A car pulled to a stop in front of the duplex a few minutes before eleven. Maggie raced to the window and peered out. It wasn't the burgundy Cadillac or the tan station wagon. It was a sporty black Maserati and light was on inside the car. She could see Greg sitting on the passenger side. The driver was a woman.
Maggie walked outside to the car, heedless of the rain which had decreased to a light drizzle. Greg had already opened the car door, but hadn't yet climbed out. The woman in the driver's seat was talking animatedly to him in an obvious attempt to delay his departure. She was pretty, Maggie noted. Short, sleek blond hair, an engaging smile, well-dressed. And intent on charming Greg.
Maggie caught hold of the partially opened door
and swung it wide open. "Hi!" she said brightly, leaning inside the car.
The woman appeared slightly taken aback by the intrusion. Greg took a deep breath. "Maggie!" he said. He looked sick.
"Are you the baby-sitter?" the blonde asked incredulously.
"Among other things, yes." Maggie gave her an effervescent smile. "I was getting ready to put the bloodhounds on this mans trail."
Greg didn't meet her eyes. "I had car trouble, Maggie. I left the headlights on this morning and wore the battery down. It was totally dead when I came back to the parking lot tonight. Clare, here, Clare Priestly"—he inclined his head toward the blonde—"happened to be in the hospital lobby when I was phoning the auto club. She offered me a lift and I decided to take it instead of waiting around."
"It was terribly kind of you to drive Greg the whole way out here to Woodland, Clare," Maggie said sweetly. Nice try, Clare Priestly, she thought to herself, but this man is mine.
Perhaps Clare read the unspoken message in her eyes. "No trouble." The blonde shrugged. "I guess you don't want a rain check on that drink at my place, Greg?"
"Why, we'd be delighted, Clare," Maggie said, flashing her most charming smile. "Just give a call to confirm the date."
Greg coughed, shook his head, and got out of the car, mumbling a quick "Thanks for the ride."
Greg and Maggie walked in silence to the door of the duplex as Clare Priestly's black Maserati disappeared into the night. When they reached the doorstep, Greg grasped Maggie's shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Look," he said, "I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth, Maggie. I really did leave the headlights on and the car battery really was dead. Clare works in the hospital admitting office and she happened to come along and—"
"—offered you a ride and a drink at her place," Maggie finished for him. "And you accepted the ride and turned down the drink."
"Yes!" Greg's voice shook with vehemence. "I swear it's the truth, Maggie."
"I believe you," she said calmly. It was true. She'd suffered no pangs of jealousy at the sight of Greg with the blonde. Whatever Clare Pries tly's motives in offering the ride, Maggie trusted Greg. He had asked her to marry him, to create a home with him. He wouldn't betray her. She knew that now. "After last night I—"
"After last night you don't give a damn? Believe me, I understand, Maggie. Last night should never have happened!" Greg said fiercely. "I spent all day regretting every minute of it, beginning with that imbecilic proposal!"
Maggie stood stock-still, immobilized by a stunning pain. She'd experienced a similar sensation once, when her older brother had accidentally hit her over the head with his baseball bat. Greg regretted his impulsive proposal; he'd spent the whole day regretting their night of love. She thought instantly of her children. How was she going to tell them that they weren't going to have a "new daddy" after all? And she thought of Josh and Wendy and little Max, who needed her maternal love and care, of Paula, who needed her guidance. They were all going to be hurt. But the children's pain couldn't come close to her own. How flat and lonely and painful her life would be without the man she loved! She would adjust—she would have to—but Maggie knew she would never be happy again.
"Maggie, can you forgive me?" Greg asked quietly. "I know that I've hurt you, but—"
"No!" She was suddenly, violently maddened with rage. She jerked herself out of his grip. "No, dammit, I can't forgive you! I won't!" She stormed inside, slamming the door behind her. Greg had turned her life upside down, had sparked her feelings and her dreams, only to walk away. He was breaking her heart
and hurting the children, and he had the nerve to ask her forgiveness?
She didn't know where to go or what to do. The kitchen was the only room in the house without a sleeping child in it, so she went there and paced the floor like a madwoman. She was scarcely aware that she was crying. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she didn't bother to wipe them away.
