A Wedding for Maggie

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “You said.”

  She wished she could see his expression. Not that she’d have been able to interpret it. “I’m sorry about the way things got out of hand,”

  “Like what?”

  She spread her hands, her shoulders lifting in a futile shrug. “The church. The dress. You know.” She shook her head. “All of it.”

  “We’re getting married, Maggie. We’ll do it proper. With the minister and our family and friends there. The white dress, the whole thing.”

  “I can’t wear white,” she said inanely. As if the color of her gown mattered; it was the least of her worries.

  “Why? ’Cause you wore it with Joe?”

  She shrank back at the unexpected comment. “No. Because I look washed-out in white,” she said unevenly. “And for your information, I wore pink jeans and a matching sweater when I married Joe.” She felt the sharp sting of tears and blinked hurriedly.

  He was silent for a long, torturous moment, and she wondered why she just didn’t go into her bedroom and shut the door. But she didn’t. She stood there, running her fingers along the back of the dark blue sectional couch. Waiting. Waiting.

  For what?

  “There’s a store,” he finally said in his low, husky voice. “You can look for your dress there. I saw a wedding dress in the window.”

  “Since when do you know so much about wedding gown retailers?”

  “Since I bought this at the jeweler right next door to it,” he said after a moment and pushed something into her hand. Then he stomped up the steps that led directly outside.

  Maggie’s fingers surrounded the velvety-smooth cube. Biting the inside of her lip, she opened the jeweler’s box. The rings were elegant without being elaborate. Delicate without being weak.

  She loved them.

  She closed her eyes, snapping the box shut. She didn’t deserve them. Daniel was marrying her because he was too decent not to. But rings as beautiful as these were meant for someone loved.

  Yearning scorched through her, tightening her stomach and making her chest ache. Wedding gowns were meant for brides walking down the aisle toward their true loves. Church weddings were for lovers taking sacred vows with their beloved.

  She might be in love, but she was the only one who was. She’d be wise to remember that.

  She cleared her throat and slowly followed him up the stairs, grabbing her coat on the way. The sky overhead was black with clouds, and she didn’t see him at first. But then she saw the flare of a match and followed it around the side of the house.

  And now he was smoking again.

  “The rings are beautiful,” she said when she finally stopped next to Daniel where he leaned against the house, the tip of his cigarette glowing between his lips. “But I can’t accept them.” She held out the box, but he didn’t take it back and she sighed, finally thrusting it into his hand. He either had to take it, or let the jewelry case fall to the ground.

  He made a sound she couldn’t interpret, and it was the cigarette that fell to the dirt, where he ground it beneath his boot. He pushed the rings into his pocket. “Why? Because they’ll replace Joe’s?”

  She flinched at the way he spat out the name. She automatically ran her finger over the bare spot on her ring finger. She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Daniel, it’s not too late to put a stop to this.”

  He stiffened beside her. “Is that what you want to do?”

  No! The knowledge screamed through her. But she wanted him to be happy. To not rip his bed to shreds in his sleep, then make it in the morning before she had a chance to see it. To not be smoking again, which was something she’d learned long ago that he only did when he was beyond stress. To not grieve for a four-year-old child he refused to discuss. “I...if it’s what you want.”

  He snorted. “Maggie Mae, I could climb to the moon on the back of the things I want.”

  “You’re not making any sense to me.”

  “Or me.” He moved, a large solid shadow. “I want to make love to you until neither one of us has the energy to move much less think. Is that understandable enough?”

  She couldn’t have said a word if her life depended upon it.

  He caught her arms and pulled her up against him. Her coat crinkled softly. “You’re gonna be the mother of my child, and all I can think about just now is the way you’d look wearing that sexy little bit of red and black or that virginal white filmy thing from the shower. Or nothing at all. Am I making sense now?”

  Her fingers curled through the soft fabric of his long-sleeved shirt to the steely muscles beneath. Images from his blunt words whirled. Before she knew what was happening, he lowered his head and closed his lips over hers.

