Maggie Meets Her Match

by McLeod, Dinah

  “Will he be coming again on Sunday?”

  I couldn’t stop the eager flush that swept over my skin. “He said he would be.”

  “Well, then, we’ll have to make plans for supper.”

  Impulsively, I leaned forward and grabbed her in a hug. “Thank you, Abby. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a gentleman come calling.”

  She hugged me back and didn’t ask questions, for which I was grateful.

  “And what about you?” I asked with the same teasing voice she’d used with me only moments ago. “Are you happy to be Mrs. Trent Swift?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, a contented sigh escaping her. “Your brother is… everything I ever wanted in a husband.”

  I took in her sparkling eyes and earnest smile and knew that she would make Trent truly happy. Now if only he could do the same for her.

  Just then, the man himself came around the corner, clearly looking to find his wife. “Abby, aren’t you tired, sweetheart? It’s been a long day.”

  I nudged her and stifled a giggle at the way she blushed. “Go,” I whispered. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he doesn’t bite.”

  She tossed a wide-eyed look over her shoulder at me and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Good night, Maggie.”

  “Night, Mags,” Trent said before taking his bride’s hand and leading her down the hall to what was now their bedroom.

  Long after everyone else was in bed, I settled in on the couch, unable to sleep for all the excitement of the day, all the endless possibilities.

  Chapter Three

  The couch made a horrible excuse for a bed and I tossed and turned much of the night, making me almost sorry that I’d offered my room to the newlyweds. It didn’t help matters that I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Clay’s face in my mind’s eye. He was ruggedly handsome, with his firm jaw, flashing dark eyes, and his broad shoulders. He looked like a man who you could count on, and for the first time in a long time, I wondered if he was just the right man to love me. His solid frame looked perfect for leaning on.

  While I slept, I could feel him holding me, his strong arms wrapped around my slender waist. But the moment I caught sight of his face, my heart fluttered wildly in my chest and I awoke, gasping, with a strange throbbing in my sex that I’d never felt before. For the longest time, Joshua had reigned in my dreams, even though the dull ache of loss had left me some time ago. It was no wonder seeing Clay in his place had startled me so.

  When I awoke, I sat up, trying to catch my breath and I couldn’t help but think on the moment when I first laid eyes on him—it didn’t feel like it had happened only hours ago! Just seeing him again, his body tall and straight as he sat in his saddle, his face handsome and stern all at once as he asked me where I was going…

  Normally, I didn’t care for having others in my affairs—why hadn’t I protested when Clay had insisted on knowing what I was doing? Why, for that matter, hadn’t I protested further when he suggested he be the one to punish me for lying? He’d only known me for such a short time before he’d whipped me, I supposed I should be angry at him for that, but I wasn’t. It seemed having him around caused my emotions to be out of sorts and I wanted to know why. I wanted to get to know him better.

  Then and there, I decided to talk to my brother in the morning. He and Clay seemed to know each other, though I didn’t have the faintest notion of how. I’ll talk to Wesley in the morning, I thought, yawning. With a decision made, I’d hoped to fall back asleep, but every time I tried to close my eyes, I heard Clay saying my name in that strong, deep voice that always seemed a bit teasing to my ears. Thinking on him made me shiver with excitement, which only made the throbbing in my pussy more insistent.

  I was up for most of the night, caught between vivid, arousing dreams that only added to the ache that had consumed my pulsing sex, and fitful waking. But I must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing I knew, sunlight was streaming over my face. I sat up groggily, stretching and peering outside. The sun was already up, which meant that Wesley and Trent would be gone—and probably in a foul temper, too, with their empty bellies.

  I stood to my feet, moving slower than usual as I made my way to the kitchen to begin cooking our breakfast. I could feel the gray circles under my eyes; no need to consult a looking glass for me to know they were there. Even when I’d finally fallen asleep, it’d been disturbed by peculiar dreams. I’d imagined I heard gasps and moans of pleasure emitting from the walls, sounds that only fueled the desire I felt growing inside me. I’d put my hands over my ears, but it was no use. My mind was filled with the sounds of ardent lovemaking, my mind’s eye picturing lover’s caresses.

