by Ginna Gray
She grinned at his discomfort and surged up on tiptoes and kissed his chin again. “Not to me, it wasn’t. Thank you for telling me.”
Wyatt frowned. “Wait a minute, you said your name was Muldoon.” He glanced at Maggie’s left hand. “I don’t see a ring. I suppose that means you’re divorced.”
“Och. There you go again, jumping to conclusions.” Maggie shook her head and tsked.
“Don’t let the name fool you. She’s my granddaughter, all right. Stubborn as a mule, too. I’ve talked until I’m blue in the face, but she refuses to use my name.”
“Because I’m not a Hightower. I was born on the wrong side of the blanket, you see,” she said matter-of-factly to Wyatt.
“Margaret Mary!” Corinne gasped. She couldn’t have looked more shocked if Maggie had stripped naked and done a tap dance on her prize rosewood dining table.
Daphne moaned and buried her face against Eric’s chest.
Ignoring her sister’s hysterics, Maggie went on in the same cheerful voice. “You see, after he graduated from Harvard, Asa’s son, John—”
“Your father,” Asa snapped. “Which makes you as much a Hightower as Daphne. You’re just too stubborn and too full of stiff-necked pride is all.”
“Asa, we’ve been all over this a hundred times. If your son didn’t think enough of my mother and me to give us his name, then I don’t want it.”
“You see,” Asa thundered, looking to Wyatt for support. “Mule stubborn. Independent as hell, too, and full of sass. Enough to drive a preacher to drink.”
Other than flicking her grandfather a droll look, Maggie ignored the outburst and forged right on. “Anyway, as I was saying...after graduation John Hightower went on a world tour before settling down to marry his fiancée. While he was in Ireland he had a fling with a young Irish artist named Colleen Muldoon. I’m the result.”
Her sister made a sound as though she were in mortal pain.
“For heaven’s sake, Daphne. What’re you getting so hysterical about? Everyone in your crowd knows about me. It’s not as though I’m revealing some deep, dark secret.”
“I didn’t know,” Wyatt put in softly.
“Ah, but then, you’re not really a member of my sister’s crowd, are you?”
From what little she had gleaned since arriving, Wyatt Sommersby, though one of the wealthiest and most eligible bachelors in the state, was more interested in business and investing than living the life of one of the idle rich, which, Maggie conceded reluctantly, was a point in his favor.
According to Daphne, he was a financial genius and a tough-as-nails tycoon who spent almost no time playing. If he attended a party it was usually for a business reason. This engagement party was a rare exception.
Or was it? Maggie studied him, her lips pursing. Perhaps Mr. Sommersby saw his brother’s upcoming nuptials as more of a business merger than a marriage.
“True. But if you knew that, then you were also aware there was a possibility that I wouldn’t know about you.”
“Actually, I didn’t. I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Sommersby, but until this afternoon, I’d never even heard of you. The name Wyatt Sommersby meant absolute nothing to me.” Even if she had known who he was, she could not have cared less, was the message that hung in the air, unspoken. That Wyatt had received it was evident.
His eyes narrowed. Maggie’s danced with laughter.
Beside them, Daphne carried on as though it were the end of the world.
“Darling, it’s all right,” Eric crooned, patting her shoulder. “These things happen. No one blames you. Anyway, this is the nineties. These days no one cares.”
“I care,” Daphne wailed. “It’s so humiliating. And Margaret Mary is always doing things like this. She’s so brazen about it. If she would just keep her mouth shut, people might forget. Oh, Lord, what must your brother think of us?”
“Now, darling, don’t be upset,” Corinne soothed. “It’s an old scandal. One that people forgot about years ago. I’m sure Wyatt understands.”
“Okay, that’s enough. Maggie, you and Wyatt can settle this later. And for pity’s sake, Daphne, shut up that caterwauling,” Asa commanded. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself. Our guests are beginning to stare. Anyway, it’s time to make our announcement.”
