by Jill Metcalf
“You’ve given me more than you know,” he whispered, having gained more knowledge from those words uttered in half-sleep than she would ever suspect. There had been times, occasionally, when his courage had almost failed him and he had feared he was walking a fool’s path with her. It would have been so easy for her to hurt him that, once or twice he had almost felt the urge to withdraw in order to protect himself. But then he would look at her or smell the subtle distinctive fragrance of her or hear her laugh, and he would again realize that he would never leave her simply because she could not offer what he needed most. He would be with her until the end of his days regardless of whether or not she ever came to love him as deeply as he loved her.
But there had also been occasions when he had been greatly encouraged. And, as he eased her out of her clothing leaving only her lacy drawers, he understood that she had gone beyond merely wanting him, beyond needing a husband and companion, beyond feeling protected by him. Maggie had offered a first tantalizing hope that she was well beyond merely caring for him.
*
She had not so much as stirred during the time it took to get her settled, so deep was her sleep. Now Hunter drew the crisp white sheet and warm quilt up over her as he bent and kissed her softly parted lips. Their path had not yet been cleared of all the vines and thorns that could entrap them, but somehow Hunter knew they would survive together and emerge beyond it all to find some peaceful meadow.
CHAPTER 23
Timothy had seen the last of the guests depart, including his own family. He had sent Denise up to her bed even though nighttime had barely fallen and he was loath to have her leave his side. He could never have enough time with her, it seemed, but tonight she could barely converse and he knew he must let her go.
Hunter appreciated the quietness of the house when he returned to the main floor, although he felt badly about not fulfilling his duties as host.
“I had planned to explain Maggie’s absence,” he said, walking across the room and sitting before the fire, opposite the younger man.
“I made you apologies, and everyone understood,” Tim returned, getting to his feet. “I don’t know about you, but I could use something stronger than the coffee we’ve been drowning ourselves in all day.” He waited until Hunter nodded his agreement before turning toward the small table in the corner of the room that held several crystal decanters.
Hunter sat back, crossing his long legs and resting one arm along the back of the settee. He watched Tim pour two generous amounts of Alastair’s find brandy into snifters. As Hunter looked up from rubbing his tired eyes, he noticed the solemn Anna clearing the remains of food and platters in the dining room.
“Thank you,” he said as Tim extended a glass to him. Hunter silently toasted the man before sipping. “I had hoped to never have need of a drink,” he said smiling. “But I need this one.”
The young doctor sank wearily into a chair. “Agreed.”
The two men stared into the blazing fire that warmed the room against the chill of the Fall evening and simply enjoyed the silence after the long days of people coming and going and the strain of seeing their loved ones suffer.
‘Your family returned to town?” Hunter asked, for want of another opening to the conversation.
“Mother felt the girls would be in need of some privacy for a few days, and she’s done all she can here for now.”
“You’ll stay?” Hunter asked. He suspected Tim would not leave Denise.
“I’ll be comfortable enough in the guest room.”
“Had Alastair been ill, Tim?” Hunter asked after a time, looking thoughtfully into the dancing flames of the fire. “I can hardly believe that a man his age just didn’t wake up one morning.”
“I was convinced he was ill,” Tim returned, “but when I suggested as much he brushed off my concerns. There’s been some talk that Treemont isn’t doing well,” he added, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and study the glass in his hands. “I suppose that’s fairly obvious. Some of the fields have been left untended, and there isn’t much help around the place anymore. This farm once employed a number of full-time hands. Now I think only Anna and two stable boys remain to do the bulk of the work. But Alastair would never confide in me.” He raised his head and smiled. “Not that we didn’t get along, mind you. I don’t believe Alastair has confided in anyone since his wife's death. He took his worries to his grave, and I’m concerned about what you will find here.” Tim was astute enough to realize that Hunter would assume responsibility for Treemont, and he would bow to his greater experience. “I’ll do whatever I can to help; whatever you ask. I only hope I’m wrong about the financial state of this grand old place.”
Hunter’s worried gaze returned to the fire. He frowned as he mulled over the information Tim had provided. “You have a great many patients who need your attention,” he said quietly. “I’ll take a look at Alastair’s books and in a few days, we’ll talk again.”
“If Treemont is threatened…" Tim hesitated, seeming uncertain about how to voice his concern…"Florence and Jennifer…”
Hunter tried to reassure the younger man. “They will live with Maggie and me,” he said firmly.
Tim nodded his head, obviously relieved. “They are fine girls but…”
“You needn’t feel guilty, Tim,” he said kindly. “I’m very fond of those girls, and you and Denise have yet to establish your own lives. There is not a doubt or a concern in my mind over the matter.”
There was, however, a concern that Tim wished to address. “About Denise,” he said quietly, before lounging back in his chair and taking a substantial drink of brandy. “We were to be married next month, but of course that’s out of the question now.”
“Why?”
Tim was taken aback by the question. “Well…she’ll be in mourning.”