  He gave no quarter. Just thoroughly and completely demolished her senses.

  When he finally lifted his head, leaving her lips swollen and yearning, the mere act of breathing was nearly impossible for her. His hands molded her hips tightly to him, leaving her in no doubt that he was affected, too. “This is what I want,” he gritted.

  Lord help her, she wanted it too. But she was so wary of hoping- To believe that this time would be different. That she could love. And not lose. “I’m afraid,” she admitted.

  He set her on the ground so fast, she swayed. “Because I’m not Joe,” he said coldly.

  She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I’m not talking about Joe!” Tears burned her eyes. “I’m talking about me. Me. The way you made me feel. That night...with you at the swimming hole—” She bit back a sob and hugged her arms around herself. “I didn’t know that’s what it could be like.”

  “I should’ve horsewhipped him when I had the chance.”

  Maggie trembled at his Low words. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “He was my husband.”

  “Yeah, and he gambled and he embezzled. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he cheated on you. Was that all okay because he was your husband?”

  “No, it wasn’t okay!” She stared up into the inky, depthless black sky. “But if I’d been a better wife, he might not have—”

  “ball.”

  “Oh, Daniel. You just don’t understand.”

  “I understand enough.” He closed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  She stared up at him, trying in vain to see his eyes, but it was just too dark. “Joe—”

  “Screw Joe.”

  She bit her lip, shivering at the disgust in his words. A disgust that was nearly a tangible thing.

  “He had your love,” he stated grimly. “He threw it away. Even before I—” He broke off, stiffening.

  “Joe left me because he didn’t want J.D.,” she snapped roughly when he stepped away. “And he didn’t want me. He wanted his girlfriends. I was never enough for him. Never.”

  “That’s not why.”

  “Of course that’s why.” Her voice rose. “You talked about honesty the other day. I was his wife. Do you think I imagined those women? Belinda Gomez? Marlene Switt? Julia Evans? Or Tina? Oh, he did it up right with Tina, though. He actually married her. Not that he bothered to divorce me first.”

  Daniel’s restless pacing finally halted. “He married someone else?”

  “Yes,” she admitted tightly. “Tina Greene. Probably the only woman, other than Jaimie, who really does grieve for Joe.” She rolled her shoulders wearily. “She lives in South Carolina. She thinks I was Joe’s ex-wife. I couldn’t see any point in telling her otherwise. He hurt enough lives as it was.”

  “Joe and I had a fight the day before he walked out on you.” A muscle ticked unevenly in his jaw, the only visible sign of emotion.

  She struggled to follow. “About the embezzling?”

  “I didn’t know about that until later.” He gave his head a small shake. “I knew he was cheating on you,” he said grimly. “I threatened to tell you if he didn’t stop. He laughed. Said you already knew.” He lifted his hand, looking for a moment at the wide palm. The long, square fingers. “I saw red.”r />
  He lifted his gaze and Maggie pressed her fist against her mouth.

  “I would have strangled him with my bare hands if it weren’t for the phone ringing in the barn. He was hurting you. Over and over again. And the bastard...didn’t...care.” He flexed his fingers. “The call was from you,” he added grimly. His hand dropped to his side. “To tell me that the vet had arrived.”

  “Oh, Daniel.” Maggie drew in a shaky breath. “I remember.” She’d only had J.D. home from the hospital for a few days.

  “He left you the next day. If I’d kept my nose out of it, maybe things would have been different for you. Maybe Joe wouldn’t have run. You wouldn’t have lost your husband.” His voice roughened. “J.D. wouldn’t have lost her father.”

  “My marriage would have ended even if Joe had stayed, Daniel. And it had nothing to do with you. It had to do with trust and the complete lack of it” Because she couldn’t help herself, she touched his arm Felt his muscles bunch. “Without Joe, I wouldn’t have J.D.,” Maggie said huskily. “And I could never regret her. But he never wanted her, Daniel.” She drew a shaky breath. “You’ve given J.D. more attention in just these few weeks than Joe ever did. She’s lost nothing You are the man she’s going to think of as her father.”

