Love's Silver Lining

by Julie Lessman

  She shivered, suddenly not so cold anymore.

  “This has g-got to s-stop,” she stuttered, staring up at a starlit sky while panic cooled the heat in her veins. “Please, God, I can’t love him that way. He disdains marriage and he disdains You, so show me, please, what can I do?”

  The stars winked overhead as if privy to a secret that God refused to share. Expelling a mournful sigh, Maggie slumped back into the swing, knowing full well what she needed to do.

  She would leave.

  Two months of the six left or no.

  Move into town as soon as she possibly could.

  “Here you go, Mags.” Blaze draped a blanket around her, then sat and pulled her close, resting her head against his chest. “Feeling better?”

  No. “Warmer, at least,” she said softly, which has nothing to do with the blanket …

  “Want to talk about you and Clint?”

  No. I’d rather talk about you and me. Her chest rose and fell in a shaky sigh. “In hind sight, I think I may have made more of it than it was, so I apologize for reacting so badly.”

  His grunt reverberated in her ear. “In hind sight, Nurse Nightingale, I should kick your hind end for even stepping outside with the leche. Confound it, Maggie, I warned you he had a dangerous reputation, didn’t I?”

  She nodded. And Sister Fred warned me you had one, too, but I failed to realize how much.

  “Why’d you do it, then?” Hurt threaded the gruffness of his tone. “Why’d you step outside with a womanizer like Clint Keller, much less traipse all the way down to some lonely creek?”

  “I was mad at you,” she whispered.

  “Humph, no kidding. I tried to give you an escape by asking you to dance, but you just bit my head off in that sarcastic-sweet way of yours, pert near scorching my hide.”

  Escape. Maggie’s throat muscles hitched several times. If only.

  He pulled back to gently nudge her chin up with his thumb, his face so close, peppermint stirred her senses while his touch stirred her soul. “I’m your best friend, Maggie—why would you turn on me like that when you needed me the most?”

  Because I needed you the most … “You danced with everyone but m-me,” she said in a quivering tone that made her feel younger than Shaylee, embarrassed she couldn’t stop the tears that sprang to her eyes.

  “Aw, Maggie …” His voice trailed off as he bent to brush a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering long enough to unleash an aching need in her belly. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I guess I was a little miffed at you, too, agreeing to go with Clint in the first place, so I just stayed away.” His voice lowered to husky as his mouth skimmed over to nuzzle the erratic throb of her temple. “I don’t like him sniffin’ around.”

  “M-Me eith-er,” she said, the words too breathless to suit while his lips moved to trace the shell of her ear.

  “We’re best friends, Maggie, and you belong to me, not him.” His breath blew warm against her skin, kindling more fire in her belly when he began to suckle the lobe of her ear.

  Oh, Blaze … The moan that escaped her merged with his when he mated his mouth to hers, their groans lost in the ecstasy of wonder and want and gentle exploration.

  She gasped when he jerked away, painfully bereft of the taste of his lips. “Heaven help me, Maggie, I want you,” he whispered, taking her mouth again with such gentle dominance, she had no will to say no.

  “Then heaven help me, too, Blaze—because I feel the same.” Her jagged breaths infused her confession into the cool desert night, warming the air between them like it was the full noon of day. Breaking the claim of his lips, she cradled a palm to his bristled jaw, hope winning over fear at the naked look of love in his eyes. “So, what do we do now?”

  He stared like a man possessed, his breathing harsh and his eyes dark with desire. “I guess it means our relationship has changed, Maggie. Seems like our friendship has deepened into you being the only woman I want to see.”

  Her pulse stuttered. “See? Or spark?”

  Even in the moonlight, she spied the ruddy rise of color up his neck as he gave her a sheepish smile, his broad shoulders lifting in a noncommittal shrug. “Can’t it be both?” he said, bending in to feather the warmth of his words along the curve of her jaw.

  “Already told Rachel and every other woman in this confounded town that I am not the marrying kind, so they best not get any ideas.”

  Could it be both? Reality skittered her spine, turning the warm chills of Blaze’s touch as cold as the gust of mountain breeze that now fluttered her hair.

  No, it couldn’t.

