Man of Her Dreams (19 page)

Oh, well, she thought, looking like a bag lady was another good reason for her to sneak into the house without letting anyone see her. Her emotions were rubbed raw. The last thing she wanted was to come within fifty feet of another human being—especially one that might ask personal questions.

In the safety of her room Maggie let the tears come. She pulled off the shirt she had borrowed from Ry and curled up on the bed sobbing into the soft, worn flannel until exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep only to dream of the man she loved but would never have.

TEN

“Y
OU CALL THAT
a grooming job? Cripes, I've seen horses come out of dust storms with better looking coats than that!” Ry barked at the young groom.

The groom, a slight young man with a shock of spiky wheat-colored hair, jumped back a step from his employer. Behind him, the horse with the controversial coat snorted and rolled his eyes. Dancing nervously in the cross ties, the chestnut's shoes scraped against the cement floor.

Ry snatched the brush out of the groom's hands and shook it at him. “Do it again. If that horse ain't shining like a bald man's head on a hot July day by the time I come back, so help me, I'll sweep the floor with you.”

“Yessir!”

“You'll be mucking out stalls until the Second Coming. You got that?”

“Yessir!”

“I believe,” a soft low voice drawled behind Ry, “that beating stable hands is against the law in the commonwealth of Virginia.”

Ry let out a pent-up breath and forced his shoulders to relax. He handed the brush back to the groom, then turned to look down at his little sister. Katie stared up at him with her pewter-gray eyes, her fists propped on her slim hips. Her expression was a complex mix of emotions—love, concern, reproach, gentle teasing.

“Hi, princess,” he said. He brushed a kiss across her cheek and walked out of the barn. Katie fell in step beside him, her flowered skirt swirling softly around her legs as they walked. Ry glanced at his sister from the corner of his eye. “I wasn't gonna beat him,” he said dryly. “Maybe just shake him some by the scruff of his neck.”

Katie shook her head. The end of her chestnut braid twitched above her waist as she climbed the stairs to the front porch. “So Christian wasn't exaggerating. He stopped in the restaurant the other day when Nick and I were having lunch and told us you were terrorizing the hired help.”

Ry scowled, as he held the front door open for her. “I pay him to ride horses, not to be the damn town crier.”

“You ought to pay him for being your friend,” Katie said sarcastically. “The men who follow the elephants in parades have a more enjoyable job.”

His dour look was wasted on the back of her head as she preceded him into the den. She didn't take a seat on any of the sturdy chairs but wandered the room that was filled with trophies, many of which she had won before her accident.

“Did you drive all the way out here to tell me I have a lousy disposition?” Ry asked. Going to the long table that stood behind the sofa, he picked up a nutcracker and played with it absently.

“No,” Katie said. “That's hardly a news flash. Is there some reason I can't visit my family home on a Saturday afternoon and spend some time with my only brother?”

He knew exactly why she had come and thought it best to head her off at the pass. “Katie, if you're here to talk about Maggie and me—”

“Why would I be here to talk about you and Maggie?” One delicately arched brow winged upward in sardonic question. “Just because she's wasting away with a broken heart, and you're fit to kill somebody?”

“I've got plenty of reason to be on a short fuse these days.”

“Yes.” She sighed and perched herself on the arm of the sofa. “I know you do. How's Cutter?”

“Better. He's still weak…still worthless. Nothing's going to change that.”

“You'll keep him though, won't you?” It was more a statement than a question.

“You know he's more than earned a retirement home here.”

“Yes, he has, but not everyone would see it that way.”

“I'm not everyone.”

“That's for sure. You're definitely one of a kind, big brother.” Katie's soft husky laugh faded along with her smile. “I love you. I hate to see people I love in pain.”

Ry put the nutcracker down and walked to the window with his back to his sister. “Katie, don't start this.”

In his mind's eye he could see the sad smile that curved her wide mouth when she spoke.

“We've had this conversation before, haven't we? This is the other side of the coin, I guess.”

