Chasing the Sunset(20)

Nick knew that something was wrong with her, too. Maggie was now the one who avoided his company and made excuses not to be alone with him. Even Tommy, that sweet little boy, could sense her tension. He had been especially nice to her these last few days, bringing her wildflowers that he had picked and nearly driving her wild by asking a hundred times a day if he could do something for her. He was only trying to help, but his constant presence was irritating to her right now. Maggie felt guilty about that; she knew that the boy was starved for affection, but she only wanted to be alone right now. She needed to think.

Maggie scowled and rubbed her forehead. Things were so very much easier when she did not trust anybody; she did not have to wonder what other’s motivations were, or worry about hurting their feelings. When everyone was suspect, they were automatically guilty. It made things so much clearer; if everyone was guilty, she did not have to choose.

She could not believe Kathleen would work here if Nick had really killed his wife. She was too honest for that, and she had too much respect for human life, and if her parents, who were moral, god-fearing people, even suspected that Nick had something to do with his wife’s death, they would not let her come here, either. Maggie also had a hard time believing that Ned would lie for Nick. He would defend to his dying breath an innocent person, but her father used to say that if he wanted the plain, bold truth, he would go to Ned. She knew in her heart that Nick was not capable of doing what those women had said, so what was her problem?

It was hard to trust when you had spent the better part of three years lying and being lied to. Once, she would have taken it all at face value, believing whatever she was told, but no more. That way of thinking had participated in her complete subjugation to her husband in her marriage. She could not go back to that earlier habit now, even if she had wanted to.

Maggie rolled onto her side and brought her knees up, pulling the pins from her silky hair and flinging them carelessly onto the bed beside her. She would find them later. She rubbed her fingers across her aching scalp, sighing in pleasure at the sensation. She rolled her neck around, trying to ease some of the tightness in her muscles, concentrating only on the way she felt. She felt the soreness ease just a little, and she sighed again and rolled onto her stomach, pillowing her

head on her arms.

She was going to have to ask Nick about it. There was no way around it. She had brooded over this all week, not talking about it, not talking at all if the truth be known, and she just could not do it any longer. She did not want to look at Nick and wonder, deep in her heart, if he was capable of such things. She had to know for sure, and she refused to go behind his back and ask other people.It had to do with Nick, and Nick alone could answer the questions that she had. She would ask him right now, as a matter of fact.

Maggie felt energized by her decision, and she jumped from the bed and rushed down the stairs barefoot, hair flying everywhere. She knew Nick was in the library, and she flung open the door. Nick looked up in surprise from his book, a lock of his dark hair falling over his forehead, and smiled absently at her.

“Hello,” he said. “Come to get a book to read? I just got some new ones in this morning from my cousins in Boston, and I am going through them now. Care to look at one?”

“No,” Maggie said breathlessly. “I want to talk to you.” She took a deep breath and blurted it out. “I heard some ... ladies talking in town while we were in the store. They said that you killed your wife by throwing her down the stairs.”

Nick stared at her a moment, then shut the book he was holding. “So that is what has been bothering you. You have been . . . different ever since we took the trip to Geddes. So you heard someone in the store said something . . . not Mrs. Jenkins, was it? I did not think she believed all that. She has never acted as if she did.”

“No, it was not. I overheard two women talking.”

Nick stood up, and Maggie curbed a desire to back up a step. That was an old behavior, and she had vowed to leave that old life with its limiting fears behind. His dark eyes were fastened on her face, and he took a step closer, and closer still. Maggie started to tremble, and she

shivered when he stopped right before her and raised a hand to tuck a long wisp of hair behind her ear.

“What do you think, sweet Maggie?” he murmured. “Do you think I pushed her down, or was it an accident?” His lean brown hand caressed her face, and Maggie knew it was not fear that made her breath come so rapidly, made her heart thrum and vibrate. Nick’s hand slipped to her slim white throat, closed gently around her neck. She could feel his breath on her face; he stood so close that she had to tilt her head back to see his face. His thighs touched hers, and Maggie ached suddenly at the contact. She felt liquid at the core of her; the heat from his body was melting her.