  None of this had ever happened to me before I’d met Clay, of that much I was certain. How could such a tall, handsome stranger set my life topsy-turvy so quickly?

  “Morning, Maggie!” Abby called out cheerfully, the sound of her sweet voice loud enough to split my head right open.

  “Hello, Abby.” Before I could say more, I saw Libby out of the corner of my eye, looking rested and fresh as spring, like she always did. I swear, the woman didn’t look like she’d ever had a sleepless night in all her life.

  “Good morning, Abigail,” I heard her greet our sister-in-law. “Are you well? I’ve heard folks in town say that the wedding night can leave some burning up with fever the next day.”

  I almost dropped the cup I was holding. I reached out to steady myself on the kitchen counter, my mind whirling. As Abby’s cheeks reddened, I felt the need inside me pulsing hungrily. What would it be like to have a man love you with his hands, his mouth, his whole body? Clay had great hands.

  As soon as the thought occurred to me, I felt shamed, as though the women present could hear my thoughts. “Why, Libby!” I scolded, making her the target of my guilt. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” I knew I certainly was, but Libby just smiled knowingly, unperturbed by anything I had to say.

  I shoved two plates of food at the pair of them and went to clean up the kitchen. Normally, I’d sit and eat with them, but my stomach was in knots and couldn’t handle anything more than a cup of Arbuckle. Even that sloshed in my stomach, making me feel seasick. “I’m going out,” I called out to the pair of them and made for the door before they could ask any questions. When I turned the knob and poured out, I was surprised to find myself face-to-face with Wesley.

  “Mornin’, Maggie,” he said cheerfully, not seeming at all perturbed.

  “You’ll be wanting breakfast,” I said with chagrin.

  “Oh, I ‘spect I’ll be alright for one morning.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the emphasis he placed on one. “I could rustle you up some biscuits.”

  “That’d be mighty nice.”

  “Where’s Trent?”

  “Still in the field. Least, that’s where I left him.”

  “What are you doing back so early?”

  “I thought I’d pop in and check on Libby.”

  I furrowed my brow, my thoughts of Clay forgotten for the moment. “Whatever for? Is she ill?”

  “Can’t I stop by to see my own wife?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “‘Course. Just, you never have before.”

  Wesley considered that for a moment before deciding to turn conversation away from himself altogether. “Where were you headed off to?”

  “Oh, ah, I was coming to see you, actually.”

  “Is that so?” he drawled, looking at me in a way that told me he didn’t believe me.

  “It’s true,” I defended myself, though no accusation had been spoken aloud. “I wanted to… have a word.”

  “About?”

  The knots in my stomach tightened painfully and I looked away. How did I bring it up? What did I even plan to ask him?

  “Is it about Clayborn?”

  I looked up gratefully. “Yes. I just thought… well, you know, since you know him and all…”

  “Is that a question?”

  �
�Ah, well, no…” I felt myself getting even more embarrassed under his intense, penetrating gaze. Goodness, I didn’t know how Libby could stand being subject to it all the time.

  “If you have something to say, Maggie, say it. Otherwise, I’ll be goin’ in to see to my wife.”

  “I don’t know!” I burst out, surprising both of us. “What I mean to say is, I don’t know exactly what to ask,” I corrected in a more ladylike tone.

  “I see. Well, I reckon he’d tell you just about anything you’d want answered.”

  “Is he a good man?” After I’d blurted it out, I almost slapped a hand over my mouth, but clenched and unclenched my fists at my sides instead.

  Wesley considered me thoughtfully before nodding. “Far as I can tell he is.”

  Why is he so tight-lipped all the time? I thought with annoyance.

  “I think Pa would have approved.”

