Love's Silver Lining

by Julie Lessman

  Cheers and shouts thundered to the ceiling while men whooped and stomped their feet in approval, earning Finn a vote with every snort of laughter.

  Any other woman alive would storm out of the room in utter mortification, but not his Libby, and Finn had to smother a groan when she marched right up on the stage to jab a finger in his chest. “You are nothing but a lying, conniving, yellow-bellied politician, Finn McShane, and anyone with an ounce of refinement would never vote for you.”

  “Well, that’s real good, Miss O’Shea,” he said, giving the audience a sly smile as he rocked back on his heels, “because if we passed the hat right now, I doubt we’d come up with an ounce of refinement in the lot of us.”

  The walls shook with hilarity as men howled and slapped each other on the backs, the broad smiles on the senator’s and Piper’s faces small comfort in the light of Libby’s fury. Although the scowl on Templeton’s face sure made up for it.

  “Ohhhhh … you are the lowest of low,” she hissed, trading in her finger for a fist that bludgeoned his chest.

  Snatching her wrist mid-blow, he forcefully lowered it to her side, his eyes burning with intensity despite the easy smile on his face. “Go home, Libby,” he whispered for her ears alone, “this is not what it looks like.”

  “Oh really?” She jerked her wrist free to wiggle the diamond ring off her finger, holding it up in her hand. “Well this is what it looks like, Finn McShame, because we are no longer engaged!” She flung the ring onto the podium where it spun and wobbled like a top.

  At least a hundred pair of eyes blinked, waiting to see what Finn would do. And when Libby spun on her heel to march off the stage and out of his life, he knew he had no choice. Making a scene was one thing, but leaving him high and dry in front of a room of rough-and-tumble men was political suicide. It would not only damage his career and his pride, but it was an assault on his manhood that would bludgeon his heart as well.

  Plucking the ring from the podium he pocketed it with a hard smile to the men in the room while retrieving his Stetson from his chair. “Pardon my sudden departure, gentlemen,” he said as he put his hat on, “but I’m a man of action who likes to tackle problems head-on, which is exactly what I would do for our great city if fortunate enough to be granted your vote.” With a nod first to the audience and then one to Milo, Finn strode from the stage in time to halt Libby at the door. She gasped when he whirled her around.

  “How dare you manhandle me, you brow-beating barbarian! You’re not a man; you’re a bald-faced bully!” Raising her tiny fist, she whacked him but good, leaving Finn only one option to save his sorry campaign.

  He scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

  “No, ma’am, I’m a man,” he said with a salute to the cheering crowd, then promptly carried her kicking and screaming right out of the deafening hall.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Oh, sweet mother of mercy! Hand to her mouth, Maggie gaped as Finn charged out of the auditorium with her godmother slung over his shoulder. Pandemonium erupted with men’s raucous laughter, hearty slaps on the back, and Libby’s salty shouts that only made the hilarity louder.

  Near trembling, Maggie had been utterly stunned when Finn had hauled Libby out like a bobcat in a bag, but as she quickly led Maeve from the building, something happened that astonished her even more.

  She giggled. Hand to her mouth at first. And then full-out belly laughs as loud as the men, truly wishing her mother were here to see this. After years of gently trying to rein Aunt Libby in, it would appear her godmother had finally met her match. The crowd surged around them, each and every man obviously anxious to view Libby and Finn’s catfight out in the street. Spilling out of the church like ants going to a picnic, the man in the moon obliged by spotlighting the action, and Maggie wasn’t all that sure that he wasn’t laughing too.

  Weaving through the crowd outside, Maggie slipped an arm to Maeve’s waist, biting her lip to stifle her laughter. But when she saw the twinkle in Libby’s mother’s gaze, the two of them broke out into giggles that brought tears to their eyes. “If ever a man was intended for my headstrong daughter, it would be that one,” Maeve said in Maggie’s ear, and Maggie could do nothing but agree.

