Oh! How she now craved his touch. She'd been so silly on their wedding night.She took his warm hand. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the dancing. Her fingers tingled in his.
Her eyes drifted over her shoulder to Tom. He smiled at her with reassurance, making her feel better about leaving him behind.
“He’ll be fine.” Grant pulled her into his arms.
“Jealous?” she asked.
Grant began to move and she followed his lead to the music. “No. What you’ve got with Tom is friendship. What you’ve got with me is something...different. Tom knows that.”
Unsure how to respond, she remained quiet, content to have his arms about her.
They danced several songs and she was lost in Grant’s eyes. His touch made her shiver with desire.
As he led her through a slower dance, circling around the makeshift floor, she saw Dalton over Grant's broad shoulder. She tensed and stepped closer into the safety of Grant’s embrace, avoiding the man's menacing gaze.
“What's the matter, Maggie?” His warm breath feathered over her neck, sending chills anew down her spine.
He continued to spin and twirl her through the dance, not pausing to see what had caused her concern. She wasn't afraid of anything while she was in his arms.
“Dalton’s here. He's watching us...me,” she whispered.
“Is he watching us now?”
She nodded, her cheek grazing his stubbly chin.
He turned his head toward hers and met her lips for a sweet kiss. They swirled through the dance as the kiss continued, making her dizzy as much as their steps. A good minute later, he lifted his head.
“I'm not sure if he liked that, and the fact that you put his horse down,” she said.
“The hell with him.” He tightened his hand on her back. “I liked it and I'd like to do it again. And then some.”
She blushed furiously at his words. She'd liked it, too.
“Don't worry about Dalton. I won’t let him near you.”
She lowered her eyes to his shirtfront as the song came to an end.
He lifted her chin back up with his thumb. “You’re safe. I’ll protect you with my life. Always.” He kept her on her toes through two more songs, and she all but forgot about Dalton.
When the song ended, he led her over to Tom, who watched them from the periphery.
“I thought I might cut in.” Tom offered with a warm smile.
She curtsied as Tom took her hand. “It would be my pleasure.”
***
Tom led Margaret to the bustle around the refreshment table after their dance. Grant was busy talking with a fellow rancher and waved to her as he spoke. He was always watching out for her, protecting her, even from a distance. And the look he gave...it made her heart jump. She recognized the heat she saw.
Before they reached their destination, she glimpsed a familiar face in the crowd. “Can we visit with a friend?”
Before he could reply, she led Tom by the hand through the throng of dancers.
“Rose!” she shouted, excited at finding her friend from Croft’s at the picnic.
The woman looked around cautiously, but spun on her heels as her name was called. Rose had been the only kind person she had met when she'd been bought by Croft. One of Croft's girls, she'd been nice to her, assuaging her fears a little before she'd been dressed in the red ensemble and led to the card game. That was the last she'd seen of her as Grant had whisked her away from Croft's soon after.
Rose pulled her into a surprise hug. “Margaret! I'm so glad to see you. I wondered what happened to you. Croft didn't say a thing after that night about you, and I was worried so. I'm glad you're all right!” The words streamed out in one breath.
She wiggled out of Rose's tight grip.
“Sorry!” Rose continued, embarrassed and definitely flustered. Her hand went to her ample bosom, as if to calm her galloping heart.
“No, I'm sorry.” She took the woman’s hands in hers. “I should have sent you word about me, but I didn't think of it. It was selfish to have you worry when you were so kind to me.”
The two women had forgotten Tom entirely. He cleared his throat and both women looked at him. “Hello, I'm Tom Masterson.” He held his large hand out for Rose. For the first time, Rose looked up at Tom and smiled.
“I'm such an idiot,” Margaret said, embarrassed. “Tom, this is Rose, a friend of mine from Croft's. She was kind enough to help me when I was...there. Rose, this is my brother-in-law, Tom.”
Rose stared at Tom as if a spell was cast upon her. Tom seemed to be under the same charm, for his gaze held hers, as if they were in their own world. She observed the two, taking in their peculiar behavior. It was as if their very breath was dependent on the other.
When her words sunk in, Rose shook her head, the spell broken, and turned to her. “Brother-in-law? Are you telling me you're married?”
She laughed and nodded. “Rose, so many things have happened since I've seen you. Would you come sit with us for the fireworks? Then I can share with you my crazy life.”
“I don't think that would be a good idea,” Rose said quietly, head lowered. Her gaze darted to Tom. “You shouldn't be seen with the likes of me.”
Before Margaret could make any kind of reply to the contrary, Tom spoke up. “It would be my pleasure to have such a lovely companion for the fireworks, if you’d be so kind?”
Rose blushed at his generosity.
Tom offered his arm, which Rose at first took hesitantly, but Tom whispered something in her ear and she smiled. Margaret followed the couple back to their blanket, where Grant was waiting. Introductions were made and the two women went into their own little world, chattering away about Margaret's escapades.
Grant put his hand on Margaret’s thigh. “Maggie, shall we find some refreshment before the fireworks?”
As she was led away, she looked questioningly to Grant.