  “Really?” I asked, biting down on my lip, hardly daring to hope that something I’d given up for lost might yet come back to me.

  “Wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true, sister dear.”

  “Do you think he truly means to… ah, to court me?”

  “He said he did, didn’t he?”

  If that wasn’t that just like a man. I wondered, not for the first time, if Wesley ever felt even the smallest shred of doubt or insecurity. It didn’t seem like it. Was Clay made of the same ilk? “Yes, but… I just thought perhaps…”

  “Maggie,” Wesley said my name on the tail end of a sigh, and it was plain to see that he was getting impatient with me. “Clayborn is a fine man and a man of his word. I never would have let him talk to you about courting if I didn’t believe that.”

  “Let him talk to me?” I repeated, mystified. “What do you mean?”

  “Never you mind. I’m goin’ in to see Libby. Why don’t you get those biscuits you were talkin’ about? And don’t leave out Trent.”

  Before I could so much as nod, Wesley walked past me and into the house, like a man used to having his orders obeyed. He’d given me much to think about and as I pulled biscuits out of the oven and added some leftover ham for their breakfast, I puzzled over what he’d said and wondering what it meant for me.

  Even when I’d finished, Wesley still hadn’t come back out. Must be nice, to be a pampered wife who didn’t have to help with the chores. Oh, she helped hang the clothes out to dry and surely would have taken over the cooking if I’d let her—it was a spot of constant irritation between us—not that it was more than any child could do. And my brother, God help him, just didn’t seem to see it, which never failed to grate on my nerves. Was every man such a fool when it came to his wife? Oh, he spanked her, sure, not that any amount of whipping seemed to help with the airs she put on.

  Becoming impatient with the wait and dying to ask Wesley another question I’d thought of, I walked toward the room they shared. The door was open a crack, and I was about to knock when I heard Libby’s muted laughter.

  “But Wesley, what good could she be for a wife? She’s been a spinster so long, I’d wager she’s forgotten anything your mama might have told her.”

  I froze outside the door, knowing I should walk away, but unable to tear myself away. As much as her words stung, as much as I knew any to follow them would cut as well, I had to hear what was being whispered about me behind my back.

  “Shush, Libby. Ain’t none of your affair.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the hurt. It was hard to miss that he hadn’t told her she was wrong.

  “Well, all I’ll say is she better not be too choosy. A woman near past her prime can’t hold out for hope that a better offer might come along.”

  “That’s enough out of you. I told you to leave it alone and I meant it.”

  A strangled noise made its way from my throat and I was about to turn and leave when I heard the distinct sound of a loud smack echoing throughout the house.

  “Wesley!” I heard Libby’s shrill protest. “Stop.”

  “I’ll stop when I mean to.” More smacks followed, sounding like they were on the bare from the fullness of the sound.

  I found myself in a strange tug of emotions: on the one hand, it felt nice to know Wesley cared for me enough to take up for me, even against the wife he so clearly adored—though God himself was the only one who could say why. On the other, the more I listened, the more my cheeks pinked with embarrassment. I knew I shouldn’t be listenin’ in, but I felt powerless to walk away.

  “Please, stop!” I heard Libby gasp. “Wesley, I can’t… take any… more!”

  “You should have thought about that,” he replied, landing a volley of spanks as he spoke.

  I winced when she cried out, feeling almost sorry for her despite myself. When I could hear her muffled sobbing, I knew I couldn’t linger any longer. I didn’t want to risk any more sympathy for Libby—it was far more than she deserved. I turned on my heel and swept from the hall as fast as my feet could fly. I let myself out of the house, not sure of where I was going. All I knew for sure was that I had to get away.

  The one thing I couldn’t hide from was the sound of her voice that kept reverberating in my head, saying those spiteful things over and over again. Don’t be too choosy… The worst part about it was that regardless of how horrid she was for saying it, for once, Libby had the right of it.

  * * *

  When I felt like I could face my sisters-in-law without crying, I made my way back to the house, just in time to begin preparing for dinner. When I opened the back door, I saw Abby peek her head around the corner.

