By the time Ryan Kendrick landed the Cessna 340 on the Rocking K airstrip two days later, Maggie was feeling like a pampered poodle with an overanxious owner. Since her release from the hospital that morning, Rafe had allowed her to do nothing for herself, not even walk. Dr. Hammish had said that for the next week, Maggie was not to be on her feet except to go to the bathroom. Determined to follow those orders, Rafe had carried her from the wheelchair to the car, and then from the car to the airplane, where he had deposited her on the rear passenger seats, which he’d already folded down to make a bed. Her first time to fly, and what did she see? The cabin ceiling.
Over the course of the three-hour flight, he’d drawn the doctor’s instructions from his pocket several times. Time for fluid intake? He’d tapped an insulated water jug and filled a plastic sixteen-ounce glass to the brim, insisting she drink it. He’d even held the glass, as if she were incapable. Time for medication? Pills were shoved under her nose and she was made to drink more water. Only a few minutes later, it had been time for her to have fluid again. Maggie had had the feeling he might pinch her nose if she refused to swallow.
The Cessna had no toilet.
By the time the plane’s wheels went sprrt-sprrt on the tarmac in Oregon, every jolt of the small craft was an agony for her. After Ryan exited the plane by the side door, she pushed up on her elbow to gaze out the oval passenger window near her head, hoping to see a house. Instead, the bright afternoon sunlight glanced off snow-swept fields and mountains for as far as she could see. She pushed up a bit higher to peek out the adjacent window, looking for buildings. Nothing. Just wilderness.
Signing off the radio, Rafe turned and saw her sitting halfway erect. He unfastened his seat belt and swung from the copilot’s seat into the center aisle.
“Just rest easy, honey. Ryan has to start the four-runner and get it warm, so it’ll be a few minutes before we get out.” He bent over a first-row seat to check on the sleeping baby and then moved aft to hunker in front of her. Maggie half-expected him to whip a glass of water from behind his back. Instead he pressed a hand to her forehead. “How you feeling? Tired, I’ll bet.”
Maggie was too tense to be tired. She’d never been across the Idaho state line, and she’d never stepped foot on an airplane either. Now she was about to marry a man whose family owned two, this Cessna, which had a pressurized cabin for comfortable long-distance travel, and a small single-engine called an Eagle, which Rafe had explained was used for ranch work.
“What?” he asked softly.
Maggie shook her head. How could she explain her feelings when they were in such a tangle? This man, who’d poured sixty-four ounces of water into her in the last three hours and hadn’t stopped to think she might need to use the rest room, had taken control of her life.
A part of Maggie knew Rafe meant her no harm. He treated her as if she were made of fragile glass, his solicitousness almost suffocating. How could she fear someone who seemed so frantically concerned about her well-being?
Yet on a level where reason held no sway, Maggie did fear him. She’d been in a situation where a man had complete control of her world, and she’d learned from experience just how vulnerable that made her.
“Can you sit up, honey?”
Maggie did as he asked, relieved to find that she felt much stronger now than she had in days. He reached for her parka.
“I can do it,” she protested as he began fishing her arm down a sleeve. When that didn’t slow him down, she added, “I hate being so much trouble.”
He tugged the jacket up onto her shoulder, then reached behind her to pull it around. “You’re no trouble,” he said huskily. He hesitated in his task to cup her chin in his big hand and make her look at him. “You’ll never know how sincerely I mean that.”
It seemed to Maggie that his dark face came closer, and for a moment, she felt sure he was about to kiss her. Her heart flip-flopped, sending a flutter into her throat. Her gaze went to his mouth. In the dimness of the plane, his firm lips had a satiny sheen. For a fleeting instant, she wondered what it might be like to kiss a man whose breath didn’t reek of stale cigarettes and beer.
Shocked at herself, Maggie shoved the thought away. A mischievous glint danced in Rafe’s eyes, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Letting the coat puddle behind her, he tightened his hold on her chin and curled his other hand over her nape, his hard fingers sifting through the strands of her hair to rest with intimate possessiveness on her skin. Shivers ribboned down her spine as he traced circles with his fingertips.
His features blurred as he pressed closer. Maggie planted a hand on his chest, intending to hold him away. The instant her palm connected with the front of his shirt, that hope fled. He felt as heavy and immovable as a wall of granite. Her breath snagged in her throat as his lips settled over hers. Velvet heat.
