by Ginna Gray
Maggie shot him a blistering look. The sight of him made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to run at him, claws bared, and scratch and kick and pummel.
"Get out of here, Martin," she snarled. "I've got nothing to say to you."
"That's too damned bad, bitch, 'cause I've got plenty to say to you. You've got a hell of a lot of nerve bad-mouthing me to Laurel."
She jutted her chin. "You bet I do. Where my sister's happiness is concerned I'll dare anything. I know you, Martin Howe. You're narcissistic to the bone. You're incapable of loving anyone but yourself. Why don't you just admit it? The only reason you want to marry Laurel is to get your hands on Malone Enterprises!"
"So? It's none of your business, so just butt out. Anyway, I'm doing her a favor. There are plenty of women who would like to be Mrs. Martin Howe, you know."
"You're doing her a favor? Why, you conceited pig," Maggie spat. "You're not worthy to kiss my sister's feet!"
"You're just jealous because I didn't pick you." His disparaging gaze traveled over her, and his mouth curled into a sneer. "As if I'd ever choose a homely, redheaded scarecrow like you to be my wife."
"You'd never get the chance. If you were the last man on earth I wouldn't let you touch me. You disgust me," she jeered, each word dripping with loathing and revulsion.
Martin's arrogant smirk dissolved. His nostrils flared and his face tightened and flushed a mottled red. The gazebo was lit by only a single carriage lamp, but even in the dim glow Maggie could see the rage in his eyes, and for the first time since he'd stormed into her sanctuary she experienced a prickle of fear.
"We'll just see about that," he ground out.
Maggie's heart gave a quick bump, but she set her jaw and moved to step around him. "I have nothing more to say to you. I'm going inside."
"You're not going anywhere, bitch." He sidestepped in front of her, and before she realized his intent he grabbed a handful of her blouse. A ripping sound and the rapid-fire click-click-click-click of buttons hitting the wooden floor followed.
Maggie let out a yelp. Her eyes widened with stunned disbelief and horror, and for the space of three heartbeats she stared down at her ruined blouse and exposed breasts, barely covered by her lacy bra. Then delayed reaction set in and she moaned and tried to cover herself, but Martin grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms behind her back.
"Stop it! Stop it! Get your hands off me!" Maggie shouted, twisting and straining against his hold. Martin was a couple of inches shorter than her, but he was stocky and muscular, and she was no match for his strength. "Let go of me!"
"Oh, no. Not yet. No one messes with me and gets away with it. I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, bitch," he snarled through clenched teeth.
"Dammit, Martin, I said let go!"
She punctuated the order with a sharp kick to his shin. Giving a grunt of pain, he released her so quickly that Maggie staggered backward into the railing. Martin spat out a vicious curse and grabbed his leg, hopping in place.
Heart pounding, Maggie eyed him cautiously and tried to sidle around him, but she'd barely taken a step when his feral gaze stabbed into her like a knife.
"Why you…!" With a roar of fury, he straightened and backhanded her across the face.
Pain exploded in Maggie's jaw, then more bursts erupted in her hip and shoulder when she hit the floor. Her cry of agony turned into a scream as Martin came down on top of her, but he quickly clamped his hand over her mouth, cutting off the sound in midshriek.
Over the top of his hand, Maggie's eyes widened with real terror when she read his intent in his eyes.
In a frenzy of panic, she bucked and kicked and squirmed, but she couldn't dislodge him. She tried to bite his palm, but his grip tightened so painfully she thought her jaws would surely snap.
She fought with all her might and even managed to pull his hair and get in a few good blows, but all that she succeeded in doing was to fuel his rage. Despite her struggles, Martin managed to ruck her full skirt up around her hips, and with one rough jerk he ripped away her bikini panties.
Icy horror suffused Maggie when he worked his hands between their bodies and unzipped his trousers.
"Now, bitch, you're going to find out what it's like to have a real man between your legs!" he growled.
No! This couldn't be happening! Oh, God, no! In despair, she squeezed her eyes shut and silently cried, Help me! Someone please help me!
