Chasing the Sunset

chapter SIX



Maggie sat utterly still, hardly breathing, her gaze riveted on the scene before her. She had gone for a walk just after Nick and Tommy’s bout with yellow fever, and had found this fox den with their out-of-season litter of kittens. She had needed the solitude that day, and Tommy was well enough to leave alone for a little while, so she had wandered the woods alone and had almost fallen into the fox den. She had sat here for an hour that first day, entranced, and she had come here every day since then.

It had been more than a month since the community’s bout with the yellow jack, and it seemed every household had been hit in some way or other. The quarantine was now over; everything could go back to normal now.

Doctor Fell had been quick with the quarantine and that had surely saved lives, but it had been bad enough, anyway. Two of the men who worked for Nick had died, one along with his two children, leaving only a grieving widow. Ned had told her that the woman was going back to her family in St. Louis. Kathleen’s family had been left untouched, but one of the neighboring farms had lost half their slave population. Kathleen had told Maggie, her full mouth pulled into a tight line of fury, that the owners had left the slaves who were sick untended, and quarantined themselves with only a few house servants. Nearly one hundred slaves had died, some of them just from pure neglect. Maggie had a hard time understanding that; how could you just not care about so many people dying? Kathleen told her it was because the slave owners thought of their slaves as cattle. It was a tragedy to lose so much livestock, but it never touched their heart, only their bank balance.

The fox den was in the side of what appeared to be a dried up river bank. Maggie sat on the opposite edge of the bank, hidden partially by foliage, seated on the stump from a long-dead tree. The foxes had become used to her smell, she thought. At first, they had run back into their den whenever the wind would shift and they caught scent of her, the mother fox giving one sharp bark and the kittens running quickly into the den. Now, even when the wind turned and they caught her scent, like now, they stayed out of the den and continued playing.

She hoped that the kits would survive the winter; most foxes were born in the spring and were nearly grown by the time winter came again. She smiled at the antics of the two red fox kittens as they hissed and mock-fought over a stick. Their mother lolled on the ground, not far from where they, seemed not to pay the least bit of attention to the kits. They rolled over and over, growling and batting at each other. One of them finally gained possession of the stick and ran to barricade itself in a natural hollow in a nearby tree. It gnawed on the stick complacently while the other kitten stalked a grasshopper instead. After a while, the kitten with the stick grew bored, and came out to try and take the grasshopper away from the other.

“That stick must not have tasted as good as he thought,” said a quiet, slow voice from behind her.

Maggie gave a small scream, jumped to her feet and whirled around, her heart beating furiously in her chest. The kittens rushed for the den with their mother right behind, her indolent pose just a pose after all.

A man who seemed as big as a mountain stood behind her, one brawny hand resting on a carved wooden cane. He was wearing buff-colored breeches that clung to his heavily muscled thighs and a fringed leather shirt that fit like a glove to his massive chest. His pants were tucked

into form-fitting boots of soft leather that came nearly to his knees. Maggie had never seen boots like these before; they were elaborately beaded and decorated with some kind of painted symbols.

Maggie studied him unabashedly, and he stood waiting patiently while she did so. Something about his pose relieved most of her fear, though she was still watchful. Her gaze traveled up to his brown face and she caught her breath. A wicked scar bisected the right side from his ear to just above his mouth. The scar was obviously an old one; it was whitish and flat, not the angry red of a new injury.

His hair was a flat black and fell straight to his collar, a little longer than she was used to seeing men wear their hair. He had a high forehead, and broad, rather flat cheekbones with a nose that looked like the curved edge of a scimitar, a pronounced, firm chin . . . and a lush mouth that made one think of sin and seemed out of place in that hard face. Until one looked at those eyes, of course. They were crystal blue and piercing . . . and the kindest eyes Maggie had ever seen. His eyes spoke to her. They stared into each other’s eyes, crystal blue to emerald green, and as suddenly as that they were friends. Maggie knew beyond certainty that this man would not hurt her, not ever, and that he would be her friend forever.

“Maggie,” she said, holding out her hand. The hand not holding the cane engulfed hers in a gentle, firm grip.

“Duncan,” he said in a deep, rumbly voice. “Duncan Murdoch.”

Her gaze traveled over him again. “Nice to meet you,” she said with a saucy grin and a toss of her head. “Never seen a man as big as you before.”

His chest shook, and it was a second before Maggie realized that he was laughing without sound.

“I live over there, at Revelle’s.” She pointed in the general direction of the farm.

“Horses, right?”

Maggie nodded. “I am the housekeeper. Nick Revelle owns the farm, and my Uncle Ned is the head stableman.” She sat herself comfortably down on the ground, spread her skirts around her, and patted the stump for him to sit on. “This will be easier for you to get up from,” she said, eyeing the carved cane. He sat easily, and she chattered on as naturally as if they had been friends for years. He listened as intently to her nattering on as if she were telling him the secret to Life.

“My friend Kathleen works there, too. She is about my age, and she is the only friend I have had for years . . .”

Duncan and Maggie met often in the forest after that. Sometimes she would take a walk and he would just show up; one minute there was no-one, and the next he was there. He often left as silently as he showed up. Maggie would be in the middle of a sentence, turn to ask him something, and he would be gone. Maggie got used to his silent comings and goings. She hardly even turned a hair at them anymore. She never asked him about himself, or what he was doing here. She sensed instinctively that he would eventually tell her all she wanted to know, without questions. hey talked of more important things than that, anyway. Duncan was surprisingly well-read, and something of an intellectual, and he and Maggie had lively discussions on everything from Plato to the fall of the Roman Empire.

“They had all those things,” he had said quietly in that voice of his that seemed to come from the bottom of his chest, getting deeper and darker the farther it came. “But they did not really understand what was important. They forgot about love, and dignity, and worshiped at the altar of greed and sensation instead.”

It was in a moment of accord just like that Nick found them. He had come seeking Maggie over some inconsequential thing; he refused to admit even to himself that the reason he had sought Maggie out was just to be near her. Maggie was sitting on the banks of the river, her legs bared and kicking at the sparkling water. She had leaned back on her arms and was laughing delightedly at something a big, handsome man was saying to her. The man was obviously part Indian, Nick could tell that from here. A friend of his father’s had been Cherokee, and Nick recognized some of the facial features that Indians have in common. That nose was a dead giveaway, as was the straight black hair.

