A Wedding for Maggie

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “Too bad.”

  Maggie’s fingers clenched on the soft blue terry cloth. She shut off the water and looked up, catching their reflection in the mirror over the sink. He’d risen also and stood behind her. His hands slipped to her waist and she dropped the cloth, nervously gripping his spread fingers with hers, halting his sure movements. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to touch you.”

  Her eyes widened and in the mirror she saw as well as felt the color rise in her own cheeks. “You, uh, you already did.”

  “Not enough.”

  She swallowed. “We’re in the bathroom, Daniel.”

  “I’m not suggesting we make love here, Maggie Mae,” he said drily.

  Her color brightened even more. “I should say not—”

  “Although, with you on the sink here, we could probably—”

  “Daniel!”

  Daniel smiled faintly, thoroughly enjoying the outraged shock in Maggie’s turquoise eyes. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot.” Despite her frantic grip on his hands, he shaped his palms around her narrow waist. Then slid to her firm abdomen. He forgot all about his brother and about phone calls and bottling things up as a purely male shaft of possessiveness pierced him. His babe nestled within her taut body. He really did think it was a shame that he’d have to wait several more weeks yet before he could see that flat belly swell with his child.

  He hadn’t planned this situation. Hell, he was thirty-seven years old, well versed in the facts of life, and he should’ve known they were taking a chance the night of the picnic- But logic had had little to do with what they’d done together that night.

  She might cringe and cry over their behavior. That was Maggie. Always so concerned with what was proper and right.

  He, on the other hand, didn’t give a flip right now about what was proper. Maggie had been a free woman the night they’d slept together. She’d even finally taken off that wedding band.

  And if there was a bone-deep satisfaction inside him that it was his child that had caused the new fullness in her beautiful breasts and the faint thickening of her narrow waist, he wasn’t about to apologize for it.

  Nor was he about to let her shut him out of one minute of this pregnancy. She’d just have to get used—

  “Mags?” That was Jaimie’s voice. Jaimie knocking on the bathroom door. “Are you all right? You left the water running in the kitchen.”

  Maggie’s rounded gaze met his in the mirror. Her mouth parted soundlessly. Her horror and embarrassment couldn’t have been more plain.

  His small spurt of good humor withered. He stepped back and opened the door. “She’s fine,” he said, walking past Jaimie’s surprised face.

  In the kitchen he yanked open the refrigerator and pulled out a cold beer. His gaze fell on the phone hanging on the wall. Barely pausing, he twisted off the bottle cap, sending it sailing toward the counter and strode right past the phone and the call he knew he should make, through the mudroom and out the back door.

  Dusk was falling and it suited his mood just fine. He walked along the gravel road, stopping at the bunkhouse where the men were already jostling for position at the long supper table. Beer bottle dangling between his fingers, he decided to join them. Sitting across the table from Maggie in the big house, knowing she was pregnant with his child and having to he about it just didn’t sit well. Not on top of everything else.

  He knew he drew a half dozen curious looks when he joined the crew at that long table in the bunkhouse. But he was long used to making his own way without explanation or excuses. When the big platter of pork chops passed him, he forked two onto his plate and passed it on.

  Maggie didn’t know why she hadn’t figured out what Jaimie and Matthew’s remodeling project would mean. After all, she’d seen for herself the walls that had been torn out.

  It just hadn’t clicked.

  Not until she’d joined Jaimie upstairs as they tucked their daughters into bed in Sarah’s room.

  When the little girls were finally quiet, Maggie joined Jaimie in the wide hallway. And then it hit her. The bedroom she’d used before was no more. It didn’t exist. Nor did Daniel’s room. It was all one big open area filled with stacks of lumber and pails of paint.

  She rubbed the pinpoint of pain in her forehead that had taken residence earlier when it became plain that Daniel didn’t intend to join the rest of them for supper and Jaimie had cast more than one speculative glance her way. “It just occurred to me that I might be bunking in one of the barns.”

