Maggie made a visible effort to curtail her laughter. She placed gentle fingers over his lips and smiled at him. “I do love Tully, Ian. I’ve loved him since I was seventeen.”
At the crestfallen look on his face, she stepped back and grinned. “I love Thane, too. I love them like a girl loves two adoring brothers. No matter what you’ve heard, I’m not marrying Tully. I care about him, want him to be happy, but I’ll never be in love with him.”
Confused, yet elated at this news, Ian sat down and pulled Maggie onto his lap again. “Explain it to me, then, Maggie. I saw you trying on a wedding gown in your shop and speaking to someone with such love on your face.”
“Lily,” Maggie said. “Lily spent the night with me and wanted to play dress up. She insisted I try on a dress I’d made for a display and wouldn’t stop asking. I finally gave in and put on the wedding gown. You saw me talking to Lily.”
Ian shook his head. “But Tully said… well, he indicated...”
“What did Tully say? He’s been acting odd lately, even for him.” Maggie wondered if Tully’s behavior had been about feelings he harbored for her or trying to make Ian jealous.
If it was the latter, he’d succeeded.
Ian cleared his throat and looked at Maggie for a long moment. “The sheriff led me to believe he not only had feelings for you, but a wedding would soon take place.”
Maggie rolled her eyes then shook her head. “If Tully is planning a wedding, which I’m certain he isn’t, I’m not the one he’s going to wed.”
Ian absorbed her words. A slow grin spread across his face. “Truly? You have no intention of marrying the sheriff?”
Maggie leaned back in Ian’s arms. “I have no intention of marrying Tully. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
Ian released a relieved sigh. “That is verra good news, lass.”
He kissed her again but before they lost themselves in each other, Maggie stood and walked over to look out the window. She used the dishrag to scrub away enough grease and grit she could see out. Rain fell so hard, visibility dropped to just a few feet away from the cabin.
“The rain isn’t letting up at all. The trail down the mountain is bound to be slick with mud.” She turned and looked at Ian. “Do you think we should try to get back to town?”
Ian stood behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder, bending down to peer out the window. “No, lass. It’s best to wait out the rain. If we can’t go anywhere, then perhaps the outlaws can’t either.”
He turned and eyed the smelly bedding in the corner. Lifting a stick resting near the door, he used it to toss the bedding outside into the rain. With it gone, much of the stench left the cabin.
“How can humans live like animals?” Maggie questioned, setting another kettle of water on the stove to warm. She’d found some coffee beans and a grinder. A cup of hot coffee would taste good and making it would fill a few moments of her time. She certainly wouldn’t continue to sit on Ian’s lap kissing him, no matter how much she enjoyed it.
Thoughts of his big hands around her waist and her body pressed against his firm chest made her cheeks blaze with heat. She kept her head down and returned to her previous efforts of cleaning the small kitchen area.
A cool breeze and the creak of wood let her know Ian opened the door. Maggie glanced over her shoulder as he ran outside and around the corner of the cabin toward the lean-to where their horses waited.
Only a few moments passed before Ian returned with a bundle in his arms. He’d brought in both saddle blankets, his bedroll and saddlebags, along with his rifle.
Maggie watched as he set everything on the table that she’d just finished scrubbing. He took out a packet of jerky from his saddlebag and handed her a piece.
“It isn’t much, but I’m fairly certain the jerky is better than anything we’ll find in this shack.”
“Agreed.” She took a bite of the jerky and looked at Ian’s pile of supplies. He untied the bedroll and picked up a wrinkled shirt then shook out a blanket.
“If we end up having to spend the night, you’ll at least have a clean blanket, although I wouldn’t recommend sleeping on the floor. I’d guess there are plenty of vermin crawling around even when the outlaws aren’t here.”
Maggie nodded her head in agreement. She hoped nothing had crawled on her while she was out cold by the stove. An involuntary shudder racked through her and she brushed her hands down her sleeves and along her split skirt.
