Love's Silver Lining

by Julie Lessman

“I can’t thank you enough, John, for hosting this grand kickoff to my bid for mayor.” Finn glanced around, amazed at the number of supporters who’d shown up. “I’m humbled and honored, my friend.”

  “And I’m humbled and honored you finally said yes. I’ve been harping on you for years now, young man, because you’re just what this city and state needs, so I aim to do everything in my power to see it through.”

  “Appreciate it, John.” Finn glanced at the rest of the table with a warm smile, greeting Senator Jones and his wife first, Jo Beth and her escort, then both Milo’s wife and John’s. “Good evening, everyone. I’d like to introduce Liberty O’Shea, who as you may know is staying at the Silver Lining Ranch with her parents and goddaughter until the O’Shea’s house is rebuilt.”

  Turning to Libby with a slight bow, Finn motioned a hand to those at the table, introducing her—or reintroducing in Milo’s, Bettie’s, and Jo Beth’s case—to each one, ending with John.

  “Ah, Aiden’s daughter, all the way here from New York, eh?” Tugging on his scruffy salt-and-pepper goatee, John surveyed Libby with warm interest, brown eyes spanning as wide as his smile. “I’ve heard much about you, my dear,” he said, giving Libby’s hand a polite squeeze, “and I must say I’m very impressed with a dutiful daughter who would put her life on hold to tend to her parents as diligently as you.”

  Finn bit back a smile when Libby’s cheeks flamed bright red, giving the scarlet chairs a run for their money.

  Libby grasped John’s hand in both of hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, John, and please—the credit all goes to Finn, I assure you,” she said with a bright smile. “Why, the man practically blackmailed me, insisting on providing shelter for my parents and me.” Head tipped, she peered up at Finn with a definite smirk. “Isn’t that right, Finn?”

  “Right on the money.” He gave her a wink that bloodied her cheeks all the more.

  “Doesn’t surprise me in the least,” John said with a slap on Finn’s back. “This man will do whatever it takes to make things right, isn’t that so, Finn?”

  “Yes, sir, it is.” Helping Libby into her seat, Finn allowed his fingers to graze the soft skin of her arms while he gently pushed her chair in, noting the pretty blush that suddenly rose in her cheeks.

  Including courting my wife.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “So, tell me, Libby – did you have a good time?” Finn’s voice was soft as they drove away from Piper’s Opera House. The gentle whisper of the wind through mesquite trees harmonized with crickets and katydids while people still milled outside, saying their good-byes.

  A good time? Libby peeked at Finn out of the corner of her eyes, stomach fluttering more than the wispy canopy of leaves overhead. No, more like … a heavenly time.

  The food. The music. The friends.

  Finn.

  “I did,” she said softly, wondering exactly when she’d fallen back in love with her husband. She wasn’t quite sure, but somewhere over the last three and a half months, he’d breeched her defenses. She suspected it had begun in Reno when she’d awakened in his arms. Her smile tipped. Of course, Mrs. Poppy hadn’t helped with her conversation a few weeks ago, urging Libby to pray about loving and trusting Finn, which she had. The loving part had definitely become easier after that, so much so, in fact, that Libby’s pulse picked up whenever Finn returned in the evenings from overseeing branding on the south forty or full days at the mine.

  But the trusting? Libby released a quiet sigh. Definitely slower although definite progress had been made through countless talks with Finn since Mrs. Poppy’s conversation—and, no doubt, her prayers. Libby had been surprised to learn just how much she and Finn actually agreed on women’s rights. Just not how to go about acquiring them for the gentler sex who were still perceived in many states as nothing more than a husband’s property.

  But tonight! She gave in to a contented sigh, the throaty hoot-hoot-hoot-hoooooo sound of an owl seeking its mate a gentle confirmation Finn was doing much the same. Was it the way his fingers had lingered, brushing her skin? The warmth of his palm to the small of her back? Or maybe his tender tone whenever he spoke to her, or the way he held her close when they danced, as if she were a priceless treasure he couldn’t let go. Her heart had swooped at the heated look in his eyes as if she were the only woman in the room. And, oh, sweet mother of mercy, how she wanted to be!

  For him.