The doorbell rang, followed by a heavy knock on the door. She marched to the front door and flung it open, facing Greg on the doorstep. "If you dare to wake up these children ..."
"Maggie, please! I don't have a car. I—"
"I'll call you a taxi!" She slammed the door in his face, leaving him standing on the doorstep in the drizzle. He looked so miserable. So tired and depressed and utterly alone.
And suddenly, abruptly, Maggie stopped crying. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She leaned against the door, strangely calm now, and thought. Greg had been so insistent upon marrying her yesterday. He'd had a whole list of reasons, all of which remained unchanged. And they'd made love last night with a ferocity and a generosity of passion that simply couldn't be wiped out in the course of a day. She thought back to their prior misunderstandings, all stupid trifles that had been magnified by a lack of communication. She withdrew, he withdrew. They both suffered. Neither really knew the other yet. They were going to have to work hard at that. And pride and silence had no place in their relationship, not now or ever.
Before she could think of a reason not to, Maggie threw open the front door. "Come in here, Greg Wilder!" She grabbed his hands and tugged him toward her, pulling him inside. "We're going to talk.''
"Maggie, I love you," he said swiftly. "I want to tell you that before either of us says another word."
She put her hands on her hips and faced him
with blazing green eyes. Her heart was pounding in her ears. "Do you or do you not want to marry me?"
"Maggie, I want to marry you more than anything in the world, but I've bungled so badly. I tried to rush you with a premature proposal, I selfishly demanded your emotional and physical surrender—"
"That I gave willingly," she cut in. "I love you, you idiot, but I have to agree that you certainly bungled badly. Telling me that you regretted proposing to me, that you were sorry you made love to me last night. Do you know how that sounded to me, Greg?"
He gazed into her luminous emerald eyes. "You were crying," he said softly, tracing a tear's path down her cheek with a gentle finger. "I'm sorry, love."
"I love you, Greg. I want to marry you and live with you and your kids and my kids and—and I want to have your baby."
"Oh, Maggie!" He pulled her into his arms and crushed her to him. "Darling, I think I'm dreaming. After this nightmare of a day. . . two emergency operations, my office schedule backed up four and a half hours, the car not starting and the ride home with Clare. I was so sure you'd be jealous and when you weren't, I was totally thrown. I thought you didn't care, that I'd lost you ... I already felt guilty about last night and—" His arms tightened possessively. "Maggie, do you really love me?"
"I thought I made it obvious last night," she whispered, flushing a little at the memory of their abandoned passion.
"I knew I'd proven that I could make you surrender physically, but I was worried that I'd scared you away as well." Greg threaded his fingers through the auburn silkiness of her hair.
"Never, Greg." Maggie's mind swept over the events of the day: Max's ear infection, Paula's accident, and she thought of all the unpredictable and unexpected things that could occur in a family with seven children. Eight, she mentally corrected herself.
Greg's and her baby was already a reality in her mind. "I
don't scare easily, my love."
They kissed, a long, deep kiss of mutual love and abiding passion. Eventually, reluctantly, they drew apart and wandered into the kitchen, their arms around each other. Maggie made hot chocolate and they sat down to drink it, with her comfortably settled in Greg's lap.
"Greg, all day long I've been thinking about the kids and my job," she began on a tentative note. "It will be an adjustment for all seven of them, living together with a new set of parents ..."
"In a new house," Greg said.
"In a new house. And what happened with Max and Paula today made me think that maybe all the kids are going to need me at home for a while."
Greg tensed. "What happened with Max and Paula?"
Maggie told him. He was visibly shaken by the details of the accident and lambasted the careless teenage driver. "But I can understand why she went with him, why she didn't want to go home to that empty house," he added. "I think Paula at fourteen needs you to be at home after school as much as Max at four needs to be sprung from the child care center. And there are the five kids in between ..."
"And the new baby, as yet unborn and unnamed," Maggie added, grinning.
"Oh, let's not forget the new baby, as yet unborn and unnamed." Greg chuckled, hugging her. "What do you want to do, honey?"