Ian chuckled, causing her to glare at him. “I wouldn’t worry over much, lass. Any creepy crawlies should know better than to mess with you.”
A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Before Ian noticed her amusement, she turned away and poured coffee into two cups she’d scrubbed then rinsed with boiling water.
“We might as well have some coffee while we wait.” Maggie handed Ian a cup and sat at the table, taking another bite of jerky and sipping her coffee.
“Thanks, lass.” Ian sipped his coffee and moved so he stood next to the stove. He brushed away the rain droplets clinging to his exposed skin and shook his damp hair.
Maggie followed his every move, holding her coffee cup halfway to her lips. Spellbound by the sight of Ian, she forced herself to drop her gaze and ignore his enticing presence just steps away from where she sat.
“Do you think the outlaws will be back soon?” Maggie asked, keeping her gaze turned toward the window.
“Most likely not. Even a crazy, desperate man wouldn’t be stupid enough to be out in this kind of weather.” Ian lifted his watch from his vest pocket and checked the time. He’d been in the cabin with Maggie for several hours. If they planned to leave to get to town before dark, they’d have to go soon. The idea of riding down the mountain on mud-slicked trails without any daylight didn’t set well with him.
Torn between riding to Baker City and staying in the relative safety of the cabin, Ian decided to take his chances with the returning outlaws. When thunder boomed overhead followed by a bright streak of lightening, Ian took that as a sign he’d made the right choice.
“Weel, Mistress Dalton…” Ian drew on every bit of brogue he possessed as he stepped away from the stove, set down his coffee cup, and slipped on the dry shirt he’d taken from his bedroll. She lifted an eyebrow and looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “In light of the verra terrible storm abrewin’ beyond our wee door, it would seem wise to settle in here for the night, ye ken?”
“What? I can’t spend the night here with you. Alone.” Maggie jumped to her feet and paced over to the door, pulling it open. Rain continued to pour down in sheets that made it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet away.
Slamming the door shut, she spun around and glared at Ian. “What if those men come back? There are five of them. What if they…”
Ian wrapped his arms around her again and held her against his chest. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple and sighed. “Dinna fash yerself, lass. I’ll keep ye safe. Naught will happen to ye as long as I’m with ye.”
Maggie was less worried about the outlaws returning than she was about spending hours and hours alone with Ian considering the current turbulent state of her feelings toward the man. She never wanted to leave the haven of his arms. She wanted to hold him close, breathe in his scent, and lose herself in the burr of his voice.
Instead, she pushed against his chest and took a step back. “I’m fine, Ian. We’ll be fine.” She glanced around the tiny cabin, looking for anything that might distract her from her consuming attraction to the man. “I don’t suppose you have a book or newspaper in your saddlebags?”
Ian opened his saddlebag and took out a book, handing it to Maggie.
“The Master of Ballentrae by Robert Louis Stevenson.” She glanced at Ian. “I’ve not heard of this title. Is it new?”
“My father sent it to me not long ago,” Ian said, taking a seat at the table and pointing to the book. “Stevenson is a Scottish author Dad favors.”
Maggie smiled and opened t
he book, setting it on the table. “What’s the story about?”
“It’s a great tale of war and destruction, love and loss.”
At Maggie’s dubious look, Ian tapped his index finger on the book’s open page. “Tis the story of two brothers, Scottish noblemen they are, and the conflict they face as their family is torn apart by the Jacobite rising of 1745.”
“What is the Jacobite rising? I don’t believe I recall that from my lessons in school.”
“Och, lass, according to my Scottish family, it was a terrible time of uprisings, aimed at returning the descendants of the House of Stuart to the throne.”
“It sounds like a sad and depressing tale, but since we’ve got nothing better, have at it.” Maggie pushed the book toward Ian.
He stood and retrieved his cup of coffee from where he’d set it on the shelf of the stove, then sat at the table and turned back to the beginning of the book. In a rich, deep voice, Ian began to read.