  Jaimie tucked her arm through Maggie’s as they headed down the stairs. “Oh, you. Of course not. Before we tore everything out up here, we remodeled the basement. Didn’t I mention that? I thought I did.”

  Maggie couldn’t be sure. There’d been so much that Jaimie had chattered on about during their weekly calls, but Maggie had been hardly aware of much except getting through each day.

  “You know how the basement was just one really huge recreation room. Far more space than was necessary, actually. We made a guest suite down there. Two rooms and a full bath. Even a small kitchen and a sitting area. The original plan was that Squire would move down there—more peaceful you know, but he changed his mind.” She shrugged as if there was no explaining Squire sometimes. “So now we have a guest suite. There’s privacy when you want it, but you’re just down the stairs from the kitchen when you don’t.”

  Maggie felt her stomach tighten before Jaimie continued.

  “Daniel did all the construction himself. I’m sure he put your suitcases down there already. The only drawback, of course, is that J.D. is upstairs, and you’ll be down.”

  “J.D. thinks sharing a room with Sarah is the next best thing to heaven or horses,” Maggie said faintly. Would Daniel also be sleeping down there in that new guest suite? She didn’t have the nerve to ask. Wasn’t sure she wanted to have her suspicions confirmed.

  “Once we’re finished upstairs, you can move back up again if you want. We tore out three rooms, of course, to make one plus a new nursery. Daniel will be in his house by then, I should think.”

  Maggie’s stomach tightened. “He told me he razed the Blanchard place,”

  “Matthew was pleased when Daniel announced he was buying the place. Donna Blanchard had been wanting to sell for years. In fact, Matthew was all set to buy her out before, but...” She trailed off, her eyes darkening. “Well, fudge.”

  “But my husband had embezzled thousands, and the Double-C had to sit back and regroup,” Maggie finished grimly.

  “My brother, too,” Jaimie reminded softly. “But, yes. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  Maggie stared blindly at the banister beneath her hand. “I expect a lot of people will bring it up one way or another eventually. Nothing like a scandal to set the tongues wagging.”

  “No,” Jaimie considered that. “I heard that when Donna’s husband took off with a waitress from Colbys that the whole town of Weaver was buzzing more. Look, Mags. People don’t bug me about it, and the same blood that ran in Joe’s veins runs in mine. Good heavens, Matthew married me despite what Joe did. This family stands together, and you’re part of this family.” She flashed an encouraging smile. “Besides, most people didn’t even know about the money. We recovered most of it, and Matthew didn’t press charges. So just stop worrying so much over this. Everything will work out. It always does.”

  “You always were the optimistic one.”

  “And you were the practical one. So be practical about this. People in this area have enough to worry about in their own lives to make a big deal about what our darling Joe did more than three years ago. He was the one who did wrong. You and I can’t walk around being ashamed for what he did.”

  Maggie almost said, Easy for you to say, but didn’t. Because she knew that Joe’s actions hadn’t been easy on Jaimie. Just that quickly, tears burned behind Maggie’s lids. Her marriage had died long before Joe lost his life. But he’d been Jaimie’s brother. “I’m sorry he’s gone
,” she said. Their marriage had been irretrievably broken. But death?

  Jaimie bit her lip. She brushed back her luxurious hair, then dusted her palms against her jeans. “So am I. He’ll never know, now, all that he gave up.” Then she exhaled loudly, her smile rather bittersweet. “That’s the past though, Mags. You’re back now where you belong. So let’s just focus on that from now on.”

  Chapter Seven

  The guest suite, as Jaimie termed it, was really a self-contained apartment, in Maggie’s opinion. She’d seen enough design plans at Ryker Interiors to know that the space usage was well planned and the decorating, while not lavish or overdone, was beautifully welcoming in its understated elegance.