"I thought I'd quit my job and stay home with the kids. And if I wasn't working, I would have some time to take a course or two at one of the colleges or universities in Baltimore or D.C. Do you think it's impossible for a woman my age to get a degree, Greg?" she asked wistfully.
"I don't think anything is impossible for you, Maggie. You choose a college or university and start
taking courses toward your degree. By the time the eighth Wilder child—the as yet unborn and unnamed one—is ready for school, 111 wager you'll have it."
"The tuition might be expensive/' warned Maggie.
"We can afford it/' Greg said in a magnanimous tone so like Paula's in the toy shop that Maggie laughed.
"Maggie/' He gazed into her laughing eyes. "Mary Magdalene, I love you so."
"Don't call me that/' she said lovingly. "And I love you, Greg Wilder."
Moments later there was an urgent tap at the back door. "What now?" Greg complained as Maggie hopped from his lap to answer it.
"Mrs. Jenkins!" she exclaimed in surprise.
Mrs. Jenkins entered the kitchen carrying her huge plastic knitting bag and a half-finished sweater. "I happened to notice Dr. Wilder s arrival and I happened to overhear your little spat. And then I noticed that there's a Cary Grant and Irene Dunne movie on the late show and I thought of your comfortable armchair. So here I am."
Greg stared at the woman as if she were daft, but Maggie smiled in dawning comprehension.
"Since I'll be here with the children," Mrs. Jenkins continued, "why don't the two of you spend the night someplace where you can be alone?" The elderly woman beamed at them. "May I suggest the Woodland Holiday Inn? Just five minutes down the road and my nephew is the desk clerk on duty."
"Why, Mrs. Jenkins, you're a romantic!" Maggie said, laughing. "And though it's a very generous offer, we couldn't possibly—"
"She's a regular fairy godmother," Greg interrupted. He stood up and wrapped an arm around Maggie's shoulders. "And we can and are going to accept her very generous offer. Get your toothbrush and your car keys, Maggie."
Mrs. Jenkins smiled her approval. "Of course, I am expecting an invitation to your wedding. H
"Mrs. Jenkins, youVe got it," Greg promised, and hurried Maggie to the door.
THE EDITORS CORNER
Wonderful news! Alicia Condon, formerly at Silhouette/ Harlequin, has joined our LOVESWEPT team as senior editor. Alicia is not only a delightful person, but also one of the most experienced editors in romance publishing. She started out six years ago at MacFadden where she edited such writers as Jayne (Castle) Krentz, Diana (Blaine) Palmer, and many others who've gone on to give us so much entertaining romantic fiction. She joined the Silhouette staff four years ago and was responsible for launching the Special Edition, Intimate Moments, and Desire lines. We are so glad to have Alicia with us to help continue the excellence of our LOVESWEPT publishing program!
Next month you can expect some more wonderful news from us—in the form of the four LOVESWEPT romances coming your way.
First we have another charming book by Joan Elliott Pickart, FASCINATION, LOVESWEPT #99. Heroine Robin Kent runs an employment service; hero Jeff Webster is a lawyer. They work in the same office complex, but only their gazes meet ... across the courtyard. They grow more and more fascinated with one another and both do a little detective work to discover the other's identity. When they come face to face, their attraction zings! But have they got problems! She's a fast food junkie; he's a gourmet. She adores football; he detests the game. It's pure delight to accompany them along their rough path to love. And if there's ever been a niftier proposal of marriage, I'd like to know about it!
(continued)
Sara Orwig just keeps coming up with one marvelous, wonderfully different love story after another. THE GOODIES CASE, LOVESWEPT #100, is a heartwarming tale of a very lovely and very responsible young woman, Crystal, who's saddled with the most remarkably loony family! She's vowed to marry (soon) the dullest man she can find and never experience another crazy moment again in her life! Then she encounters Pug Moffitt (the encounter is hilarious!) and he is anything but dull! He is also determined to marry Crystal. This romance is delicious in more ways than one (how's that for titillating your interest?) and you won't want to miss it!
