by Stacy Henrie
“Then I suppose I’ll drive myself back to the station. There’s nothing more I can do to help you.”
The words themselves were spoken with clipped finality, but the flicker of desperation that entered her blue eyes belied their strength. Did she stand to gain or lose something from this case? Something beyond a paycheck for her time and efforts?
Edward pushed out a frustrated breath as he eyed the ceiling. The intricate plasterwork was a unique fixture of his home, a nod to his English heritage. He’d been hard-pressed to find someone who could do the work and had been relieved and proud when the old chap he’d hired had finished. This place represented Edward’s hard work and ambition, not to mention his confidence in himself and his place in the world. He couldn’t imagine watching everything he’d accomplished be picked off and destroyed bit by bit.
And that meant making a rather large concession now.
“If I go along with this...” He emphasized the word if, though Maggy still lit up with interest. “I don’t want it to be an outright lie.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
How to explain? He didn’t know if she was religious or not, but even if she wasn’t, he hoped she would honor his desire to be scrupulous. It was a way of life he’d attempted to live fully, in light of his sister’s example—a determination reinforced by Beatrice’s dishonest behavior.
“What will we do to end this charade?” he asked, trying a different approach.
Maggy shook her head and shrugged. “Decide we don’t suit and I go back to Colorado.”
“Then I would like to make the engagement official.”
Her eyes widened as a look of near panic and suspicion crossed her face. “Official how?”
“Will you...” Edward cleared his throat—he could well relate to the alarm she felt. It was as if he stood at the top of some great mountain peak and had been commanded to jump. “Will you agree to be my fiancée, for the duration of your time here? I only ask it that way,” he hastened to add, “so that we won’t be living or telling a lie when we tell people I asked for your hand.”
She took his measure, making him wonder what she saw. “All right then. I’ll agree to be your fiancée for as long as I’m needed here.”
Then her lips curved upward in a dazzling smile, similar to the one she’d bestowed on McCall, leaving Edward as charmed as his foreman and thinking this temporary engagement might prove to be a decent idea after all.
* * *
Maggy resisted the urge to shout with triumph. Things were going splendidly and she’d only been at the Running W less than two hours. “Since we’ve already established our plan, I’d like to change.” She motioned to the tea splotches on her dress. “And then I’d like to see the rest of the ranch.”
“One moment,” Edward said, scrutinizing her with those gray eyes. “Have you played the role of someone’s fiancée before?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Have you ever been engaged before?”
The question pushed memories best forgotten into her mind and she frowned. She and Jeb were betrothed just two days before they married. That hardly counted. “I don’t see how that’s relevant, but no, I have not.”
“Then how do I know this plan of yours will actually work?”
Now he was simply being obtuse. She’d already proven herself twice over, and she’d agreed to be his fiancée so they wouldn’t be lying. Crossing her arms, Maggy challenged his probing look with one of her own. “Of course it will work.”
“We also have your reputation to consider.”
He was worried about that now? “I’m a female detective, Edward. I have little to no reputation as it is.”
“Be that as it may,” he clasped his hands behind his back as he paced the room again, “as my fiancée and a hopeful member of the ranchers’ wives’ club, you must be seen as the consummate image of propriety.”
Concern nagged her, causing Maggy to tighten her arms against her bodice. “Fine. I will be.”
“That would entail things like staying in the guest cottage rather than here inside my home.”
She nodded with impatience. “I can do that. Now I’d like to—”
“What about your wardrobe?”
Full annoyance sparked inside her. So she hadn’t factored in every detail; at least she’d come up with a plan. “What about it, darling?” she ground out.
The merest hint of amusement lit his gaze before he shuttered it. “You only came up with this scheme a moment ago—I doubt you packed with this role in mind. How up to snuff are your clothes?”
“They’re a bit out of style. But, again, I’m a detective, not a socialite.”
He stopped and stood in front of her. “A socialite is exactly what you must be, Maggy, if we are to pull this off.”
Fear began chewing at her frustration, riddling her thoughts with doubt. “I can show you what I have to wear to social functions.” While most of her dresses were simple in style and adornment, they would surely do. “I’ll get my trunk...”
She let her voice fade out when Edward slid his fingers around her wrist to stay her exit. Icy terror froze her for a moment, except for the painful, rapid beating of her heart.
“Unhand me,” she said in a firm whisper.
Edward blinked in obvious confusion, then glanced down at her hand. “My apologies.” He released her at once, restoring Maggy’s ability to breathe normally. His contrite expression was further proof he’d meant nothing by his gesture. “I only wished to detain you another minute.”
Gripping her hands together, to hide their trembling, she lifted her chin. “What more did you want to say?”
“I want to address this.”
Maggy eyed him, feeling puzzled. “Address what?”
“What just happened.” He motioned between them.
Fresh dread washed through her and she clasped her hands more tightly together. She would not divulge her past to him. “I don’t see how that’s important to your case.”