Maggie settled back in her chair and listened, enraptured by Ian’s voice and the emotion he put into reading, if not the story.
When he grew tired of reading, she took over and read until her throat felt parched.
“Take a break, lass, and rest your voice.” Ian glanced at her over his shoulder from his position in front of the cabin’s window.
In truth, he’d had to get up from the table and put a little distance between himself and Maggie because her sultry voice did things to him he’d rather ignore.
Without her voice filling the quiet, the sound of rain gently pattering against the roof echoed around them. Maggie opened the door and they stood together, staring out into the gathering darkness. No moon would light their way off the mountain and riding in the dark would be a foolhardy errand at best.
“We’ll leave at first light,” Ian said, pulling Maggie back inside and closing the door.
“Won’t Tully be out looking for us?” Maggie paced across the kitchen, concerned for her friend.
“Not if he’s smart. Tully probably either stayed at the mine or hauled the outlaws into town before the rain hit. He can take care of himself.”
“I know he can.” Maggie handed Ian another piece of jerky and took one for herself, leaning against the sink as she ate it.
When they finished eating, Ian went out to check on the horses while she made a trip to the outhouse.
She returned to the cabin to find Ian pounding a jagged piece of wood he’d kicked off the lean-to over the window.
“I don’t want the robbers catching us by surprise,” Ian said, using a cast iron skillet to pound in the nails he’d pulled off the wall near the stove. “They won’t be able to shoot through the window quite so easily this way, should that notion pop into their heads.”
Maggie nodded in agreement, observing the muscles playing across Ian’s broad shoulders and burly arms as he worked. Rattled, she turned away and studied the contents of the sparse cabin. The trunk holding the outlaws’ spoils caught her attention. She bent down and began pushing it toward the door.
The scrape of something sliding across the floor as well as Maggie’s grunt as she tried to move the heavy trunk drew Ian’s attention. “Lass, you’re apt to injure yourself doing that.”
With an ease that left Maggie both impressed and ill at ease, Ian hefted the trunk and set it in front of the door.
“That’s a good thought you had, though,” Ian said, offering Maggie an approving look. “It won’t be easy for them to just barge right in with that blocking the door.”
“I can take first watch.” Maggie picked up the rifle Ian had left on the table and moved a chair so she could sit facing the door.
Ian took the gun from her hand and leaned it against the wall. “I don’t think so, lass. Get some rest. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Indignant, Maggie huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m entirely capable of standing guard and you can’t sit up the entire night without any rest. Now, you can sleep in a chair, on the floor, or the table, but I’m taking the first watch and nothing you say can change my mind.”
Before Ian could protest, Maggie snatched up the rifle, plunked down in the chair and aimed the barrel at the door.
Tickled by her insistence she keep watch, Ian positioned a second chair in front of Maggie so the seat of it bore the weight of the gun. “Your arms will fall off if you try to hold that half the night.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. In truth, her head ached and she wanted nothing more than to curl up on her side and go to sleep, but she wouldn’t admit it to Ian. It galled her that he thought she was so helpless. Just because he and Tully had to come to her rescue, didn’t mean she was utterly defenseless.
Ian stoked the fire in the stove then moved his chair close to it. After propping his boot-clad feet on the edge of the sink, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. “Wake me up in a few hours, Maggie. I mean it.”
Maggie didn’t respond but looked over to see Ian stared at her with one open eye. A beleaguered sigh escaped her and she tipped her head toward him. “Fine. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Now get some rest.”
Maggie dreamed Ian’s arms lifted her against his solid chest and carried her to a bed that smelled of horses and his wonderful masculine scent. As she snuggled under a heavy blanket, she felt his lips press against her palm.
“Sleep well, Maggie, my love.”
His whispered endearment warmed her heart.
The next thing she knew, daylight streamed across her face and something soft brushed over the bump on her forehead.
Slowly opening her eyes, she stared into Ian’s smiling face. “Mornin’. You ready to go home, lass, or would you rather stay here all day?”