  Libby may have been her mother’s best friend, but even Mama had butt heads with her, praying God would lovingly curb her strong will. A will that often kept her from God’s best, Mama would lament, and Maggie knew it was true. Deep down she’d sensed Aunt Libby hadn’t been happy for years, no matter how much Harold succumbed to her every whim. But Finn had breathed new fire into her godmother, creating sparks that had made her come alive.

  Iron sharpening iron.

  One of God’s tools, Mama had often said, for molding His children into the people He wanted them to be.

  “You let me down this instant, you … you … unconscionable cretin!” Face as red as the feathered hat in her hand, Libby battered poor Finn with both hat and fist while he toted her to his phaeton, every high-pitched insult only making the crowd laugh even more.

  “I’d say you won that debate, Finn, so you sure got my vote,” one of the old-timers called, and shouts of assent rose in the crisp mountain air.

  One arm locked around Libby’s legs to keep her from kicking, Finn tipped his hat with the other. “Much obliged, Rufus, and thanks to everyone kind enough to give me your vote.”

  “Kind enough?” Libby shrieked, her voice going hoarse from screaming at the top of her lungs, “hare-brained enough, you mean, to vote for a lily-livered bully like you.”

  “Liberty Margaret, you stop that caterwaulin’ right now!” Aiden pushed through the crowd with Maggie and Maeve in tow, his face as red as his daughter’s. “You brought this down on yourself, young lady, and if Finn hadn’t hauled you out of there, I would have.”

  “Pa-pa!” Libby’s noise screeched to a stop, eyes saucer wide as she gaped at her father. “How on earth can you condone what this bully has done?”

  “Because sometimes the only way to handle a bully is give him a bully, darlin’, and Finn did just that when you tried to force him to do things your way.”

  “What? I am not a bully!” she shouted, feathers flying when she slapped her hat against Finn’s back.

  Aiden leaned in nose to nose, his tone softening while the barest hint of a smile twitched on his lips. “Then stop acting like one, young lady, and I have a suspicion Finn will too.” He pointed a finger at the phaeton. “I suggest you park your bottom in that phaeton right now so we can take this circus home.”

  “My home is in New York,” Libby said with a sudden swim of tears in her eyes, “so tell this cretin to put me down.”

  “With pleasure, Miss O’Shea,” Finn said, plopping her into the carriage so hard, she bounced to applause.

  Scrambling back up, she tried to climb back down. “No thank you. I’ll just walk to The Gold Hill.”

  Impeding her descent with a clamp of his steel jaw, Finn glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Don, you got any room at The Gold Hill tonight?”

  “No, siree, Finn, we’re plum full up with the election and all, and hear tell Mrs. Cleary’s and all the other hotels are the same.”

  “Thanks, Don.” Finn waved to the crowd. “G’night, all—see you in the morning.”

  “Ohhhhh!” Libby ground out her frustration, plopping back down on the seat with a noisy huff of air while the male town folk slowly dwindled away. “You all belong in a cave. If I’m black and blue tomorrow, you’ll know why.”

  “And if I have a pain in the posterior, you’ll know why,” Finn said with a tight smile, turning to lift Maeve into the back seat of the carriage before Aiden climbed in.

  “Wait—my reticule!” Libby started to disembark once again. “I left it in the dressing room.”

  Finn’s broad shoulders blocked her way. “Not a chance, Liberty Bell,” he said with a dry swerve of lips. “It took me fifteen minutes and countless bruises to get you this far. Maggie won’t mind fetching it, will y
ou, Maggie?”

  “No, sir,” Maggie said, hoping her stern tone deflected the smile tugging at her lips. She squeezed Libby’s hand. “I’ll get it, Aunt Libby—you wait right here.”

  “Oh, as if I have a choice,” Libby groused with a fold of arms, and Maeve reached to massage her daughter’s shoulder while she gave Maggie a wink.

  Shaking her head, Maggie hurried back inside, grateful the crowds had almost dispersed except for a few clusters of men outside the church and in the hallway. The auditorium was completely empty except for Milo and Father Murray, who were tidying up as Maggie approached. “Excuse me, Father, but my aunt left her reticule in the bride’s room, so I’m here to pick it up.”

  “Ah, yes,” the elderly priest said with a broad smile, a definite twinkle in his rheumy blue eyes. “I suspect she forgot it in all the excitement.”

