Hollister's Choice (Montana Miracles Book 2)

by Grace Walton

  He’d thought, once he’d picked her and taken her to a charming old pub things would get better. That had not happened. In fact, the longer they sat in the dimly lit picturesque little pub, the more alarmed he became. Maggie was, of course stunning. Hollister had never seen another woman who even came close to her natural beauty, grace, and allure. The old cliché about moths and flames kept coming to mind. He was simply unable to tear his hungry gaze away from her. She was like a feast for his senses.

  Her glossy black hair, usually bound tight into a fat braid, tumbled across and down her shoulders in an ebony waterfall. Her eyes were clear and honest. Her skin glowed. Her lush lips shone deep and plum-colored with no hint of artifice.

  But, and it was a big but, Maggie Ferguson looked far from happy or even calm about being in this public café with him. Her expressive eyes constantly darted to and fro as if she expected some kind of danger to reach out from the shadows and claim her.

  It broke the heart he’d not known he possessed. No one should be that afraid. Especially not his woman. She should know he would never let any harm come to her. She should be able to trust in his ability to guard and protect her.

  The problem was not only her experiences with men, or with just one man, in the past. There was also her total and complete lack of knowledge about her place in his life and heart. Hollister could name her his all he wanted to, but if she didn’t feel the same way and acknowledge their mutual attraction, well that would be tragic.

  Usually he made no effort to indulge in small talk with the women he took out. There was no need. He’d always chosen experienced females who were looking for little more than a sensual few hours. They always wanted the same thing he did. Lust with no strings attached.

  But what he wanted from Maggie was very different. He still couldn’t believe the change in his thinking. It was almost impossible to overcome the habits and impulses of a misspent lifetime. But apparently, he was in the process of doing just that.

  Not once in his whole life had he been jealous of another man. Now he found himself mentally growling at every man who looked Maggie’s way. And they all did. She was like a beacon of purity and loveliness. Not a male with any amount of testosterone would be able to resist enjoying the sight of her.

  Hollister couldn’t read minds. But he was adept at reading facial expressions. From what he could deduce nearly every man in the place either wanted to bed Maggie or worship at the altar of her beauty. If they tried either it would earn them a death sentence.

  He took a long draft of the brew in front of him. He studied her as she picked at her steak and ale pie. It was the specialty at The Wellington, the pub near Covent Garden where he’d taken her.

  “Not to your taste?” he asked solicitously. He tipped his chin towards the steaming dish.

  “What?” she said as she lifted her eyes up to him. It was obvious she was more than a little distracted.

  “I was just wondering if you like your meal. If not, let’s order you something else. Maybe a topped ale?” He suggested the drink because he hoped a little alcohol might soothe and calm her.

  “What’s a topped ale?” she asked. She looked at him for only a second before cutting her glance towards a big burly man striding in their direction.

  “It’s a light beer with a layer of lemonade poured over the top.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No, I don’t drink.”

  “It’s got almost no alcohol,” he explained. “Just enough to soothe you.”

  Maggie sat up straight. “I don’t need anything to soothe me,” she bit out. “And I don’t drink alcohol, ever.”

  He held his hands up in front of him in mock surrender. “That’s fine with me. But shall we order you a different meal. That one doesn’t seem to be to your liking.”

  She blushed and laid down her fork on the starched white tablecloth. “No it’s delicious. It’s just that I haven’t been out on a date in a very long time. And this place is so crowded.” An involuntary shiver ran the length of her body.

  Hollister reached a comforting hand across the table and grasped her shaking fingers. “You’re safe with me, Maggie. I won’t let anything happen to you. You can indulge yourself in a little harmless fun tonight without worry. A topped ale is something even children drink.”

  She swallowed hard. He watched as she drew her hand from his. She took a moment to smooth the sleeves of her modest sweater. If she’d thought to wear a garment that disguised her appeal, she’d made a serious mistake. The sweater, while loose, fit her in all the right places. And its deep garnet color made Maggie look like a ripe peach, ready for the plucking.

  “No thank you,” she said in a low, distressed way.

  Suddenly he knew why she was being so adamant about avoiding alcohol. A killing fury crawled over him.

  “Did he try to get you drunk?” he demanded.

  “Who?” Her words were quavering and soft.

  “You know who,” he rasped out. If words really could cut like a sword, his would have been lethal. “That boy who frightened you, did he try to get you drunk?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Just answer me,” he drilled on. “Did the boy who turned you off men try to get you drunk?”

  Her head shot up. There was a fierce glare in her beautiful eyes. “He did more than scare me, Hollister.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I was in the hospital.”

  A muscle began jumping along the man’s chiseled jaw. This was a new bit of information his friend Gage had not seen fit to share. A slow red tide of murderous intent crowded his vision.

  Maggie seeing how dangerous he looked was quick to add more damning details. “Chase, his name is Chase.”

  “The one you were telling me about this morning?”

  She nodded trying to placate him. “He was sorry for what he’d done. And he’s in prison now.” She didn’t add that Chase Brown would be getting out in just a few short months.

  “Did he force a drink on you?” Hollister’s voice was cold and dead.