A ray of sunlight struck on the shiny mass of Maggie’s disordered hair and played over the beautiful contours of her face as she smiled tenderly into the big man’s face. Nick’s hand clenched on the bush he was holding out of the way. Maggie was chattering like a magpie, in the bright happy way that she had up to this point reserved for him alone. Nick’s heart twisted in his chest. When pain struck him and he put his hand there, he realized that he was holding his breath and let it out in a slow exhalation.

"And I cannot find my mother’s brooch anywhere. I cannot believe that I would be so careless. I kept it all this time . . .”

“We have company,” he heard the man say clearly as he looked right at the place where Nick stood, and Maggie turned her head toward him and scrambled up from the bank. Undiluted delight spread across her features, and Nick marveled at her, at what an actress she was, as all women were.

“Nick,” she cried. “Come and meet Duncan! He has got the most interesting stories.”

Nick stepped through the brush, letting it snap behind him. His brows drew together and he eyed the big man aggressively.

“Nick Revelle,” he said curtly, staring down at the seated man. “And you?”

The man stood up, and Nick realized that the man was crippled. He struggled upright with the use of a carved cane, and Nick felt guilt for his bad manners that vanished quickly as he took in the way that the other man’s shoulders stretched the material of his plain broadcloth shirt.

“Duncan Murdoch,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on Nick’s face. Now that he was standing, he towered over Nick by at least a full head and Nick wished sullenly that he had noticed the cane earlier so that he could insist that the other man stay seated. He felt another upsurge of guilt, and felt blood flood his face at his spitefulness. His mother would have smacked his ears sharply by now if she were here.

Nick realized now who the big man was, and he knew in his heart what was really making him act this way. Duncan Murdoch obviously found Maggie attractive and it was clear that she returned his regard. That was what was making him so churlish. Besides, wasn’t this what he said that he wanted? For Maggie to find someone else?

“You are Doctor Fell’s new partner,” he said quietly.

Maggie looked on in amazement. Her eyebrows shot up nearly into her hairline.

“You are what?” she said. “You never said.”

A smile curved Duncan’s mouth. “You never asked what I was doing here in Geddes,” he said calmly. “I would have told you if you had.”

Maggie punched him in the arm, laughing, and Nick was not happy with the level of camaraderie that the two had.

“Just how long have you two been acquainted?” he asked tightly. “And why did you not come up to the house and introduce yourself instead of skulking around on the outskirts of my property?”

“Nick!” Maggie protested. “He likes to take a long walk to exercise his leg, and we met a couple of weeks ago when he was doing just that. And he has not been skulking around!” Her green eyes flashed sparks at him. “He comes out here sometimes to sit at the river, and I told him that it was all right.”

“My pardon,” Nick said stiffly. “I will go on back to the house, as my presence is obviously not wanted here. You have plenty of company.” He nodded stiffly to the big man. “Doctor Murdoch.”

So saying, he turned around and stalked back on the path towards the house, his back stiff and ramrod-straight.

Maggie stared after him with mouth open. What in the world?

“I have absolutely no idea what that was about,” she said.

“Do you not?” was all he said, his gentle eyes amused. Maggie flushed, and his mouth quirked up at one corner. “Don’t lie to yourself, Maggie. You know exactly what that was all about, and it was not about the new Doctor not coming to the house and introducing himself.”

Maggie laughed, and punched him in the arm again. “All right, maybe I do have an inkling. I just do not . . . think of you that way, and I did not expect Nick to be so . . . so . . . “

”Jealous?” Duncan said wryly. “I do not think of you that way, either, Maggie, but I do not think your Nick would believe that from either one of us right now.”

Maggie looked toward the house thoughtfully. “He is not my Nick, and you are right,” she said, and sighed. “I do not think that he would.”

Duncan reached down and captured Maggie’s hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss against her knuckle. She smiled up at him. He was precious to her, this man, and her to him. The first time their eyes had met, the pain and confusion they usually kept hidden from the rest of the world was revealed each to the other. She knew him, and he knew her. Details were unimportant; their souls were laid bare to each other’s gazes. That was rare, and she would not give it up.

“I have not had a friend for a long time,” Duncan said softly. “Thank you, Maggie.”

She reached way, way up to lay a hand against the warmth of his cheek.

“For what?” she asked. “I will meet you tomorrow.”

As she turned to go, Duncan called softly to her. "Maggie?" he said. "Look for your mother’s brooch in the place where you keep your aprons. Perhaps there is a loose board in the back and the brooch has fallen through there."

Nick strode angrily through the bushes on the way home, purposefully leaving the path and going the hard way. He slapped angrily at branches, kicked deliberately at tree trunks, and hoped he could burn off his anger by the time he reached the house. He felt the anger course through his body and drive out the desire that he lived and breathed twenty four hours a day. Nick ached night and day to hold Maggie against his hard body, to drink from the sweet, dark depths of her mouth, to ease the craving of his body against her soft curves.

He had gone past obsession at this point; he only had to think of Maggie to have longing sink its claws into him. He avoided her, working longer and longer hours to stay away from temptation. It did not work. And the thought of her with another man was enough to make fury tear him apart. He felt raw and lacerated; as if some huge bird of prey had stuck a talon in his heart and then jerked free, pulling through skin and muscle.

He will not have her, he thought savagely. I will not let him.

The image of Maggie laughing into Duncan Murdoch’s face rose up behind his eyes and mocked him. Nick knew that he was being unreasonable. Had not he himself told Maggie to give up on him and find somebody new? But knowing he was being unreasonable and actually doing something to correct this behavior were two very different things.

The doctor had liked her; he could see it in the smile he gave Maggie, in his eyes as he looked at her. He felt gentle about her, too; there was nothing dangerous about the indulgent way his brown eyes moved over her, no incendiary lust that threatened to eat him alive, just an

acknowledgment of her beauty. He was cultured, that was obvious to Nick despite his

rough dress and his Indian blood. Doctor Fell had told Nick that his new partner was the most well-read man he had ever met, and the smartest one, too. His father was a Scots nobleman, his mother Cheyenne and the daughter of a chief. His mother had died young, and his father had then taken the young Duncan with him to St. Louis to give the bright young man the best education money could buy. Doctor Fell had been obviously impressed with his new partner, and Nick had looked forward to meeting him. That is, until he had found the man with Maggie, her with her legs bare to his gaze, and him so appreciative of the view.

He struck savagely at another branch in his way, and cursed under his breath, the words no less virulent for being quiet.

Duncan Murdoch was perfect for Maggie.

And there was no way in hell that he was going to let him have her.



