Maggie Meets Her Match Page 5

  I arched an eyebrow in surprise. “You don’t know?”

  Wesley’s smile faded as he nodded. “I reckon I’ll find out soon enough, but she has a way of disappearin’ when it suits her. Pa used to whip her for it all the time.”

  “Seems like your pa,” I remarked. “Well, er, it was actually Maggie I came by to talk to you about.” I watched Wesley for a reaction, but he didn’t give me one. He stared back without moving a muscle—looked like he had inherited his pa’s poker face, too. “I was wonderin’ how you’d feel if I started comin’ by to court her?”

  Wesley barked a laugh. “I reckon Maggie’d have more to say about it than I would.”

  I furrowed my brow. “That as may be, but in my day a gentleman spoke to the guardian before he came courtin’ the young lady.”

  “Many thanks for your consideration,” he replied, still sounding amused. “I feel I have to warn you, though. Maggie isn’t what I’d call a biddable girl.” He held up a hand and hurried on before I could remark on it. “I’m not sayin’ she can’t be brought to heel, but I just thought you should know.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. I remembered one of the first times I’d been invited by Mr. Swift to come over for supper. Maggie couldn’t have been but ten or twelve at the time and I’d only caught glimpses of her here and there in the passing years. Her father had lamented about her strong-willed ways. “And a temper hotter than plantin’ season at noon to boot,” he’d added wryly.

  When Maggie had come into the room later, I could see right off what he meant. She swept in with a flurry of petticoats, her hair windblown and pulling free of her braids. Her eyes had slid over me without any interest before she’d turned her full attention to her pa. “Wesley won’t let me ride horses with him,” she’d complained, stamping her foot.

  “Why are either of you out ridin’ when there are chores to be done?” he’d asked calmly.

  “I’ve finished mine,” she said with a huff, clearly forgetting her manners.

  “Don’t get sassy with me, miss.”

  I’d hidden a smile and watched how she lowered her eyes to the floor, chastened. Even so, I could see that the fire hadn’t left her—it was evident in the way she held her body taut, her fists clenched at her sides. I’d been twenty-four at the time and I couldn’t help chuckling at her, even if I did it on the inside. She would be quite the handful for some poor fellow, one day.

  Little did I know that I wouldn’t find myself a wife in all the years that followed. I suppose I could have had my pick, but to tell it true, there wasn’t many women who could catch my eye and keep it there. And I didn’t have much patience for courting, neither. Most women wanted to be petted and praised, but I didn’t have time for the nonsense expected before marriage.

  I knew Maggie had been awful close to gettin’ married herself at one time, and while I didn’t know all the particulars of why she hadn’t, I did know that she still lived with her brothers. I’d been away from town for some time, long enough to be shocked by the news of Jonathon Swift’s death when I’d first heard of it.

  Truth was, I hadn’t given her a second thought in all that time until I’d seen her at church on Sunday. I’d been walking in when I caught sight of her out of the corner of my eye. She’d been in a hurry, her cheeks rosy and flushed, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. She’d cut a figure in her green gingham that made her seem entirely more grown than I’d allowed myself to believe. So much so that I almost hadn’t recognized her at first. I’d sat on the hard wood of the pew, unable to focus on anything the preacher said while Maggie was in the same room, three rows ahead. It was a warm summer morning without so much as the occasional breeze, yet even as I began to sweat in my Sunday best, I could swear I caught the sweet scent of her hair. Her head became about the most fascinating sight I’d ever beheld and I wasn’t the kind of man to look over-long. It had been a long time since a woman had held my interest for more than a second glance.

  When the sermon ended—which took me a few minutes to realize—I watched her slide from the pew, turning to talk with her brother. I drank in the sight of her, laughing at something he’d said. I sat frozen in my seat, even as she began to walk toward the door. When she came toward me, I almost smiled and lifted a hand in greeting, but I realized at the last moment that she probably didn’t have the faintest notion of who I was. When she walked right past me—close enough to touch—I knew then and there I had to see about Maggie Swift.

