After all they’d been to each other, he was now giving her permission to use his telephone? How very sad, when only a few days ago...
“That’s okay,” she answered quietly. “I’ll just drive back into town. I’m sure there are things Mike and I need to discuss in person.” Ross followed her to Lila’s truck, then closed the door behind her.
Maggie started the engine and met his eyes through the open window. “I’ll come by for you in the morning and take you to pick up your truck.”
“Jess can do that.”
A deep hole opened in her heart, and Maggie swallowed again. “Ross, this isn’t over.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” he said gently. “But yes, it is.”
She was sure that he would come to her in the morning and tell her that he’d changed his mind. That was the only thing that got her through the night.
But he didn’t, and for the next three days Maggie threw herself into her work. One of the first things she and Mike did was question Ben Campion.
When Campion learned that Cy wouldn’t protect his son anymore, Ben became very cooperative—and Maggie learned the significance of that mysterious false drawer. The day Cy pressured Ben to fund the election rally, Cy had unlocked the drawer and pulled out a copy of the original—and factual—accident report. It was that copy that Ben had tucked into his pocket—just a gentle reminder from Cy that in their game of mutual blackmail Ben had more to lose.
The work was rewarding. But it didn’t fill that empty space in her soul that ached for Ross.
Late Friday afternoon, Maggie was so frustrated and unhappy that she went to the telephone and called Brokenstraw for help. “Casey, how do I get through to him?” she asked, utterly beside herself.
“I wish I knew,” Casey answered, “because you’re good for him. Jess was just as stubborn about making a commitment to me. In fact, if I hadn’t completely lost my mind the first night I met him, we probably wouldn’t be—” there was a long pause before she continued thoughtfully “—together today.” A smile seemed to enter her voice. “Well, now. Maybe there is something you can do.”
“What?”
“It’s really drastic.”
“Being patient certainly isn’t getting me anywhere. Tell me.”
By the time Casey finished her tale, they were both laughing, but Maggie’s laughter was tinged with apprehension. What if Casey’s plan backfired, and Ross wasn’t as agreeable as his brother had been? What then?
“Maggie?” Casey added. “You do know why he’s so afraid of a permanent relationship, don’t you?”
“I think so. It’s because of the gambling, isn’t it? He’s afraid he’ll revert to his old habits, and any woman he marries—any children he has—will suffer because of it. He doesn’t trust himself.”
“That’s what Jess and I think. He heard a lot of horror stories at those Gamblers Anonymous meetings.”
“But he must have heard some success stories, too. He’s strong now, Casey, I know it. And I love him more than I can say.”
“I’m glad. I hope you can convince him of that.”
Tense and exhausted, Ross swung off his horse and led the buckskin into the corral, then loosened the saddle cinch. He’d been working for three solid days like a man possessed—mending fences, rousting strays and splitting cordwood for the winter. And he still couldn’t get Maggie out of his mind. What was it about her that wouldn’t give him any peace? Any air? Especially since he knew this breakup was the best thing for her? He wasn’t cut out for the kind of life she deserved. She needed a man whose past indiscretions couldn’t be recounted in detail by everyone in town. She needed a man who wasn’t scared blind of screwing up again.
With a soft grunt, he pulled the saddle off of the buckskin and slung it over the fence, then piled Buck’s saddle blanket and bridle on top. When the horse loped off to join the chestnut mare at the end of the corral, Ross sighed at the symbolism. Sometimes it seemed as if the whole damn world moved two by two.
He shut the gate and lugged his tack into the barn, with its faintly comforting smells of dust, leather and hay. Maybe he’d walk up to the house and see if Casey had any leftovers from supper. See if Jess wanted help painting the back porch.
Ross flopped his saddle over a low partition and hung his bridle on a hook. He just needed to keep busy now, that was all. If he buried himself in work, his preoccupation with Maggie would have to go away. He’d fill his mind with so much other stuff that there’d be no room for her.
