Chasing the Sunset

by Barbara Mack

  A ray of sunlight struck on the shiny mass of Maggie’s disordered hair and played over the beautiful contours of her face as she smiled tenderly into the big man’s face. Nick’s hand clenched on the bush he was holding out of the way. Maggie was chattering like a magpie, in the bright happy way that she had up to this point reserved for him alone. Nick’s heart twisted in his chest. When pain struck him and he put his hand there, he realized that he was holding his breath and let it out in a slow exhalation.

  "And I cannot find my mother’s brooch anywhere. I cannot believe that I would be so careless. I kept it all this time . . .”

  “We have company,” he heard the man say clearly as he looked right at the place where Nick stood, and Maggie turned her head toward him and scrambled up from the bank. Undiluted delight spread across her features, and Nick marveled at her, at what an actress she was, as all women were.

  “Nick,” she cried. “Come and meet Duncan! He has got the most interesting stories.”

  Nick stepped through the brush, letting it snap behind him. His brows drew together and he eyed the big man aggressively.

  “Nick Revelle,” he said curtly, staring down at the seated man. “And you?”

  The man stood up, and Nick realized that the man was crippled. He struggled upright with the use of a carved cane, and Nick felt guilt for his bad manners that vanished quickly as he took in the way that the other man’s shoulders stretched the material of his plain broadcloth shirt.

  “Duncan Murdoch,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on Nick’s face. Now that he was standing, he towered over Nick by at least a full head and Nick wished sullenly that he had noticed the cane earlier so that he could insist that the other man stay seated. He felt another upsurge of guilt, and felt blood flood his face at his spitefulness. His mother would have smacked his ears sharply by now if she were here.

  Nick realized now who the big man was, and he knew in his heart what was really making him act this way. Duncan Murdoch obviously found Maggie attractive and it was clear that she returned his regard. That was what was making him so churlish. Besides, wasn’t this what he said that he wanted? For Maggie to find someone else?

  “You are Doctor Fell’s new partner,” he said quietly.

  Maggie looked on in amazement. Her eyebrows shot up nearly into her hairline.

  “You are what?” she said. “You never said.”

  A smile curved Duncan’s mouth. “You never asked what I was doing here in Geddes,” he said calmly. “I would have told you if you had.”

  Maggie punched him in the arm, laughing, and Nick was not happy with the level of camaraderie that the two had.

  “Just how long have you two been acquainted?” he asked tightly. “And why did you not come up to the house and introduce yourself instead of skulking around on the outskirts of my property?”

  “Nick!” Maggie protested. “He likes to take a long walk to exercise his leg, and we met a couple of weeks ago when he was doing just that. And he has not been skulking around!” Her green eyes flashed sparks at him. “He comes out here sometimes to sit at the river, and I told him that it was all right.”

  “My pardon,” Nick said stiffly. “I will go on back to the house, as my presence is obviously not wanted here. You have plenty of company.” He nodded stiffly to the big man. “Doctor Murdoch.”

  So saying, he turned around and stalked back on the path towards the house, his back stiff and ramrod-straight.

  Maggie stared after him with mouth open. What in the world?

  “I have absolutely no idea what that was about,” she said.

  “Do you not?” was all he said, his gentle eyes amused. Maggie flushed, and his mouth quirked up at one corner. “Don’t lie to yourself, Maggie. You know exactly what that was all about, and it was not about the new Doctor not coming to the house and introducing himself.”

  Maggie laughed, and punched him in the arm again. “All right, maybe I do have an inkling. I just do not . . . think of you that way, and I did not expect Nick to be so . . . so . . . “

  ”Jealous?” Duncan said wryly. “I do not think of you that way, either, Maggie, but I do not think your Nick would believe that from either one of us right now.”

  Maggie looked toward the house thoughtfully. “He is not my Nick, and you are right,” she said, and sighed. “I do not think that he would.”