Corinne looked stunned. “Now? But, Father, Daphne’s so upset—”
“Nonsense. Put a smile on your face, girl, and let’s get this show on the road.”
Daphne was too accustomed to catering to her grandfather to disobey. Her whining cut off as quick as shutting off a faucet. Hastily, she patted her hair and smoothed her dress. Linking her arm through Eric’s, she beamed up at him as though he had just handed her the world on a platter.
Throughout the announcement and the well-wishing and toasts that followed, Maggie stood quietly to one side, ignoring Wyatt’s steady stare. When the band struck up a tune and the happy couple took to the floor she started to ease away, but before she’d taken two steps Wyatt grasped her hand.
“Dance with me, Maggie.” It was a command, not a request.
Cocking her head to one side, she studied his tight smile. She could tell he expected her to argue. She grinned and answered with a cheery “All right” and led the way.
“Although, this really isn’t such a good idea, you know,” she added over her shoulder as they approached the cleared area that served as a dance floor.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“You’re much too tall to be my dancing partner. It’ll be awkward as the very devil. I’ll probably wind up with a crick in my neck.”
“I think we’ll manage,” he said dryly, and swept her into his arms.
He was a surprisingly good dancer, Maggie discovered, though it was every bit as awkward as she had predicted—at least for her. Her head did not even reach his bow tie and even though she had on three-inch heels, she still had to dance on tiptoes to keep her hand on his shoulder.
Somehow she had thought that because he was not a part of the social scene he would be stiff and uncomfortable dancing, but he glided to the rhythm with effortless ease.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were? You let me make a complete fool of myself.”
She fought back a grin. She had been expecting the question. “Why should I have? I knew you would find out soon enough. Besides, ’tisn’t my place to stop you from making a fool of yourself.”
“And you weren’t concerned that I’d be angry?”
“Not a’tall. Why should I be?”
He studied her face for several seconds. “You really haven’t ever heard of me, have you?”
“Nope. Sorry. I don’t read the society pages. Nor the gossip columns.”
“Nor, evidently, the business section.”
“Right. I leave that to Asa,” she admitted, chuckling.
“You call your grandfather Asa?”
Maggie shrugged. “Since I didn’t come into his life until late, grandfather just didn’t seem appropriate.”
“Mmm.” He continued to study her, and for several moments they danced in silence. Since Maggie had to tip her head back painfully far to see over his shoulder, she stared at a stud on his pleated silk shirt. She couldn’t help but notice that he had an impressive chest. He smelled nice, too.
“So. Why don’t you tell me the rest of your story,” he said, deftly maneuvering her around another couple. “I got the definite feeling you left a lot out.”
“Why, Your Nibs. I never would have picked you for the kind who listens to juicy gossip.”
“I’m not. That’s why I want to hear it from you.”
“Trust me, ’tisn’t very interesting.”
“Tell me, anyway. Unless, of course, it’s too painful to talk about.”
“Painful?” Maggie thought that over. “No. Not for me, at any rate. For my mother ’twas agony.”
“Did John know she was pregnant when he left Ireland?”
“Oh, yes. He even claimed to love her, bu
t she was just a poor Irish lass with no money, no breeding and none of the social skills of his set. He told her she would never fit into his world. It crushed her, but he went back to his eminently suitable fiancée anyway.”
“Corinne?”
“Yes. Three weeks after he returned they were married. Even then my mother did not give up hope that he would change his mind. But a year later, six months after I was born, Daphne came along. Mother knew then that he would never marry her. When Tyson was born three years later she died a little.
“Actually, John Hightower was probably right,” she mused, glancing at the elegantly dressed, well-heeled people around them. “My mother would never have fit in with this crowd.”
“Why not? You’ve managed to.”
“You think so?” Maggie flashed him a wry look. “If by that you mean I know which fork to use, I guess you could say that, but mainly I just go my own way. In any case, my mother didn’t have the opportunities that I’ve had. She wouldn’t have had a chance with these people. They would have eaten her alive. It’s too bad she never realized that. If she had, maybe she would have forgotten John Hightower and gotten on with her life, instead of wasting it pining away for something that could never be.”