“I think Tom would like to get to know Rose, too.”
She looked over her shoulder at Tom and Rose sitting comfortably on the blanket, both a bit shy, but definitely content at being in each other’s company. She finally recognized the implication behind his comment, and gladly continued on toward the refreshment table with him.
Not one to try to lead friends to romance, she had to admit Tom and Rose were a perfect match. From the little she knew of Rose, she too desired a home, a family, and love. Like Tom, she had a kind heart and a gentle spirit. Also like him, she was lonely. Margaret could only imagine the kind of life Rose had at Croft's.
Tom held a special spot in her heart. She understood his loneliness and hoped he could find someone who would love him just as much as he wanted to love.
***
The last boom of the fireworks display had long since exploded. The women finally had time to talk alone when the brothers excused themselves to have a drink with a neighbor.
“Tell me everything!” Rose said enthusiastically, her red curls bounced as she spoke. “I’ve been dying to know what happened since you left.”
“I’m sorry, Rose,” Margaret replied as she took the woman’s soft hand. “I truly didn’t mean to make you worry. It happened so quickly.”
She shared the events of her life after Grant rescued her from Croft, sparing no detail. “It started when he won me. I didn’t know anything about him then, and to me, he was like all the other men. When he...well...you can imagine.” Margaret couldn’t help but blush.
“He’s such a handsome man, I can only imagine what it had been like.”
“We didn’t...” It was difficult to speak the embarrassing words out loud.
“He did try, though? A man such as he would have at least made an attempt.”
“He did, so I held his gun to his head.”
“Mercy!” Rose placed a trembling hand on her bosom. “Then what?”
Margaret fidgeted with the checked blanket they sat upon. “I told him about the stage robbery, and he rescued me. Simple as that.”
Margaret knew she wasn’t referring to Grant and Tom, and couldn’t have agreed more.
“I didn’t see him, but heard he brought you in. Croft is such a low-life to buy you like that.” Rose shook her head, her tone thick with disgust.
“Well, I was out of there quickly enough, thanks to my husband.” Margaret took Rose’s hand. “You could leave there too, if you wanted.”
Rose shook her head. “No, it’s where I belong.”
“No, it isn't.” Margaret knew she was wasting her breath. “If you change your mind, you're welcome to stay with us.”
“That’s mighty kind of you. Now, tell me about these evil men.”
Margaret knew a change in topic when she heard one. She gave a description of the man in detail and what he'd done to her, one hand running over the neckline of her shirt.
“I'm glad they're dead, then.”
Grant appeared and handed the ladies cups of lemonade, then left them once again to themselves.
“Your husband is such a gentleman. Rescuing you from Croft like that, then tracking you down and finding you when that awful man took you.” Rose took a sip from her cup. “So romantic!”
Margaret hadn’t thought it romantic, but when Rose spoke of it, she had to admit it was a bit chivalrous. She savored the tart beverage as she thought about Grant. No man had done so much for her before. Her father hadn’t cared, and neither had William.
It hadn’t been Grant’s fault she had stepped in for William’s strike. He also wasn’t responsible for the stage robber kidnapping her again. But every time she got herself into trouble, he was there for her.
Maybe it was romantic, after all.
“That kiss out on the dance floor, hoowee!”
Margaret felt her cheeks burn red, yet she couldn’t help but smile over the rim of her cup.
“We haven't yet...”
“But you're married!” Rose exclaimed. “You have a husband who looks like that, who's a gentleman and you haven't...is there something wrong with him?”
Rose eyed Grant up and down, even from a distance.
“Oh, no! There's nothing wrong with him...that way. I told you about all the things that have happened. There really hasn't been time and, well, I'm scared.”
Rose patted her hand. “With that man, there's nothing to be scared about. Waiting until after you were married to touch you was I’m sure no small feat on his part.”
“He did touch me...a little...before the wedding, but not to the extent you’re talking about. I mean, he didn’t get his money’s worth that night at Croft’s, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“He’s so handsome. It must have been difficult for you to resist.”
“Yes and no.” Margaret folded her hands together and rested them in her lap. “I’ve been angry with him so many times, I can’t decide if I should hate him or kiss him.”
Rose raised one eyebrow. “And now, which one do you want?”
Margaret blushed even more as she laughed. “Kiss him. Definitely kiss him.”
Both women burst into laughter.
***
Saying goodbye to Rose was difficult, knowing the woman was returning to Croft's.
“You're sure you'll be all right?” Margaret asked, concerned.
“I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me.” Rose spoke brightly, but it was obvious she wasn't eager to return home, if that was what the saloon could be called.
“May I escort you to your door?” Tom offered.
Rose blinked, then responded. “You do know where I live?”
“Yes, and it would be an honor to do so.”
“Do you...?”
Tom looked abashed. “Ma’am, my intentions are strictly honorable.”
Smiling warmly, she was clearly touched by Tom’s kindness. “Thank you, yes.” She turned to Margaret. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”
Margaret nodded. “I’d like that.”
After tipping his hat to Rose, Grant lifted Margaret onto his horse. He climbed up behind her and put his arm around her, pulling her close to his chest.