He remembered the scene she was recalling. He had gone to her house and practically bullied her into going to see Nick when she had wanted to end their relationship. He had been all full of big talk that day, telling Katie she was pushing happiness away, that she was being a coward.

“I reckon you owe me an earful after that, don't you?” he said with a rueful twist to his lips.

“I want to see you happy, Ry.”

“I'm doing okay.”

Katie raised his eyebrows with a two-syllable opinion of his statement. “You're miserable and making everyone who works for you miserable too. It's a wonder they haven't all quit. Why are you doing this to yourself, to Maggie? She loves you. Ry.”

He turned to face her, calling up the argument he had used on Maggie, the one he had used on himself at least twice a day since she'd left. “I made her promises I can't keep, Katie.”

“That's a load, brother. She loves you. She doesn't care if you're a prince or a pauper.”

“Maybe today she doesn't. Maybe today she thinks it would be romantic to marry me and be in hock up to her ears, but what about tomorrow or next year or the year after that?” he asked, emotion raising his voice.

Backing off, he turned and slowly paced back and forth in front of one of the trophy shelves, his big hands hitched to the waistband of his worn jeans. “I had my shot at putting this farm on top, and now it's back in the hole, I practically have to start over again. You know as well as I do, a horse like Rough Cut comes along once in a lifetime, if you're lucky. I've had my luck, and now it's run out.” Finally he gave voice to the fear that had stayed buried in his heart all these years. His voice trembled with the emotion it took to release the thought. “What's to keep Maggie from doing the same?”

Katie's eyes were full of compassion and empathy. “She's not Mama, Ry,” she said softly. “Christian told me Maggie stayed out in the barn with you day and night when Cutter was sick. Do you think Mama would have done that? She hated this place. I can't remember her ever setting foot in the stables. Christian told me Maggie got down on her hands and knees in that filthy stall and helped you take care of that sick horse.”

He gave her a black look. “He's a regular gosh darn fountain of information, isn't he? Didn't Mary Margaret tell you all that herself?”

“No,” Katie said softly, holding his gaze with a very serious look. “Maggie hasn't had a lot to say the last few weeks.”

The pain that statement caused him was surprisingly sharp, so sharp it stopped him in his tracks directly in front of Katie. Mary Margaret always bounced back. How many times over the last few weeks had he pictured her tilting her head and batting her lashes at some other man? He had never pictured her suffering, probably because he couldn't bear the thought of her tears.

Katie went on. “Not even you are cynical enough to believe she did all that because she expected to get some kind of payback.”

“No, I guess I'm not,” he murmured. That kind of cynicism had protected him once. It had allowed him to hold his emotions in check and keep his heart out of reach. Acknowledging his love for Maggie had taken that shield away from him. No matter how hard he'd tried over the last weeks, he hadn't quite been able to pull it back into place.

“Ry,” Katie said, catching his hand and holding it tight. “You once told me that I was letting the past control my life. Aren't you doing the same?”

His jaw clenched as he looked away from her.

“You told me to take a chance on happiness. Why don't you?”

Because I'm terrified,
he admitted to himself. Because every time he had taken a chance in the past he had ended up getting hurt. Because he had decided a long time ago it was better to be alone than hurting.

He had built a nice safe life on the farm, giving his love to his animals because they never tried to throw it back at him. He had been fool enough to think he could add Maggie to that life without risking anything. Now he was facing the threat he had vowed never to face again, and it scared the living hell out of him. He was a big, tough man, a man who feared very few things, but this had him shaking right down to his soul.

“I won't give her my heart then watch her walk away with it.”

“Haven't you done that already?”

He turned and walked to the window again and stared out at the blue mountains that rose to the west. Katie was right. He had ended the relationship before Maggie had a chance to, but it had already been too late. He had given her his heart, then driven her away. Now he was only half alive, lashing out in pain at everyone around him. He was such miserable company, even the stray dogs avoided him these days.

“Rylan, Maggie has stuck with you through all the grief you've given her the past three months. She'll probably stick with you through anything,” Katie said. “So you're not going to be rich now. Wouldn't you rather know she was staying with you out of love? Money runs out, Ry, love never does.”