  She knew the Clays were financially well set. But most of the time, she didn’t think about it. The Double-C was a working cattle ranch. Weather and market prices were as much a concern for this spread as any other. Even if Matthew, and Squire before him, had made wise investments during the better years that carried them through the leaner ones. They lived relatively modest, normal lives with none of the airs Maggie had encountered so often in the clients at Ryker Interiors.

  Only after everyone had turned in for the night and she slowly wandered through the so-called suite did it hit her again. A remodeling project like this, and the one going on upstairs, didn’t come cheap. There was probably little that the Clays couldn’t afford to do if they so chose. If Daniel decided he wanted their child on the Double-C, he could no doubt achieve it, just as he’d implied less than a week ago in her Chicago apartment.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she went into the spacious bedroom where her suitcases had been deposited, conveniently laid across the foot of the wide bed. Even unfastened and opened, though the contents had been left untouched.

  All she’d been thinking, for the past several days, was how quickly Daniel would change his mind about their marriage agreement. Assuming that once he did, he’d be reasonable about coming to some other sort of arrangement. The possibility still hadn’t really hit Maggie that Daniel could end up being the primary caretaker of this child.

  She was the mother, certainly. But the courts were favoring the rights of fathers more and more. Daniel was more than able to hire whatever type of assistance he might need. While Maggie—

  “No,” she whispered. “Daniel wouldn’t do that.” She snatched an armful of clothing from the suitcase and began hanging them in the closet. He wouldn’t take her child. He wasn’t that kind of man.

  Back and forth she went from the suitcases to the closet to the dresser.

  Are you so sure you know what kind of man he is?

  She flipped one empty suitcase closed. “He wouldn’t,” she muttered. She didn’t believe that his interest in her would last. But that didn’t mean that—

  Oh, doesn’t it?

  “No.” She closed the other empty cases and stuck them on the shelves in the closet.

  So where is he? He certainly isn’t here pushing you to make wedding plans.

  She didn’t know where Daniel was. He’d left, as usual, without one word, and she didn’t like the way that fact gnawed at her. Which was probably why she was worrying herself over something that wouldn’t happen.

  Daniel taking her child from her.

  He might have changed. But he hadn’t changed that much. She knew it with everything inside her.

  She peeled out of the denim jumper, tights and sweater. Sighing with relief, she bundled into her chenille robe and padded barefoot into the sitting area adjacent to the two bedrooms. Entering the spacious bathroom, she took a long shower.

  The mirrors were still half-fogged with steam. But she looked at her reflection, anyway. Touched her waist, laid her palm flat on her abdomen.

  Where Daniel had laid his hand earlier.

  The veneer of calm that she’d so carefully cultivated vanished and she trembled. How many tunes had she been disappointed, devastated, in the past?

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gasping, her head whipped around, her wet hair flying. She scrabbled with the lapels of her robe, dragging them together, holding the chenille tightly over her racing heart. “Nothing,” she said, ire warring with panic. “My agreement to return to the Double-C did not include you invading my privacy.” She tied her belt with sharp, jerky movements. “That’s twice you’ve barged in on me.”

  Daniel stepped in her path when she tried to brush by. “I thought you might be sick again.”

  “As you can see, I’m not.” She damned her wayward hormones. Surely that was the only reason she felt on the edge of tears yet again.

  “If you’re not sick, then what is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Right. That’s why you’re shaking.”

  There was no way she could get past him out of the bathroom and to her bedroom. For whatever privacy he allowed her there. She firmed her shoulders. “Stay out of my head, Daniel.”

  “Trust me, honey. If I could, I would. What’s worrying you?”

  Her jaw worked. She didn’t want him reading her thoughts. Her emotions. “I’ve had two miscarriages before. Two, Daniel. And a difficult pregnancy with J.D.” Her hands fisted in the long folds of her robe. “Twice I knew there was life inside me and twice I could do nothing to save it.”

  “Mag—”

  Her eyes burned as she shot him a tight look. “Is that good enough reason for me to worry? Are you satisfied now?”