Maggie put a hand into the aching small of her back and tried to stretch the soreness out of muscles gone stiff from bending over too long. She surveyed the garden ruefully. There were very few things left in the ground this time of year, just pumpkins and a few fresh vegetables straggling along, some herbs left to go to seed. She had decided to gather up what was left before a frost came along and killed everything off, and now her back was paying the price for her stubbornness. She had waited until Kathleen had left to get started. Nick had offered the use of one of his men for help, and she had refused, his cold manner to her since the day he had found her with Duncan putting her back up. She felt just like Tommy’s kitten when Sadie’s pups came around. All her fur stood up, and she hissed for all she was worth. And he had backed off hurriedly, just like the puppies did when confronted with such a sight.

Maggie’s mouth turned down at the corners. Well, he could just go spit if he thought he was going to make her give up her new friend. There had not been that many friends come along in her life, and she was not going to give one up just because he happened to be male and handsome as all get-out. Jealous, that is what Nick was, and he could just stop it. His behavior puzzled her, for he did not want her for himself, but he did not want anybody else to have her, either. Too bad for him.

Just as puzzling to her as Nick’s behavior was the fact that she had found her mother’s brooch in just the place that Duncan had told her it would be. She had pinned it to her apron one day, and she remembered putting it in the drawer. It must have come loose from the apron and then fallen down into the small opening, for when she had reached into its depths, her fingers had closed over the precious memento immediately. Duncan had only shrugged when she had questioned him further, and finally Maggie had stopped asking him about it. She had decided that perhaps it was some mystical Cheyenne thing that he did not wish to talk about, and she had her brooch, which was the only thing she cared about.

She had chattered so much about Duncan lately that Kathleen had looked askance at her.

“No man can be that perfect, Maggie,” she had said dubiously. “I want to meet this paragon and make sure he is not playing you for a fool. You have not been around that many men, and in a very short time you have gone from being distrustful to being thoroughly credulous.”

“I know it does not make any sense to you,” Maggie had said quietly. “But I know Duncan. Not for very long, I admit, but I know he is honest with me. I cannot explain it, Kathleen, but I feel it deep in my heart. You do not always have to know someone for years to know a lot about them. Meet him and you will understand.”

Kathleen propped her hands on her hips. “I hope so,” she had muttered. “I hope so.”

Maggie sighed. She had intended to meet Duncan after dinner, and she had gotten too caught up in finishing this garden, and now it was getting too dark to go anywhere. She would just have to see him tomorrow. She put the vegetables away in the storeroom and washed the grime off of her hands in the cold fresh water from the pump in the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. She sighed again.

She was restless today, and she knew why. She hated having Nick angry with her. Even though he was a lunkhead, she still had feelings for him. She still . . . wanted him to love her. The thought sent a bolt of pain through her heart, leaving Maggie feeling as if she had been stabbed with a knife.

She loved Nick Revelle.

Maggie grabbed the corner of the scarred table for support, gripping it with both hands until her knuckles turned white. The sudden revelation sent her senses reeling. She had not seen this happening, had not seen this coming at all. She could not love him!

She remembered all the little kindnesses he had shown her, the patience he had exhibited to her so many times . . . and how he had shown her other, more sensual pursuits. She knew now why she longed so for his company, even when he was being sarcastic and hateful. She sought him out wherever she went, and her day just did not seem complete until she had laid eyes on his beautiful, strong face. She had felt a stirring inside her from the very moment she had clapped eyes on him, even when she was still scared to death of any man. He was a good man, even if he did not want to admit it, and he had feelings for her, too, she knew that he did.

Her heart beat in her chest, reminding her of the huge drum in the orchestra she had heard when her mother and father had taken her to the theater when she was small. He might not love her, but he wanted her. Oh, yes, he did want her, even though he did not want to. Maggie thought of all the times that he had warned her off, and then reached for her anyway, and she smiled. Wanting could turn to love. Had not it done so in her case?

An enigmatic smiled curved up Maggie’s mouth. Nick was angry with her, it was true. It was also true that he desired her. He had proved that, time and time again. How very much worse could it be if she threw a little temptation into that mix of emotions?

Half an hour later, freshly washed and with the perfume Kathleen’s mother had sent over as a gift dabbed behind her ears, Maggie sauntered down to the stables. As she strolled casually through, horses whickered and popped their heads over the tops of their stalls. One of the mares was nuzzling the colt who fumbled under her, looking for a meal. The colt was all legs and had a gangling charm that brought a smile to Maggie’s lips. She scratched the forehead of the pretty bay mare and watched the colt feed.

“What a good girl you are,” she murmured, and the horse butted her head against her, knocking Maggie back a couple of steps.

“She is looking for a treat,” said Nick’s deep tones from behind her, and Maggie whirled around, still laughing from the mare’s antics. “I usually keep one in my pocket for her, and she is a greedy little minx.”

Nick felt his heart knock against his chest at the sight of her. One of his brood mares was foaling and having a difficult time, and he was probably here for the night. He had just stepped out of the birthing stall to stretch the kinks out of his muscles with a quick walk while Ned and Tommy stood watch over the fretful mother-to-be, when Maggie had come into his view.

She had loosened her hair and it cascaded down around her shoulders in a sleek, rippling waterfall. He remembered how it had felt against him as he held her, soft and slippery as silk against his skin. He came closer, against his will, and his nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of her. She smelled of some flowery concoction, and of warm skin, and the scent made him dizzy with longing.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked abruptly. “Did you need something?”

Maggie looked up at him from under thick eyelashes. “I was lonely up at the house, and I never get to spend much time down here. I like the horses,” she said hesitantly.

Planning to throw herself in Nick’s path was one thing, but she had forgotten to factor in

his effect on her. She was having a hard time drawing in a complete breath. His riding trousers hugged his muscular thighs, his loose cotton shirt was streaked with dust and stained with sweat, and he still took her breath away. He was so intensely masculine, so hard where she was soft, and her hungry eyes traveled over him greedily. He had come close enough that she could feel the heat rising off his body, and she shivered as arousal clawed at her body. She marveled at her need for him. He merely had to walk by her for her body to melt and become ready for him.

“Cold?” he asked softly. “It is getting cool at night now.”

“A little,” Maggie said. “I . . . I wanted to ask you something.”

Nick drowned in the soft velvet of her eyes. He could see her, and hear her, but he stared at her as if in a dream. It took him a minute to realize what she had said.

“You do not know how to ride?” he asked incredulously.

Maggie shook her head mutely, her soft hair floating around her face. His fingers went without volition to pick up a strand and toy with it absently. Maggie’s breath drew in with a small hitch, and Nick’s eyes went to her mouth and lingered there, on the slightly parted pink lips. He felt his body harden for her, and he cursed himself savagely in his mind.