"What the hell is going on here!"
Jacob's irate roar whipped through the gazebo with tornado-wind force.
The effect on Martin was instantaneous. He shot to his feet as if he'd been jabbed with a cattle prod. Whimpering with relief, Maggie shoved her skirt down, curled on her side in a fetal position and began to weep softly.
Sweating and pale, Martin fumbled to fasten his pants and met Jacob's glare with a phony look of contrition and gratitude.
"Jacob. Thank God you came when you did. I know this looks bad, but it wasn't my fault. This was all her doing."
"Wh-what?" Blinking back tears, Maggie sat up and stared at him with disbelief. Martin had more gall than anyone she knew, but this was too much, even for him. "How can you say that?"
He ignored her and focused on Jacob. "Maggie has been coming on to me ever since she got home. I've told her over and over that I wasn't interested, that I love Laurel, but she just wouldn't take no for an answer."
"That's a lie!" Maggie cried, but Jacob shot her a quelling glare.
"Be quiet, Katherine. You'll get your chance to talk after I've heard Martin. And for heaven's sake, cover yourself!"
Mortified, she glanced down at her ruined blouse and snatched the gaping edges together, her face flaming.
"The closer the wedding came, the bolder Maggie became," Martin continued. "Tonight I was out here enjoying a quiet moment alone, waiting for Laurel, when she threw herself at me."
"No, Daddy, that's not what hap—"
"I said quiet!"
Martin shot her a quick, taunting look while Jacob wasn't looking. When he turned back, Martin assumed a desperate expression and raked a hand through his hair. "Maggie is jealous of Laurel and she was determined to take me away from her. She's been relentless in her attempts at seduction. Tonight … well, I … I guess she caught me in a weak moment."
His gaze fixed on Jacob. His pathetic expression reeked remorse and pleading. "I know it was wrong of me to respond, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. I wouldn't hurt Laurel for anything. But hell, Jacob, I'm only a man. There's just so much temptation a red-blooded male can endure before he cracks. I'm just grateful you came along before I made the worst mistake of my life. Thank you." He closed his eyes and hung his head. "Thank you so much."
Slowly, Jacob turned to Maggie, and her heart sank at the look in his eyes. "Well, Katherine?"
"He's lying! He attacked me!" She scrambled to her feet, clutching the edges of her torn blouse together. "I love Laurel. I would never do anything to hurt her. I certainly would never try to take Martin from her. I loathe and despise him."
"She's the one who's lying," Martin insisted. "She's so jealous she'll do anything to break us up. Not twenty minutes ago she tried to get Laurel to call off the wedding. If you don't believe me, just ask her."
"Is this true, Katherine?"
"Well … yes. But it wasn't like he said. I was just—"
"Quiet!" Jacob roared, and Maggie flinched as though he'd struck her. The fury and disgust in his eyes when he looked at her sent a frisson of dread down her spine. "You haven't changed at all, have you, Katherine? Not one bit."
"No, Daddy, that's not tr—"
"I said be quiet! I'm finished listening to your lies." He paced away a few steps, then swung back. "Dammit, I should have known you'd cause trouble somehow. I just never imagined you would stoop so low you'd try to harm your sister."
"I would never—"
This time Jacob silenced her with a glare so fierce that Maggie shrank back.
"For
days now, ever since you returned from college, you've been telling me that you've changed and matured and put all that foolishness behind you, but you haven't. You're the same reckless hell-raiser you were when you left here four years ago."
"No, that's not true. Daddy, please. If you'll just listen to—"
"I will deal with you later," her father snapped, cutting her off. "Your sister and Martin are getting married in a few days, and I don't want anything to upset her or mar her big day. So you are not to say anything to anyone about what took place here tonight. Not one word. Do I make myself clear?"
Maggie nodded, too numb to speak.
"Good. Because I'm warning you, if you do or say anything to ruin Laurel's wedding, you will answer to me. Remember that. Now, get out of my sight."
Maggie fled the gazebo in utter despair and defeat. She went straight to her room and threw herself facedown on her bed and cried into her pillow.