“What did she do after he abandoned you?”
“Oh, he didn’t abandon us. Not completely, anyway. There was a check every month, and he came to visit three or four times a year. All on the QT, of course. No one in the States knew about us. He traveled a lot for Asa’s company so ’twas easy for him to stop by Ireland now and then.”
“I’m surprised your mother would have any more to do with him.”
“Aw, well, she still loved him, the poor soul. Mother lived for those times. Between visits she scarcely left our cottage for fear he would call or show up and she wouldn’t be there. She spent the next ten years grieving and waiting.”
“What happened after ten years?”
“She died,” Maggie said baldly, and Wyatt winced.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. ‘Twas a long time ago. The doctor said ’twas pneumonia that took her, but I think ’twas a broken heart. John Hightower came to the funeral, you know. Wept like a baby, he did,” she said in a distracted voice, her gaze fixed, unseeing, on his shirt front.
“Then what happened?” he prodded after a moment.
“What? Oh. I went to live with relatives in Galway—distant cousins. The checks continued to come every month, but he never returned. Then about four years later the checks stopped coming, too. My cousin wrote to him to find out why, but John had been killed in an auto accident so it was Asa who got the letter. It was the first he or anyone here had heard of me.”
“That must of been quite a shock.”
“Yes, I imagine. But to give him his due, Asa came and fetched me right away. He may be a hard businessman and a crusty old coot, but family is important to him. He said I belonged here with him and my grandmother. Unfortunately, I never really got to know her. She was ill when I arrived, and she passed on eight months later.”
“It must have been a little awkward with Corinne and her children living with Asa, too.”
“A bit at first. But they’ve always been nice to me. Tyson is a sweetie. Despite what you saw tonight, Daphne and I get along well enough and Corinne has been remarkably tolerant.”
She didn’t tell him what she had always suspected—that Asa had given them no choice. Corinne was a member of an old, socially prominent but impoverished family. She and Maggie’s half sister and brother were dependent on Asa for the cushy life-style they enjoyed. They all bent over backward to please him, and when he gave an order they jumped.
“So tell me, Margaret Mary Muldoon. Since you’re not a part of the country club set and you’re obviously not a maid, what do you do?”
“I guess you could call me a free-lance writer.”
“Ah. And what is it that you write?”
“Oh, this and that. Nothing that would interest you.”
He frowned, clearly not pleased with being so summarily cut off. He was accustomed to having his questions answered.
Before he could say more the music ended and she pulled out of his arms, flashing an amused smile. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Sommersby.”
“Maggie! There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Annoyance rippled through Wyatt at the interruption, but Maggie whirled and let out a whoop. “Philip!”
Frowning, Wyatt watched her cover the short space and hurl herself into a man’s open arms with utter abandon.
Wyatt recognized him. Philip Townsend was the scion of an old Texas family whose fortune had been made in oil during the boom days. Though a nice enough sort, he was a jet-setting playboy who drifted aimlessly through life, drinking, partying and seducing women, not necessarily in that order.
“Ah, Maggie, my love, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Philip said, holding her at arm’s length. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you ever since I returned from the Riviera last week.”
“I’ve been on the road for a few days. I came back yesterday just so I could attend this party.”
Philip sighed. “When are you going to give up that nonsense and marry me? You know I love you madly. I’ll give you the moon and stars, my darling. Just say the word.”
Wyatt watched them, his jaw tight. Townsend was looking at her like a gourmet eyeing a delicious treat, and Maggie’s mischievous grin flashed indiscriminately.
Laughing, she went up on tiptoes and kissed Philip’s cheek. “You know you’d keel over in a faint if I said yes.”
For an instant Philip’s perpetually devil-may-care expression slipped and something hot and intense burned in his eyes. The look vanished as quickly as it had come, and he turned on his sleepy-eyed grin.