He tipped his head to gain better control of the kiss, parting his lips and touching the tip of his tongue lightly to hers. Maggie jerked. His arm tensed, the wide palm on her nape becoming a relentless but gentle restraint that held her fast. He tasted her as he might a sweet he meant to savor, with light brushes of his tongue that teased her sensitive flesh like the flutter of a butterfly wing. His breath mingled with hers, hot and laced with the rich taste of coffee and mint.
Maggie felt as if her bones were dissolving. The stutter of her pulse at the base of her throat became a pounding that seemed to echo in her temples. He wouldn’t allow her to pull away, and she couldn’t help but be frightened by the sheer power she felt radiating from his big body. She’d found herself on the receiving end of a man’s greater strength too many times to easily discount the dangers. But at the same time, she was fascinated. Every other kiss she’d ever experienced had been a slobbery grinding of teeth that had hurt her lips and made her feel as if she were going to strangle on her own bile. By contrast, Rafe’s mouth coaxed hers for a response she didn’t know how to give.
When he drew back, there was a question in his eyes.
“I—” Maggie gulped and groped for the coat sleeve behind her. “I’m not a very good kisser, I’m afraid.”
As she fumbled with the jacket, he continued to caress her neck, his touch seeming to become more electrical with every pass of his fingertips. Her stomach felt as if she had swallowed a giant-sized carton of live goldfish.
“Maggie?” he whispered.
She froze, her gaze drawn to his by the silky demand in his tone. He smiled slightly and rubbed his thumb over her mouth. “What?” she squeaked.
He leaned forward to graze his lips along her temple, his breath stirring the curls there as he whispered, “You kiss like an angel.”
He drew back and released her. As he reached around her to finish helping her into the jacket, he smiled. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel a little less nervous? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling you’re a little afraid of me. There’s no reason to be.”
No reason? He’d made clear his intention to make this a real marriage. She found the prospect of physical intimacy terrifying. Not that she would ever admit it. Fear was yet another weakness that a man could use against you.
Trying to keep her expression carefully blank, she bent her head to fumble with the zipper. “I’m not afraid of you. That’s silly.” It truly is silly, a small voice inside her mind chided. Any fool can see he doesn’t mean to hurt you. Maggie guessed she was like those people who were afraid of heights. Even standing behind a sturdy guardrail, they couldn’t breathe when they looked down. Sometimes a person’s fears defied all reason. “Why would I be afraid?”
He brushed her fingers aside. “Is that why your hands are shaking? Because you trust me so much?”
Maggie looked down and saw that he was right; she was shaking. “I’m just—cold.”
He zipped the jacket and rocked back on his heels, his well-muscled arms resting loosely on his knees. His expression was bemused as he regarded her. “I’ll never hurt you. I want you to know that. And when the time comes that we make love, you’ll want to do it. I promise you that.”
Maggie barely managed to suppress a shudder. “Th-that would be nice.”
“Better than nice,” he assured her. “Much better than nice.”
Maggie had her doubts. She would be greatly relieved if sexual intimacy with him turned out to be tolerable. Nice was a bit much to hope for.
He stood and drew her to her feet. Just then, Ryan opened the door of the plane. “The four-runner’s heated up.”
Rafe gathered Jaimie from the seat and handed him down to his brother, who promptly ran toward the waiting Ford to get the baby in out of the cold. Grabbing a hand strap suspended from the ceiling, Rafe swung from the plane, bypassing the drop-down steps. He caught his balance and turned, motioning her to the doorway. When she came within reach, he swept her into his arms.
As he carried her toward the expensive sport-utility vehicle parked a few feet away, she spied a small hangar in front of the plane that she’d been unable to see from the rear windows. “Does that building have a rest room?” she asked, hating herself for blushing.
“It sure does.”
He broke stride and veered toward the hangar. It lay quite a distance away, and the snow at the edge of the plowed runway was over a foot deep.
“I can walk,” she suggested. “I’m feeling much stronger today.”
“It’s farther than it looks,” was his only reply.
Maggie stifled a sigh.
At the end of the tarmac, he jostled her in his arms to get a better hold and then struck off through the drifts. Maggie clutched his shirt, her body tense. She was only a few feet off the ground, but it seemed like much more. “It looks icy and slick in spots,” she observed, thinking how easily he might slip.
“It is.”