“I never learned,” she confessed, and Nick’s fingers pulled slightly on the strand of hair, forcing Maggie to move closer to him. “I would like to learn now. I . . . I . . . “

She lost her train of thought as he moved even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“I would love to teach you to ride,” he said softly, staring down into her eyes intently. He saw her pupils dilate with sudden passionate arousal, and he watched the pulse leap in her throat. It set him on fire to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Maggie was unable to look away from him. She trembled with the force of her need, and she knew he noticed that revealing quiver.

“Nick,” she breathed, and he bent nearer to her, almost brushing her mouth with his. He brought up a work-hardened finger and traced the soft pink contours of her sensual mouth. He was so close that Maggie felt his breath upon her face. It was warm, and smelled sweetly of mint. Kathleen often teased him about the mint leaves he carried around in his pocket.

“Like a cow with his cud,” she would whisper loudly to Maggie and then giggle when Nick glared at her.

Maggie was in a position now to appreciate the sweet smell of the mint on his warm breath, and she thought crazily that tomorrow she would tell Kathleen not to tease him about it anymore. Then his lips touched hers, and she forgot how to think.

His mouth brushed over hers softly, sweetly, tenderly. He learned the taste and texture of her with his lips, with such thorough slowness that Maggie felt each throbbing caress was pulling the heart right out of her body. He had not shaved since early morning, and his whiskers abraded her tender skin as he pressed his cheek to hers. Maggie loved feeling the roughness against her face, and rubbed against him like a little cat, seeking more of the sensation. Her hands crept up to hold his face tenderly. He was stealing the essence of her; her soul rose up and was a slave to the pleasure he gave her, and everything ceased to exist save the pressure of his mouth on hers.

When he pulled back, she wanted to cry. She felt such a sharp sense of loss as her hands loosened and fell to her sides as he moved away from her. Her arms felt empty, and her pulse careened at high speed through her veins. She shook all over, as with an ague, and as he straightened up and pulled away from her, they never lost eye contact. Eye to eye they stood, and Maggie saw an echo of her own want in the brown depths of his. He let a strand of hair slide slowly from his fingers as he pulled farther and farther away.

“Tomorrow, after dinner,” he said softly, and Maggie had a hard time concentrating on his words. She shook her head, to clear it, and a satisfied smile lit up his face, making his teeth flash white against his sun-darkened skin.

“No? That is not good for you?" He laughed softly as Maggie shook her head again and stuttered out something nearly incoherent. "That is not what you meant? Unless you have an objection, we will start your riding lessons tomorrow after dinner,” he said again.

“Oh, that ... that will be fine,” was all she could say, and he smiled again.

“Goodnight, Maggie,” he said gently, and turned to walk away.

“Goodnight,” she said, and watched him walk away. As he turned the corner, he began to whistle.

****************************



“Easy, now, easy,” Nick said soothingly, and Maggie was not sure if he spoke to her or the horse.

This was her second riding lesson; she had spent the first learning how to saddle and bridle the gentle old mare he had chosen for her, and leading the plump old thing around a ring. Nick had taken every excuse to touch her during the lessons, and it was driving her mad. If it all was not so shattering, she might have found it funny. But the joke was on her, and she nearly wept with frustration as he teased her with another gentle graze of his hand. She had started this whole thing to tempt Nick, and she was the one who was tempted. Her mouth went dry every time he got near here, and she tensed in anticipation of his lightest touch.

He had insisted that she wear pants for her riding lesson, saying that sidesaddles were nothing but an invitation to a broken neck, and that there was no room here in the wilds for citified ways and mores. She would be just as safe with him wearing a pair of trousers as she was in a dress; and on a horse, trousers were better. So Maggie was wearing a pair of Tommy’s castoffs, and the unfamiliar feel of the trousers unnerved her. She liked the freedom that they granted her, but the way they hugged her bottom and clung to her legs made her more aware of her own body than she usually was. His hand slid over her leg just now, and she jumped. The placid old mare did not seem so placid to her now, and Maggie could feel the horse shifting uneasily underneath her.

She bit her lip, and clutched the saddle horn. The ground certainly seemed a long way down.

“Loosen up on the reins,” he said quietly. “You are making her nervous.”

Maggie laughed shakily. “She is nervous? I am practically shaking my bones loose up here.”

“And she can tell,” he said. “I am going to lead you around a little. See if you can quit squeezing that saddle horn to death and sit up straight.”

Maggie tried to do as he said. She consciously relaxed the muscles of her legs and loosened the death grip she had on the saddle.

“Feel the motion of the horse,” he said quietly. “Move with the horse. It is like rocking in a cradle. Enjoy the feeling, Maggie, and trust me. I would not let you get hurt.”

Maggie’s eyes fixed to the back of his dark head as he walked her around and around. Her eyes slid admiringly down the rest of him. She could see the movement of his muscles underneath his supple skin, and she wanted to crawl inside him, to get so close she was a part of him. Her longing to hold him and have him hold her was eating her alive. It was more than desire; she wanted him. She was so busy staring at his firm backside outlined by those sinfully tight pants that when he turned around she was caught unawares. He watched her with amusement and a certain satisfaction in his fine dark eyes as she flushed a dark red, and Maggie. jumped slightly when he spoke.

“You are doing better,” he said, his voice low and caressing. “You are not concentrating on how scared you are anymore . . . you must have been thinking of something else.”

Maggie blushed hotter, embarrassed that he had caught her looking at him. She lifted her chin.

“Yes,” she said haughtily. “I was thinking about something else. I was thinking about your dinner guests for tomorrow night.”

He frowned. “Oh, yes,” he said shortly. “Your beau, the good doctor. I am sure that you are planning on having a wonderful time.”

“Kathleen and her parents are coming, too, and Doctor Fell,” Maggie reminded him. “And he is not my beau, you stubborn ox,” she said underneath her breath. Nick’s head was turned away, or she would have seen him smile at her muttered imprecation.

“I am not stubborn,” he said calmly. “I just know when I am right.”

“Which is hardly ever,” Maggie shot back. “You do not know half as much as you think you do.”

“Lesson’s over,” he said. “Let’s take you back. You have done pretty well,” he complimented her, then smiled a slow smile that made the blood sizzle in her veins. “Once I distracted you and got you to stop thinking about falling off. We will continue later but not tomorrow, since we have guests coming for dinner tomorrow. And I never thought that I would long for the days when you were afraid to argue with me.”

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked furiously as he showed her the correct way to dismount, gripping her hip in a way that made her muscles quiver and tighten. When she slung

one leg over the horse, his hand grazed her buttock.