“Try me.”
“What? And give your sainted mother a heart attack? I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”
He tweaked her upturned nose and gave her a soulful look. “One of these days I’m going to wear you down.”
“Have you congratulated Daphne and Eric yet?” she asked, deftly changing the subject. At Philip’s no, she linked her arm with his and turned to lead him toward the group where her sister and Eric stood. But when she noticed Wyatt, she stopped.
“Oh. Philip, have you met Wyatt Sommersby?”
Wyatt gritted his teeth. She had forgotten he was even there. That was a first, and he didn’t particularly like the experience.
“Yes, of course. We’ve known each other for years.” Philip smiled and stuck out his hand, and Wyatt had no choice but to take it. “How are you, Wyatt? I haven’t seen you around for a while.”
“I’ve been hard at work. Business has taken up most of my time lately,” he replied, squeezing Philip’s hand harder than necessary.
It was a deliberate dig, and he watched the younger man for signs of discomfort, but Philip didn’t turn a hair.
“C’mon, Philip, before the happy couple are swamped,” Maggie said, tugging him toward the sidelines. “You can say hello to Asa while you’re there, too.”
Wyatt followed along behind the pair, feeling like a fifth wheel—another new experience he found less than pleasing.
After a few minutes of well-wishing and small talk, Philip dragged Maggie back out onto the dance floor. Wyatt watched them, frowning.
He took Maggie through an intricate dance maneuver, whirling her round and round. She threw back her head and laughed, and Wyatt’s eyes narrowed as they traced over the graceful arch of her neck.
“You’re probably wondering why I didn’t introduce you to Maggie instead of Daphne.”
He looked around and found Asa standing beside him, watching his granddaughter. “The thought has crossed my mind.”
“Would it have made any difference if I had?”
“Ultimately, no. I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Mmm. That’s what I thought, so I didn’t see any sense in bother
ing. Besides, Maggie’s not as biddable as Daphne. If she thought I was matchmaking she’d have my head.”
Wyatt chuckled and cast Asa an amused look, but his eyes returned at once to the pixie on the dance floor. He could feel Asa watching him, his pensive gaze flickering back and forth between him and Maggie, but he ignored the older man.
“Take my advice. Don’t set your sights on Maggie.”
The comment was not at all what Wyatt had expected. He’d been sure the old fox was plotting ways to get the two of them together. The concern in Asa’s voice was sincere, however, and Wyatt was surprised by the look of compassion in the old man’s eyes.
“She’s a free spirit who goes where the wind blows her. A will-o’-the-wisp as elusive as a leprechaun. The more you try to hold on to her or tie her to you, the more she pulls away. So if you’ve got ideas in that direction, my advice to you is to forget them. She’ll break your heart, my boy.”
Wyatt started to give a scornful snort, until he saw Asa’s expression. He could not imagine any woman meaning that much to him, but he could see that the old man meant every word.
“Don’t worry about me, Asa,” he said with a droll smile. “I promise you, my heart is safe. Even from leprechauns.”
“Humph. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Wyatt shrugged off Asa’s warning. He was confident of his ability to resist any woman’s charms. Nevertheless, all evening his gaze followed Maggie wherever she went.
She fascinated him. He’d never met a woman quite like Maggie. She seemed so...so alive. She practically vibrated with vitality. A smile rarely left her lips, and her eyes had a perpetual twinkle.
Of course, whenever she was in his vicinity she seemed to be laughing at him. It was annoying and frustrating as hell, but still he found her thoroughly captivating.
Around midnight, after having danced his duty dances with his future sister-in-law and her mother, Wyatt stood on the sidelines with Asa, watching Maggie talking with a group of women on the other side of the room. She looked like a tiny, brightly colored parakeet in a roomful of crows. It was at that precise moment that he decided he wanted Margaret Mary Muldoon.
“Uh-oh. Looks like Philip’s had a few too many.”