Chasing the Sunset(25)

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.