Maggie’s eyes burned, and she returned the hug. Just then it seemed ridiculous that she’d stayed away for so long. That she’d ever gone away in the first place. After all, it hadn’t done any good. Daniel still hadn’t come home. And Maggie hadn’t been able to find Joe to end what should have ended long before. She’d failed everybody.
“Well, now if this ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” The deep, booming voice brought the women’s attention around to the doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room and the rest of the spacious house beyond.
Maggie brushed her hair behind her ear with a hand that suddenly trembled. “Hello, Squire. It’s good to see you.” If anyone had something to say about Maggie moving back to the Double-C, it would be him. Subtlety wasn’t one of Squire Clay’s finer traits.
But his ice-blue eyes, so like those he’d passed on to Matthew, twinkled. “You don’t have a hug for an old geezer like me?”
Jaimie snorted and walked around the huge oak table that sat like a queen in the center of the large kitchen and patted Squire’s tanned, lean cheek. “Geezer my foot,” she said tartly. “We know your secret, Squire. You just like hugging pretty women.”
“Watch your tongue, missy,” he returned, unperturbed.
“I’d better see what Sarah’s up to,” Jaimie said. “It’s been quiet for two minutes, which usually means disaster looms.”
Alone with Squire, Maggie tucked her hair again behind her ear. She moistened her lips.
“Child, you look like someone’s planning on feeding you to the lions,” he said as he removed the full pot from the coffeemaker and poured a mugful. Maggie automatically handed him a saucer as he sat down. “You just gonna hover there, girl, or sit down and give your feet a rest?”
Maggie pulled out a chair and sat.
“Guess you’re waiting for me to make some comment on you moving back.” He pinned his gaze on her. “Am I right?”
Maggie swallowed. “Well—”
“It’s none of your concern,” Daniel said, striding into the kitchen. He locked gazes with his father. “She’s family and that’s all that matters.”
Squire harrumphed. “Never said otherwise, son.”
Maggie studied her twisting fingers.
“Yeah, well I recognize the signs. You’re gearing up for something, Squire, so put a lid on it.”
The older man grunted again. Then he patted Maggie’s clenched hands. “Don’t mind him. It’s good you’ve finally come home, child. You’ve been gone too long. My son is right, if he’d ever let an old man get a word in edgewise. You’re family, Maggie. You and that young ’un of yours. Don’t you go forgetting that again in the future.”
Tears burned behind her eyes. She wondered whether he’d think so kindly of her if he knew the way she’d behaved under the night sky with his son. If he knew the real reason she was here. “Thank you, Squire.”
“Mama, Dannl let me petted the horses!” J.D. dashed around Daniel’s legs and barreled into Maggie, clambering up on her lap.
Squire chuckled. “Little darlin’, you’ll get to do that a lot now. And don’t forget there’s also Matthew’s dog and D.C., the cat, and a new litter of kittens to boot.”
J D.’s eyes just kept getting wider and wider. She stared at Squire. “Kittens?”
“Yup. Wanna go see?”
Maggie made a surprised noise when J.D. nodded and hopped off her lap, going around to Squire and latching on to his fingers trustingly when he rose from the table. “Let’s get Sarah, too,” he suggested.
J.D. didn’t even look back at Maggie as the two disappeared through the dining room.
“He’ll take care of her,” Daniel said quietly.
“I know,” Maggie answered quickly. “It’s just...well, I didn’t expect her to adjust so easily.”
Daniel’s expression turned mocking. “Disappointed?”
She flushed, not at all sure that he wasn’t right.
His long fingers closed over the back of her chair, brushing her shoulder. “We all have some adjusting,” he murmured. “Some of it’ll be easier than others.”
There was no mistaking his meaning, and her heart kicked nervously.
“Maggie, you should come see how we’re...oh, hi Daniel.” Jaimie fairly skidded into the room in her stockinged feet. “Did you bring in Maggie’s bags?”
“No. I’ll do it now. That way she can get all settled in her new home.” He looked down at Maggie, the corner of his lip curling.