“Enjoying what?” he asked innocently. “Teaching you to ride?”

Maggie stalked off to the house, leaving Nick chuckling behind her, and that little sound made her even madder and more frustrated than she already was.



Maggie ran the brush through her hair, somberly studying her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing the green dress that she and Kathleen had made together, the one that Kathleen had said matched her eyes, and it looked good on her. The simple straight lines of the dress complimented her somewhat top-heavy figure. She tugged at the sweetheart neckline, wishing not for the first time that she was not so well endowed up front. No matter how she pulled and tugged, a deep line of cleavage showed above the innocent ruffle of the dress, and it looked indecent to her. She flung the brush down, and pinned her hair up quickly. No amount of fussing was going to make her bosom smaller, and she would just have to live with it. Kathleen had not seemed to think the neckline too low; on the contrary, when Maggie complained about it, she said that it was perfectly acceptable for evening, and she could just tuck in a lace fichu during the day.

They had worked on the menu all this week. She had agreed with Kathleen to keep it simple, like the meals that they ate every day. A huge ham from the smokehouse was roasted and juicy. The potatoes were boiled and just waiting to be mashed and they were having green beans and corn that they had canned themselves from the garden. Cherry pies cooled in the kitchen, made from cherries that they had picked themselves from the trees behind the stables, earlier in the summer. That is, if Tommy had managed to keep his fingers out of them. She grinned. He had been wheedling for a piece of that pie all day, and Kathleen had finally boxed his ears for him.

“Get out of this kitchen, Tommy!” she had told him, staring down her nose at him. It somewhat spoiled the effect that Tommy was now a couple of inches taller than her. “Go find someone else to torment.”

“You like me tormenting you,” he had said calmly, then held his hands up in surrender when she made a threatening move toward him. “All right, all right, I will go.” Laughing, he had stuck a quick finger into the slit in the top of the pie and exited the kitchen, sucking the juice off the dripping digit.

Kathleen sent a speaking glance at Maggie. “We are going to have to hide those pies some place ingenious,” she said, and Maggie felt a bubble of happiness rise up in her as she grinned and agreed.

Tommy was just getting to the age where he liked to torment and tease them, and as much as Kathleen fussed, she loved it. And Maggie was frankly glad that Tommy was around to tease and pester them. She had come to love him so much he seemed like part of her family. She had never had any siblings, and Tommy filled a spot in her heart that she had not even known was empty.

Maggie went downstairs to fuss over the table settings again. It was the first time she had met Kathleen’s parents, though Mrs. Donaldson was always sending over some little something for her with Kathleen, and she wanted desperately for them to like her. She wanted Kathleen to like Duncan, too, and she hoped, prayed, that Nick behaved himself tonight. It had been his idea to have Doctor Fell bring the new doctor over for dinner, along with Kathleen and her parents. She was unclear as to his motivation in this, though he swore it was just for the purpose of introducing Duncan to some of the people he would be taking care of. Though why he had wanted to introduce the man around when the very mention of his name made him clench his teeth together, she certainly did not know.

Ned and Tommy were going to eat with them, too, over Tommy’s initial protests, but Nick had stood firm and insisted that Tommy eat with the company. Maggie had been right behind the swinging doors that led from the kitchen to the dining room during the argument, and she had heard every word of their conversation. She had cracked the door open just a bit and watched unashamedly as Tommy shifted from foot to foot and tried to talk Nick into letting him eat in the kitchen by himself, instead of at the dining room table with the other guests.

“You are part of this household, not a servant. You do not think of Ned and Kathleen and Maggie as servants, do you?” Nick had raised one black eyebrow and waited sternly for Tommy’s answer.

Tommy had hung his blond head. “No,” he mumbled. “But my ma, and you know . . . “

”I would not give a damn if your mother was a sow from the pigpen,” Nick had said bitingly. “That has got nothing to do with the way I feel about you, and nobody else who really knows you is going to care about that, either. You already know the Donaldsons and Doctor Fell, and I have a hard time believing they have ever looked down on you. And if the new doctor shows any signs of doing so, I will boot his backside out of my house so fast that he will not have time to eat any dinner. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tommy had said, a grin splitting his face. Nick had thumped the boy on the back, then put an arm around his shoulders and they had gone off to the stables together, and Maggie had stared after them with tears in her eyes.

She had made a huge centerpiece of dried and fresh flowers and put it on a lace doily in the center of the mahogany table. She had decided against a tablecloth; the table was just too pretty to cover up. The table and matching chairs had been polished until they gleamed, and she admired the smooth flowing lines of the massive furniture. Whoever had made these pieces was a master craftsman.

The china had belonged to Nick’s mother, and the blue flowered pattern was echoed on

the linen napkins and that same blue was repeated in the large oil painting that dominated one wall of the dining room. Maggie smiled fondly over at the canvas. The painting was a rendering of wildflowers growing alongside the roiling, brown depths of the Mississippi river, and it had been painted by Maggie’s mother. Nick had not realized that his parents, through Ned, had commissioned the painting until Maggie had pointed it out to him, and he had mentioned it to his head stableman. But that was certainly understandable; her mother’s signature was nearly unreadable, and the painting had been hanging in the dining room ever since he could remember, he said.

Maggie had found the painting the second week that she had been here, and had stood in front of it for nearly an hour, tears dripping from her eyes. The reminder of her mother’s talent had struck her heart like a blow at first, but now she took comfort in it. It was something that her mother had created, and it would last for generations. As long as it lasted, so, too, did Suisan O’Roarke.

Maggie had found a rosebush still blooming around the side of the house, and she had carefully snipped some blooms and kept them wrapped in a damp cloth in the cool of the storeroom all day. She retrieved them now, and carefully laid each tight bud across the table setting of each guest. It added a beautiful, elegant touch to the table, and she looked at her work with approval. It was perfect. She hurried into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner. The guests were due in any time now and she wanted it all to be perfect.

Half an hour later she was looking around the library with satisfaction, sipping a glass of wine that Nick had provided for all of them. Kathleen’s parents were just as she had imagined them and as Kathleen described; her father was a short, brisk little barrel of a man with a shock of thick white hair. Bluff and hearty, he had grasped Maggie’s hand in his own.

“Well now,” he had said. His piercing blue eyes, so like Kathleen’s, met hers with no artifice. “You are just as pretty as Kathleen said you were. Nick had better watch out, or some man is going to carry you away, and he will be huntin’ a new housekeeper all over again.” He twinkled his eyes at her, and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers. “If I was twenty years younger, I would give it a little go m’self.”