  He gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “Ah, Maggie Mae, why didn’t—”

  “Save your pity, Daniel. I don’t want it and I don’t need it.”

  His eyes iced over. “Nobody said squat about pity. Does it occur to you that you might not be the only one concerned about this pregnancy? I might not have known about both your miscarriages, but I sure in hell remember you carrying J.D. I remember the day you started bleeding and we had to drive you into the hospital.”

  A knot tightened in her chest. She remembered that day, too. Daniel had carried her from the brick cottage to Matt’s truck when Jaimie, who’d been filling in for her at the main house, had gone for help. His hand had been bloodied and broken—he’d never explained why—but he’d carried her heavily pregnant body nearly a mile.

  Once at the hospital, it had been hours and hours before Joe had eventually shown up. She’d felt a tiny stab of hope when he’d arrived. It had been the first time that he’d seemed genuinely interested in the welfare of their child. But that stab hadn’t lasted long. One look into Joe’s eyes and she’d known how he’d spent those absent hours. The only thing she hadn’t known was the name of the woman it was this time.

  “Nothing’s gonna happen to this baby,” Daniel was saying.

  “You just don’t get it, do you—” her voice hitched “—sometimes there’s no choice. No choice. You can...eat right. And get enough rest. And take your vitamins. And—”

  His hands closed over her shoulders. “Stop. You’re getting too worked up.”

  She jerked out of his hold, appallingly aware that she wanted to just rest her head against his wide chest. She couldn’t start depending on Daniel. She had to depend on herself. Only herself.

  “Dammit, Maggie Mae—”

  “Stop calling me that name!” And then her stomach rebelled. She stumbled to the commode, too weak and sick to stop Daniel from crouching beside her, holding back her hair.

  After, she rested her head on her bent knees. The comfort she drew from Daniel’s quiet, watchful presence scared her senseless. Because it would hurt so much more when he no longer offered it. “Go away, Daniel.” Her words were muffled against her robe. “Please, just leave me alone.”

  Daniel’s fists clenched at his sides as he looked at her hunched, miserable form. “Is your stomach settled now?”

  She didn’t answer. Just rose and shakily brushed her teeth.

  He swallowed an oath and simply picked her up in his arms when she was through. She wriggled and told him acidly to put her down. He did. Once he’d carrie
d her into the bedroom where he’d put her cases earlier, he settled her on the wide mattress.

  Her ankle-length robe had separated, giving him a long view of shapely leg. A view that nearly distracted him from his task. He yanked the quilt up and tossed it over her legs. She popped right back up like one of those Weeble toys Sarah liked to play with. The ones that wobbled but never fell down.

  She wrapped her robe tightly around her and stepped past him, going to the doorway and pointedly holding on to the knob. As if she couldn’t wait to slam it shut as soon as he moved his rear through it. “I could have walked.”

  “Fine. Tomorrow, you can do all the walking you want to. Right into Rebecca’s office. The sooner you start regular medical care, the better you’ll feel.”

  Her turquoise eyes shot him a look that fairly singed. “Is that so.”

  “Regular prenatal care is important.”

  “My, my, Daniel. What baby book have you been reading lately? I prefer to select my own physician, thank you so much.”

  “Rebecca is right in Weaver. If you want to do any selecting, you’re gonna have to go to Gillette.”

  “So?”

  “So?” He curled his fist, because she stood there looking at him so prissily that he wanted to muss her up, but good. Right there in the center of the disheveled bed. “So, the whole point of getting a doc in Weaver was that people wouldn’t have to go so far for medical care.” Why was she being so stubborn? She’d already admitted she was fearful for the baby. Their baby.

  “I went to Gillette before,” she said without pause. “There is no earthly reason I can’t go there again. Dr. Foster—”

  “Is too damned far away. Just because Rebecca started up a practice in a podunk town like Weaver doesn’t mean she’s not qualified. She comes from New—”