“It has before,” he said in a low, hoarse voice. “More than once.”

“No, not real love. There are lots of imitations, and they never last, but Maggie loves you. The real thing, big brother. Wouldn't you rather take a chance on that than live in this big old house all alone for the rest of your life? Being safe has its good points, but you and I both know it can get lonely living behind the walls we build to protect our hearts.”

When he felt his sister's arms slip around his waist, Ry turned and hugged her, startled as always by how tiny and fragile she was but not startled in the least by how much he loved her.

“Think about it,” she said, looking up at him. “I have to go. As you may have guessed, I only came out here to browbeat you. I would have come out sooner, but I've been too involved in my research.”

“Historical details for one of your houses?” he asked as he walked her to the door.

“No. Adoption details.”

He couldn't have been more surprised. Katie's inability to give Nick children had nearly put an end to their relationship. She almost had let him go because of it, and because she had been afraid to face the option open to her.

“It scares the heck out of me,” she said with a little laugh as she stepped out onto the porch, “but I at least need to check into it, if for no other reason than to prove I'm not going to let the past rule my future.”

“What does Nick have to say about it?”

She smiled with all the warmth that was in her heart at the mention of her husband. “He'll stick by me one way or the other. That's what love's all about, Ry. Take it from me, it's pretty terrific.”

He watched Katie drive out of the yard just as it started to rain. Staring out at the deserted yard, he stood in the doorway listening to the lonely sound of rain on the tin roof of the porch. Finally he turned and went back into the dark, silent house and wandered from room to room until he reached his own bedroom, the room he had shared with Maggie, the room he had lain awake in night after night since she'd left.

The day she'd gone he had searched through the closet and removed all the clothes and shoes she'd left behind—the blouses and slacks she had hung beside his shirts and jeans, the tiny sneakers and leather flats she had lined up beside his size thirteen cowboy boots. He had rummaged through the cupboard in the bathroom, removing every toiletry article that belonged to her—the bottles and tubes of makeup, the flowery-scented bath powder she liked, the pink-handled razor she had placed on the shelf beside his shaving gear. He had packed up everything and sent a groom to Poplar Grove to deliver the stuff.

Even so, he was still finding remnants of Maggie—a lace-trimmed anklet in with his athletic socks, a barrette forgotten on the nightstand, a frilly garter belt that had somehow found its way under the bed. Every time he found a little reminder of her it was like catching a glimpse of her in a crowd, then losing her again. Lord, he missed her. How empty the house was with her gone and only the faint memory of her perfume lingering in the air.

Passion's Promise. He wandered to his dresser and picked up the tiny cut-glass bottle of perfume he had found tucked behind his aftershave. Maggie was full of passion. So was he when he was with her. Without her he felt old and empty, like this house.

This old house had seen so little happiness over the years. Then, for a few short days it had been filled with passion's promise, the promise of love and laughter and the ring of children's voices. A promise unfulfilled. A promise that was still within his reach if only he dared take the chance.

Did he dare risk his heart? Hell, he'd already done that. Did he want Mary Margaret McSwain to share his life? Damn right, he did. She was the only woman he'd ever wanted to share his future with. Maybe that future wasn't as bright as it had been a few weeks ago, but it wasn't exactly bleak either. Maggie had seen that. He could hear her talking about the directions they could go with the farm now that Rough Cut was out of the picture. She had been willing to stick with him, even though he hadn't believed in her at the time.

Maggie McSwain was one hell of a lady. She was the lady he loved, the lady he wanted, needed, had to have by his side for the rest of his life.

Then what was he doing standing around gawking like a half-wit? He had plans to make, things to do, people to see.

Resolve straightened him to his full height. It hardened his expression and curled his big hands into fists—one of which automatically squeezed the atomizer of the perfume bottle he was holding, sending a cloud of Passion's Promise across his massive chest.

Scowling, Ry looked down and sniffed as the stuff soaked into his shirt and skin. “Well, hell.”