A Wedding for Maggie

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “You’re not.”

  “I am pregnant with your child,” she said, her throat raw.

  “You’re not someone else’s wife anymore. You’re going to be my wife, Maggie. Mine.”

  “Because we have to! My parents married because they had to.”

  He exhaled roughly. “One of the few things I’ve ever done in my entire life that I didn’t want to do was leave the Double-C three years ago. If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t I could make sure our child was taken care of without that.”

  “But you said—”

  “I’m marrying you because it’s the sensible answer. I want you beside me. And I want it good and legal and honest so you don’t have to walk around feeling guilty because you’re sleeping with a man without benefit of a wedding ring.”

  “You don’t love me.”

  His low curse rasped over her nerve endings. “At least we’re going into it with honest intentions. Without love,” he spat the word, “clouding our brains.” His voice calmed. Evened. “You’re not your mother, Maggie. Maybe you married a man when you were little more than a child who was cut from the same cloth as her, but you are not like her.”

  She didn’t have an answer for that. Her toes curled into the thick carpet beneath her feet.

  Everything about Daniel tempted her. From the single brush of his callused fingers that made her lose her senses, to his easy acceptance of the garbled story of her childhood.

  But it was more.

  It was the way he looked at her. With interest in what she had to say. With humor at the most unexpected times. It was the way he watched over J.D even though Maggie sensed it caused him some inner pain. It was the way he’d sat J.D. in front of him for her very first real horseback ride and fashioned doll-size reins out of a short length of leather.

  It was the way he’d bobbed for apples at a Halloween party.

  She touched his hair where it lay tangled and heavy against his brow. She let her fingers trail along his jaw. The rough bristles made her fingertips tingle and she felt such longing to have those whiskered cheeks moving over her once again.

  He clamped his hand around hers when she started to slip out of her robe. “What are you doing?”

  “Staying until morning.”

  A muscle ticked unevenly in his jaw. It gave her courage.

  She twisted a little and her robe fell to the floor. Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she looked at him. At the bronze cast of his skin. The intriguing web of laugh lines spearing out from the corners of his sooty-lashed eyes. “You make me weak,” she murmured.

  His gaze captured hers, and she knew in an instant that he understood what she was trying to say and doing such a bad job of. “Say my name.”

  “Daniel.” When had he freed her hand so that it could find a place on his wide chest? “Daniel Clay.” Still daring, still scared, she leaned forward to press her lips to the strong, hard, whisker-blurred jaw. “The man I’m going to marry.”

  She felt a long sigh rumble through him and half expected him to take control. But he didn’t. She explored his jaw with her lips, feeling more and more freedom with every centimeter. When she reached his ear, she murmured his name again, and retraced the route.

  His hands, she realized, were hard and tight against the mattress. She didn’t want him digging his fingers into the bed. She wanted his fingers on her.

  Her lips never lost the whispering connection with his jaw. She pressed her hands atop his and found his cool firm lips with her own.

  He kissed her back, but again made no moves to take over. The little thrill of control that clenched hard at her center shocked her. She reached for the bottom of his shirt and tugged it from him. It hit the floor with a soft rustle, and Maggie had to take a good long moment to catch her breath at the sight of his broad shoulders, so sharply defined.

  Trembling wildly, she touched the pulse throbbing at his neck. Her palms slipped over him, felt the taut muscles in his abdomen jump. His eyes sharpened when she trailed her fingers along the waist of his jeans, dipping into the hollow at his navel when he suddenly sucked m his breath on a long hiss.

  He stilled her hands with his own. Stood and pulled the small jeweler’s case out of his pocket, pushing it open with his thumb.

  Again the beautiful rings beckoned. Then he took out the band with the diamonds and snapped the box shut, tossing it aside. Her hands trembled, but his were steady as he slid the ring into place.

  “Now,” he murmured, settling her fingertips at the top button of his jeans. “Now.”

  She moistened her lips. The ring felt natural on her finger. She could have lied to herself and said that it was only because another ring had been there for so many years. But it would have been a lie.