Maggie sat up and got her bearings. Ian had made a bed for her on top of the table out of the saddle blankets and covered her with the blanket from his bedroll. The shirt he’d hung up to dry served as her pillow. She had no idea how she’d gotten from the chair by the door to the table, but she wondered if her dream of Ian carrying her had, in fact, been reality.
“I’m ready to leave. Any sign of trouble?” Maggie jumped to her feet and straightened her twisted skirt.
Ian shot her a teasing glance. “Nary a peep, other than your fitful snores to keep me company through the long night. At first I thought perhaps a bear had wandered into the cabin, but before panic set in, I realized it was just you.”
Affronted, she glared at Ian. “I don’t snore.” At least Maggie hoped she didn’t. Daniel hadn’t ever mentioned it, but then again, she’d slept alone for the past decade. She might have developed any number of terrible habits and not even be aware of them.
Ian chuckled and picked up the saddle blankets while Maggie folded the blanket from his bedroll. “I’ll saddle the horses while you gather our things and we’ll be on our way.”
Maggie placed Ian’s book in his bedroll, leaving his saddlebags empty. She lifted the cast iron skillet and used it to beat open the lock on the trunk that Ian had slid away from the door. She stuffed what money would fit into his saddlebags then looked around for some way to carry the rest.
Ian returned and noticed her searching gaze as it roamed around the cabin. “What do you need, lass?”
Maggie waved her hand toward the table where she’d piled the bags of money. “I’m trying to find some way for us to carry the money with us. I filled your saddlebags, but there are still six bags left.”
Ian handed her three pieces of rope he’d cut from a length he’d found out by the horses. “Tie the bags to the ends of these and we’ll drape them across the horses. It shouldn’t be much different than the saddle bags.”
“Good idea,” Maggie said, quickly knotting the rope around two bags. When they finished, she glanced around to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind then followed Ian outside.
The two horses tossed their heads, eager to return home and receive a portion of feed instead of the paltry offerings they’d had at the cabin.
Aft
er he settled the bags of money on the two horses, Ian turned to help Maggie mount. The saucy grin she sent his way made his heart tumble around in his chest and he grinned back at her.
“Mistress Dalton, may I assist you on this fine beast of yours so we might head home?”
“You may.” Maggie didn’t need assistance swinging into the saddle, but she wouldn’t decline the opportunity to have Ian’s hands at her waist or his warmth close beside her. He easily picked her up and set her on the back of Danny Boy then let his hand linger for a moment on her leg.
Decorum called for her to shove his hand away, but she reached down and squeezed it instead. “If you can behave yourself until we reach town, I’ll make you breakfast.”
Ian tipped his head to her and hurried to mount Rob. “That’s an offer too good to refuse. I’m so hungry, even my own cooking would be welcome.”
Maggie laughed as they rode away from the cabin and headed down the mountain.
They were almost to Baker City when a group of riders rushed toward them. Ian recognized Tully and Thane along with a few of Thane’s ranch hands and one of the deputies.
“Good morning!” Maggie called waving a hand at her friends.
“Tarnation, Mags! I’ve been up most of the night, gathering a search party to come find you. We hauled in the men that robbed the bank but they wouldn’t fess up to what they’d done with you.” Tully glared from Maggie to Ian. “Where in the blazes have you two been?”
“The outlaws left Maggie tied to a chair in a cabin not far from where we split up on the trail yesterday. She had a nasty bump on her head and by the time she felt ready to ride, the storm prevented us from leaving.”
Thane tipped his hat back and glanced at Maggie. “Are you fine now, Maggie? Do we need to take you to see Doc?”
“I’m perfectly well, although half-starved.” Maggie smiled at Thane then Tully. “If we could have gotten word to you, we would have. We have the bank’s money, though.”
Tully sat straighter in the saddle at that bit of news. “You do? Well, that’s something at least.”
Thimbles And Thistles (Baker City Brides Book 2) Page 19