After a night of weeping, she awoke the next morning with a pounding head, puffy eyelids and gritty eyes, convinced that things could not be worse, but she hadn't counted on Martin.
He, of course, had gone straight to Laurel and told her his version of the incident. Hurt and angry, Laurel refused to talk to Maggie at all. Whenever she entered a room where Laurel was, her sister either wouldn't look at her or else got up and left.
Martin, however, hadn't counted on Laurel's tender heart. He had succeeded in driving a wedge between them, but her sister refused to give in to his demand that she order Maggie to drop out of the wedding.
Maggie would have preferred it if she had. The next two days were miserable. Not only was her father furious and disgusted with her, and her relationship with Laurel strained, in her heart she knew that her beloved sister was making a terrible mistake. And there was nothing she could do to stop her. Not one thing.
The day of the wedding Maggie walked down the aisle ahead of Laurel with a heavy heart and an awful sense of foreboding.
Somehow she got through the ceremony and the reception in the garden with what she hoped was a semblance of a smile on her face. However, she wasn't surprised when, barely moments after the newly weds left on their honeymoon, her father summoned her to his study.
Aware that he was still angry with her, she entered the room on shaking legs, her stomach tied in a knot.
Jacob stood with his back to the door, turning the combination lock on the wall safe. She wasn't sure he'd heard her enter until he spoke.
"Don't bother to sit, Katherine. This won't take long," he said without looking around.
Maggie had expected anger, and had braced herself for a blistering tongue-lashing. His flat, unemotional tone sent a chill slithering down her spine.
She shifted from one foot to the other, her nerves winding tighter with every passing minute. Finally Jacob closed the safe, replaced the picture that covered it and turned with a fat envelope in his hand. Only then did he look at her, and what she saw in his eyes did nothing to ease her anxiety.
"Ever since you turned thirteen you've been a disruptive force in this house. Up until now I've tried to be tolerant, but you have pushed me too far this time, Katherine. I cannot forgive what you tried to do to your sister."
"I didn't try to do anything to Laurel. Martin's the one who lied. Not me. I swear it, Daddy."
"I'm afraid your reputation doesn't inspire trust, Katherine. I see no reason why I should believe you."
"But I'm telling the truth! I tried to talk Laurel out of marrying Martin, yes. But because I think he's despicable, not because I want him. You have to believe me!"
"No, Katherine, I don't have to do any such thing. The fact is, I don't trust you. And the matter is not open for discussion. I've made my decision." He gave her a long, steady look. "I want you out of this house. Tonight. There's a Dallas-bound bus leaving the Greyhound station at midnight. You're going to be on it."
His words struck Maggie like a knife to her heart. She sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled back a step. "You're … you're throwing me out?"
It was her worst nightmare come true: total rejection by her father.
"Here, take this." He shoved the envelope into her hand. She stared down at it, too numb and shocked to think.
"What … what is this?"
"Five thousand dollars. It should be enough to tide you over until you get established somewhere else."
Maggie was shaken to her core. The world she knew had suddenly tilted on its axis, and she had fallen off into space. Her heart began to pound and panic clawed at her throat.
The iciness in the pit of her stomach spread outward, suffusing her entire body, setting off a violent trembling deep inside her. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face, and her chin quivered pathetically.
Pride vanished. So did dignity and self-possession. All that was left was fear—cold, stark fear. She gazed beseechingly at her father through her tears. "Please, Daddy. Oh, please, don't send me away. I'll do anything you say. I promise. Anything."
Jacob stared at her, unmoved. "It's over, Katherine. As of tonight, you are no longer a part of this family and no longer welcome in this house. When you leave here, don't come back."
The words were blunt and brutal. Reeling, she stared at him. He wasn't merely tossing her out on her ear. He was disowning her.
A low, keening wail tore from Maggie's throat. She bent forward, as though she'd been punched in the stomach, and braced herself with her palms flat on his desk, her head hanging between her stiff arms. Tears splashed on the mahogany surface and her shoulders shook with each choking sob. "I … I don't want to l-leave, or … or get a jo…job somewhere el…else," she gasped. "A-all I've ever wa…wanted was to wor-work in the fa…fa…family business."