  His gaze locked with hers, and she was grateful. Because if she looked at what her fingers were revealing with each pop of a button, she’d have lost her nerve. Her chest labored with each breath she drew when her knuckles brushed against him. Bare and undeniably aroused beneath his jeans.

  She faltered.

  “Don’t stop now, Maggie Mae,” he rasped.

  “I—”

  “Kiss me.”

  She leaned against him with a small cry and pressed her lips to his. His hands closed over hers, lifting them to his chest, sliding his strong arms around her waist.

  His head tilted to one side. “Your eyes are as wide as J.D.’s when I took her for her first ride. Are you that nervous?”

  “Yes,” she admitted on a breathy sigh.

  “It’s just you and me here, Maggie Mae. Only rule that exists right now is you tell me if you don’t like something.” His lips curved faintly, though she could see no evidence of humor in his sharp silvery gaze. “Or if you do.”

  Her heart seemed to stall in her chest. “The, uh, the lamp?”

  “Stays on, Maggie Mae. We’re not doing anything to be ashamed of.” With one smooth tug, he drew the ribbon that held the front of her teddy together. With one sweep of his hand, the lace and satin fell away. “Now we’re even.” He looked down at his jeans, hanging onto his hard hips with little more than a prayer and two buttons.

  Then he shifted her to the bed and shucked his jeans and socks and Maggie couldn’t have spoken a coherent word to save her soul. That August night had been dark. But now, the golden pool of light from the bedside lamp danced over his beautiful form. He was...magnificent, she thought faintly as he came down beside her.

  His hands swept over her, making her cry out incoherently. The soft groan he gave when she touched him in return made her insecurities seem nonexistent. He kissed and touched and tasted until she became mad with need. “Now,” she moaned, her mouth open against his chest. “Daniel, now.”

  He rolled, dragging her atop his chest. “We’re not rushing it this time,” he muttered. “Slow. That’s what I promised myself. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Her fingers tangled in his hair as he caught one nipple and laved it with his tongue before lavishing the other with the same devastating attention. “Next time,” she gasped, closing her hands over him.

  His fingers tightened on her hips, lifting her. “Next... time,” he agreed hoarsely and thrust into her. Fully. Finally.

  Maggie cried out, convulsing. Yet his arms were there. Holding her close. Holding her safe. After an eternity, she collapsed on his chest, unable for the moment to even move.

  His chest heaved beneath her, his breathing harsh and uneven. “Hey. Don’t go to sleep on me.”

  She smiled shakily. She still felt him, strong and deep within her. “Oh, sure.”

  He suddenly turned, and she found herself staring up at him while he stretched her hands above her head, threading their fingers together. Her neck arched back as he rocked gently, insistently within her.

  Had any woman ever been so thoroughly loved?

  The wonderment grew, became more distinct within her overwhelmed senses as he drove her relentlessly. Mindlessly arching against him, wrapping her legs ar
ound his hard body, she felt every molecule of her body come to life because of him. And again, oh, again, she cried out his name, held spellbound in the grip of exquisite brilliance. Before she could even start to come down off that dizzying precipice, Daniel went rigid, a low, feral sound rising in his throat. His eyes met hers and she saw it all. The unbridled passion. Unashamed. Untamed.

  Blessed Nothing so perfect could be anything less.

  Tears streaked from her eyes to her temples. I love you hovered on her lips, but she kept the words to herself. Saying them now would solve nothing.

  Not when he’d already made it so plain that he didn’t want her love. And that he had no intentions of feeling that emotion ever again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next afternoon Maggie stood in the kitchen of the big house and worked her way through the pile of baby clothes she and Jaimie had been sorting through. Daniel was out with Matthew.

  And Maggie was no nearer to learning about the little Angeline who haunted Daniel.

  She heard Jaimie call her name and set the minute terry cloth infant sleeper on the table.

  She went to the stairs and looked up. “What?”

  Jaimie appeared at the head of the stairs, laughter on her face. “Come here. You’ve got to see this.”