A tiny, beringed hand came out and smacked his shoulder hard, and Mrs. Donaldson had snorted as she moved to her husband’s side, a most inelegant sound coming from such an elegant lady. Lanny Donaldson was no more than five feet tall and came barely to her husband’s shoulder. She had delicate features and looked like a little porcelain doll with her smooth, unblemished white skin and just a hint of a blush over her prominent cheekbones. Her hair was still dark, having only a few strands of gray, and done up on the top of her head in an intricate coil that Maggie knew that she had no hope of ever reproducing. Kathleen had told her when her mother’s hair was loose, it came down to her knees. She had also said that her mother was very vain about her hair, and Maggie could now see why.

Her dress was exquisite; ruffled rose silk cascaded down to the floor from a tight, low-cut bodice and it rustled whenever she moved. She was as curved as an hourglass, and obviously enjoyed showing her figure off to its best advantage. She smiled kindly at Maggie now.

“Pay no attention to this terrible old man. He would have to be thirty years younger, and he would have to get rid of me besides.”

“Sometimes I think that would not be such a bad thing,” Mr. Donaldson grumped, but Maggie could tell that he did not mean it. He could not keep his eyes off of his wife, and he touched her arm now, gently caressing the pink silk.

“Tell the girl ‘bout our oldest son, Lanny,” he commanded of his wife, and then turned his bright gaze immediately back to Maggie. “He has got no wife, you know,” he told her pointedly. She blushed, and he winced in mock pain when his wife hit him once more with her small hand.

“Stop it, Arnold, you old goat,” she said. “You will scare the girl off.” She turned her hazel eyes back to Maggie, laughing. “Do not listen to him, dear. He is trying to pay you a compliment in his ham-handed way.”

Maggie smiled at her, delighted by the couple.

“What?” said Mr. Donaldson perplexedly. “What is the point of beatin’ around the bush? You know you was thinking about Daniel, same as I was, soon as you saw her. You just will not come out and admit it until you dress it up in some female folderol. I just cut through all that. Boy needs a wife, and she would make a fine one. Hardworking, Kathleen says, and a sweet disposition. She is pretty, too, and I like her. Do not see what is wrong with that. Saves time.”

He stalked off, still grumbling, to join Nick, Duncan, and Doctor Fell in a discussion of farming methods. Kathleen laughed and slipped an arm around Maggie’s waist.

“That is my father,” she said, and traded conspiratorial looks with her mother. “He likes to come right out with whatever is on his mind. Saves time,” she said gruffly, in a near-perfect impersonation, and they all laughed.

There was affection in her voice, and Maggie felt a sudden, sharp envy of Kathleen and her happy family. She hoped sincerely that Kathleen appreciated them. She had once had a family as loving and secure as Kathleen’s, and she knew how fast that could all be taken away.

Kathleen looked lovely tonight. Her dress was the same sky-blue of her eyes, and it flattered her voluptuous figure. It was long-sleeved and high-necked, but more alluring than if she had bared half her bosom. The sleeves and bodice fit like a glove, making Maggie wonder how she had fit a chemise underneath it, and it outlined her curves with abandon. The skirt flared out from her lush hips in a lovely bell shape. Kathleen caught Maggie looking at her, and made a rueful face.

“Mother picked this out. I was in the library reading and I lost track of time. It looked much more respectable until I actually put it on. I should have known better, with her penchant for flamboyance, but I did not have time to change.”

“No sense in hiding your light under a bushel,” said her mother serenely. “If you have a good figure, you should show it off.”

"Well, I am certainly showing it off in this dress," Kathleen said sharply to her mother. "And just who do you think that I am going to impress here, Mother? Tommy?"

Lanny Donaldson’s gaze rested speculatively upon Duncan Murdoch, who was talking horses with young Tommy now. Tommy was eating up the attention, his bright young face making Maggie smile. Tommy had slicked himself up and combed his hair, but one strand had already escaped to stick straight up on the top of his head. Ned sat nearby, chatting with Arnold Donaldson. Both of them were already tugging at the neck of their stiff shirts, and Maggie smiled when she saw Uncle Ned absentmindedly begin to undo the top button.

“You never know who is going to be around to notice.”

Kathleen noticed the direction of her mother’s stare and a look of sheer panic came into her own eyes.

“Stop it, Mother,” she hissed. “Do not start matchmaking for me. I am perfectly happy the way that I am.”

“Well, I am not, and you should not be,” said her mother. “You are twenty-six years old, and it is well past time you started a family. Your father and I will not be around forever. Most women your age have been married for years and have a houseful of children. I want to hold your children before I die.”

Kathleen frowned darkly at her mother, rolled her eyes, and slapped her ivory fan against her skirts.

“Mother, please,” she said. “You act as if you are at death’s door, when we all know it is the very opposite. You will outlive us all. I beg of you, do not embarrass me. I do not even know this man.”

Lanny Donaldson’s eyes lit appreciatively on Duncan Murdoch. He had dressed all in black for the evening. His dark hair was clubbed behind his neck with a black satin ribbon, and he carried an ebony cane. He was a fine figure of a man, no doubt about it.

“You ought to make an effort to get to know this man. Even an old lady like me can tell that this one would make a fine lover . . . and some beautiful grandchildren to dandle on my knee.”

“Mother!”

Maggie choked back a laugh and turned it into a cough. Lanny Donaldson was just as Kathleen had described her. Blunt, witty, and beautiful, with the habit of saying the most outrageous things. Maggie liked her, a lot ... and she was glad that it was Kathleen who must deal with her, because she did not know if she could handle the little spitfire.

“I accepted a long time ago that you and Nick were not ever going to marry, though it was my fondest wish for a time,” Lanny said brusquely. "I could tell, once I thought about it, that you simply were not right for each other. But you have limited opportunities here, Kathleen. You have to take advantage of them."

"You stopped shoving Nick at me because I threatened to move into Geddes with Aunt Agnes," Kathleen told her bluntly. "And I sicced Da and Daniel on you, too. So do not try and tell me any fairy stories about how you gave it up because you knew that you were wrong, Mother."

“I will not give up my wish to get you settled into a home of your own, and you needn’t act as if it were unnatural for me to feel so. You need a husband, Kathleen, and I mean to find you one.” Her eyes cut around slyly to her exasperated daughter. “And you need some loving to sweeten you up, too. Do not tell me you that do not need a man. I am your mother, and I know better. And in your heart, you know that I am right.”