  His husky chuckle filled the starlit night—and her heart—with beautiful music that surrounded her like the warmth of his arms during a candlelight waltz. “So, the evening was so good it’s stolen your tongue?” he asked with laughter warm in his eyes. “Or so good that you’re too worn out to talk?”

  A feathery sigh wrapped around her smile as she drew her shawl closer, hugging it to her chest. “So good it reminded me how we fell in love.”

  His teeth flashed white in the night. “That good, huh?” He extended an arm to hook her in close, his warmth seeping into her side like his love was seeping into her heart. “I was proud to be with you tonight, Libby, proud that you’re my wife, even if nobody in town knows it. Everybody loved you.”

  A soft grunt escaped her lips, a hint of jealousy edging her tone. “Not Jo Beth. If looks could singe, I’d be fried to a crisp while she brazenly fawned all over you.”

  His chuckle rumbled against her side. “She’s just looking for another husband, and I’m the one that got away, remember? I’m pretty sure she’s never forgiven you for that—or me. But you and I both know she never stood a chance after you came home from college. You’re bright, beautiful, gentle and kind when you’re not riled, darlin’, which has always stirred me like no other woman.” He gave her waist a playful pinch. “And feisty and full of fire when you are, which has always stirred my blood like nobody else.”

  Smiling, she leaned her head on his shoulder, remembering how no other boy or man had ever captured her like Finn either, right from the start. “Well, I was proud tonight, too, Finn, because everyone respects and admires you so. But then, people have always adored you, even when you were just a ‘cocky womanizer.’” Her smile bled into her voice over her favorite taunt from years ago.

  “All right, I’ll give you ‘cocky,’ Mrs. McShane, but the only woman I ever wanted was you, Libs, and I hope by now you know that’s never changed.”

  “I do,” she said softly, rib cage expanding with pleasure as Finn pressed a kiss to her head, her trust factor expanding along with it. He continued talking about the evening, and Libby had no doubt that with his warm and winning way, he was a natural for politics. After seeing his rapport tonight with so many influential supporters, she wondered if returning to be Finn’s wife wasn’t what God had in mind all along.

  Even now his excitement was contagious, fairly shimmering in his voice like moonlight shimmered in his eyes. She chuckled along as he shared interesting anecdotes about all the people she’d met—both political and personal. He had always been a charismatic boy, but now he’d become a charismatic man who garnered great influence with influential people. Could it be that theirs was meant to be a marriage of true passion—both Finn’s and hers for each other … and hers for women’s rights?

  Finn’s horse, Lightning, jostled the dirt road to turn onto a weedy lane off of Finn’s property, and Libby sat straight up on the seat, clutching Finn’s arm. Her stomach surged along with the phaeton when she saw where they were going. She gulped.

  True passion, indeed!

  “Remember this place?” His husky tone told her that he certainly did, his thumb grazing her hip with one hand while he tugged on the reins with the other. “Whoa, boy,” he said, halting the phaeton in front of a spring-fed lake where she and Finn had spent many a moonlight picnic. A saffron sash of light rippled across inky waters, swaying to the music of trees whispering in the breeze and crickets crooning their night songs. “If not, I can certainly jog your memory,” he whispered against her temple, burrowing in to feather her ear.

&
nbsp; “Finn”—her voice was little more than a rasp, pulse skyrocketing when he lifted her onto his lap and dipped her back to explore her neck with his mouth.

  “Mmm?”

  “What are y-you d-doing?” she said, her words stuttering along with her heart.

  “Reminding you of just how good we are together, Libby.” Heat coursed through her veins when he softly brushed his mouth against hers before gently tugging her lower lip with his teeth.

  “I … remember all too well,” she whispered breathlessly, palms to his chest to hold him at bay.

  A slow grin meandered its way across his lips. “I don’t think you do, Mrs. McShane, because if your memories were as potent as mine, darlin’, you’d be kissing me back right about now.” He captured her mouth with his own, and she had no control over the moan that slipped from her lips, tangling with his own. “Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice fraught with so many things she recognized in herself—desire, desperation, devotion.

  And a love that had never died.

  “I want you, Libby—forever.” His fingers softly traced the curve of her neck to rest in the hollow of her throat where the wild beat of her pulse spoke even if she couldn’t. Eyes burning into hers, he bent low, skimming her collarbone with his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss to her bare shoulder before rising to whisper warm in her ear. “Promise me, please, that you’ll think about staying.”