  I had waited three days; I’d intended to wait a week, until church the next Sunday, but I found myself consumed with thoughts of Maggie. As though a speck had been cleared from my eye, I suddenly saw my home with fresh eyes and saw it for what it really was—lonely, in desperate need of a woman’s caring touch, much like its owner. When I woke in the morning smelling the scent of her hair in the air, I knew it wouldn’t do to wait any longer.

  Which was why, when I stared across the table at Wesley Swift, who was waiting for my answer, I didn’t care what he had to say about his sister so long as I got permission to court her. “That serves me just fine. I’m sure Maggie and I can come to a… understanding.”

  Wesley smiled briefly, nodding before he began talking again of his crops.

  I felt myself relax and was able to enjoy the company. I jumped in with a thought or two, but mostly I stayed quiet, drinking Arbuckle with my mind turned to the future.

  * * *

  It was going on three weeks before I saw Maggie Swift at anything other than church. I’d rode out to her place twice, only to find the woman in question missing. Her brother had thought it wise to let me tell Maggie of my intentions and I’d agreed. At least, I had until I’d rode all that way for nothing. At the end of every hard week, she was my reward: a dark-haired vision in muslin cloth. I’d thought once I’d spoken with Wesley she wouldn’t stay so constantly in my thoughts, but if anything, my preoccupation worsened. It didn’t help matters none that I couldn’t see the girl for myself. Truth be told, I felt as lovesick as a schoolgirl and I couldn’t say I liked it none.

  As it happened, I’d managed a run-in with Maggie when I’d gone into town for some supplies to secure the barn door. When I’d caught sight of her, walking powerful fast through town without a word to anybody, I’d nudged my horse to follow after her. She’d stopped just outside the saloon; from where I sat, I could hear the lively music and bawdy jests spilling out the door. It was no place for a lady—I’d been in a few myself a time or two, and I knew that only one sort frequented a place like that, so I’d called out to her.

  The minute she turned those beautiful blue eyes on me, I’d felt something within me stirring to life that had more to do with my cock. Yes, there was something about her, something I couldn’t quite put a finger on that excited me. She’d looked up, her hand on the wide brim of her hat and her lips—those beautiful, lush lips—parted; her eyes sparkled like jewels in the light of the sun. She was much prettier than I’d thought.

  From the moment I’d dismounted to walk with her, I’d wondered if my cause wasn’t already lost. Her lilting voice and the sweet smell of her hair pulled me in deeper, into a place where I believed myself to already be twined around her pretty little finger. If she could manage that so quick, without even a sweet word between us, might be I’d have a harder time getting her obedience than I’d originally thought.

  Maybe she was more biddable than her brother knew, I’d mused, offering her a ride on my stallion. It didn’t take long for that notion to wear off. She’d out and out lied when she’d accepted a ride from me, assuring me that her brother wouldn’t care when she left town. I’d realized the truth soon enough, when I’d saw the way she tensed as her brother stalked over to her like an angry cat. Once Wesley had been informed of the goings-on, it was clear that she would be punished. I’d taken one look at her wide-eyed, panic-stricken face and my heart had gone out to her. Still, I’d stepped in and offered to take care of what needed to be done.

  Even though I’d told
her of my intentions before spanking her, I’d thought she might be cool to me afterward, but she had apologized sweetly and let me wipe the tears from her cheeks. When we’d walked back to the house after her switching, Wesley invited me to stay for supper, which was how I found myself sitting across from Maggie, trying to pay attention to the conversation going on around me. Trent had been married that afternoon and was telling Wesley about the goings-on in town while his new wife looked at him, her face shiny with adoration that a blind man could see.

  What would it be like to have a woman look at me like that? I snuck a glance at Maggie and saw that she was preoccupied, too. I wondered if there was more to it than having a sore behind. Would she ever look at me like that? Almost as though she had felt my eyes on her, she looked up, briefly meeting my gaze. No sooner than her eyes had met mine, she dropped them demurely down to her plate. A slow, red flush crept along her tanned skin and seeing it made my heart leap with hope. She might just like me after all.