  With God’s help, Rachel had garnered the courage to prove that and now Maggie needed to prove it too. Chest heaving, she pushed him away, scooting back while she pulled the blanket more firmly around her shoulders. “No, it can’t, Blaze, because I’m respectable, remember? Any sparkin’ that happens would have to be inside of a courtship, so are those your intentions?”

  Blaze blinked, the hard duck of his Adam’s apple a telling sign of where his so-called “intentions” lay. Removing his Stetson, he sucked in a deep draw of air, expelling it again with an unsteady scrub of unruly curls. “Well, I’m not exactly ready to court, Maggie,” he said with a crimp of his brow.

  “I understand, and that’s absolutely no problem, truly.” She stood to her feet, ignoring the ache in her chest as she clutched the blanket like a shield. “Because I’m not ready to spark either. Good night, Blaze.”

  He clamped a fist to her wrist, and she caught her breath, the sound of his shallow breathing keeping pace with hers. “Sit down, Maggie,” he said in a dangerous tone that told her she’d pushed too close to his limit. “We need to talk.”

  “Fine.” She nodded to the rocking chairs at the other end of the deck. “We’ll talk over there, then, in separate chairs.”

  He glared, that hard-sculpted jaw grinding as he stared her down. “I thought you didn’t want to be cold.”

  With a boost of her chin, she turned to march to the other side of the deck, tone tinged with a sarcasm she seldom employed. “Suddenly that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.”

  Taking his time, he finally rose, moonlight emphasizing the chiseled stone of his face as he followed, stopping to stand in front of the empty rocker next to hers. Lips clamped tight, he merely probed her with a penetrating gaze, hip cocked and eyes cool as if waiting for her to relent.

  Steeling her jaw to match his, she shimmied in, blanket tucked protectively around her. Likely to be a long wait, mister, so you may as well settle in.

  The breath whooshed from her lungs when he yanked her up fast, the blanket tumbled to the floor along with her stomach. He jerked her near, molding her so close, the heat of his body matched that in his eyes. “All right—we’re courtin’ then,” he whispered in a ragged voice, and cupping the back of her head, he kissed her long and hard, his groan reaching deep inside to mingle with one of her own.

  Near gasping for air, Maggie shoved him back. “We can’t—you don’t go to church.”

  He gaped, mouth dangling along with her hopes. “Blast it all, Maggie,” he hissed, wildfire blazing in his eyes, “I’ll go to church, then, confound it.”

  “You will?” Her heart took flight despite the adorable scowl on his face.

  “I said so, didn’t I?” He bent to kiss her again, and she pushed him away once more, determined to confirm his intent.

  She peeked up with a nervous chew of her lip. “So, we’re officially courting, then?”

  “Hang it all, Maggie, how the devil do you want it, in blood?”

  She paused, her smile tentative. “That would be nice, but since the likelihood is completely remote, I just want you to say it as if you’re actually happy.”

  Gaze averted, he mumbled something before he took a deep breath. “Yes, we’re courting, Miss Mullaney,” he said in a decidedly softer tone, his gaze gentling along with it. “I love you, Maggie—against my better judgment and great effort not to. But darlin’
, you gotta give me some time to get used to this because not one hour ago, we were just friends.”

  “Best friends,” she whispered, reaching up to sway her mouth slowly against his, which we’ll always be, Brendan Zachary Donovan, no matter how much you heat my blood.”

  He groaned and finished it off with an urgent kiss before sidetracking her with a playful nip of her earlobe. “So … I heat your blood, do I?” He carefully nuzzled the nape of her neck. “Just imagine what I’ll be able to do with a ring on your finger …”

  Swallowing hard, she distanced herself to peek up. “So, we’re courting now as well as going to church together every single week, right?”

  He huffed out a sigh, looping his arms loosely around the small of her back. “Yes, and yes,” he said with a dry slant of a smile. He arched a thick brow. “Anything else?”