“Well?” he whispered. “What is the verdict, Maggie? Did I do it? Did I snap her neck and throw her down those stairs, or did she fall?” He pulled her closer with a hand on the small of her back and she went willingly, her body melting and contouring itself to his. He smiled devilishly and Maggie felt a need to put a finger in the deep dimple in his cheek, and so she did. He was hot to the touch, the skin underneath her fingers burning, and she let them trail away from his face, slowly.

“I do not think you could do something like that,” she breathed throatily, tilting her head back farther in anticipation of his kiss. She arched her back to bring her aching breasts to his attention, and he obliged her by cupping one rounded globe in his hand and gently squeezing the nipple between forefinger and thumb.

Maggie moaned, and the sound seemed to snap his control. He crashed his mouth down on hers, and Maggie opened immediately to him, their tongues dueling in a dark battle for

dominance. They drank from each other, Maggie’s arms going up around his neck, his locked tightly around her back. They could not get close enough. Nick ripped his mouth from hers to lave a trail of hot kisses down the sensitive skin of her neck. Maggie’s breath came in short, sharp pants now. She could feel his erection against her, and she squirmed and raised herself onto tiptoe to bring him into better contact. She groaned when his hands went to her buttocks and pulled her into place.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, Nick . . . “

He nuzzled her nightrail aside until the creamy flesh of her breast was available to his mouth, then took a nipple in to suck avidly. Maggie nearly screamed her pleasure, and Nick carried her to the nearest table, sweeping books out of his way with one violent motion. He lowered himself onto her, and Maggie wrapped her legs around him while he rocked against her, her nightrail riding up nearly to her waist. Nick’s hands found her naked flesh, and the friction of his trousers against the core of her had her crying out wildly.

“Maggie,” he breathed. “Maggie . . . “

Suddenly he lifted his head, then swiftly pulled her from the table. It took Maggie a moment to understand what had happened. She stared at him, still in a haze of desire.

“What . . . “

”Shh.” Nick put one finger to his lips, and Maggie could hear it now. There were footsteps in the hall, coming closer.

“Mr. Nick?” The tremulous tones belonged to Tommy. “I heard loud noises. Is everything okay?”

“I am fine, Tommy,” Nick called. “I just dropped a box of books. I will walk you back to your room, wait right there.”

Nick turned to look at Maggie. She hurt in the pit of her stomach, desire clenching there still, clutching her insides like a fist.

“Go to bed,” he said softly. “Do not be here when I get back, Maggie. I did not kill my wife.”

“I know,” she whispered back. “Nick, I . . . “

He put a hand up to the side of his head, his eyes hard as granite.

“Please, Maggie. Please go back to your room.”

Shakily, she nodded her head, and Nick turned on his heel and left. She could hear him talking to Tommy on the way up the stairs, and when she peeked out, Nick’s arm was around Tommy’s too-thin shoulders, his dark head lowered close to Tommy’s blond one. He was listening intently to whatever Tommy was saying. She smiled to herself at the two of them, one so light and the other so dark, their very posture telling a story about the affection each held for the other. Nick was a good man. Even if his wife had given him reason, he would not have hurt her. Something inside of her had always known that. The murmur of their conversation got farther and farther away, and Maggie slipped up the stairs. There was one other thing she wished she had asked Nick, though. Maggie grinned broadly as she crawled into her bed.

What was it about the library that made him feel so amorous?



Kathleen held up the lavender dress and admired her work. She had just finished bordering the low, square neckline with dozens of purple lace rosettes, putting tiny stitches in the delicate lace with infinite patience. Maggie thought that they looked beautiful. She had picked a simple, austere pattern for her dresses; they were all plain and functional, falling straight from the bodice to the floor, their only concession to fashion a ruffle around the bottom, and Kathleen had kicked up a fuss when she saw what Maggie intended. She had brought a collection of lace and furbelows from home, and practically forced Maggie to add them to her new dresses. Maggie picked up the blue that reminded her of cornflowers and hugged it to her, scarcely able to believe that it was hers.