  He made a rough sound and moved, dislodging her hand. “Go to bed, Maggie.”

  She blinked. “I—”

  “Just go.”

  What had she done? Said? They were actually communicating. She’d told him about Joe’s bigamy. And now...

  Now his fists were clenched as if he wanted to batter the world.

  Holding her coat tightly about her, she turned and went inside.

  Daniel listened to the door thud behind her and cursed softly. He couldn’t go in there after her. Not now. His control was too damned shaky, and if there was one thing he needed to keep, it was his control. His emotions weren’t to be trusted. So going after her, telling her he hadn’t really meant it, would be sheer stupidity. But there he stood for the longest time, neither going nor staying.

  He finally swore low and long and hard. And reached for the door.

  He heard the faint hiss of the shower when he reached the bottom step. He went into his room, yanked off his boots and raked his hands through his hair. He lay on the top of his bed, then rose again to pace. Still the shower ran.

  Cursing himself and the gut instinct that only led to disaster, he went across to the bathroom and slowly opened the door.

  She wasn’t in the water, though. She was wrapped in her robe and was watching the plants she’d stuck on the shower floor, giving them a long drink of water. When he opened the door, she turned to him. Her lips, soft and inviting, parted a breath. He waited for a protest that didn’t come. And when it didn’t come, he told himself that he should be shot for what he wanted to do with this woman.

  But he was just a man. What was a man to do when a woman, still bath-damp, looked up at him in that way?

  Ignoring the hard knot in his chest, he reached past her and shut off the water. Then slowly tugged on the belt of her robe. And the looping bow she’d tied slid free.

  The edge of her teeth sank into her lip and his mouth went dry.

  Feeling every ounce of the silent night weighing on them, he tugged once more on her belt and the two ends slipped apart, falling to her sides.

  She drew in her breath on a hiss and caught the lapels, holding them together with knuckles gone white. “Don’t play games with me, Daniel,” she begged, her voice low and uneven. “Not now. I can’t take it”

  “No games.”

  Her eyes searched his, and he wondered what she’d see there. If it would scare her into getting as far from him as possible.

  Whatever she saw there didn’t scare her. Not enough. For her fingers, visibly shaking, released the edge of her robe, and the tiny wedge of skin that had been taunting him turned into a narrow ribbon. From her neck to her navel. And he realized she was wearing that slinky red and black teddy.

  In the silence of the bathroom with the shower still drip, dripping, he could hear her breathing. Even above the monstrous thundering of his pulse in his ears.

  Her hand reached up as if in slow motion, and her palm, unsteady and cool, touched his face. Moved tentatively against his whisker-rough jaw.

  The need racing through him made him hurt. Her bare toes, peeping out from beneath the loosened edges of the robe, mched closer. He watched her throat work as she swallowed. As she moistened her lips.

  He caught her face between his callused hands. Ran his thumb over her soft lips.

  She kissed his thumb.

  It was a crumb. He took it as a feast. And feast he did. On her lips, that felt like silk beneath his. On the cool, satiny stretch of her lovely neck. On the warm curve of her shoulder when he nuzzled beneath the soft, thick robe.

  In the dim reaches of his mind, he became aware of her fingers, threading through his hair. Of her heart, thundering against him.

  And finally, finally, he let his hands slide inside the voluminous robe. She mewled and trembled.

  His breath hissed as his hands encountered nothing but smooth skin and satin and lace. He didn’t dare look at what his hands discovered. If he looked, he’d be gone. He wouldn’t be able to stop, no matter what.

  After an eternity of waiting, he had her body against his.

  “Daniel,” she said against him. Taking the opportunity, he thrust his tongue inside. She trembled wildly against him and he held her closer. Tighter. Until she stopped trying to speak. He felt her heart thudding against his. Felt her tongue, shy and tentative, meet his, making him wonder if he’d embarrass himself like a green kid, right then and there.