  “Well …” Nibbling the edge of her smile, she stood on tiptoe to brush a tender kiss to his mouth. “Now that we’re officially on the path to marriage …” She gave his lower lip a tiny tug with her teeth, quickly retreating before he could take over from there. “I don’t mind a few kisses, Blaze, because it’s downright pleasurable. But the kind of sparkin’ I’m guessing you had with Rachel?” Softly bussing his cheek, she stepped out of his embrace and hurried toward the door, hand on the knob while delivering a secret smile. She blew him a kiss. “That, my adorably cocky cowboy, “belongs to a wife.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  “Uncle Finn, can we do this again tomorrow night?” Shaylee vaulted up from the back of the wagon where she, Gert, Angus, Jake, and Sheridan sat in a bed of hay, a quick and comfortable fix for those who couldn’t ride up front on the single bench. Blaze had been noticeably upset when Maggie had taken sick, so he plainly hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d inadvertently driven her home in the two-benched rig. The result was only four seats on the single bench for the rest of the family on the ride back to the ranch, so Finn had improvised with hay. His smile skewed sideways. Obviously a wise decision.

  “Please, Uncle Finn?” Shaylee pleaded as the wagon rumbled through the front gate. It jostled the bed so much, she toppled over in a joyous shriek, falling right on top of Jake, who tickled her unmercifully.

  “Sure, why not? I’m rather partial to hay.” Finn grinned down at Libby as their shoulders bumped on the bench seat, giving her a wink that dusted her cheeks with a pretty moon glow. He bent close, his voice considerably lower. “Although I prefer it in a loft to a wagon, don’t you, Mrs. McShane?” he whispered for her ears alone, reminding her of their first “official” kiss in the Poppy’s barn loft that fateful night so many years ago.

  “Oh, yes, another hayride, please!” Sheridan baptized Jake with more hay, one of many handfuls over the course of the drive home, amid laughter and giggles and silly songs in the cool desert night. “I think that would be another wonderful family event.”

  Gert’s grunt rose above the girls’ laughter and Jake’s mock threats, and Finn grinned as he glanced back at the O’Shea’s crotchety maid. Arms in a tight fold, she bumped along with the others, her perennial scowl tipped with tease. “Followed by a family dunk in the river, no doubt, with a bar of lye to chase the chiggers.”

  “I must admit, it was a fun addition to the evening, this impromptu hayride, Finn,” Maeve said in the front, head resting on Aiden’s shoulder. “Made me feel young again,” she said wistfully.

  Gert cut loose with a cackle. “Crawl on back here, Mrs. Maeve, and the chiggers’ll whittle off a few more years if you want, along with a little of your hide.”

  A shiver shook Maeve’s shoulders as she glanced back into the bed, nose in a scrunch. “No thanks, Gert, too many nasty critters bedded in that hay to suit, and the smell tickles my nose.”

  “Cain’t argue with you there on the critters or the smell,” Gert replied, most likely with a scowl in Angus’s direction.

  Finn shook his head as Jake issued a warning to Sheridan. “Okay, Half-Pint—anymore hay in my face, and you’re going to be wearing it home, understood?” Laughter edged his threat as more hay instantly flew in the air along with Sheridan’s and Shaylee’s giggles.

  A veritable free-for-all broke loose just as Finn pulled the wagon in front of the house. He glanced back to see Jake laughing while he pinned Sheridan to the bed, and the sight pulled him up short, even with Shaylee wiggling on Jake’s back like a batch of earthworms. As Blaze’s and Dash’s best friend, Jake was practically family, always wrestling and teasing with Finn’s girls just like their brothers did. Only seeing Sheridan’s burgeoning body beneath his hold now set off warning bells Finn hadn’t heard before.

  “Everybody out of the bed—now!” he said in a voice sterner than usual. “We’re home, and everyone needs to clean up and go to bed.”

  Libby looked up with a slight pinch of brows. “Everything all right?” she whispered, and he released a heavy sigh, grateful she was considering staying because he sure couldn’t mother these girls alone.

  “Sure. Just worn out from the long day, I suppose.” He hooked her waist when she started to follow the others out of the wagon, tugging her close to whisper in her ear. “Help me put the wagon up?”

  She nodded, and he pressed a kiss to her hair as everyone else trudged up the porch steps laughing and yawning except Jake, who moved to stand on Finn’s side of the wagon.

  Nudging his hat up, Jake peered up at Finn, pieces of hay clinging to his shirt and hair. “Mr. McShane, I’ll be happy to take care of Lightning and the wagon while you head on in, sir.”