Maggie kept expecting him to get breathless. It was hard going, and he was lugging a lot of extra weight. But he trudged on without getting winded. Once at the hangar, he bent slightly to open a door, then carried her inside a small office furnished with only a desk, a chair, and a metal file cabinet. He set her on her feet in front of another door.
“Thank you.”
He leaned around her to twist the knob and flip on the bathroom light. “You’re very welcome. If you need any help, just holler.”
Not in this lifetime.
Her legs felt weak, undoubtedly from lying in bed so long. She stepped inside, closed the door, and was about to turn the latch when he said, “Don’t lock it, all right? Just in case, I don’t want to have to break down the door again.”
She quickly finished her business. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found him gazing at a picture on the wall.
“My son, Keefer,” he said. “It was taken the summer before.”
Before. Maggie moved closer, wondering what it must be like to have your life divided into two parts, before and after. The child perched on Rafe’s bare shoulders in the snapshot looked about two, with chubby cherub cheeks and wavy dark brown hair. He bore a striking resemblance to his father.
The camera had caught Rafe laughing. He had been much younger then, if not in years, at least at heart, his eyes dancing with merriment. He’d also been huskier of build, his bronze upper body a sculpture of male strength, with bulging biceps, a powerfully padded chest, and an abdomen striated with rock-hard muscle. He’d been wearing jeans that skimmed his lean hips and long legs.
Her gaze returned to the child, whose dimpled fingers were clenched in his father’s wind-tossed black hair. She almost said she knew how seeing the picture must hurt, but if she were to lose Jaimie, she wouldn’t want people to pretend they understood how she felt. She didn’t understand, she could only imagine, and she prayed to God it remained that way.
“Ready?”
Maggie glanced up. Rafe was smiling, but the shadows in his eyes were difficult to miss. “I’m so sorry.” She hesitated and then heard herself saying exactly what she’d decided not to. “I know how it must hurt.”
“That’s the first picture I’ve seen since I left,” he said softly. “It kind of blindsided me is all.”
He swept her up into his arms. Maggie hugged his sturdy neck, once again feeling as if she were dangling from a skyscraper ledge. The sadness had left his eyes. “Worried I’ll turn loose of you?”
“I’m hoping not,” she replied.
A slow grin spread over his firm mouth. “Count on it, Maggie girl.”
As he carried her to the waiting four-runner, Maggie wondered if he’d meant that as a reassurance or a threat.
En route to the house, Maggie hugged her sleeping baby close and peered out the windows of the four-runner for some sign of buildings. All she saw were distant mountains, pine and fir trees, open fields, and Herefords, all of which seemed to be running loose. It was beautiful landscape—like some of the winter scenes she’d seen on postcards. But admiring pictures and being smack-dab in the middle of the reality were two different things. After living in town all her life, she felt displaced here. And cut off from the world.
Even the luxurious interior of the Expedition smelled alien to her, the familiar scents of new-car leather and molded plastic blended with foreign odors. Grass of some kind, maybe? And horses? Glancing over her shoulder, Maggie saw that the back storage area of the Ford was strewn with pieces of rope, strange-looking leather straps, chunky metal gadgets, and bits of hay.
Rafe, who sat beside her in the back, finally noticed her craning her neck to see out his window and flashed her a questioning look.
Maggie glanced up at him. “Where’s the house?”
“It’s still quite a ways,” Ryan said as he veered left to miss a muddy pothole in the gravel road. “Forty thousand acres is a mighty big spread. The main house is about seven more miles from here.”
The main house? Ryan made it sound as if they had dozens. “Are all seven miles part of your ranch?”
Just as Maggie asked that, the Expedition hit a bump that snapped her teeth together and bounced her sideways on the plush leather seat. She tightened her hold on Jaimie. Rafe glanced down and curled a strong arm around her shoulders. “I think you need a little extra ballast.” He dipped his head to look out his window. “In answer to your question, yes, we’ll be on Rocking K land clear in to the main house. You see out through there?”
Maggie followed his gaze. All she saw was brutal wilderness. “Yes.”
“Look as far into the distance as you can,” he instructed. When she fixed her gaze on the most distant point of the horizon she could find, he said, “That’s all either part of the Rocking K or land on a renewable ninety-nine-year lease. Our dad started the operation thirty-five years ago.”
Incredulous, Maggie continued to stare at the horizon. “Wow. Why do I have the feeling you can’t walk to the grocery store from here?”
