The Lady and the Lawman (28 page)

Maggie
was mussed and flour-dusted. She was quite a sight, beside herself
with frustration. She’d ruined breakfast and practically burned the
house down.

“
I'm
sorry. I didn't mean to burn breakfast. I really didn’t.” Maggie
took a step back from Grant, looked down at her pants.

“
What
were you doing, trying to burn the house down?” Grant shouted,
running his hands through his hair.

“
No,
of course not,” she replied, as she tried to brush flour off the
material. She sounded hurt by his admonishing, but he didn’t care.

“
Can
you even cook?” he asked. It was impossible to keep the frustration
out of his voice. Did she have any idea how much she'd scared him?

She
could only shake her head. “I’m sure you’re hungry, so I’ll
try something else.”

“
Oh,
no you won't!” Grant said gruffly.

She
shrunk back away from him and covered her hands over her face.
“Please, I said I was sorry,” she pleaded. “Please don’t hit
me!”

Grant
froze in place. A sickness churned in his gut at the realization
Maggie was desperately afraid of him.

Afraid
he would hit her.

“
Oh,
God.” He stepped back away from her hoping some distance would
help. “Maggie, look at me.” He hoped his voice sounded calmer
than he felt.

He
waited for her to lift her head. When she did, his eyes met hers,
misty with unshed tears.

“
I’m
not going to hit you. Only bastards like Hunt hit women.”

“
He
would never hurt you, Margaret,” Tom added, his voice soft gentle.

“
Yes,
yes you're right,” she replied, a tear sliding down her pale cheek.
She was stating it as if it was fact. Her actions made him believe
it.

Hunt—and
the bastard who tried to kill her—had done this to her, to make her
cower away from people. He was going to kill Hunt. Badge or not.

He
stepped toward her this time, held his hands out in front, palms out.
“No one’s going to hurt you anymore. You’re safe.”

Maggie
must have believed him. She nodded her head but didn’t retreat.
Like a skittish colt, he approached her slowly. Finally, he pulled
her into his arms then placed her head on his shoulder.

He'd
been so blinded by the fact she might have been hurt, he hadn't
realized he’d yelled at her. Now, the urge to protect her, to keep
her safe was stronger than ever.

“
Tom,
any eggs from the hens today?” Grant asked, looking to his brother
over the top of her head.

Tom
nodded and left them out on the porch.

After
a few minutes, Grant pulled back and looked into Maggie’s eyes. He
wiped the remnants of her tears from her cheeks. “I might sound
like a bear poked with a stick most of the time, but you should know
I would never hurt you.”

She
flushed and tried to step away. He loosened his hold and let her.

“
Let's
get this kitchen aired out,” he said, hoping to let the seriousness
pass.

She
returned to brushing her pants. Grant could tell she was trying not
to cry. He tilted her head up with his fingers, her eyes shimmering
with unshed tears.

“
Why
didn't you tell me you couldn't cook?” The harsh tone was gone from
his voice, replaced by concern.

“
I
was afraid.”

“
Afraid
of what?”

“
Afraid
you’d leave me again if you found out.”

“
I’m
still here, aren’t I?” His thumb moved back and forth along her
cheek.

“
Yes.”

“
Well,
to be fair, I should probably tell you some of my faults, being your
husband and all.”

A
smile hinted at the corner of her mouth.

“
I’m
not very good at tempering my anger, and it seems my social skills
need a bit of work,” he offered.

“
I’ll
agree with that,” Maggie said timidly.

“
Maggie,
I don't care if you don't know how to cook. I do care if you burn
Tom's house down. I'm sorry I yelled, but when we saw the smoke, I
was afraid you were hurt.”

Her
mouth dropped open so he could see a straight row of white teeth
tucked behind her full lower lip. She was clearly surprised by his
admission. “I'm sorry I ruined breakfast. It won't happen again.”

“
That’s
right, because I'm hiring a cook. I’ll promise you something. No
one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

She
smiled, apparently believing him.

“
Except
for me,” he added as his thumb grazed her cheek. “And I promise
you won't want me to stop once I start.”