But as he turned to leave, he stopped dead and stared at the blanket he’d dropped on the tack-room floor. A thick, woven-hair, horse blanket that triggered a vivid memory of another blanket...and warm, Sunday-afternoon grass.
The longing in his heart became a deep, hard ache. Suddenly he was back in the churchyard with Maggie, eating her fried chicken, teasing her to distraction, loving her smile. What a vision she’d been that day in her white dress, with her long black hair falling over her shoulders. Almost like... Ross exhaled raggedly.
A bride.
A second passed. Then another. And another.
Finally, he smiled and gave his head a self-deprecating shake as a feeling of contentment washed through him, more powerful than doubts, more satisfying than yearning. More profound than empty promises from a heart too weak to resist her. Who was he trying to kid? He’d never be able to stay away from Maggie Bristol. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
He could make her happy. All he had to do was transfer the energy he’d been using to forget her—to loving her. Because he had changed—before she’d come into his life, and even more afterward because he’d wanted her respect. How incredibly stupid he’d been to push her away.
Hurrying to his truck, Ross climbed in and drove hard for home and a shower, praying that it wasn’t too late to get her back. She had to give him another chance. She just had to. There was only one cure for what ailed him. Maggie.
The moon had just begun its climb in the sky when Maggie and her jittery nerves arrived at the house. Thankful that Ross wasn’t around to object, she carried her suitcases upstairs to the faintly lit loft. The sound of rushing water came from the master bathroom where the door was slightly ajar, the shower nozzle spraying full force.
Heart pounding fiercely, she hurried across the room and threw her bags on the bed, right on top of the clothes he’d laid out—just as Casey had done the night she’d gone head-to-head with Jess and staked her claim to her half of Brokenstraw.
Then, in a way Casey had not behaved—nor suggested—Maggie drew a nervous breath, shed her clothing, and walked into the steamy bathroom.
Ross’s lean form shimmered behind the foggy glass doors, and the clean citrus smell of his soap wafted on the air.
He whirled as the rear shower door opened, then stared in shock as Maggie stepped inside behind him. He seemed oblivious to the spray pounding the nape of his neck and shoulders. “Maggie? What—?”
Lifting her chin and stepping into the diffused spray, she took the soap from his hand. “My clothes are in the bedroom. I’m moving in.” A pulse-beat later her courage deserted her, and Maggie’s voice became small. “So don’t try to send me away, okay?”
Ross’s blue eyes warmed with his smile. Exhaling in relief, he pulled her close. “Now, why would I send you away? I was on my way to you.”
The soap bounced and echoed off the floor of the tub as Maggie filled her hungry arms with him. Then, mindless of the spray running over their hair and faces, careless of it streaming down their bodies, they clung tightly in the steamy shower stall. Water wet their lips as they repeatedly drank from each other, kissing deeply, sighing and murmuring soft words. Sighing again.
A more perfect man didn’t exist for her in all the world, Maggie thought several minutes later as they moved in that gentle prelude to lovemaking. It wasn’t just his physical beauty that she was drawn to, but the decency and integrity that lived in his heart. Yes, this was love. And he felt it, too. She knew he d
id. Even if he couldn’t say the words she wanted to hear.
But now, with his hands working their magic on her water-slick skin, it didn’t matter. They would take care of one need now... and the other later. Breaking from the kiss, Ross reached back to shut off the shower spray. And they kissed all the way to the bed.
The window was open—a big, broad rectangle that framed the fresh moon and a few bright stars. There were no drapes to rustle in the warm night breeze, no fabric to block the moonlight streaming into the loft.
“We’re going to soak your bed,” she whispered as he knocked her suitcases to the floor and lowered her to the spread.
“It’ll dry.”
Eager lips found each other again. Then Ross inched lower, trailing tiny kisses over her collarbone and breasts. Maggie drew a soft breath, threaded her fingers through his wet hair to hold him close.
Legs intertwined, and hips strained for closer contact.