  Duncan reached down and captured Maggie’s hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss against her knuckle. She smiled up at him. He was precious to her, this man, and her to him. The first time their eyes had met, the pain and confusion they usually kept hidden from the rest of the world was revealed each to the other. She knew him, and he knew her. Details were unimportant; their souls were laid bare to each other’s gazes. That was rare, and she would not give it up.

  “I have not had a friend for a long time,” Duncan said softly. “Thank you, Maggie.”

  She reached way, way up to lay a hand against the warmth of his cheek.

  “For what?” she asked. “I will meet you tomorrow.”

  As she turned to go, Duncan called softly to her. "Maggie?" he said. "Look for your mother’s brooch in the place where you keep your aprons. Perhaps there is a loose board in the back and the brooch has fallen through there."

  Nick strode angrily through the bushes on the way home, purposefully leaving the path and going the hard way. He slapped angrily at branches, kicked deliberately at tree trunks, and hoped he could burn off his anger by the time he reached the house. He felt the anger course through his body and drive out the desire that he lived and breathed twenty four hours a day. Nick ached night and day to hold Maggie against his hard body, to drink from the sweet, dark depths of her mouth, to ease the craving of his body against her soft curves.

  He had gone past obsession at this point; he only had to think of Maggie to have longing sink its claws into him. He avoided her, working longer and longer hours to stay away from temptation. It did not work. And the thought of her with another man was enough to make fury tear him apart. He felt raw and lacerated; as if some huge bird of prey had stuck a talon in his heart and then jerked free, pulling through skin and muscle.

  He will not have her, he thought savagely. I will not let him.

  The image of Maggie laughing into Duncan Murdoch’s face rose up behind his eyes and mocked him. Nick knew that he was being unreasonable. Had not he himself told Maggie to give up on him and find somebody new? But knowing he was being unreasonable and actually doing something to correct this behavior were two very different things.

  The doctor had liked her; he could see it in the smile he gave Maggie, in his eyes as he looked at her. He felt gentle about her, too; there was nothing dangerous about the indulgent way his brown eyes moved over her, no incendiary lust that threatened to eat him alive, just an

  acknowledgment of her beauty. He was cultured, that was obvious to Nick despite his

  rough dress and his Indian blood. Doctor Fell had told Nick that his new partner was the most well-read man he had ever met, and the smartest one, too. His father was a Scots nobleman, his mother Cheyenne and the daughter of a chief. His mother had died young, and his father had then taken the young Duncan with him to St. Louis to give the bright young man the best education money could buy. Doctor Fell had been obviously impressed with his new partner, and Nick had looked forward to meeting him. That is, until he had found the man with Maggie, her with her legs bare to his gaze, and him so appreciative of the view.

  He struck savagely at another branch in his way, and cursed under his breath, the words no less virulent for being quiet.

  Duncan Murdoch was perfect for Maggie.

  And there was no way in hell that he was going to let him have her.

  Maggie put a hand into the aching small of her back and tried to stretch the soreness out of muscles gone stiff from bending over too long. She surveyed the garden ruefully. There were very few things left in the ground this time of year, just pumpkins and a few fr
esh vegetables straggling along, some herbs left to go to seed. She had decided to gather up what was left before a frost came along and killed everything off, and now her back was paying the price for her stubbornness. She had waited until Kathleen had left to get started. Nick had offered the use of one of his men for help, and she had refused, his cold manner to her since the day he had found her with Duncan putting her back up. She felt just like Tommy’s kitten when Sadie’s pups came around. All her fur stood up, and she hissed for all she was worth. And he had backed off hurriedly, just like the puppies did when confronted with such a sight.

  Maggie’s mouth turned down at the corners. Well, he could just go spit if he thought he was going to make her give up her new friend. There had not been that many friends come along in her life, and she was not going to give one up just because he happened to be male and handsome as all get-out. Jealous, that is what Nick was, and he could just stop it. His behavior puzzled her, for he did not want her for himself, but he did not want anybody else to have her, either. Too bad for him.