  Heart ricocheting wildly, she closed her eyes, suddenly aware how very much she wanted him too. Think about staying? She swallowed hard, a warm shiver licking through her as he teased the lobe of her ear with his mouth.

  Sweet mother of mercy—as if she could think of anything else!

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  “Something cool to drink, Maggie?”

  Maggie jolted, dragging her gaze from where Blaze danced with another girl to Clint’s face as he whirled her in his arms at the Bar J Ranch rodeo barn dance. She blinked, barely seeing Clint much less hearing him as he held her close. “What did you say, Clint?”

  All around them, couples waltzed to the banjo twang of “Clementine” in an intimate candlelit barn aglow with lanterns strewn clear across the rafters of the vaulted ceiling. Around the perimeters, clusters of tree stumps boasted an array of beautiful oil lamps, no doubt on loan from the ladies of Virginia City. A welcome breeze drifted in from the wide double doors on both sides of the barn, ushering in the fragrant scent of honeysuckle and fresh-mown grass, a nice complement to the smell of hay and horses and men.

  Her gaze wandered again, and a wavering sigh parted from her lips when Blaze’s heart-melting grin was given to another girl. Eyelids sinking closed, Maggie berated herself for feeling this way about her best friend. Ever since she’d convinced him a month ago to reinstate their friendship, they’d settled back into the easy and honest relationship they’d had before—whether working, playing, laughing, or debating. Sharing their hearts and their hopes for themselves, for their families, and for their country.

  But somewhere between his deep love of family and his endearing charm with nuns, nurses, teachers, or orphans at the hospital, orphanage, and school, she’d gone and done exactly what Sister Fred had warned her not to.

  She’d fallen in love with the town’s confirmed bachelor.

  A rogue.

  A radical angry with God.

  A reliable friend who turned her insides to mush.

  “Maggie?”

  She blinked several times, once again caught off-guard by Clint’s voice since up to now, he’d been holding her far too closely to talk face-to-face. “Pardon me?”

  The slow and dangerous grin that no doubt fluttered many a girl’s stomach—including hers—eased across his handsome face with reckless abandon. With masterful motion, he spun her wide, flaring her blue satin and lace dress while he grazed the small of her back with his thumb. “You look flushed, so I thought you might like a cold drink to cool down.”

  Against her will, her gaze flicked to where Blaze whispered into his partner’s ear, eliciting a giggle before he drew her closer. Maggie’s smile stiffened over the fact that her best friend—Blaze Donovan—had pert near danced with every single female tonight but her, and somehow the thought irked beyond belief. Cool down? She stifled a grunt. It would take more than a cold drink to do that. More like a washtub of ice in which they kept the jugs of cool drinks.

  “Maggie?”

  She caught her breath, face heating at the notion that Clint had caught her staring—again—at the man who had stolen the blue ribbon in the rodeo today. Remorse tented her brows as she strove to award Clint her most sincere smile. “I’m sorry, Clint—please forgive me, and yes, a cool drink would be lovely, thank you.”

  “All right, Maggie.” He glanced over his shoulder to where she’d been staring, and a scowl shadowed his lips just as the song ended. Grip suddenly firmer than before, he escorted her back to their table where Aunt Libby and Finn chatted amiably with Mr. and Mrs. O’Shea and Gert and Angus. Clint leaned close to Maggie’s ear as he seated her between Aunt Libby and Sheridan. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, palms coasting her arms with an intimacy that braised Maggie’s cheeks.

  “Are you having a good time, Maggie?” Aunt Libby asked with a tentative smile, voice low and a tiny crimp of concern in her brow.

  “Oh, absolutely!” Maggie fibbed, flashing her godmother a bright smile as she gave her hand a quick squeeze. Except for this stupid jealousy over Blaze dancing with everyone but her. “But I must admit that right about now, I envy you and Finn sitting every other song out.” She reached down to slip a heel off and rub her ankle. “Clint certainly enjoys dancing.”

  “Uh, I don’t think it’s the dancing he enjoys so much, do you, Aunt Libby?” Sheridan’s smile bordered on mischievous. Looking way too grown-up in one of Maggie’s scoop neckline silk dresses, the young girl possessed a wee bit more décolletage than a seventeen-year-old should have.