Tom and Rose had already started toward town, leaving them alone. Margaret tilted her head and looked up into Grant’s eyes.
“Hello.” He smiled down into her upturned face.
“Hello.”
“I had a good time tonight, Mrs. Masterson. Did you?”
She nodded her reply. The moon was bright and shone on his face, his dark eyes the color of whiskey.
“All the time I was dancing with you, I thought about how good you feel in my arms.” He squeezed his fingers against about her waist. “I like having you close to me, Maggie.”
He lowered his head the final few inches to bring his lips to hers. It was a light kiss, his lips brushing hers so softly, almost a whisper. But even such a slight kiss made her head spin. She couldn't think straight when he held her. He acted as if she were a piece of fine china, but she wanted to be devoured as if she were the food served on it.
What was happening to her? She'd be mad at him one minute, then practically brainwashed by his kisses the next. She relied on his presence, his strength. She needed him.
I love him.
What? The revelation surprised her. She felt a heavy weight settle in her stomach, but it lifted as quickly as it came. Wonderful tingly sensations flowed through her veins. Were these feelings that came with being in love?
A smile curved to her lips.
“What are you thinking about that's got you smiling like that?” he asked as he brushed a finger along her cheek.
She was afraid to share her revelation with Grant. He couldn't love her in return. Why would he? She'd been nothing but trouble for him since they first met. What if he didn’t say he loved her in return? She didn’t know how she could handle that kind of rejection, so she kept her feelings close to her heart.
“I...liked the kiss.”
He smiled. “I'm glad. There's more where that came from. If you want.”
***
Margaret hadn’t been in Grant’s house—their house—since their wedding night. All was quiet and dark when they entered. It was stuffy, the air thick from their absence. He lit a lamp by the front door then went and opened several windows. Cool night air floated through along with the smell of roses from the neighbor’s garden. When he was done, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom.
Placing the lamp on the nightstand, he faced her. “I’ll sleep in the other room.” Taking the blanket from the foot of the bed, he walked toward the door.
“Grant.” Her voice was a mere whisper. It was now or never. He was letting her come to him. He was so handsome, so kind to her, it was difficult to resist. She wanted his hold, his touch, to lie with him and never let go. She wanted his love.
But, no. She couldn't do it. She couldn't say it, couldn't ask for him to stay, to give her what her body so desperately desired.
“Good night,” she said, meekly. Her nerves were too great. Fear had won. He nodded and closed the door silently behind him, leaving her alone, the lamplight flickering orange in the room.
***
Grant settled in to the armchair nearest the stove, pulling up a navy blue lap blanket his mother had made. He tried to get comfortable, but knew it would be impossible. The clock on the mantle reminded him of how long the night would be.
The decision was Maggie's. It had to be. He couldn’t force her to make love. The indecision showed on her face again tonight, and he knew she had almost said yes, to share more than a bed together.
Screams in the darkness woke him. Not sure if it had been minutes or hours since he’d left her, he jumped up and barged into the bedroom, practically ripping the door off of its hinges, his gun ready to shoot whatever threatened. Another scream pierced the quiet night. He moved to the bed, putting the gun on the nightstand on the way. He sat down next to her and grabbed her shoulders. Shaking her, he tried to release her from the grasp of her nightmare.<
br />
“Maggie! Maggie, wake up. It’s me.”
“Grant?” Her voice was tentative, afraid.
“Shh.” He soothed her by rubbing his hands up and down her back. Her face was sweaty when she pressed it against his cheek. Brushing back her hair from her sticky brow, he turned her face to his. With the moonlight, he was able to discern her features. Her eyes were wide with fear. “It’s all right now.”
She nodded against his chin, exhaling a pent-up breath.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“William...” She shook her head. “No, just hold me, please.”
He settled his large frame onto the bed and he pulled her into his side, his arm around her back, her head resting on his chest. He stroked her silky hair.
Hell, she’d scared him. Only now was his breath returning to normal. As his wits returned, he focused on her body pressed so perfectly against his. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to endure her soft curves. Her hair was so soft beneath his touch, he wanted to catch his fingers in it and pull her head back for a never-ending kiss.
Once again she was wearing one of his shirts, and it had never looked so sexy. A hint of shoulder teased him as the fabric hung loosely on her thin frame.
“Maggie, I—” He adjusted himself on the soft mattress, hoping a bit of distance might help his condition.
“No, don’t leave! Please stay with me.” She tightened her arms around his waist, all but pinning him in place.
“I need to get more comfortable then. Will you let me go for just a minute?”
Her chin bobbed against his chest and she loosened her death grip. Climbing from the bed, he removed his gun belt and badge in record time. Should he leave his clothes on? Hell, she was his wife and if he was going to get to sleep in his bed with her anytime soon, it was damn time he moved things along.
It took mere seconds to strip off his clothes, a large pile on the floor at his feet. Sensibilities be damned. She was seeing more of him, of any man, than she ever had. Rock hard, he must be quite a bit of an adjustment for his new bride.
The Lady and the Lawman Page 18