"You should have thought of that before you tried to seduce your sister's fiancé."
"I di…didn't. I didn't." She shook her head mournfully, her voice quivering with hopelessness. "I didn't."
Her father turned away and stared out the front window. "If you're trying to make me change my mind by crying, it won't work."
On some remote level, Maggie was as surprised and appalled by her reaction as her father. A quick wit and impudent tongue were her weapons of defense. She never cried. Never.
But she was beyond stopping. The anguished sobs came from some place deep in her soul, awful animal sounds of raw pain that tore from her. They were harsh and raspy, and they hurt her throat and shook her entire body.
"Come, come, Katherine," Jacob ordered in an impatient tone. "Control yourself. It's not as though you're going to be destitute and live on the streets. You have a good education. With your scholastic record, you should be able to find a decent job. Thousands of new college graduates leave home and strike out on their own every year."
But they weren't being tossed out of their family. The thought brought a fresh rush of panic and pain that threatened to take her to her knees and made her tears flow faster.
They hadn't the least effect on her father.
"These histrionics are not going to gain you anything. Dry your eyes, Katherine. The bus will be leaving in a little over an hour. I suggest you use that time to pack a few things. When you get settled, you can let Ida Lou know where to send the rest."
Maggie fought for control. It was painful and required a tremendous effort, but somehow she choked back the sobs until they gradually reduced to harsh, hitching sounds, then silent spasms that shook her body and rippled her throat.
Slowly, like an old, old woman, she straightened. Taking several tissues from the box on the desk, she dabbed at her eyes and runny nose.
It was over. Finished, she thought, and despair and hopelessness settled over her like a lead cape.
She looked into her father's unyielding gaze, trembling inside, a freshet of hot tears rushing to her eyes. "Goodbye, Daddy. I…" Her voice quavered and cracked, and she knew if she didn't go now she would break down again.
She turned to leave, but stopped when she noticed that she still hel
d the envelope of money in her hand. Numb to everything but the excruciating hollow ache in her chest, she stared at the bundle for an interminable time. Finally, gathering her tattered dignity, she placed the envelope on the desk.
"Don't be a fool, Katherine. Take the money. You'll need it."
She looked at her father then and shook her head. "No. I don't want your money." All she wanted—all she'd ever wanted—was his love, and she knew now that he would never give her that.
Holding on to her fragile emotions by sheer will, Maggie headed for the door on legs that seemed to have turned to wooden posts. Her steps were jerky and stiff, but she walked out of the room with her head held high.
* * *
Five
« ^ »
Maggie swallowed hard, her gaze still blindly fixed on the gazebo. Even after all this time, she remembered every detail of that awful night, every nuance and inflection in her father's voice, every word they had exchanged, every lash of pain each one had inflicted.
As a rule, she tried never to think about that parting scene. It hurt too much. But she supposed that, returning here for the first time since that night, it had been inevitable.
She would think of it as a catharsis, she told herself. Something she'd had to face. Now that she had, she could move on.
Dragging her gaze away from the gazebo, Maggie realized she had been so lost in the memory that she had forgotten to drink her coffee. She'd forgotten she was even holding the cup and saucer.
With a rueful shake of her head, she slung the cold brew out into the grass beyond the terrace and turned back to the table. She refilled the cup, then sat down again, this time with her back squarely toward the gazebo.
She had just taken the first sip when her mother stepped through the French doors from the family room.
"Ah, there you are, dear." Lily hurried across the terrace. "I just talked to the head nurse on your daddy's floor. He's doing well enough that he's nagging to come home. She expects Dr. Lockhart will release him this morning, so I'll be leaving to go get him in an hour or so."
As always, Lily looked immaculate, makeup perfect and understated, her hair a shiny cap of blond curls that enhanced the delicate beauty of her face. This morning she wore a casual but elegant deep rose pantsuit with a single strand of pearls.