  He turned and she gasped as he lifted her onto the bathroom counter. He didn’t give her an opportunity to be flustered. He simply stepped between her legs and scooped her close The robe fell off her shoulders, hanging on her arms that clung to him.

  He tried to be gentle. To be mindful of her tender, soft skin, when he hadn’t shaved since that morning, so many hours ago. Her shoulders were perfect. When his lips finally had explored every inch, he told her so.

  “It’s the teddy,” she whispered. “Satin and—”

  “You.”

  Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Not when he ran his finger over her shoulder, tracing one of the narrow straps down to the edge of filmy black stuff that molded and displayed her full breasts without apology or hesitancy. She swallowed back an incoherent sound when he touched the ribbon bow that somehow miraculously held it all together.

  Maggie’s heart raced as he toyed with the ribbon. Afraid he’d undo it. Afraid that he wouldn’t. When his hand moved back up, touching the pulse that raced in her throat, gliding with his smooth-rough touch over her other shoulder, she couldn’t help the moan that rose in her throat.

  His hooded gaze roved over her. “It’s you, Maggie Mae,” he murmured. His fingers slid beneath one strap. Toyed with it, making her feel faint with suspense. “Haven’t you figured that out by now? Cotton shirts. Woolen coats. Satin and silk. None of it matters.” His jaw ticked. “Only what’s beneath it.” He lifted his hand, and the strap slipped from her shoulder.

  She automatically reached to adjust it, but he held her hands. “Are you gonna send me out into the cold night?” He tilted his head over hers and his warm breath stirred the hair at her temples. “Or will you take me into your bed tonight? Into your body?”

  She swayed. Daniel didn’t mince words. He never had. The image he evoked was more than her weak willpower could withstand.

  “We’re gonna be married,” he said evenly. “J.D. is taken care of for the night, and it’s just you and me here. There’s nothing wrong with us making love.”

  She tried to speak. She truly did. To tell him what was in her heart. But so many years of hiding from her heart got in her way.

  He made a rough sound and straightened. She wanted to cry out at the painful loss of his warmth. She closed her arms around her
self, watching him yank open the bathroom door.

  Then he was gone. He hadn’t slammed the door. Just quietly closed it behind him. And somehow that was worse than a display of anger. Of temper.

  Yanking the robe back over her shoulders, she followed him. Right into his bedroom. He stood by his bed looking at her as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. His hair waved darkly gold around his head. With his black shirt and dark jeans he looked like an earthbound angel.

  Had any angel, though, ever had molten silver eyes that looked into a person’s soul? When angels spoke, they surely didn’t do it in husky, gravelly tones that sent a flock of shivers dancing along her spine. “Don’t come m here unless you plan to stay until morning,” he said, his tone flat.

  “My mother had the morals of an alley cat,” she announced baldly.

  He hadn’t so much as moved a muscle. “So?”

  “So, I want you to understand.”

  “Understand what?” He suddenly sounded infinitely weary. He tossed his wallet on the nightstand and sank on the side of the bed.

  “Why I—”

  “I don’t want to hear the reasons you don’t want me,” he said evenly. “I’m not Joe. I’ll never be Joe. And I’m damned sick of being compared to him.”

  She walked toward him, shivering under her robe. “I don’t want you to be,” she said surely. “I stopped loving him the day he told me he’d had another affair.” She closed her eyes, wishing she could keep her voice even. But the evening had taken its toll. And she felt like a balloon about to burst from all the emotion roiling inside her. “After the first time...I was young. He said he wouldn’t do it again, and I believed him. He was my only—the only man I’d ever been with. My father died the year I married Joe, did I ever tell you that? He never got over my mother aban—abandoning us. I couldn’t be like her, Daniel. I couldn’t They all looked at me like I was someone to feel—feel sorry for. They brought me meals when Daddy wouldn’t get out of bed for a week. And used clothes when I outgrew my school dresses.” She hauled in a shuddering breath, tears burning behind her lids. “I just wanted my mom to come home. For things to be the way they used to be. But she didn’t come home. She never came home and oh, God, I didn’t want to be like her!”