  Maggie nibbled her lip, unable to thwart the smile that tickled her lips. “Yes, sir, I suspect she did.”

  Milo’s husky chuckle echoed within the room. “No question our Libby gave Finn more positive press tonight than The Territorial Enterprise could in a month of Sundays, although I doubt that was her intention.”

  “No, sir,” Maggie said with a grin. “I’ll just retrieve the reticule and bid you good night.”

  “Oh, it’s not here, young lady.” Father Murray straightened a row of chairs as he peered up beneath bushy silver brows. “I gave it to Blaze because he was one of the few men still hanging around.”

  Maggie paused. “I see. Well, he wasn’t out front, so do you know where he is?”

  Milo nodded toward a back door at the side of the stage. “He left with Dash and Clyde and a few others from the Ponderosa out the back door to avoid the crowd. But they were still talking when I took the trash out a few minutes ago, so you might catch him.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile, making her way to the door. Easing it open, she peered out in the dark, listening for the sound of conversation. But all she could hear was the chirp of crickets and the howl of a faraway wolf.

  Which was suddenly broken by Blaze’s familiar laugh.

  Maggie smothered a groan. Merciful Providence, she almost wished he’d already gone! Shoulders firm, she had time for only one deep breath before she peeked around the corner to a sight that immediately snatched it away.

  “I really wish I could, Chanel, but I need to go. But hang it all, you smell so darn good.”

  Maggie’s body went to ice at the sound of the words Blaze had once said to her. Poised as if to leave, Blaze stood before one of the saloon girls she’d seen in the auditorium, who promptly slipped her arms around his waist. Pressing her body to his, she kissed him until he groaned and nudged her against the building. Palms splayed shoulder-height to the wall, he caged her in, but she appeared anything but caged. Hooking her arms around his neck, she nuzzled his throat, and he groaned again before jerking her close. Her fingers gouged into the unruly curls at the back of his head while he butted her to the wall, devouring her with a kiss so deep, Maggie’s gasp was loud and harsh in the cool desert night.

  Blaze spun around in a blink, gun cocked and aimed.

  Muffling a cry with a hand to her mouth, Maggie froze, heart in her throat.

  “Blast it all, Maggie, what the devil are you doing here?” he snapped, quickly holstering his weapon. “That’s a good way to get shot.”

  She started trembling, the awful shock of Blaze kissing another woman shattering her composure as much as the gun. “I came for Aunt Libby’s reticule,” she whispered, unable to stop the tears that brimmed in her eyes.

  The hard planes of his face softened as he bent to pick up Libby’s purse from the ground and handed it to her. “Here,” he said quietly, “I planned to bring it home later when I was done here in town.”

  Later, yes. Maggie willed her tears not to fall. When he was done sparkin’ Chanel.

  He took a step forward, hands buried deep in his pockets. “Look, Maggie, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the pain in his voice a faint echo of that which now slashed through her heart. “But you need to be careful sneaking up on people because that’s a good way to get hurt.”

  Nodding dumbly, she took a step back with Libby’s purse clutched to her chest, his image blurring as tears spilled from her eyes.

  “Aw, Maggie …”

  Pushing past, she fled to the front of the church, saltwater blinding her as she ran to Finn’s carriage.

  A good way to get hurt.

  Yes, it was. A ragged sob broke from her throat.

  And so is loving you.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Maeve kept up a rare chatter all the way home, but to Finn, it only underscored the deafening silence as he drove the carriage back to the ranch. Not only was his wife stone-cold silent as the wheels rumbled over the moonlit road, but Maggie, who sat beside him—Libby refused—had returned with a tear-stained face, still as death.

  Death. An appropriate analogy for the evening because right now, it felt like something had died between Libby and him. The fragile love, affection, and trust they had worked so hard to achieve had been damaged tonight, and for the first time since Aiden had proposed his six-month scheme, Finn wondered if it had all been a tragic mistake, resurrecting these feelings he had for Libby.