Marianne Shock made a smashing debut into romance publishing with QUEEN'S DEFENSE, LOVE-SWEPT #69. Now she is back with her second love story, WORTHY OPPONENTS, LOVESWEPT #101. Luke Hudson seemed to be a "mountain man," though a yery polished one, and he made Kyla Trent's vacation into a thrilling time of discovery. Back in the "real" world of business, though, Kyla experienced an appalling twist of fate ... one that she feared not even her "mountain man" could save her from. Vivid, intense, this is a splendid romance that I'm sure you will long remember.
We are always proud and pleased to be able to launch a brand new writer. And, so, we hope you will give a warm, warm welcome to our latest "find" —Eugenia Riley. REMEMBER ME, LOVE?, LOVESWEPT #102, is Eugenia's first short contemporary romance and it's a stunning first. Molly Buchanan is accompanying her aunt on a trip to L.A. that was a prize in a contest—or so the two ladies thought. Actually the trip is part of a bigger plot by Molly's ex-husband Nicky to win her back. There are wonderful
secondary characters too in this delightful story . . . and a sensuality and tenderness that make REMEMBER ME, LOVE? a breathtaking romance.
As you know, were delighted to get your letters about our LOVESWEPT romances. And we read them carefully and answer every one. Over the last several months, though, a number of you have forgotten to include your return address. If you haven't heard back from us, will you write again—this time including your address?
Warm regards,
Sincerely,
Carolyn Nichols
Editor LOVESWEPT Bantam Books, Inc. 666 Fifth Avenue New York, NY 10103
A special excerpt of
the remarkable historical novel by
the author o/THE PROUD BREED
and THE TIGER'S WOMAN
WILD
SWAN
by Celeste De Blasis
Rane Falconer was tired. The voyage to France had been a hard one with winds fickle and the revenue cutters much in evidence. They'd had to hide the goods in caves far down the coast the previous night rather than in the ones convenient to Clovelly. It meant more trouble retrieving them, by land or by sea. But right now, all Rane wanted to do was sleep. He usually felt this way after time on board with his father; Magnus was an exacting taskmaster, and Rane's eighteen-year-old body, tall and lanky, always seemed to crave more food and sleep than were allowed on the ship. He rearranged his plans to include eating anything his mother
offered him before he fell into bed.
He had forgotten all about the distant cousin who was coming to stay with them. He had thought little of the matter at all except to consider that it would be nice for his mother to have a girl child to coddle; with three living sons, Gweneth declared herself more than content, but Rane knew she regretted the loss of two infant daughters, both dead at birth years apart and years ago.
He remembered the expected visitors as soon as he entered the house and heard his mother speaking to someone, but nothing eased his shock at his first sight of Alexandria Thaine.
It was like looking into an enchanted mirror that reflected his own image in female form. The planes of their faces were very similar, the dark hair of both framing the features, and green eyes met green eyes in stunned recognition. He heard the older woman gasp,
but he and Alexandria remained silent for a long, wondering moment.
Now Alex understood why the various reactions— Seadon's, the villagers', Gweneth's—to her had been so strong. This resemblance went far beyond the similar family traits she shared with Gweneth.
And then Rane smiled at her, a warm welcoming smile that lighted his tired face. "Well, cousin, we would be hard pressed to deny kinship. I'm Rane, R-a-n-e, not Rain. Welcome to Clovelly." He had a sudden urge to hug her and reassure her as if she were even younger than her age; she looked so scared and somehow fragile, her eyes too big in her thin face and shadows making them seem even larger. She was holding herself stiffly upright, as if only pride were keeping her from bolting though she essayed a small attempt at a smile when he spelled his name.
The cold knot of misery that had gripped Alex since she had first heard of her exile to the West Country began to ease, thawed in some mysterious way by the mere presence of this tall young man. It was hard not to stare at him; it would take time to grow accustomed to this shared image. And she could not begin to understand why the features she found displeasing in herself should be so handsome in him. She had long known that her tall earthy looks had nothing in common with current fashion, her wild dark hair and green eyes so strong and vivid that she seemed out of place even in her own family. But the same in him formed a marvelous symmetry and seemed fitting for an inhabitant of this strange village by the sea.
Darling obstacles Page 17