And with that last wicked barb, she swished over to her husband, who was now standing beside and speaking animatedly with the new Doctor. She hooked her arm through Arnold’s, smiling sweetly up at Duncan Murdoch. He looked charmed, and Kathleen hissed like a tea kettle on the boil as he raised Lanny’s hand to his mouth.

“She is probably over there regaling him with every virtue that I possess,” she said in Maggie’s ear. “And if she cannot think of any virtues, she will make some up. Before dinner is over, he will be thinking that I am pining away for him,” she finished glumly. “Do not laugh. She has done this to me before.”

Maggie laughed anyway, she could not help it. “I am sorry, Kathleen,” she said. “But your mother is like a little battering ram, is she not?”

“You do not know the half of it,” Kathleen said. “I would bet money that she has already invited him to dinner at our house, and that we will accidentally run into him a dozen times in the next week. Wait and see.”

“Did you not ever want to get married?” Maggie asked curiously. “Was there ever a time when you just longed to have a home and family of your own?”

Her eyes glued themselves to Nick lovingly as she waited for Kathleen’s answer. He, too, wore black trousers and evening coat, but the vest that peeked through was a rose brocade. His clothes fit his frame to perfection; there was not a wrinkle to be found on the long lines of his trouser legs, and the breadth of his shoulders in the well-cut jacket was breathtaking.

“Just because you are pining away for love does not mean that I am,” Kathleen said acerbically. Her gaze fell beneath Maggie’s sudden hurt look, and she sighed. “I am sorry, Maggie, I just get jittery when my mother starts up. I do think that Nick is perfect for you, but he is a dunderhead about women and always has been. You are going to have to knock him in the head and drag him to the altar, I am afraid.”

“I do not want to marry him,” Maggie said softly. “I do not want to be married ever again.

And I will not.”

“Never is a very long time,” said a deep, gentle voice from behind them, and they both started.

Kathleen looked up–way up–into crystal blue, piercing eyes, and felt a funny flutter in her stomach. Duncan smiled down at her calmly, one huge hand resting on his cane, taking his time looking her over. She felt a rush of heat when his gaze rested on her bosom for a moment longer than was polite. Kathleen bristled at his unabashed appraisal of her face and figure. She was not some horse that he was thinking of buying.

“It is quite rude to sneak up on private conversations, sir,” she said tartly. She let her eyes rake over the long length of him slowly and pointedly. He was the biggest man she had ever seen, and she admitted grudgingly to herself, one of the most attractive. This man had done some hard physical labor in his time or he was blessed with a naturally fit physique. “And staring is not so very polite, either.”

He smiled, his teeth a flash of white in his dark face, the scar on his right side crinkling up. Kathleen’s eyes were drawn to it. Absently, she noted that it took nothing away from his rugged good looks, added to it, in fact. The scar made him seem slightly wicked and dangerous. Some women might like that, but she certainly did not. She was not some flirty young thing who liked to play with fire. Fire burned, and she knew very well to keep her hands out of it.

“What happened to your face?” she asked bluntly, and heard her mother gasp as she walked up behind her. Kathleen ignored her.

“An accident when I was a child,” he said tranquilly.

“And your leg?”

Kathleen heard her mother hiss behind her and tug on her arm. She ignored the entreaty from behind of ‘Kathleen, behave yourself!’ and never took her eyes from his. Maggie watched them both, her eyes suddenly speculative.

“That is a temporary condition. I broke my leg, rather badly, in a fall from a horse. It took a long time to heal, and the muscles are weak.” His eyes laughed down into hers and invited her to share in the joke. Kathleen ignored the weakness that assailed her stomach and staunchly kept her face stony and her eyes on his.

“Did you think that it was an affectation?” he asked gently.

“No, sir,” she snorted. “You are no dandy. I saw you twitching in those fancy clothes from across the room.”

Duncan threw back his head and laughed delightedly.

“Too true,” he said. “I am sure I would suffocate if I had to wear these every day. You have sharp eyes, Miss Donaldson.”

And a sharp little tongue, he added silently to himself. I think that I would like to show you other uses for that tongue besides cutting men to pieces. He moved closer to her, until he could feel the heat from her body. A blush spread over her face, and from this distance Duncan could smell the sweet, spicy scent of her. His nostrils flared, his hand tightened on his cane, and he felt a hot rush of desire sweep through his body with the speed of lightning. Her scent owed nothing to artifice; it was not perfume, but a combination of soap and warm woman, and it was as suddenly familiar to him as his own face in a mirror. He held Kathleen’s eyes with his own, and he knew that she felt the connection between them the same as he did, for he saw her hand tremble as she raised it to touch the tendrils of hair falling from her coiffure. His eyes dropped to her lush, rosy mouth, and he contemplated sweeping her up and away with him as both his Cheyenne and Scottish ancestors would have done.

He wanted this woman. He wanted her badly.

Lanny Donaldson could stand the silence no more. She had been behind them and never saw the look the two of them shared. She would have known very well what that look meant for she shared one with her husband nearly every day of their life together. But since she had not seen anything except their stiff backs, she swept between them with a charming smile, shooting Kathleen a look that promised retribution later. Unless one were looking for it, or happened to know her well, one never would have noticed the temper line between her brows. On the surface she was all glittering beauty and helplessness as she took Duncan’s arm and bustled him off to do a little ‘fence mending’, but Kathleen knew that when they got home she was in for a long lecture. She was well acquainted with that frown line of her mother’s. She had put it there between her brows more times than she cared to count. Kathleen turned to look morosely at her friend.

“Well, I have done it now,” she said soberly. “I am going to be on the outs with Mother for a long time over that one.” She shook her head. “He just made me so mad, the way he looked at me.” She sighed, absently brushing a hand over the strands of flaxen hair that had escaped. She tapped a finger against her lower lip, looking suddenly pensive.

Kathleen’s hair looked beautiful, glistening in the lamp light, Maggie thought. Duncan had thought so, too, she could tell. And he had not been offended by Kathleen and her bluntness, quite the opposite, in fact. He was intrigued, and definitely interested in the petite blonde. Kathleen had not been indifferent, either. Maggie managed to keep her smile on the inside, because she knew that Kathleen would be offended if she smirked at her just now.

“Do not worry about it,” she said, and put an arm around Kathleen’s shoulders, giving her a warm squeeze. “I am sure that your mother will get over her mad before too long. Let’s take them in to dinner. Tommy and Ned and your father are getting fidgety.”