  “No, I don’t,” Libby said with a tilt of her head, as if assessing Maggie’s true state of mind. “But I do think it’s a shame he’s not giving the other men a chance with you, although I suppose as your escort, claiming every dance is understandable.”

  Sheridan unleashed a truly impressive grunt as she motioned her head to Jake, who sat on her other side laughing with Shaylee and Dash over a game of pigs in a pen. “Would you mind telling that to my escort?” she muttered, plopping her head in her hand. “He’s only danced with me once tonight, holding me so far away, I could have been on the other side of the room.”

  Libby’s brows dipped in sympathy. “Surely other boys have asked you to dance, Sheridan, haven’t they?”

  “Yes,” Sheridan said with a pout, “but Jake is supposed to be my escort, and I don’t want to dance with anyone but him.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” Maggie gave Sheridan’s waist an affectionate squeeze. She leaned close to the young girl’s ear. “Someone as pretty as you, young lady, needs to be out on that dance floor, so stop saying no and maybe a certain someone will notice.”

  Sheridan blinked, her blue eyes going wide before a slow smile curled on her lips. “Maggie Mullaney, you are a genius!” she whispered, casting a smug look over her shoulder to where Jake was teasing with Shaylee.

  Genius? Maggie’s gaze shot to Blaze, who was just finishing up a dance with Rachel, and her smile went flat. Apparently not since my best friend won’t give me the time of day, much less a dance.

  Huffing out a sigh, she quickly diverted her attention to the cluster of cowhands leaning against the far wall, noting several whom Sheridan had already turned down. “Murrell has asked you to dance no less than three times tonight, Sher, so I think it may be time to reward the boy’s courage, don’t you?”

  Sheridan glanced over her shoulder to where sweet Murrell Porter stood with one boot propped to the wall and arms folded, eyes fixed on Sheridan like she was one of the blue ribbons he’d tried to win for barrel racing.

  A wispy sigh drifted
from Sheridan as she sent a smile Murrell’s way. “I suppose, although honestly, Maggie, he’s so smitten now, I hate to encourage him since my heart leans toward …” She gave a sideways nod toward Jake, who appeared to be doing his best to avoid Sheridan completely.

  Eyes tender, Maggie cupped a hand to Sheridan’s jaw. “I know, Sher, but until that happens”—she ducked to stare straight into the girl’s eyes—“if it ever happens, you need to make the most of every day, sweetheart, by reaching out and blessing others.” She tossed a look over her shoulder, sympathy welling for the sweet boy who hadn’t taken his eyes off Sheridan all day. “A good place to start might be with Murrell, giving him a dance that will light up his night. It’s been my experience, Sher, that when one focuses on blessing others, blessings abound for them too.” She tugged on one of Sheridan’s golden curls. “Besides, not only will it help to get your mind off you-know-who, but you might just end up having more fun than you think.”

  Head cocked, Sheridan studied Maggie intently. “I can do that,” she said with a smile that slowly bloomed from ear to ear. She lunged to give Maggie a hug. “Oh, Maggie, thank you so much! I wish you could stay with us forever.”

  “Me too, sweetheart.” Maggie’s eyelids sagged closed as she squeezed Sheridan back, a sharp ache in her chest. There were only two months of the six left to go until the O’Shea’s—and Maggie with them—would be leaving the Silver Lining Ranch.

  Jumping up, Sheridan pushed in her chair just as the band struck up the lively tune of “Buffalo Gals,” delivering a pretty smile in Murrell’s direction. “I’ll be back.” She gave Maggie a wink. “Or not.”

  “Hey, Hash—Rachel’s looking for a dance with you, little brother.” Blaze arrived back at the table, the sound of his voice annoying Maggie when it caused her stomach to flip.

  “Just bidin’ my time till you ran out of charm, Hotshot.” Tweaking Shaylee’s neck, Dash hopped up, gaze homing in on where Rachel sat with a table of ladies down the way. He gave Maggie a wink as he shoved in his chair and slapped Blaze on the back. “Watch out for this one, Maggie—he has a reputation for charming the socks off any woman foolish enough to dance with him, so steer clear.” Grinning, he tipped Blaze’s Stetson off-kilter before heading Rachel’s way.