  Maggie shook her head sending a soft, wave of black hair over her shoulder. “No, he just offered to buy me a beer.”

  “But you were underage.”

  She nodded ashamed. “I was. But it was Happy Hour at the roadhouse he’d taken me to for dinner. Two beers for one. So he kept ordering and shoving the extra bottles over to me.”

  “And you drank them?”

  “I did,” she whispered. She looked away in embarrassment. “It was my first real date and I wanted him to like me. So I drank two.”

  He thought about what she’d told him for no more than a second. “And you, being unused to alcohol and nervous, likely downed those bottles without eating anything. Am I right?”

  “Yes, I knew I needed to eat something but Chase said he couldn’t spend money on food we didn’t need. So we couldn’t order any appetizers.”

  Hollister snorted. The kid had used the oldest trick in the book on Maggie. “He sounds like a prince,” the man snarled. His face was hard.

  Maggie shrugged. “I drank those beers. And I agreed to get in his truck and let him take me home after dinner. But… but he didn’t take me home.” She shrugged. “It was my fault.”

  “No,” the word came out of Hollister’s mouth with the velocity and power of a bullet discharging from a gun. “None of that was your fault. None of what happened was your fault. You were innocent.”

  The girl looked away. She couldn’t face him. She knew she was dirty now. She knew no decent man would ever want her. Oh, her family claimed otherwise, but she knew the truth. Finally after a few charged moments, she cleared her throat and faced him.

  “I’m not so innocent anymore, Hollister.”

  He saw the tears forming in her luminous eyes. If he could have done anything to take the pain from them, he would have. But he couldn’t. Her past, like his, was unchangeable. The past could define a person in a negative way or empower them to greater thing
s.

  “No one’s ever truly blameless,” he said watching her closely.

  Maggie bit into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She blinked her eyes rapidly to keep the tears from making trails down her satin cheeks.

  “Don’t you see, Maggie?” he pleaded in low intense tones. “Everybody has scars. Some can be seen, and some can’t. But they’re all there.”

  “I have more than emotional scars,” she said.

  She told the plain truth. She had many physical scars from that night. Souvenirs from her near fatal beating. Those wounds had healed. But the mental and spiritual toll Chase Brown had wrought would never go away.

  A careless hand clamped down on her shoulder. A muffled scream escaped Maggie’s lips. Hollister was up and out of his seat in a blur of motion. He’d palmed the knife from his boot before he realized he knew the man who’d so carelessly laid his encroaching hand upon Maggie.

  “Fleming,” he said with cold intent.

  “Lord Hollister,” the other man said in an affable way. His hand did not move from the girl’s shoulder.

  “If you want to keep that hand, you need to take it off of Miss Ferguson,” Hollister told him as his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

  “What?” Fiona’s lackey said as if confused by the sudden aggression of the nobleman.

  “I said take your hand off her.” The glint of Hollister’s knife shone in the candlelight of the pub.

  Harlow Fleming immediately backed away. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Of course, old man, of course. I say, I didn’t mean to give insult. Fiona and I just toddled into the pub. She saw you over here and wanted me to see if you’d join us. Something about your finishing this afternoon’s conversation. I thought I might share this delightful lady’s company while you and Fee settled your plans.”

  “Plans?” the seated girl whispered shocked.

  “Make no mistake, Maggie, I have no plans that include Fiona Cooper.”

  Harlow’s laugh was low, mean, and dirty. “Oh come now, old chap,” he sneered. “Everybody knows you and Fee are on the way to the altar. There was even an article in the Tattler. Her father says it’s the perfect way to align two great dynasties.”

  “Hollister?” Maggie looked up at him with wild betrayal written across her face.

  “He’s lying,” Hollister bit out.

  “But you were with her? With Lady Fiona this afternoon?” the girl asked.

  “Yes.” Hollister would not lie to her. “But it’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “Wait,” Harlow said fishing around in his pocket for his cell phone. “I wanted to show the great snaps I made at your estate today. I especially like the one of you and Fee. I think it would make a splendid engagement photo for the Times. The heated passion of it is almost embarrassing, well you can see for yourself. What do you think?”

  He reached over and flashed the phone with its image right towards Maggie. There, in clear sight, was a photo of Hollister bending down towards the beautiful Lady Fiona. The blonde’s arms were twined like vines around his neck. Her artfully made up face was turned up to like a flower seeking the sun. His face was obscured. But it was obvious they were about to share a passionate kiss.

  “I insist that you come join Fee and I for a toast to the upcoming union,” Harlow urged.

  “No,” both Hollister and Maggie said at the same moment.

  “No?” Harlow asked feigning confusion. He looked over at the fuming lord. “If I was you, I would get myself over to my fiancée and use all my charm to smooth her ruffled feathers,” he said it as an aside. “Surely you don’t want to start your marriage off on the wrong foot? Fee was quite peeved when we came in and saw you sitting here with another woman. I don’t think she’s buying your lame story about needing to work tonight. As charming as your present companion might be, is she really worth risking your future over? I mean, easy tarts like her are a dime a dozen these days.” He stopped and ran a derisive glance from Maggie’s toes to the top of her head. “Though I do see why you’re tempted. Why don’t we exchange partners for the night? I’ll enjoy your little friend here, and you can mend your fences with Fee. It works out well for everyone.”