“I disagree.” His mouth and brow were both drawn downward. “As an engaged couple, we have to appear as if we share genuine affection for one another. But if you can’t abide my hand on yours...”
He wasn’t asking about her past. Maggy allowed a small breath of relief. “I can certainly feign affection.” Her tone came out far more self-confident than she actually felt. Surely she could play any role she needed to. She always had before. “Can you do the same?” she countered.
To her surprise, Edward didn’t rattle off a quick retort. Instead he lowered his head and shut his eyes in what appeared to be a silent prayer. A prick of guilt stung Maggy as she tried to remember the last time she’d prayed. Probably not since she’d been a girl. She shifted her stance, feeling uncomfortable and at a disadvantage. It wasn’t an emotion she enjoyed.
Edward opened his eyes and took a decisive step forward, which meant they were standing toe-to-toe. Maggy had a strange urge to ask him what he’d concluded. However, when he scooped up one of her hands in his, she had a guess what his answer had been.
“I believe I can act the part of a devoted fiancé.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “At least I shall try.”
The gentleness of his voice and the warmth of his fingers on hers inspired a renewal of her trepidation but also an unfamiliar and entirely unexpected sensation of safety. Could she play this role as thoroughly as Edward was implying they must?
“I... I need to change.” She pulled her hand free and fell back a step.
His brow creased again, but he didn’t attempt to stop her this time. “I’ll show you to the guest cottage then.”
Nodding, Maggy waited for him to lead the way. The hallway was empty, which meant his foreman had decided not to wait. Edward easily shouldered her trunk a second time and she trailed him out the front door. A
stone’s throw away stood a stable and another small building. The guest house sported the same white clapboard as the main one and its own tiny porch.
Edward set her trunk down to open the door. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Maggy stepped inside. The single room was spacious and clean, and the window revealed a lovely view of the mountains.
He placed her luggage on the bed. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No.” She shook her head.
Slipping out the door, Edward paused. “How shall I introduce you to the rest of my staff?”
“While I’m here, I’ll be Maggy Worthwright.” She liked to keep her maiden name, which was the surname she went by since becoming a widow, to herself to preserve her anonymity and ability to be anyone she needed.
He nodded. “I’ll be at the main barn, when you’re ready to see the ranch.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Once he shut the door, Maggy sank down on the bed beside her trunk. What if she couldn’t effectively play the part of Edward’s fiancée? She hadn’t exactly thought through what that would mean. And she’d all but panicked when he grabbed her hand. Could she endure days, possibly weeks, of pretending to adore him in the company of others? As if she were young and in love...all over again?
Maggy shivered, despite the room’s pleasant temperature, and folded her arms tightly against her tea-soiled jacket. The thought of being under another man’s thumb made her stomach roil.
What did she know about love or being betrothed to someone? In the past, love had been a weapon used to hurt or a dangerous path leading to foolish choices and weakness. She’d vowed at Jeb’s funeral that she would never, ever allow herself to be tied to another man. Instead she would live alone—and free. Free of belittlement, hurt and pain.
You’re nothin’, Maggy. Just you remember that.
The deep-rooted, ugly words repeated in her mind and made it hard to breathe. She rubbed a hand along the fabric at her collarbone and sucked in several breaths.
“I am not nothing,” she fiercely told herself. “I am one of the best Pinkerton detectives out there.”
And that meant seeing this mission—this role—through completely. Maggy jumped to her feet and opened her trunk, fresh determination battling her fears. She could do this. The next few weeks would be worth the sacrifice, especially if her success here meant she secured the position as head female detective.
She removed her trousers and shirt from the trunk, eager to exchange her traveling dress for more comfortable clothing. After all, she was about to tour a working ranch. The feel of the loose material eased some of her trepidation. She tucked in her shirt, laced her shoes back up, and pulled her worn straw hat from its equally tattered box. Positioning the hat on her head, she eyed herself in the bureau mirror.
Did she look the part of Edward’s fiancée? Maggy frowned at her reflection, pulling her naturally pink lips downward. Whether she did or not, this was the part she would play. She’d navigated far more complicated roles in her six years as a detective. But as she exited the cottage, she couldn’t help a faint tremor of misgiving that this charade might prove to be her most challenging yet.
Chapter Four
“Uh, boss.” McCall tipped his head toward something outside the main barn doors. “Is that your...um...fiancée comin’ this way?”
Edward turned. He was actually looking forward to showing Maggy around the ranch and hoped her drooping spirits had been restored, now that she had a clean dress on. As he watched, the wranglers in the yard parted like the Red Sea, mouths agape in shock, as another...young man...strolled through their midst. Only this chap had auburn hair peeking out from beneath a straw hat and a womanly figure that was still obvious in spite of the loose-fitting clothes.
His eagerness faded. “Yes,” he managed to say with only slight weariness in his tone. “That would be Maggy.”
She’d berated him earlier for not keeping up the charade well enough and here she was dressed like a man. He frowned, his forehead pinching with the effort. Perhaps their plan was destined to fail from the start.