  Just as puzzling to her as Nick’s behavior was the fact that she had found her mother’s brooch in just the place that Duncan had told her it would be. She had pinned it to her apron one day, and she remembered putting it in the drawer. It must have come loose from the apron and then fallen down into the small opening, for when she had reached into its depths, her fingers had closed over the precious memento immediately. Duncan had only shrugged when she had questioned him further, and finally Maggie had stopped asking him about it. She had decided that perhaps it was some mystical Cheyenne thing that he did not wish to talk about, and she had her brooch, which was the only thing she cared about.

  She had chattered so much about Duncan lately that Kathleen had looked askance at her.

  “No man can be that perfect, Maggie,” she had said dubiously. “I want to meet this paragon and make sure he is not playing you for a fool. You have not been around that many men, and in a very short time you have gone from being distrustful to being thoroughly credulous.”

  “I know it does not make any sense to you,” Maggie had said quietly. “But I know Duncan. Not for very long, I admit, but I know he is honest with me. I cannot explain it, Kathleen, but I feel it deep in my heart. You do not always have to know someone for years to know a lot about them. Meet him and you will understand.”

  Kathleen propped her hands on her hips. “I hope so,” she had muttered. “I hope so.”

  Maggie sighed. She had intended to meet Duncan after dinner, and she had gotten too caught up in finishing this garden, and now it was getting too dark to go anywhere. She would just have to see him tomorrow. She put the vegetables away in the storeroom and washed the grime off of her hands in the cold fresh water from the pump in the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. She sighed again.

  She was restless today, and she knew why. She hated having Nick angry with her. Even though he was a lunkhead, she still had feelings for him. She still . . . wanted him to love her. The thought sent a bolt of pain through her heart, leaving Maggie feeling as if she had been stabbed with a knife.

  She loved Nick Revelle.

  Maggie grabbed the corner of the scarred table for support, gripping it with both hands until her knuckles turned white. The sudden revelation sent her senses reeling. She had not seen this happening, had not seen this coming at all. She could not love him!

  She remembered all the little kindnesses he had shown her, the patience he had exhibited to her so many times . . . and how he had shown her other, more sensual pursuits. She knew now why she longed so for his company, even when he was being sarcastic and hateful. She sought him out wherever she went, and her day just did not seem complete until she had laid eyes on his beautiful, strong face. She had felt a stirring inside her from the very moment she had clapped eyes on him, even when she was still scared to death of any man. He was a good man, even if he did not want to admit it, and he had feelings for her, too, she knew that he did.

  Her heart beat in her chest, reminding her of the huge drum in the orchestra she had heard when her mother and father had taken her to the theater when she was small. He might not love her, but he wanted her. Oh, yes, he did want her, even though he did not want to. Maggie thought of all the times that he had warned her off, and then reached for her anyway, and she smiled. Wanting could turn to love. Had not it done so in her case?

  An enigmatic smiled curved up Maggie’s mouth. Nick was angry with her, it was true. It was also true that he desired her. He had proved that, time and time again. How very much worse could it be if she threw a little temptation into that mix of emotions?

  Half an hour later, freshly washed and with the perfume Kathleen’s mother had sent over as a gift dabbed behind her ears, Maggie sauntered down to the stables. As she strolled casually through, horses whickered and popped their heads over the tops of their stalls. One of the mares was nuzzling the colt who fumbled under her, looking for a meal. The colt was all legs and had a gangling charm that brought a smile to Maggie’s lips. She scratched the forehead of the pretty bay mare and watched the colt feed.

  “What a good girl you are,” she murmured, and the horse butted her head against her, knocking Maggie back a couple of steps.

  “She is looking for a treat,” said Nick’s deep tones from behind her, and Maggie whirled around, still laughing from the mare’s antics. “I usually keep one in my pocket for her, and she is a greedy little minx.”

  Nick felt his heart knock against his chest at the sight of her. One of his brood mares was foaling and having a difficult time, and he was probably here for the night. He had just stepped out of the birthing stall to stretch the kinks out of his muscles with a quick walk while Ned and Tommy stood watch over the fretful mother-to-be, when Maggie had come into his view.