If he didn’t change his mind, they both knew that the home Maggie would be settling in soon wouldn’t be here at the big house at all. It would be under another roof entirely.
The roof of the house that Daniel was building.
Chapter Six
Before supper, Jaimie showed Maggie the progress she and Matthew had made on their remodeling project. “I still can’t believe that Matthew took it into his head that we needed to redo the bedrooms and bathrooms. I mean the man hasn’t changed one single thing in this house ever. Of course, there’s always been plenty of room, but modernizing will be good. Honestly, though, I never expected the mess. Corky has a fit whenever he comes in to clean.”
Maggie glanced at the gleaming hutch that held a beautiful display of lovingly cared-for china from Sarah Clay, the wife that Squire lost decades earlier, as they passed through the dining room to the wide staircase. “I thought Corky was the bunkhouse cook.” She was certain that the ageless man hadn’t been doing the cleaning when she’d visited in August.
Jaimie nodded. “He is. But Matthew doesn’t want me lifting stuff and all that anymore. Corky was willing to add more duties, fortunately.” Jaimie chattered on as she led the way up the staircase, describing the progress of the remodeling as they went. “Other than deciding it needed to be done, Matthew left the remodeling up to me. The only thing he was determined to have was that.” She waved at a big triangular corner bathtub that stood upright against one unfinished wall. Her eyes sparkled. “Big enough for two, you know.”
Considering the size of the Clay men—all over six feet—Maggie could well see that Matthew would insist on a roomy bathtub. She didn’t think too closely on the notion of sharing one. It was something she’d certainly never done with anyone other than J.D., when she was a baby.
Maggie turned off that thought. Because hard on its heels was wondering if Daniel would figure sharing a tub was part of his marriage demand.
Her sister-in-law had bent over a sizable stack of boxes containing ceramic tiles, then triumphantly held up a beautiful square of creamy tile. “Here it is. This is going on the floor in our bathroom. Nice, huh?” She rooted around a little more, then came up with a second tile in a deep, lustrous blue. “For the border, just like we talked about. I love this blue color. The master bedroom’s going to have the same colors. I’ve ordered new drapes, too, from that catalog you recommended.” She looked at her tiles, obviously pleased. “I’ve been dying to see how Daniel decides to decorate his new house. He told us you’d agreed to help him with it. Honestly, I really can’t believe how fast he got it up.” Then Jaimie clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling her giggles. “That didn’t come out quite right.”
Maggie flushed, catching on. “Jaimie, you know, Daniel—”
“I know, I know. He told me all about it.”
Maggie’s flush died a painful death as she felt the blood rapidly drain from her face. “He...did?”
“Sure. You could have told me about Ryker Interiors laying you off and your apartment building going condo. You’re my best friend, silly. It’s not your fault all that happened, and there’s no reason to be embarrassed. Of course moving back here was the most sensible solution. And I, for one, couldn’t be more thrilled that Daniel got you to see reason. I always suspected you had a soft spot for him.”
Maggie blinked. Just what kind of web had Daniel spun? She felt terrible. Dishonest She didn’t like keeping the truth from Jaimie. The entire notion had been a mistake. What would it be like
a week from now? Two weeks? If only she’d thought this craziness through. If only Daniel hadn’t msisted on that foolish promise.
If only she’d thought to ask Daniel exactly what he planned to tell his family. “Jaimie, there’s something you should—”
A door slammed and small footsteps pounded, accompanied by a childish wail. Both Jaimie and Maggie started down the stairs. Sarah latched on to her mother, her little face streaked with tears, her words about broken crayons garbled. “I’d better go quiet the troops,” Jaimie said.
The truth would have to wait.
Daniel concentrated on carrying his tack into the tack room. He knew Jefferson was leaning against a stall watching. His brother’s stance might be relaxed, almost lazy, but Daniel wasn’t fooled. Only thing was, he didn’t want to talk about whatever it was his big brother had on his mind. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think. He damned sure didn’t want to feel.
“Got a call today from Coleman.”
Daniel stiffened. So much for thinking he could avoid this. He turned and stepped past his brother who partially blocked the doorway of the tack room.