Hearts beat faster, and grateful hands relearned each other’s curves and textures.
Then Maggie welcomed him inside, closing her eyes as he filled her, then opening them again as he hovered over her. In the dim light, his shadowy face was all hard angles and planes, but she could see his smile.
“You make me so happy,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Why is that?”
“Because you know I’m going to love you forever,” she whispered back. “No matter what.”
“I’m a gambler, Maggie.”
“No, you were a gambler,” she murmured. “Now, you’re just mine.”
With a trembling sigh, Ross buried his face in her neck. And finally, the words he’d been so hesitant to say rustled near her ear.
Maggie’s heart swelled to near bursting. He loved her. More than the heat building inside her, she clung to that thought. More than the airy pleasure flowing through her, she floated on that knowledge. Moments later, when the lovely shudders turned their minds to satin and their limbs to silk, Maggie knew perfect contentment. For the first time in her life, she felt whole.
Later, they lay facing each other in the moon’s dim light.
“You love me,” she whispered.
“Of course, I love you. How could I not? You jeopardized your job for me. You defended me to your father.” He paused for a long moment. When he spoke again, his low voice was troubled. “I want to marry you, Maggie.”
Faintly unnerved by his tone, Maggie touched his face in the semidarkness. “I want to marry you, too. Why don’t you sound happy about it?”
“I am happy about it. But it could be a very long time until we’re together. I won’t marry you without your dad’s approval.”
New love filled her heart. “Oh, Ross, he never disapproved of you. He only disapproved of our sleeping together without being married. When I tell him we’re living together, he’ll move heaven and earth to see that you make an honest woman of me.”
“No, he won’t. Because you’re not moving in.”
Maggie scrambled to a sitting position. Hadn’t he just said that they would be married? “What are you saying?”
Ross took her hand and held it fast. “I won’t dishonor your father that way. I won’t let you move in here with me. Not until he walks you down the aisle and personally puts this hand in mine.”
That was all? Snuggling down with him again, Maggie sighed happily and pillowed her head on Ross’s shoulder. “He’s going to love you. When he sees how happy you make me, he’s going to love you as much as I do.” Then, craning her neck, she nuzzled the warm cleft below his earlobe and murmured, “Now, how do you feel about August weddings?”
Epilogue
Ross stood in the shade of the huge cottonwood beside the homestead, looking down on the people gathered some fifty yards away. Most of them were laughing and talking in groups, but to their right, several women carried food to the buffet table. Beyond, rows of chairs with a grassy aisle between them were decorated with puffy white bows. Baskets of pink and white flowers sat on long linen-covered tables.
Jess ambled across the grass toward him, and Ross chuckled softly. “Don’t you look pretty.”
“Almost as pretty as you do.”
They stood for a time, both of them dressed in Western-cut tuxedos, watching the activity below. In front of the chairs, Casey and Aunt Ruby were putting the final touches on the white lattice arch. Cars and trucks continued to fill the grassy field beside the corral. Guests began to take their seats.
“Scared?” Jess asked.
“Nope. Ready.” In fact, he’d never felt more ready for anything in his life. Maybe he wasn’t nuts about all the flowers and chairs with ribbons. But he wanted Maggie badly enough to put up with all the fancy things women seemed to need.
Briefly, he wondered again how Maggie’s dad really felt about giving her away today, then put it out of his mind. He’d done the best he could to convince Tom that he loved his daughter and wanted to make her happy. If Tom had reservations, time would have to take care of them.
“Moe’s walking pretty well these days,” Jess observed, nodding toward the seats. “And I don’t think I’ve seen Lila in a dress since my own wedding.”
“Me, neither.”
Jess’s brow furrowed. “Who’s the guy with Mike Halston and his girlfriend?”
“Where?”
“Down by the corral—getting out of the white Blazer.”
Ross shifted his gaze to the tall, black-hatted cowboy slamming the driver’s door. He scowled. “That’s our new sheriff. Maggie invited him.”