  She had loosened her hair and it cascaded down around her shoulders in a sleek, rippling waterfall. He remembered how it had felt against him as he held her, soft and slippery as silk against his skin. He came closer, against his will, and his nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of her. She smelled of some flowery concoction, and of warm skin, and the scent made him dizzy with longing.

  “What are you doing down here?” he asked abruptly. “Did you need something?”

  Maggie looked up at him from under thick eyelashes. “I was lonely up at the house, and I never get to spend much time down here. I like the horses,” she said hesitantly.

  Planning to throw herself in Nick’s path was one thing, but she had forgotten to factor in

  his effect on her. She was having a hard time drawing in a complete breath. His riding trousers hugged his muscular thighs, his loose cotton shirt was streaked with dust and stained with sweat, and he still took her breath away. He was so intensely masculine, so hard where she was soft, and her hungry eyes traveled over him greedily. He had come close enough that she could feel the heat rising off his body, and she shivered as arousal clawed at her body. She marveled at her need for him. He merely had to walk by her for her body to melt and become ready for him.

  “Cold?” he asked softly. “It is getting cool at night now.”

  “A little,” Maggie said. “I . . . I wanted to ask you something.”

  Nick drowned in the soft velvet of her eyes. He could see her, and hear her, but he stared at her as if in a dream. It took him a minute to realize what she had said.

  “You do not know how to ride?” he asked incredulously.

  Maggie shook her head mutely, her soft hair floating around her face. His fingers went without volition to pick up a strand and toy with it absently. Maggie’s breath drew in with a small hitch, and Nick’s eyes went to her mouth and lingered there, on the slightly parted pink lips. He felt his body harden for her, and he cursed himself savagely in his mind.

  “I never learned,” she confessed, and Nick’s fingers pulled slightly on the strand of hair, forcing Maggie to move closer to him. “I would like to learn now. I . . . I . . . “

  She lost h
er train of thought as he moved even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

  “I would love to teach you to ride,” he said softly, staring down into her eyes intently. He saw her pupils dilate with sudden passionate arousal, and he watched the pulse leap in her throat. It set him on fire to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Maggie was unable to look away from him. She trembled with the force of her need, and she knew he noticed that revealing quiver.

  “Nick,” she breathed, and he bent nearer to her, almost brushing her mouth with his. He brought up a work-hardened finger and traced the soft pink contours of her sensual mouth. He was so close that Maggie felt his breath upon her face. It was warm, and smelled sweetly of mint. Kathleen often teased him about the mint leaves he carried around in his pocket.

  “Like a cow with his cud,” she would whisper loudly to Maggie and then giggle when Nick glared at her.

  Maggie was in a position now to appreciate the sweet smell of the mint on his warm breath, and she thought crazily that tomorrow she would tell Kathleen not to tease him about it anymore. Then his lips touched hers, and she forgot how to think.

  His mouth brushed over hers softly, sweetly, tenderly. He learned the taste and texture of her with his lips, with such thorough slowness that Maggie felt each throbbing caress was pulling the heart right out of her body. He had not shaved since early morning, and his whiskers abraded her tender skin as he pressed his cheek to hers. Maggie loved feeling the roughness against her face, and rubbed against him like a little cat, seeking more of the sensation. Her hands crept up to hold his face tenderly. He was stealing the essence of her; her soul rose up and was a slave to the pleasure he gave her, and everything ceased to exist save the pressure of his mouth on hers.

  When he pulled back, she wanted to cry. She felt such a sharp sense of loss as her hands loosened and fell to her sides as he moved away from her. Her arms felt empty, and her pulse careened at high speed through her veins. She shook all over, as with an ague, and as he straightened up and pulled away from her, they never lost eye contact. Eye to eye they stood, and Maggie saw an echo of her own want in the brown depths of his. He let a strand of hair slide slowly from his fingers as he pulled farther and farther away.