“He says you didn’t check in this week.”
He consciously relaxed his hands and looked steadily at Jefferson. “Haven’t gotten to it yet.”
Jefferson’s lips twisted. “I’m the last person to advocate toeing the line with Hollins-Winword,” he said. “But you can’t ignore Coleman Black. When the boss himself starts checking up on you—”
“I’ll call. Now drop it,” Daniel said grimly, turning away.
“You couldn’t have changed things.”
Jefferson’s voice stopped him when he’d reached the doorway. Daniel looked out across the gravel road, across the grass and the buildings. But he wasn’t seeing his home. He was seeing a small village destroyed. The ravages of fire and—
“No matter what you did, Daniel, you couldn’t fight Arturo’s men.”
Daniel thrust away the vision. Thinking about the devastation did no good. It wouldn’t help those he’d failed to protect. It wouldn’t help the innocent. If he’d only kept his emotions out of things, he wouldn’t be standing here battling down memories he refused to face. “Thought you kept your nose outta the agency nowadays. You retired. Remember?”
“Cole called me, Dan. Not the other way around. You made a deal with him when he got you out of Santo Marguerite and away from Arturo’s men. You call once a week, check in or he’s gonna call you.”
“Or you. Nothing like having big brother around to keep tabs,” Daniel gritted angrily. He supposed he should be grateful Coleman didn’t send someone out to check on him in person. His former boss made no secret that he wanted Daniel to come back to work as soon as he served out his suspension
Jefferson swore softly. ‘It’s only a few more months, Dan. Then you’re free and clear.”
Free and clear. Daniel swiveled around and faced his brother once more. “It wouldn’t matter if I’m here at the Double-C free and clear or still with the agency. Those people... that village—” He couldn’t finish. If he started thinking about the people, the families, he’d start thinking about Angeline. He eyed his brother “You of all people should understand.”
Jefferson’s lips compressed. “I understand all right. I know firsthand that bottling it all up doesn’t get you anywhere.”
“All this because I missed a phone call.” Daniel forced a careless smile. “Go on home to your wife and rest assured that I’ll do my duty at my earliest opportunity.” He saw the gears of his brother’s mind clicking behind Jefferson’s sharp gaze. And wished he’d just kept his mouth shut.
No, he wished he hadn’t ridden out to join his brothers as they repaired fence. He hadn’t needed to. He’d planned to work on the house that afternoon. But picking up Maggie had left him restless. Too restless to find relief even through hammer and nails.
“Are you gonna tell Maggie? Tell her about Angeline?”
Daniel managed not to wince, but it was an effort. The likelihood that he’d find any positive news about the four-year-old child was nearly nonexistent. He couldn’t even let himself begin to hope that she hadn’t died with all the rest. Telling Maggie wouldn’t help anything. “What for?”
Jefferson grunted softly. “You’re not fooling me, Daniel. I know how you feel about Maggie.”
Daniel had had enough. “I don’t feel anything, Jeff,” he said. And turned on his boot heel and strode out of the barn.
In the kitchen Maggie automatically dumped the dregs of the coffeepot and started a fresh pot brewing. The roast that Jaimie had put in the oven earlier was nearly done, so Maggie started snapping the fresh green beans that Jaimie hadn’t gotten to yet. She heard the door open again behind her, and stiffened when it was Daniel who stepped up to the sink beside her and flipped on the water, sluicing it over his hands and forearms. She felt his glance, but kept on snapping beans.
He dried himself, then tossed the dishtowel onto the counter, his movements jerky. Maggie reached for the towel and hung it neatly over the oven door handle.
“Ever proper, aren’t you, Maggie.”
Her busy hands paused over the bowl of beans. “Ryker laying me off? My building going condo?”
He crossed his arms over his wide chest, making her wonder why the shoulder seams of his red-and-gray plaid shirt didn’t simply give up under the strain. “Had to give ‘em some explanation,” he said, “since you’re so all-fire determined to keep the truth under wraps and you didn’t give ’em a reason.” Then his head tilted as he studied her, and the grim darkness in his eyes seemed to lighten. “Though, if you ask me, they’re gonna know something’s cooking just from looking at you.”