  “Maggie, can you pass the greens, please?” I asked, just to have a reason to talk to her, a reason to see those beautiful pink cheeks.

  She kept her head lowered as she reached for the bowl and passed it to me across the table, but when her hand brushed mine, her eyes shot up toward my face. I could see them wide with wonder and I smiled, trying to tell her that I felt the spark between us just as keenly. If possible, her cheeks colored even more, but not before I noticed the smile on her lips.

  Before I could think on it further, or find another reason to touch her, Wesley pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, clearing his throat to catch everyone’s attention. Only when all eyes were on him—with the exception of Maggie, who kept her head bowed demurely, afraid to risk catching my eye again, I thought—did he speak.

  “I wanted to officially welcome Abigail to the family. For years, I wondered if Trent would ever settle down and find himself a wife. I’ve long since despaired of ever havin’ another female in the house, but now that you’re here, I can see it was worth the wait.” He winked at her, and Abigail turned red to the very roots of her hair.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maggie lean toward her and pat her hand, making the embarrassed girl smile. She could be tender when she had a mind to, I mused. It was a nice change from the sharp tongue she’d showed me earlier.

  “You’ve made my brother very happy and if for no other reason, we all love you for that.” Wesley leaned down and gave Abigail a great big bear hug and a loud kiss on her cheek, much to the delight of the room, which erupted into laughter.

  I grinned along with them, happy to be included. It’d been too long since I’d seen my family or sat down for a home-cooked meal. It’d been too long since I’d had any form of decent company and in the midst of their laughter, I felt myself relaxing.

  “Maggie?” Wesley prompted, giving me a reason to turn toward her.

  She rose obediently and walked out of the room. When she returned moments later, she was carrying a big, frosted cake that she set gently on the table.

  “Oh, Maggie!” Abigail exclaimed. “Why, it’s beautiful! Did you make this?”

  “Yes, it’s a recipe of my mother’s,” she replied, beaming with pride.

  “Why, it’s beautiful, there isn’t another word for it!”

  “Ought to be,” Wesley drawled. “She used about two bags of white sugar on it.”

  Maggie reached over and playfully smacked his arm. “All well worth it to see the look on your face, Abby.”

  “Well, thank you very much. You’ve all made me feel very welcome.” She smiled radiantly at the room, her eyes shiny with happy tears.

  Trent stood up and walked toward his brother, clasping his hand in a firm handshake before he began to cut thick slices of cake for all of us. From the first bite, the sugar coated my tongue and made me close my eyes in pleasure. If nothing else, Maggie Swift was one hell of a cook. As we ate, some of the tension seemed to ease from the room and before long, we were all joking and laughing as though we’d done it many times before. I ate slowly, savoring the treat and enjoying the teasing banter. More than one reference was made to the wedding night and Abby blushed crimson, to the women’s delight.

  Maggie looked up from her plate, her eyes lit with laughter, and caught my gaze. When I looked at her, something coursed between us, and I found myself smiling. When she smiled in return, I felt it was safe to ask for a private word.

  I waited until everyone had finished eating and while the girls were carrying plates to the kitchen, I walked over to Wesley. “Would it be alright if I had a word with your sister?”

  “You mean to say she’s still speakin’ to you after the hiding you gave her?” He grinned easily. “Suit yourself, but I’ll be the first to tell you, she bites.”

  “I’d almost forgotten that!” Trent crowed, laughing.

  “What’s all this?” Maggie asked, coming from the kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron.

  “We were just tellin’ Clay here—”

  “Nothing, Mags,” Wesley interjected.

  “Would you care for a little fresh air?” I asked her.

  She glanced at the floor and then back at me. “Yes, please. Let me just finish the—”

  “You go on, Maggie,” Abigail said, nudging her. “Libby and I can handle things here, isn’t that right?”

  Libby’s reply was muffled and it was with a grateful grin that Maggie untied her apron and handed it to her new sister. When she walked toward me, her face was so radiant it nearly knocked me off my feet.

  “I’ll have her back before sundown,” I promised, offering her my arm. I couldn’t fail to notice how easily her hand fit tucked into the crook of my arm.