Nick stared hotly down the table at Maggie during the long dinner, dry-mouthed with lust. That he had managed to keep his distance and his hands off of her all night was a testament to his willpower. The dress that she was wearing was the exact color of her eyes, and it made her skin glow with the luster of a pearl. And that neckline was doing wonders for his blood pressure. He eyed her cleavage as she bent forward just slightly. Good Lord, she was practically spilling those beautiful breasts of hers out onto the table. He hoped that he was nearby to catch them when it happened.

Looking up, he caught Duncan Murdoch’s eyes on him and he scowled half-heartedly at the man. Duncan’s mouth quirked up on one side, and Nick smiled back despite himself. Dammit, he hated to admit it, but he liked the man. He was smart, and amusing . . . and Nick felt a surge of hot jealousy every time he came close to Maggie. Not that Duncan seemed to be paying very much attention to Maggie this evening, what with ogling Kathleen and fending off her persistent mother.

Nick grinned to himself. Poor bastard. Nick had spent enough time of his own trying to dodge Lanny Donaldson that he felt really sorry for the man. Once Lanny got an idea in her head,

it practically took a rockslide to bust it loose. Look how long it had taken her to quit shoving Kathleen at him, for heaven’s sake. They must have made it plain more than a hundred times over the years that all they felt for each other was friendship. And still she had tried to thrust them together, until Nick had married and Kathleen had threatened to move out. And after Mary had died, he had broken into a sweat every time Lanny came near him, for fear she might start up again with her blandishments. That woman had more than enough wiles for three women, and he was glad that he did not have to live with her. Arnold seemed to like it well enough, but she made him jittery.

“What do you think, Nicky, my boy?” boomed Arnold from the end of the table, and Nick tried to remember what they had been talking about before he had been distracted by Maggie’s charms. His face must have been blank, because Kathleen jumped smoothly to his rescue.

“Oh, Da, cannot we talk about something besides horses and farming for a change? We are guests in someone else’s house, you know. I am tired of the subject. It is all you ever think about.”

“Never have children, Nick, they are all ungrateful little wretches,” Arnold said, glaring at Kathleen from under his eyebrows. “It is grateful enough they are when that farm puts food on the table and clothes on their back, but let a man get an interesting conversation goin’, and it is ‘Oh, Da, must we discuss that at the dinner table?’ “ he finished up in a whiny, falsetto voice that sounded nothing like Kathleen.

”You know that you love me,” Kathleen grinned at her father, who grinned back.

“That I do, Katie. But you are an ungrateful wretch, just like the rest of my offspring.”

Kathleen lifted her wine glass in a salute to her father and winked at him.

“Well, Da, I have noticed that I am only an ungrateful wretch when I do not do what you want. When you want something from me, it is Katie darling, or sweet Kate, or sugar dumpling.” Kathleen wrinkled her nose. “Sugar dumpling, for heaven’s sake. Who would want to be a sugar dumpling? Puts me in mind of a fat old lady with flaky skin.”

They all laughed, and Kathleen winked covertly at Nick. She was a master at diverting attention, and with a mother like hers, she’d had to be. Lanny Donaldson had a will of stone, and if you did not want to butt heads with her all the time, you learned early how to create a distraction.

After eating dessert and praising dinner to the sky, everyone began to leave. Doctor Fell was first. He bent over Maggie’s hand gallantly and told her if she ever considered running away with an older man to let him know.

“It is the pie, you know,” he said roguishly. “I am too old for romance, but that was the best pie I have had in years.”

Maggie laughingly told him that Kathleen had made the pies and gave him one to take home with him, thereby buying his friendship for life. After they had waved him off, Duncan followed him out the door. But not before Lanny Donaldson had extracted a promise from him to have dinner at their house on the following Tuesday. Maggie choked on her laughter when Kathleen rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back and Duncan caught her at it. Kathleen blushed a fiery red when he merely raised one dark eyebrow at her. There was some bond there between the two of them, Maggie was sure of it. You could practically hear the crackling of the fire when they stood close together. If they kept at it, they were liable to send the nearby forest up in flames.

Maggie plopped down in the nearest chair when Ned and Tommy headed for their respective rooms. Kathleen had made her promise to leave some of the work for her to help with tomorrow, but she still had lots and lots of work to do before she went to bed. She jumped when a pair of hands settled over her shoulders and squeezed. A shudder ran down her spine and the hair stood up on the back of her neck when Nick leaned forward and spoke directly into her sensitive ear.

“Let me rub your shoulders for you. You have been stiff as a poker all night, and I could tell they were hurting.”

Maggie gave him no encouragement but said nothing to deter him either, for the touch of his warm hands on her sore shoulders was heavenly. He rubbed the knots out of her muscles until she was spineless in her chair, a big pile of jelly with no bones. Maggie slumped back against him, enjoying the feeling.

“Stop,” she said drowsily. “You are going to put me to sleep and I have to finish up here.”

“I will help,” Nick said. "Two hands make the work go faster, as my dear old mother used to say." They gathered up the dishes in comfortable silence, washing up what was necessary, stacking some in the sink to soak and be washed later, and storing leftover food in the cool of the storeroom.

“It was a wonderful dinner,” Nick said quietly while drying dishes with a towel.

“Thanks,” Maggie murmured, looking down at the silverware she was sorting.

“I . . . like your friend, Doctor Murdoch,” he said. “I did not think I would, but I do. I am sorry. I have been acting like a jackass.”

Maggie’s head came up in shock. It must have cost him a lot in pride to admit that to her. She never thought that it would happen. Nick had apologized, and the least she could do was be gracious.

“It is all right, Nick,” she said simply. And it was. She could forgive him anything.

“I was jealous,” he said to her now, his hands still holding the towel but no longer drying dishes. He took a step toward her and Maggie dropped the spoon she was holding with a clang onto the floor. When he put the towel on the counter and tilted her chin up, she began to shake.

“I was afraid that he would want to do this to you,” he said, and brushed his mouth over hers as lightly as the kiss of a butterfly’s wing. “And this,” he whispered, and licked a trail down the vulnerable slope of her throat.

Maggie moaned deep in her throat and Nick swallowed the sound with his mouth, reveling in her passion. The sound of a throat clearing behind them had them suddenly jumping apart, Maggie’s heart nearly bursting with fright. Ned was standing in the door way to the kitchen, his face twisted in concern. Maggie could force no words past the lump that rose in her throat at the sight of him, and she stared dumbly at his figure. Nick, too, seemed to be mute.

“I forgot my waistcoat,” Ned said quietly. “Blasted thing always gets too tight after I eat. I was going to see if you needed any help with the cleaning up, Maggie. I will be going to my bed now. Goodnight.”

He turned and left, leaving Maggie and Nick staring after him, still wordless.