  Maggie went upstairs. The remodeling project was making some progress. But Matthew had been so busy lately with moving the herd to the lower elevations for the winter to get too much done. She knew that Daniel had promised his help, as soon as their house was done. She stopped next to where Jaimie was looking into Sarah’s room.

  This time Leandra was spending the afternoon and night with them. And the three little girls were decked out in wedding finery. J.D. had a battered old cowboy hat on her curls and had to keep pushing at it to keep it from slipping over her nose. Her feet were stuck into boots that reached all the way past her knees. She’d stuffed a red bandanna into the elastic waistband of her jeans. Leandra had a pale yellow baby blanket on top of her head, held there by a bright purple headband. Little Sarah was apparently the preacher, with a nursery rhymes book held in her hands as solemnly as if it were the Bible itself.

  “I guess the wedding mood has hit them, too,” Jaimie giggled softly.

  Entranced, Maggie leaned against the doorjamb watching the activity.

  “You gots to kiss me now, J.D.,” ordered Leandra, scrunching up her lips.

  J.D. made a face “No, I don’t.” But she leaned forward and hugged her. The hat tumbled over her nose and she pushed it back impatiently.

  “My mama and daddy kiss lots,” Leandra said firmly. “They gots to love each other lots. It’s the law.”

  Jaimie snickered behind the hand she clamped to her mouth.

  “Daddy kiss Mama,” Sarah chirped. She closed her book with a snap. “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”

  J.D. finally dropped her hat on the ground. “Dannl is gonna be my daddy.”

  “Is not,” Leandra retorted. “He’s a uncle. Not a daddy.”

  “Is too,” J.D. said.

  “Nuh-huh.”

  Maggie could see J.D. gearing up. She went into the room, ready to intercede, but J.D. looked up at her, her green eyes glazed with temper and tears. “Dannl is too gonna be my daddy,” she yelled, and dashed around Maggie’s legs, flying out of the room. They heard her tennis shoes pounding down the stairs.

  “Weddings bring out the stress in people. Apparently even little ones,” Jaimie said. She gathered Sarah to her and pulled Leandra over to join her at the child-size table and chairs in the corner. “Ladies, we’re gonna talk.”

  Maggie quickly went after J.D. She skipped down the stairs, nearly reaching the bottom, and cried out when her foot slipped. She instinctively grabbed for the banister, almost touching it with her fingertips, but her balance was gone.

  No! Not now!

  She fell, tumbling down the last few steps where her head cracked hard against the hardwood floor. And lay.

  Still.

  There seemed to be a dozen people standing around her when Maggie opened her eyes. Her head throbbed. And her—

  She gasped, started to sit, but Jaimie caught her shoulders.

  “Stay still, Mags. We’ve called Rebecca Morehouse.”

  Maggie shifted and felt a sharp pain shoot through her back. She stiffened, seeing stars shoot across her vision. She drew in a slow breath. “I can’t lose this baby.” If she lost the baby, she’d also lose Daniel. She wasn’t sure she could survive either one. She wasn’t sure Daniel, who was so certain that nothing would go wrong with this pregnancy, could survive it, either.

  “You won’t.” Jaimie shifted on the floor, drawing her legs to one side. “I just don’t believe God will let that happen.” She squeezed Maggie’s hand. “How is the Christmas ornament order coming?’

  Maggie smiled brokenly. But she answered. And Jaimie kept her talking about her wood art, about what kind of stuffing they should have with their Thanksgiving turkey, about a dozen things, all to keep Maggie from sinking into the panic that seeped around the edges of her sanity.

  And then J.D. darted back into the room, closely followed by Rebecca Morehouse who took in the situation at a glance. Jaimie managed to convince J.D. that it was okay to leave her mama with the doctor again. And though Maggie desperately wanted the support of her friend with her, she wanted J.D. to be reassured more. “Go with Auntie Jaimie,” she whispered.

  Rebecca crouched down beside Maggie and opened her bag. She flicked her light in Maggie’s eyes, felt along her neck and limbs with her cool, capable hands. “How many stairs did you try to skip, anyway?” She smiled kindly, continuing her exam.