  The minute we were out the door, Maggie raised her head and said, “Fine weather we’re having today.” She said it a little loud, which is when I realized that she was nervous.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “What?” There it was, in the way her voice caught slightly, the small tremor in her lip.

  “C’mon, Maggie. No more lies between us, alright?”

  Her cheeks pinked at my words. “I don’t know rightly what you mean.”

  “If something’s the matter, I’d rather you just tell me then expect me to guess. I’m no good at guessin’, darlin’.” I looked to her, but she was staring at the ground as she walked. “Alright, let me have a stab at it. Do you not want me to call on you?”

  “What?” she asked again, stopping short. “Why would you say that?”

  I stopped in front of her and dropped my arm to hold her hand. “I told you, I’m no good at guessin’. You’ll have to tell me what’s eatin’ at you, or keep it to yourself,” I said, not unkindly.

  “It’s… I do, still want you to come. If you want to.”

  I raised both my eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know, I just thought maybe, since…”

  The color flushed up her neck, deepening the spots on her cheeks. Only in the face of her obvious embarrassment did I understand. “Ah. You mean because of the switchin’?”

  Clearly miserable, she bobbed her head.

  “Oh, I’m not overly worried about that, Maggie. You seem sweet enough now.”

  When she peeked up through her long lashes, I could tell she was looking to see if I was pokin’ fun. I gave her a warm smile to reassure her and darned if it didn’t entice her to one of her own. My, but she was a beauty when she smiled. Though come to think of it, I’d found her mighty pretty even when she was crying. When her smile widened, I felt my body responding to her, wanting her more with each passing second.

  “Let’s keep walkin’,” I suggested, eager to get moving before she could notice the effect her smiles had on me.

  * * *

  When I came back into the house after bidding Clay goodbye, I found Abby still in the kitchen. I joined her and watched as she tidied up.

  “Just tryin’ to familiarize myself,” she said, smiling when she caught sight
of me.

  “Of course.” I watched as she wiped the counter that was already gleaming. It looked like she’d organized our dry goods, too. She was trying to keep busy and it didn’t have a lick to do with familiarizing herself, unless I missed my guess. “Are you alright, Abby?”

  “Oh, yes,” she chirped happily, even though her large brown eyes showed doubts lurking in their depths. “Fine, thank you for asking.” She began to put the dishes up in the cupboards and I stepped over to help her. We worked in silence until the task was done, at which point she turned around, eyes searching for something else to do.

  “You can go on to bed,” I said gently. “I can take care of things from here, not that there looks like much left to do.”

  “I was thinking,” she said, her voice over-bright. “I had a word with Libby and she says this is your kitchen, but I was hopin’ to pitch in. Maybe breakfast tomorrow?”

  So that was it. If she got stuff ready for breakfast now, it would take her well over an hour and we both knew it.

  “How would Trent feel about that?” I asked, my voice still soft. “It is your wedding night, after all.”

  “Did you enjoy your walk with Clayborn?” she asked, neatly sidestepping my question. “He’s a fine-looking man.”

  I drew back in surprise, mouth agape. I hadn’t took Abigail for the teasing kind. “Why, Abigail, you can’t be looking for another beau so soon!” I scolded. “You’ve only just married my brother.”

  She giggled at me and I couldn’t help but smile back. When I’d first clapped eyes on Abigail, I hadn’t thought her remarkably pretty. She had hair the color of dark straw, warm brown eyes and a smattering of freckles on her nose. When she smiled, though, her face changed and transformed her. Her sweet, innocent demeanor also lent her a glow of inner beauty that couldn’t be matched.

  It felt nice to have someone to poke fun with. It had been so long since I’d had another woman to poke fun at—though Libby had been my sister-in-law for over a year, we tolerated each other reluctantly, because we knew that to do otherwise wouldn’t be stood for. It had been a while since I’d had someone else offer to help me with chores, too. Even though I’d found her sweet at first meeting, the more I knew about her the more I found myself feeling grateful that she’d been the one to marry my brother. Maybe we’d find some peace in this house at last.