“That’s true, and a large wedding would certainly not be acceptable,” Hunter said reasonable. “But perhaps we should discuss the possibility of a small, private ceremony…that is, if you are of a mind to wed her soon.”
“The sooner the better,” Tim breathed wearily.
Hunter laughed for the first time in several days. “The anxious groom,” he teased, and the young doctor actually suffered from a decided warming of his complexion. “I don’t blame you. I was feeling much the same not too long ago.”
“I’m glad someone understands,” Tim confessed quietly.
“We'll hold a family conference in a few days,” Hunter added, “and discuss the matter. And a year from now we could have a proper celebration. Maggie and I haven’t observed our own marriage with any of the usual festivities. Perhaps we can make it a joint effort then.”
It was agreed and the two men downed the last of their brandy and parted company for the night.
*
Hunter crept silently into the room. He could hear the soft whisper of Maggie’s deep breathing as she slept on while he removed his clothes and draped them over a chair. Moving cautiously so as not to disturb her, he lay down, pulled the blankets up, and stretched his tired body out as best he could in the short bed. Rolling onto his side then, he wrapped his arms around his young wife and drew her against him as his eyes drifted closed and sleep overtook him.
*
Dawn was about to burst upon the fields of Treemont when Maggie opened her eyes. Hunter was sleeping on his back beside her, one arm holding her against his side. He was warm and strong and breathing deeply as she snuggled against him and closed her eyes once again.
*
Hunter drifted slowly up from sleep to near awareness as he felt a small hand and delicate fingers trail slowly across his chest. He opened his eyes to find Maggie gazing intently at the path her hand was making, and he lay quietly, allowing her the freedom to touch and feel as she would.
Maggie knew she had awakened him, but could not bring herself to look at his eyes. It was bold, this thing she was doing, but she had watched him sleep for long moments before daring to fulfil
l her need to touch the living strength that lay beside her. Something within her was driving her to touch and, ultimately, to encourage him to touch her.
Her hand strayed up his chest, feeling the hard muscles there before sweeping across one shoulder and down one arm that was easily as wide as both of hers together. His muscles twitched at times, she noticed, and then her hand was on the warm firmness of his belly. She hesitated there, finally raising her eyes shyly as if to ask permission to continue her quest.
Hunter had turned his head to stare down at her with a tender dark heat that would have encouraged her if his whispered words had not. “Touch me, little one,” he murmured, and when she failed to react, he placed his large hand over hers and guided her palm downward. “Hold me,” he prompted and breathed in deeply when she did as instructed. “Do you want me, Maggie?” he breathed after several long moments.
She nodded her head; she did.
And together they celebrated living.
*
The morning was a series of chaotic events that made Maggie’s head reeling. The day had started out with everyone feeling as taut as any bowstring over the tensions of the previous days. Florence had completely withdrawn into herself, and Denise was having a difficult time looking at Tim as she worried over her duty to her sisters and her devotion to him. Jennifer continuously chattered or, alternately, spilled things. Tim was quietly trying to determine what was on Denise’s mind that she would avoid him so, and Anna muttered and glared at everyone who came near her.
And, in the midst of all this, Maggie was a mass of acute embarrassment at having engaged the previous night in what she considered as her first seduction. But Hunter guessed her dilemma quickly enough and laughingly dragged her mentally away from the ludicrous thoughts.
Sadly they all felt the absence of Alastair, but Maggie felt duty-bound to help everyone return to some semblance of a normal life. She easily took control over the running of the household again and the disciplining of two little girls who had easily slipped out of the routine of chores and school.
Hunter sat back proudly and watched her.
No Longer was Maggie taking charge to fill a void in her life. Her control over Treemont and the people who lived there had been a caring thing from the moment of her return. It was something she wanted to do, not something she was driven to do. She possessed a new confidence that surprised even her husband.
And there was something else about Maggie…her newly acquired understanding of what it was like to be in love.
Hunter had closeted himself in Alastair’s study for most of the day, poring over books that outlined a fairly bleak picture. And it was with some relief that he looked up from his place behind the massive desk to see Maggie in the doorway with a tray. He quickly closed the account book he had been examining and sat back as she stepped into the room.
“I’ve brought coffee and cake,” she said and placed the tray on the round table before the fire. “You’ve been locked in here working long enough.”
Hunter left his chair and skirted the desk. His gaze remained locked with hers as he pulled her easily within the circle of his arms. “And you, my love, are the perfect diversion.”
Maggie tipped her head back, waiting to be kissed. She now reveled in the understanding of how much she had changed. She now waited expectantly, eagerly, for a kiss or a touch or a teasing caress each time he was near. She secretly celebrated the fact that she had grown comfortable with his frequent touches, and she would have been sorely disappointed if he had failed to do so.
When he raised his head, she tightened her hands on the back of his shirt. “I need to speak with you,” she said. “I could come back later if…”
“Absolutely not.” He drew her down onto his lap as he settled in the winged-back chair before the fire. “Now that I have you in here,” he teased, “I’m not letting you go.”
