, disregarding any thought that his familiarity might be construed as improper. “Fine, but if you aren’t back here in three hours, I’m sending someone to look for you.” He swiped his hand over his fa
ce then looked at her again. “If anything happens to you on my watch, Jemma and Thane will have my head.”
“Don’t forget Lily and Jack. They’d be quite displeased with you, too.” Maggie shot Tully a saucy grin then turned Danny Boy back into the street. “I promise to be home on time, Mother.”
The deputy snorted with ill-disguised humor while Tully frowned at him then Maggie. “Just be sure that you are, young lady.”
Maggie rode out of town with her thoughts centered on her friend.
Tully gave her reason for concern. When they were alone, he behaved as he always had, like a big brother who teased and tormented her, but also encouraged and supported her.
However, during the last month or two, he’d begun to act so strangely in public. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Tully behaved as if they were a couple. He’d drape his arm around her shoulders and pull her to his side. A few times, he’d even tried to hold her hand.
Once, when she’d been talking to one of the women after church, Tully rushed up to her and kissed her cheek. Maggie had no idea what he was up to, but she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
The familiar way he placed a hand on her leg when she spoke with him moments ago was completely inappropriate and so out of character for Tully. In all the years they’d been friends, he’d never crossed the invisible boundaries of propriety until recently.
She’d asked him repeatedly to stop his affectionate exhibits in public, but the more she protested, the worse he behaved. Tully had never acted so possessive and she didn’t know what to make of it.
As she mulled over all that had happened recently, she concluded that Tully had acted strangely ever since she had deemed Ian a friend instead of a foe.
Although he had stayed away from her the last week, Ian had bombarded her with gifts. The day after he walked her home with the targe, he had one of the delivery boys in town bring her a box of delicious chocolates.
Thimbles and Thistles: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 2) Page 16