  Maggie was more than horrified. She’d known going out with Hollister was a bad idea. Earlier in the day she’d already changed her mind about telling him anything painful about Chase Brown. What she’d inadvertently shared was done in a moment weakness. She’d prepared herself for a silted and mechanical dinner as the rest of the evening progressed. What else could she have with him? He was the man she’d desired since she was a teenager. The one man she’d measured all other men against. The man who’d casually abandoned her for three years as she fought for her sanity. So she’d known how hard the night would be. She would be civil, and so would he. Then she’d go on with her mission work. He could call her controlling brother and report to him that all was well with his sister. His obligation would be fulfilled. She and Hollister would be done.

  But no, it hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped, or as she’d planned. From the minute he’d roared up in his low-slung sports car she’d been mesmerized. He was just as appealing to her as he’d always been. He was a masterpiece of tight-coiled muscle and hard-carved masculine beauty. She should have known. She should have known he was only interested in her from a professional point of view. But she’d let herself hope. Not once in the long, awful years since she’d been assaulted had she allowed herself to hope. But with Hollister, she’d let down her guard. Because he’d never lied, nor hurt her. And he’d sworn this would be a simple friendly meal. She was an idiot, she mentally scolded. What would a man like Hollister, who could have the perfect Lady Fiona Cooper, want with someone as plain and damaged as she was?

  Maggie struggled to get to her feet. Somehow Harlow got between her and Hollister. Try as he might, the nobleman couldn’t shove the grinning fool out of his way to reach for the girl. He watched as she scurried towards the door of the pub.

  “Maggie, wait,” he called out trying to stop her.

  The girl looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to leave, Hollister. Tell Gage I’m fine. He doesn’t need to worry about me.”

  The man couldn’t stand the look of abject humiliation written plainly across her face. “No, wait,” he was shouting now and he didn’t care. He who was the very epitome of stealth and secrecy was standing in the middle of a crowded London pub begging a woman to stay with him like he didn’t care who saw or what they thought.

  A flash of a camera caught him square in the eyes. Blinking against the sudden glare he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that this image of him would be plastered all over the scandal sheets in the morning. And looking over at Fiona Cooper, seeing her satisfied smirk, he had no doubt as to who had somehow managed the whole debacle.

  Chapter Eight

  “Yeah,” Hollister barked into the cell ringing cell phone.

  He was trying to avoid running his speeding car into the tail end of a lorry that had decided to pull out into the very busy traffic of London. He was determined to get to Maggie before she did something foolish. Like get on the first plane back to Montana. He’d ignored Fiona and Fleming. He didn’t care what they were up to. He’d solve that problem later. Right now he had to get to Maggie.

  “Bad day?” the voice of his business partner sounded tinny on the trans-Atlantic connection.

  “You don’t want to know,” Hollister said with a fair amount of grimness.

  This was not a man he wanted to talk to right now. Maggie’s brother was sure to be upset when he found out his best friend was planning to pursue his baby sister. Gage knew him too well. He knew all Hollister’s flaws. Lord John Hollister may have integrity and honor upon the battlefield, but they both knew he had no such reputation with the female sex.

  Gage Ferguson was just as dangerous. They were matched in skill and determination when it came to the black ops in which their company specialized. Better to not say
much. Forgiveness versus permission was a much better option when dealing with such a formidable man.

  “Too bad,” Gage said sarcastically. “You day is not about to improve.”

  “What?”

  “That situation we’ve been watching is about to go sideways.”

  Hollister cursed fluently. “The kidnapped women?”

  “It’s not good.”

  The Englishman cursed again. “I’m on my way to the airport. I can be there in a few hours.”

  “Good, the resources on the ground are saying the women and girls are being moved, maybe by daybreak.”

  “I’ll get there and access our assets in country.”

  “You want me to join you?”

  “No, I can handle it. Are the contacts in the Netherlands still willing to sponsor the female refugees?”

  “Yeah, they’re all set up to receive them and help them assimilate.”

  “So, I’ll retrieve the hostages, get them out of country, and make sure they get to the Aid organization in the Netherlands?”

  “Yep.”

  “Got it.”

  “Come back alive, buddy,” Gage said. It was a sort of code with them.

  “Don’t I always?” Hollister answered.

  “Yeah,” Gage chuckled. “Yeah, you do. But last time you came back a little battered.”

  Hollister laughed darkly. “Yeah, but I came back. Any mission you return from breathing is a good mission.”

  “You got that right. So what can I do from my end to be useful?”

  There was a long silence. Hollister was weighing his options. Was it better to tell Gage his intentions towards Maggie? Or would the smart thing be to just stay quiet? Something, he didn’t know what made him go with the get permission option.

  “Yeah, there’s one thing.”

  “You got it,” Gage answered with confidence.

  “I need you to keep Maggie from running again.”

  “What?” asked Gage confused.

  “She’s going to run again, Gage. I need you to stop her.”