Maggie adjusted her bottom on his thighs and rested a forearm on his shoulder. “It’s about Denise,” she said, watching his eyes closely for reaction. “I think she needs to be with Tim.”
Hunter’s smile melted into something very tender. “Do you, little one?”
Maggie nodded her head determinedly. “I think she’s torn about what to do now. With the circumstances…with her wedding plans…but I think they should be together somehow.”
“I agree.”
Maggie’s brows arched upward in surprise. “You do?”
“What brought you to this conclusion, Maggie?” he asked softly, while daring to answer the question in his own heart.
Maggie blushed lightly, and her eyes darted away from his as she began to toy with a button on his shirt.
“Can’t you tell me?” he coaxed, cupping her cheek and turning her to face him. “Tell me.”
“Sometimes I watch them looking at each other and I see us.”
Hunter’s dark eyes flared with curiosity.
“Denise watches him all the time and she looks at Tim the way I like to look at you,” she proceeded hesitantly. “I mean to say…I used to look at you and feel so many things I didn’t understand. And I would watch you and feel a need for something I knew nothing about.”
“You used to?”
“Oh, it’s much worse now!” Maggie blurted.
Hunter wasn’t certain whether he should laugh or cry over that remark. “How is it worse?”
“Now I look at you and I understand all those feelings,” she murmured. “And I want you all the time.”
Hunter’s smile returned and his hand roamed up from her waist to lightly cup one breast. “Now you understand my feelings as well, my love.”
Maggie captured the back of his hand and stilled it, pressing it firmly against her breast as she buried her face against his neck. “Now I understand what it’s like to love and be loved,” she murmured. “And I want Denise to be as happy as I am.”
“Oh, Maggie,” he breathed as he wrapped his arms firmly around her and cradled her tightly against his chest. “I do love you, little one.”
“And I think Denise and Tim must be going through hell,” she returned bluntly.
Hunter laughed and then buried his grin in the soft silken curls he loved.
CHAPTER 24
Maggie charged headlong up the stairs to the second floor as if she were a very young girl again. But before entering Denise’s room, she paused, patted her hair into place, and caught her breath.
Coolly, she swung the door open and stared across the room at her unhappy sister. “I’ve come to talk with you,” she said, entering the room and closing the door. “I believe I know what’s causing these doldrums of yours, Denise. I know you’re saddened because we’ve lost Papa, but I sense there’s more.” Maggie then sat primly on the side of the bed and waited.
Denise raised tired eyes and left her chair by the window. “I miss papa,” she said. “Everyone does.”
Maggie nodded as Denise paced toward her. “And…?”
Denise stood before her, eyeing her warily. If she mentioned her problem…one that Maggie would surely not understand…she would sound selfish. On the other hand, her heart was heavy and her thoughts confused. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted fretfully.
Maggie stood and clasped both of her younger sister’s upper arms. “I think you should get married.”
Denise could only stare, mouth agape.
“I’ve talked it over with Hunter, and he agrees.”
“You have?” she stammered. “He does?”
“Of course.” Maggie hugged Denise then. “I want you to be happy, Denise,” she whispered, “just as I am.”
The sisters stepped away from each other, and Denise looked at Maggie as if the wrong person had returned home to Treemont. “Are you happy with him, Mag?”
“Very.”
Denise’s expression broke into a beaming grin. “I don’t believe it!”
But she obviously did.
“He’s been very patient,” Maggie admitted. “And very persisten
t. Now,” she continued, looking around the room, “we must plan a small supper.” She stared at the white gown on the dress form in the far corner of the room and added solemnly, “I’m afraid we’ll have to choose a simple dress for a quiet, family occasion, Denise.”
Denis understood. They could not hold a gala affair when the household was in mourning.
The dress didn’t matter.
She would have Tim.
*
It was very late in the afternoon by the time Maggie left Denise’s room. They started sewing another, simpler gown while Maggie assured her sister that a private ceremony and a family dinner would be suitable under the circumstances.” After all, she and Tim had already waited for over a year to marry. And Maggie understood now how passions could run high.
At the bottom of the steps, Maggie turned toward the kitchen. It was time to set the table for supper and Anna would need help serving the meal.
Before she could swing the door open and enter the room, however, she was jolted to a halt by the sound of china breaking, followed by a heavy thud.
Alarmed by the noise, Hunter darted out of Alastair’s study and came up behind Maggie. “What on earth was that?”
“I don’t know,” she returned, even as she sprang into action and darted into the kitchen.
The sight that greeted her there almost defied belief. Florence had fallen and lay on the floor with her head perilously close to the heavy lion’s-claw base of the table. She was half under the table, surrounded by broken china and globs of food which defied recognition. Anna was pulling furiously on the child’s arm in an attempt to drag Florence out from under her shelter. And, unbelievably, the woman was poised to strike the girl.
Maggie’s immediate reaction was to race forward and clutch the woman’s raised arm with both hands. “What are you doing?” she cried.