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Grant
kept his promise, holding her as they rested in his childhood bed,
like two spoons tucked together. He did nothing more than kiss her
nape,
holding her s
afely
and securely. She slept dreamlessly until he woke her to get ready
for the town's Fourth of July picnic. When he left her to get ready,
he'd said, “Later.” Just that one word, but it held a night full
of promise.

Margaret,
Grant and Tom rode into town after six, by then the festivities
already in full swing. This was her first social event, the first one
married to Grant. A bit nervous, sh
e
touched her mottled skin at her neck,
hidden
beneath the high collar. With her hair flowing down her back and tied
loosely with a ribbon, she felt confident the damage was hidden.

Even
though she’d met several of the townspeople already, Mr. Hodges,
Mrs. Daley and Miss Lorena, it was a bit daunting, not sure what they
and the others knew of her or how Grant had come to find her. If the
ladies of Cranston knew she had walked the halls of Croft’s as a
working girl, even if just for a few hours, they would probably steer
their children around her with a wide berth. And what about the men?
What if they recognized her?

Long
tables had been set up and were covered with meats of all kind as
well as fresh breads, potato salad and watermelon. The events were
behind the large white church where Grant and Maggie were married.
Its tall spire could be seen from all directions and was a beacon to
those lost on the prairie.

In
the building’s shadow stretched an expansive grassland as far as
the eye could see. A large creek ran nearby, with aged and weathered
cottonwood trees dotting the water’s edge. A warm early evening
breeze rustled the green leaves. People relaxed on handmade quilts in
the open grass and others found comfort in the shade.

Squeals
of delight could be heard from children splashing in the cool water.
Although it held no interest to her after her harrowing whitewater
dip, she was pleased they were enjoying themselves. She wasn’t sure
if water would ever look appealing again after her escape from the
kidnapper down the cold rapids.

Meandering
toward the shaded area, Grant and Margaret were stopped every few
feet for congratulations and well wishes on their marriage. Since
she was new to town, he made introductions while inventing a
plausible love story. By the time they reached their blanket, their
love-at-first-sight tale was known by everyone in town.

She
sat down with Tom, their picnic dinner spread out and waiting. She
tidied her skirts—one of the ready-made ones Mrs. Daley had
provided—about her and sighed, smiling to herself. She reveled in a
moment of peace and quiet from the throng of good tidings. The
townspeople were warm and welcoming, much to her relief. Her earlier
hesitations had been girlish fears. Grant had been kind and
attentive, keeping her close to his side as he introduced her to her
new neighbors. It was clear Grant was a pillar of the community, and
she was accepted so generously because he was her husband. Basking in
their reassurance, she was now even more pleased than ever to be
married to Grant.

She
belonged here. It was a new feeling and one she savored.

It
was much cooler in the shade, so she placed her straw hat on the
blanket beside her. She'd been glad to see in the mirror earlier that
the sunburn on her face had faded to a golden tan, bringing out new
freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Her
pale, creamy complexion was a lost cause, making her sigh once again.

Grant
lowered next to her on the blanket and dug into Tom's cooking with
relish. “’Bout time we ate. I’m starved.”

As
the sun lowered in the sky, the trio relaxed and talked with their
neighbors until the dancing started.

Mothers
put their weary children, worn out from an afternoon of play and
food, to sleep on their blankets.

Darkness
descended and the lively music started, the sounds of a fiddle and an
accordion drifting across the warm breeze.

Grant
stood and held out his hand to Margaret. She looked up into his eyes.
Did they always have little flecks of gold? He was the most handsome
man she’d ever seen, even more so as the days passed. His skin had
browned from spending time in the saddle, hunting for her. He’d
rescued her twice now, proving a man could—would—be there for
her. To help her, to protect her.

What
had she been thinking all this time? Of course he wanted her,
otherwise he wouldn’t have gone after her and saved her from that
lunatic. He wanted her in his bed, that too was now obvious from the
passionate way he’d held and kissed her in the line shack. Then
there were the tender touches during their nap. His eyes sparkled and
his mouth crinkled at the corners with happiness as he waited to take
her hand.

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.