  “One too many,” Maggie murmured, absorbing the calm, soothing presence of the doctor. “The last two I guess.” She grimaced when Rebecca touched her elbow. “I’m about thirteen weeks along,” she managed.

  “Babies are remarkably resilient,” Rebecca soothed. “We’ll do an ultrasound for good measure. I don’t think you’ve broken anything. You’ve got a nice-size lump on your head, though, that I want to get a closer look at.” She pulled a cold pack from her bag, squeezing it between her hands before placing it gently against the throbbing ache inside Maggie’s head.

  “Ohhhh,” Maggie winced, closing her eyes.

  “You’ll probably be stiff and sore for a few days, but I think—”

  The front door flew open and Daniel strode in, Matthew hard on his heels. Daniel froze, seeing her lying there. Maggie’s hard-earned calm started to waver.

  Rebecca pushed to her feet. “Daniel, she—”

  He brushed past Rebecca, hunkering down beside Maggie. He caught her hand, brushing her tumbled hair away from her face with a cold hand. His quicksilver gaze searched hers. “You’re gonna be fine.”

  Maggie’s teeth chattered and she clenched her jaw. “The baby—”

  “Is probably fine,” Rebecca inserted mildly. “But I’d like to examine Maggie in my office.”

  Daniel was already moving, sliding his arms beneath Maggie. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, taking comfort from his strong, sure arms. Though it ached just to lift her arm, she held the cold pack against the knot on her head, and she buried her nose in the soft collar of his coat, stifling a groan. Jaimie came into the room, carrying a wool blanket which she tucked around Maggie.

  “Don’t let J.D. be scared,” Maggie said.

  Jaimie smiled tensely, leaning into Matthew when he slid his arm around her. “We’ll take care of her.”

  Rebecca discreetly touched Damel’s shoulder. “I’ll meet you at my office,” she said before gathering up her bag and heading toward the door.

  “You’re gonna be fine.” Daniel’s low, husky voice rasped against her ear as he carried her out into the cold afternoon. Instead of going to his own truck, however, he strode to Matthew’s Blazer, where he carefully settled her in the back seat.

  “Déjà vu,” Maggie murmured.

  He paused, tucking the blanket around her. His eyes w
ere steady. “You and J.D. were okay before. You and our baby will be okay now.”

  Tears glazed her vision. Discussing the possibility of losing her baby was one thing. Living it, another. A nightmarish other. “Daniel, if I lose—”

  His jaw clenched. “You won’t,” he said. If his conviction alone were enough to ensure it, they would be okay. “Believe it, Maggie Mae.”

  Maggie Mae. She moistened her lips, wondering if she was insane, because she did believe him. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, then climbed into the front of the truck and tore toward town and Rebecca’s offices.

  Daniel didn’t leave her side, and with each moment that passed as she lay on the table in Rebecca’s examining room, she tumbled more into love for him.

  Gone was the man with the cold, expressionless looks. The tangible distance. In its place was the Daniel she’d once known, and the Daniel she’d come to know now. The man who gave her strength simply by letting his gaze rest on her face, and by the touch of his hand around hers.

  By that evening, Rebecca was finally certain that the only ill effects of Maggie’s tumble would be a few days of aching muscles. She cautioned Maggie to laze around for the next few days, just to be extra careful. Then she told Daniel he could take her home.

  Home. The Double-C was her home now. Whether it was in the big house, or the graceful misty gray lady that Daniel had built. It was all Double-C. And it was her home. Not because of Jaimie or the acres of land that Squire had deeded over. It was because of the man who carried her so surely against his broad chest. Who made her feel beautiful and bright

  And whole.

  If only she could do the same for him.

  He pushed the front seat forward, ready to set her in the rear of the Blazer, and she stopped him. “I’d like to sit in the front.”

  “Rebecca wants you to lie down.”

  “I can lie in the front seat.”

  From the interior light of the truck she could see a muscle tick in his hard jaw. Then he nudged the seat into place and settled her in the front. He rounded the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel and went still for a long moment when Maggie settled her cheek on his thigh.