  “Well, there you are!” she said, smiling brightly. “I was about to worry.”

  “Oh.” I smiled back, trying to hide my surprise. “No need to worry, here I am.”

  Abby began to fiddle with the strings on the back of her apron and I saw straight away that she’d stepped in to cook. She pulled it off her head and handed it to me, a smile gracing her face all the while.

  “No. Please, stay,” I asked in a weak voice.

  If she was surprised—all the women of the house knew by now that I liked to do the cooking myself—she handled it in the way she did everything—with quiet, accepting aplomb. “Are you feelin’ well, Maggie? You look a mite peaked.”

  I tried to smile—it felt more like a grimace—as I nodded. “I sure would appreciate your help.”

  Without another word, we bent our heads and began to make dinner. Abigail kept up a steady stream of chatter and didn’t seem to mind in the least that I kept to myself. When the door opened, I looked up and shocked to the roots of my hair to see Clayborn standing there, like he was born to be in my house.

  Seeing him so unexpectedly, it hit me right away what had attracted me to him: his calm, authoritative manner. He exuded an air of confidence that made him fit easily just about anywhere, something that I hoped, if I was around him long enough, might rub off on me.

  “Maggie, did you know your beau would be here?” Abby asked in an undertone.

  The question reminded me that I was in a plain, everyday dress and had flour on my face, perhaps in my hair that I’d put in a messy braid that was now coming half undone. I felt my face flame with embarrassment and I didn’t bother to answer. We both knew that I wouldn’t be in such a state of disarray if I had.

  She better not be too choosy, I heard Libby’s falsely sweet voice saying again. At this rate, I might not have the choice at all if I couldn’t make a better impression.

  I wiped my hands on my apron and walked out of the kitchen. My intent was to slip away to my bedroom so that I might freshen up, but Clay caught my arm before I could slide past him.

  “Is that any way to greet a visitor?” he asked.

  I would have thought him truly irked if not for the smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “I was going to… ah, to change.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Change what?”

  I gestured helplessly to my dress. It just wasn’t polite for a lady to make it known she was pr
imping.

  “Aw, you look just fine, Maggie.”

  I knew I looked anything but. “I’ll just be a minute—”

  “Your brothers’ll be in any minute and they’ll be hungry. Why don’t you forget about that and tend to dinner?”

  I was about to answer when I saw that his mustache had stopped moving and his eyes had turned serious. Was this some sort of test? Was he trying to see if I would obey him? “Fine,” I said, my voice sweet as honey as I pulled away. This time, he let me go and I marched back to the kitchen. Tend to dinner, indeed. Well, let him sit across from me with my wild hair and dirt under my fingernails! Suited me just fine. Perhaps I ought to stay an old maid after all, if this is a taste of what being a wife was like. I already had two men to boss me around; couldn’t he at least wait until we were wed before he added himself to the list?

  “Maggie? Are you alright?”

  “Fine,” I said, prickly, not caring that I was taking my frustration out on poor Abby.

  “Maggie, it’s just… the biscuits.”

  “I’ll check ‘em in a minute, Abigail.”

  “But Maggie—”

  “For heaven’s sake, didn’t you hear me?” I threw down the dough I’d been working on and glared at her, my mouth drawn in a tight line. “I’ll get to it in a minute!”

  “What’s that I smell burning?” Libby asked, sweeping into the parlor.

  I scowled at her. Clearly, the woman needed more than a spanking to cure her of her bad manners. “There isn’t a thing burning, thank you.” I was going to add more when I saw the pained look on Abigail’s face and followed her eyes to the stove. I saw straight away that the biscuits were brown, tending toward black, and a thin stream of smoke was starting to rise from the pan. With a gasp, I lunged for the skillet, forgetting to grab a rag in my haste. When my hand touched the hot handle, I drew back with a gasp and an exclamation that had every pair of eyes turning my way.