Jess sent him an amused look. “So what’s the scowl about?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t like him.”
“Would you rather have Farrell back?”
Ross grinned. “Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.”
Bessie Holsopple left a group of women near the tables and walked to the organ. Jess clapped a hand on Ross’s shoulder. “Okay, little brother, it’s time. Does the groom have any last requests before he takes his final walk as a free man?”
“Yeah,” Ross said through another grin as they left to take their places. “Stay away from the hot spring tonight.”
Bessie played something soft and pretty as Ross and Jess approached the rose-and-ivy-covered arch. Then Reverend Fremont, smiling and all decked out in his “marrying whites,” walked over to Ross and shook his hand.
“Ready, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” With a wink, Fremont took his place, opened his missal, and the wedding march resounded in the mid-August afternoon.
Friends and neighbors stood as the tiny, dark-haired flower girl walked down the aisle holding the matron of honor’s hand. Wearing a pink-and-white gown that matched her mommy’s, Lexi smiled shyly at everyone she passed.
Then Ross’s heart began to pound...the music swelled, murmurs rustled through the crowd...and Maggie walked toward him on her father’s arm.
Her black hair was pinned up in a delicate bun, with loose curls framing her face and trailing down the nape of her neck. Above soft bangs, she wore a band of tiny white and pink flowers. Plain white satin shimmered in the sun.
With every step she took, Ross’s heart grew fuller. She was so beautiful...so giving. And she was his.
“Hi,” Maggie said softly when she reached him.
“Hi,” he murmured back.
Ross’s throat knotted with emotion as Tom Bristol drew his daughter close and kissed her cheek. Then, blinking back tears and smiling tightly, he shook Ross’s hand, and finally placed Maggie’s hand in Ross’s.
“Be good to each other,” he whispered.
“We will,” they both answered.
Then, to Ross and Maggie’s confusion, Tom stepped up on the low platform where he and Reverend Fremont exchanged chuckles and handshakes. And Tom Bristol took the white-robed clergyman’s place before the congregation.
A radiant smile lit Maggie’s face, and Ross felt the lump in his throat get bigger.
; “Dear friends and neighbors,” Reverend Bristol began, his eyes glistening as he smiled down at the couple before him. “It is my heartfelt pleasure today to join in marriage my daughter, Maggie, and Ross Dalton...a man I’ve come to know and respect.”
Ross didn’t hear another word of his own wedding ceremony—didn’ t remember repeating his vows or saying “I do.” He was too busy thanking God for second chances, and gripping Maggie’s hand for dear life. Besides, words didn’t bind two people together; the feelings they held in their hearts did.
So with watery eyes, Ross just kept smiling down at Maggie.
And Maggie kept smiling up at him.
Well, two down, one to go....
But while Katie and Dana have already
broken their vows—
and gotten themselves engaged to doctors—
Lee is going to be different.
She’ll never succumb to a doctor’s charms.
Or will she?
You can find out in
CHRISTINE RIMMER’s
DR. DEVASTATING
the wonderful conclusion to
PRESCRIPTION: MARRIAGE
available from
Silhouette Special Edition
in December
Meanwhile, turn the page
for a sneak preview....
“Why are we playing this stupid game, Lee?”
“Uh, game?”
“Yes. Game. You looking at me the way you do, and me pretending I don’t see. What’s the point, when you’re attracted to me and—well, I suppose I might as well just say it. I’m attracted to you, too.”
“Huh?” Lee almost dropped her water glass. The thing slid through her fingers and clinked on the edge of her plate. Awkwardly, at the last second, she caught it by the rim and somehow managed to ease it to the table without spilling any.
Derek watched her struggle with the glass. And then he nodded, still rueful, a little abashed. “It’s true.” His expression said it all. He couldn’t understand what in the world he saw in her. He considered her totally beneath him, since she was neither gorgeous nor blond. For goodness’ sake, her eyes weren’t even blue. “I don’t know how it happened, but I’m attracted to you.”
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