Maggie’s jaw tightened. Her stomach took an all-too-familiar lurch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you’re looking a tad more... rounded.”
“Fat, you mean.”
“Honey, you’d have to pack on a helluva lot more to look even remotely plump. I was talking about your, ah—”
She flushed, barely keeping herself from tugging at the top of her denim jumper. “I get the drift,” she muttered. With the long-sleeved sweater she wore underneath it, the jumper was almost uncomfortably tight against her breasts. As soon as she’d learned she was pregnant, it seemed as if her modest chest had decided it was time to flourish.
“Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” he added smoothly.
Her jaw loosened, and she shot him a look. It was the type of comment the old Daniel might have made.
“But Jaimie’s pretty observant, as are the rest of the folks ’round here. Sure you want to wait until Thanksgiving to spill the beans?”
Maggie turned and pushed the full bowl of green beans into his arms. “Only beans being spilled are those, if you don’t hold on to the bowl,” she said stiffly.
Surprise glinted in his eyes. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Rinse ’em,” she snapped, and wheeled on her heel out of the kitchen and straight to the bathroom that was beneath the wide staircase. She’d barely shut the door before the nausea overwhelmed her. When it finally passed, she rinsed her mouth, then sank to the floor and leaned her back wearily against the wall behind her.
Weak tears clung to her eyelashes and she wiped them away with a sniffle. Then looked up with a startled squeak when the bathroom door opened and Daniel stood there. She looked away, her jaw tightening. “Don’t you knock?”
Unfazed, he joined her in the small bathroom and closed the door. He was so large he probably used up all the oxygen, she thought resentfully. He rinsed a soft blue washcloth in cool water and handed it to her. Then lowered the lid on the commode and sat on it, his eyes unreadable. “Does this happen often?”
Maggie pressed the wonderfully cool cloth to her gaming face. “Three or four times a day like clockwork.”
“Is that normal?”
She lowered the cloth. “What? Getting leery of this whole deal already?
” He just looked at her and she felt small. “As long as I’m able to keep some food down, the doctor said I’d be okay,” she said after a moment.
“And are you?”
“What? Keeping food down?” She folded the washcloth in half. Then half again. “Some. I do better in the middle of the day. It’s the mornings and the evenings that are the worst.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure you shovel in the food at noon, won’t we.”
Despite her misery, Maggie couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “Now there’s a picture,” she muttered. “Just roll up a trough for old Maggie to dive into.”
His lips didn’t smile. But the few lines bracketing his eyes deepened. “A tad drastic,” he murmured. “Unless it’s chocolate mousse.”
He narrowed his eyes a fraction, and Maggie’s heart suddenly chugged. An image of Daniel licking chocolate from her fingertips flitted through her mind. What was she thinking? She’d never done anything like that in her life.
His hand lifted, and she froze when he touched the buckle strap of her jumper, right where it lay snugly over the top swell of her breast. “I wonder what’s sweeter,” he mused gruffly. “The taste of chocolate. Or the taste of you.”
“Daniel.” Though the finger touching that buckle was perfectly innocent, the knuckles of his other fingers as they grazed her bodice were anything but. She drew in a shaky breath, nearly gasping when his palm went flat against her ultrasen-sitive flesh.
“You’re fuller,” he murmured. “Just like I thought.”
She knew she should move his hand away. Protest. Something. Then his hand slid beneath her arm, down her waist.
“How long before you start showing?”
Pushing away his hand, she awkwardly rose in the small bathroom, made even smaller by his long legs taking up half the space. She brushed down her skirt. “Weeks yet.” She almost wished it would be sooner. As soon as her pregnancy started to show, she felt sure that whatever attraction Daniel felt for her would die, and he’d call off this foolish agreement. The very day that Maggie’s waist had begun to thicken with J.D. had been the very day that Joe had once again started looking elsewhere to satisfy his needs. She flipped on the water and rinsed the cloth.
A Wedding for Maggie Page 9