  Finn’s heart warmed as he looked at the boy who’d always been a best friend to his nephews and a gentle big brother to his nieces. Plus the closest thing to a son Finn knew other than Blaze and Dash. Any angst he’d felt over the image of him and Sheridan suddenly faded in the light of the respect and trust Finn held for this man. “No, Jake, I’ll take care of it, but thanks. You get some sleep. We have some hard days ahead with the cattle drive.”

  “Yes, sir. Good night.” Jake tipped his hat to Libby. “Ma’am.”

  “Good night, Jake,” Libby called as Jake strolled to the bunkhouse.

  With a light snap of Lightning’s reins, Finn slowly exhaled as the wagon rumbled to the barn, Libby’s head on his shoulder making him wish this night would never end. “Whoa, boy,” he said when they were inside, hopping out to help Libby down. “Tired?” he asked, hands still wrapped around her tiny waist as he drew her closer.

  “A little, but it’s a good tired,” she said with a relaxed smile.

  “Too tired to talk awhile?” Grazing his thumb down the curve of her face, he slowly leaned in to nuzzle her neck.

  “Mmm …” Her eyes drifted closed as her head tipped to give him full access. “No, but why do I have the feeling talking’s not all you want to do?”

  He grinned and deposited a kiss to her nose. “Because you’re clairvoyant?” He strolled over to turn up the oil lamp Shelby had left burning.

  Her lashes flipped up as she gave him a pursed smile. “No, because I’m experienced with the likes of you, Griffin Alexander McShane, so I know what to expect.”

  “Ah, but not always,” he said with a wink, relieving Lightning of the harness and saddle. “Talk to me, Libby, and tell me what your favorite thing was about tonight.”

  Finn watched her mosey on over to perch on the fence partition of Lightning’s stall, thinking she was the prettiest little thing he ever did see. “Well, other than my handsome escort …” Hands braced to the railing, she gave him a shy smile. “I’d say attending a social function with my parents was like a dream come true. Papa would never take Mama to dances way back when, so it was a real joy to see them dancing and laughing together all night. And chatting with them, too, as if they finally realized I was all grown up.”

  A grin split Finn’s face as he brushed Lightning with strong, firm strokes, tossing Libby a wink over his shoulder. “Oh, no doubt about that, ma’am, and anybody who can’t see it is plum blind.” He
continued grooming while Libby chattered on, her excitement over the evening satisfying proof of just how far he and Libby had come in four short months. And if Finn had his way, the next two would be better yet.

  With a quick check of Lightning’s hooves, Finn led him into his stall and removed his halter, hanging it up on the wall before offering the horse an ample drink from a bucket. Closing the gate, he handed the palomino a piece of an apple from his pocket. “Here you go, boy,” he said, nuzzling the horse for several seconds before ambling over to where Libby sat on the railing, absently kicking her legs.

  His voice turned husky. “Now it’s your turn,” he said softly, caging her in on the fence with a wayward smile. Picking pieces of hay out of her hair, he gently grazed his lips against her temple while looping his arms around her waist. “You look good in hay as I recall.” He nuzzled the nape of her neck before slowly skimming his mouth to hers for a leisurely kiss. “You know, Mrs. McShane, I do have a loft in this barn, and since we had our first kiss in one—”

  “It was our second kiss,” she corrected, pushing him back with two firm palms, a twinkle lighting her eyes. “Which taught me, sir, to never go into a hayloft with you unless I have a ring on my finger.”

  “Mmm … is that so?” Tugging her from the fence, he pinned her with a shuttered look while he carried her to a wooden bench in the tack room.

  “Finn!” She made a half-hearted attempt at wiggling free as he snatched a blanket and tossed it over the bench. “What are you doing?” she said, her whisper a near squeal.

  “Just following orders, ma’am.” He carefully set her down with a quick kiss to her cheek before reaching into his vest pocket and dropping to one knee. “Liberty Margaret O’Shea,” he said as he held up a diamond ring that shimmered in the lamplight as much as the surprise in her eyes, “will you marry me?”

  “Oh, Finn!” Hands folded to her mouth, she caught her breath, tears glazing her eyes as she gazed at the diamond. “It’s absolutely beautiful!” A nervous giggle escaped as she stroked his raspy jaw. “But we’re already married, Mr. McShane.”