  He realized now he should have told her—his plan to run for mayor before running for the senate. It was a brilliant strategy for his political future, John Piper had said. A chance to get his feet wet in politics and serve the city he loved for two years until Senator William Stewart’s six-year term was up. He’d known there was no way he’d ever win in Virginia City on a platform that included suffrage no matter how much he believed in it, but neither John nor he had seen that as a problem at the time.

  Until Libby arrived.

  “You cannot tell her,” Aiden had warned and John had agreed, convincing him that Libby was too short-sighted and volatile when it came to women’s rights. “I know my girl, Finn, and she will push and push and push to make it part of your platform, but in this town, you’re done if they even smell a whiff of suffrage. Especially since being engaged to a known suffragette is already a liability you cannot afford. So just do your best to keep it and her under wraps till after the election. Because we both know when it comes to suffrage, Libby is a powder keg just waiting to blow.”

  A powder keg. Finn issued a silent grunt. An understatement if ever there was.

  Which is exactly why he talked her out of attending the debate. But she’d bushwhacked him, dragging Maggie and Maeve along for good measure, and tonight she’d almost derailed his entire career. His mouth compressed as the carriage jostled through the gates of the ranch.

  So he’d derailed their relationship instead.

  “Whoa, boy,” Finn said as they approached the front porch. “Aiden, I’m leaving for City Hall pretty early in the morning, so you can ride with Blaze and Dash later. Maeve, Maggie, I wish you both a good night. Libby”—his voice took on an edge—“you and I have a few things to discuss.” He tugged on the reins to bring the phaeton to a complete stop, ready for Libby if she tried to bolt.

  Which, of course, she did.

  “No, ma’am,” Finn said in a terse tone when Libby shot up. He reached behind Maggie to clamp a hand to his wife’s arm before she could jump from the wagon. “You and I need to talk.”

  The ice in her tone could have frosted the roses Maeve had planted along the walkway. “I have nothing to say to you, Finn McShane, so I’ll thank you to unhand me.” Ramrod straight in the seat, she stared straight ahead with chin high while Maggie gingerly scooted by, bending to give Libby a quick hug before Aiden helped her down.

  “Well, I have plenty to say to you, Mrs. McShane, so you’ll sit right there and listen. You said your piece tonight, so now I’ll say mine. Yah!” he said with a snap of the reins, barely waiting till the others cleared the carriage.

  “Where are we going?” Libby bolted up even higher, fingers gouging into the edg
e of the leather seat when he drove the carriage toward the gates once again.

  “Far enough away that you can’t disturb anyone with another ruckus.”

  She spun on the seat to face him, enough fire shooting from her eyes to light the way. “There wouldn’t have been a ruckus if you hadn’t deceived me,” she shouted.

  “Oh, come on, Libby, there would have been a ruckus either way, and you know it.” He guided Lightning off the road onto the weedy path that led to the spring-fed lake. “I was just hoping it would be after I was elected mayor rather than before.”

  “That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?” she yelled, making Finn real glad they weren’t back at the ranch. “Gaining power so you can lord it over everyone, including me.”

  “You’re blasted right it is!” Finn hurled the reins on the seat, shifting to face her with a temper no longer tethered by tolerance. “Because it takes power to get things done, Libby, power to change things that shouldn’t be, and power to do the things you try to bully me to do.”

  She gasped, eyes spanning wide. “Me?” She splayed a hand to her chest. “Bully you?”

  He shook his head at the look of utter shock on her face, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

  “See what?” Her chin nudged up while her lips tamped down.

  “Your insatiable need to control.”

  “My need?” she said in a shriek that even cowed the crickets into silence. “I’m not the one who dragged me out of a hotel in the middle of the night in my nightgown, forcing me to do his bidding for six solid months, then deceives me in the process.”

  He slammed a fist on the bench, making her jump. “If you climb in the saddle, darlin’, you sure in the devil better be ready for the ride.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  He angled in, jaw as tight as the clench of his fist on the seat. “It means, Libby, if you’re going to buck and spur your own way, you darn well better be ready for the consequences.” He raised his head, his chin like rock. “Would you have kept your mouth shut about suffrage till after the election if I’d told you?”