Belatedly he remembered his foreman. “Probably didn’t want to ruin one of her dresses as I show her around,” he explained with false cheer. He walked out of the barn to greet her, doing his best not to clench his hands into fists at his sides.
“Hello, darling,” she called as she approached. “I’m ready for my tour.”
He managed a tight smile as he gently gripped her elbow and steered her away from the wide-eyed looks of his staff. “A moment in private first, dearest.”
“All right.” She glanced up at him, her expression one of cautious confusion.
Edward led her toward the nearest pasture so they wouldn’t be overheard. When they reached the fence, he released her, keeping his back to his wranglers and foreman. “What exactly are you wearing?”
Maggy looked down at her clothes as if she’d forgotten what she’d put on. His staff certainly wouldn’t forget any time soon. “A shirt and pants?”
“Precisely.” He shot her an impatient look. Was she truly unaware of the stir she’d caused or her breach of propriety in dressing in such a fashion?
She folded her arms and her countenance hardened. He may have only known her for a few hours, but Edward could easily identify when her dander was up. “And what is so abhorrent about my clothes?”
“Nothing,” he said with a module of patience, “if you intend to lasso one of my horses or muck a stall. However, if you plan to parade around town as my fiancée, then I’d ask you to please not do so looking like a man.”
Her pink lips parted as if she were about to throw out a rejoinder. Then she obviously thought better of it and shut her mouth. She glanced back the way they’d come, a never-before-seen look of consternation settling onto her pretty face. “You’re right. It’s just that these clothes...” Her blue eyes flashed with momentary vulnerability before she lifted her chin. “It won’t happen again. I will endeavor to act and look as a proper society fiancée should.”
“Thank you.” But he felt less victorious than he’d expected. While clothes and appearances were critical to playing their respective roles, he had a hunch that Maggy felt most comfortable, most like herself, in the clothes she wore at this moment. He felt a pang of remorse at the thought of taking that comfort away from her.
Pushing out a sigh, she faced away from him. “I’ll go change.”
“No need just yet,” he said. “I already told McCall that you’d chosen your outfit for the express purpose of not soiling one of your gowns during your tour of the ranch.”
A small smile appeared at her mouth. “That was rather quick scheming on your part.”
“A first, I’ll admit.” Edward chuckled. “But I’ve had a rather effective albeit persistent teacher today.”
Was it his imagination or did she blush? Before Edward could decide, Maggy took a step forward. “Let’s see this ranch of yours.”
“Maggy.” He waited for her to turn around, then he offered her his arm. “I’m supposed to be showing my betrothed around the ranch.”
She hesitated, her gaze riveted on his sleeve. “Right, of course.” Determination etched her features as she strode back to his side and linked her arm through his. He could feel the tension radiating through her fingers, though.
He placed his hand over hers, hoping it would be reassuring this time. “Ahead of us is the main barn. Shall we start in there?”
“Yes.”
He was relieved to see a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, which meant that right now she found his touch more comforting than jarring. And for some reason that felt as much a victory to him as anything else today.
* * *
By the time he’d finished showing Maggy around the ranch and introduced her as his fiancée to every member of his staff, Edward was wo
und tighter than a lasso inside. She hadn’t said much, though she didn’t look bored, either. There had been a succession of nods, a few questions and plenty of bright smiles for the wranglers. But what did she think of the Running W?
It surprised him that he cared about her opinion of the ranch, unlike the last time he’d shown a Pinkerton detective around the place. That had been all business. This time, however, Edward had a peculiar desire to impress Maggy. Which made little sense. It wasn’t as if they were really engaged.
After watching her rub the nose of his horse, he worked up the courage to finally ask her estimation. “Well? What do you think of the place?” He feigned disinterest in her answer as they exited the stable.
“It’s beautiful, Edward.” She stopped walking and removed her straw hat, giving him a full view of her face. “Very impressive what you’ve managed to do in five years.”
Was she being truthful? He hoped so. “I am proud of it.”
“As you should be.” She offered him a brief smile. “And we need to ensure that it remains as it is.”
“Yes, of course.” The reminder of why she was really here sobered him and returned his thoughts to the necessary success of their temporary engagement. “I believe my staff is quite taken by you.”
Her eyebrows arched in a look of haughty amusement. “Even in my unladylike attire?”
“Even then,” he replied with a deadpan expression.
Rolling her eyes, Maggy started for the house. “I’m glad to hear it. And now I’m ready for that supper you promised.”
“One moment.” He caught up to her near the porch. “Around here we dress for supper.”
She shook her head. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“We... I...change for supper.” He motioned to his dust-speckled trousers and shirt. It wasn’t necessary to be more formal for the dinner table—particularly when he usually dined alone—but it was a throwback to his growing-up years in England. Truth be told, he rather liked putting on a fresh pair of clothes after a hard day’s work, then sitting down to a delicious meal.