“You’re right. The closest store would be quite a trek.”
Maggie peered out her window. “Is that all the Rocking K as well?”
“Yes. How’s it going to feel to know you own that much dirt?”
The question was a reminder of their forthcoming marriage, and Maggie tightened her arms around Jaimie, her reason for being there. She wanted her world back—the one with sidewalks and corner markets and neighbors she’d known all her life. Minus Lonnie, of course. From the very beginning, he had messed up her life. Now he had obliterated it.
Ryan chuckled. “Now that’s a unique way of putting it. Owning a lot of dirt!” He glanced in the mirror. “All she can see right now is snow. But in the summer, we’ve got dirt, Maggie. Lots of it.”
Her joy knew no bounds.
Rafe drew her more snugly against him. “Honey, you’re going to love the ranch. Don’t look so worried.”
“It’s just that I’m a town person, I guess. Maybe I’ll get used to it.”
“We’ve got a large town only twenty minutes away.”
“Once you get to the highway,” Ryan pointed out, as if that were another highlight. “It’s the ultimate in privacy out here. No prying eyes. No pesky neighbors. You can parade naked in the yard if you want.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe warned with a possessive growl in his voice. “With all the hired hands on the place, it isn’t quite that private.”
Maggie had no intention of parting with her clothing, period. Even as the thought rooted in her mind, she quickly qualified it. She’d part with her clothes quickly enough when Rafe decided she should.
“You keep saying the ‘main’ house. Is there more than one?”
“You could say that.” Ryan braked to ease the vehicle over a rut. “There’s my place, about a mile from Rafe’s. And after the folks signed the ranch over to us, they built a cottage on the opposite side of the lake. Then there’s the housing for our hired hands and families. Plus all the line shacks.”
A few minutes later, the Expedition rounded a curve, and the wilderness gave way to white fencing that seemed to stretch forever. She spotted white outbuildings.
“There’s the house,” Rafe whispered.
She focused on the sprawling brick home that sat on a gentle, snow-covered knoll in the distance. As Ryan drove closer, she saw that the huge structure was a two-story with white trim and ivy trailing up the five exterior chimneys. The expansive, multi-pitched roof was covered with burnt red tiles.
That wasn’t a house; it was a mansion.
“So, what do you think?”
She threw Rafe an incredulous look. What did she think? She remembered her cowboy bum in the ragged, filthy clothing, with his shoulder-length hair going every which way under the droopy brim of his dusty Stetson. Even later when he’d told her he was rich, she hadn’t imagined this. How would she ever fit in here?
“I, um…it’s beautiful,” Maggie said hollowly.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” He peered through the windshield at the house, as if he expected to see that the massive roof had caved in or something. When he looked back at her, he said, “If you hate it, I’ll build you another one. We don’t have to live there. This spring we’ll go riding and look for a building site.”
On a horse? “No, it isn’t that. It’s a—beautiful house. It’s just—” Maggie broke off and stared at it some more. She’d get lost in there. “I’m not used to houses that are so—big!”
“It is big,” Ryan agreed. “But you guys won’t live in all of it. The basement floor is a huge industrial-scale kitchen to feed the crews during roundups, with a big dining area and another big room for dances and parties. The main floor is only—what, Rafe?—seven thousand square feet?”
“Thereabout,” Rafe replied. “Eight, tops. And much of that is guest rooms.”
Out the right back window, Maggie saw a gorgeous red horse on the opposite side of the fence. It pranced along with the car, its tail uplifted and its mane flying. Rafe spotted it at the same instant. “What’s that son of a bitch still doing here? I told you to sell him or shoot him.”
“He’s a world-class stud. After you left, what was the point?”
Maggie had never heard Rafe’s voice so cold. She glanced at the horse again and remembered the story he’d told her about the car wreck. She knew then that this was the stallion that had been kicking up a fuss in the trailer that night during the hailstorm. Maggie couldn’t really blame Rafe for not being able to stand the sight of it.
His expression was still set in grim lines when he carried Maggie to the house. Ryan followed, carrying Jaimie. They entered into what Ryan called the mudroom but was actually a huge atrium laced with stone walkways and beds of greenery. At the center was a bench-encircled fish pond with a waterfall.
For a long moment, Rafe stood just inside the door. Maggie suspected he had mixed emotions about this homecoming and was remembering his family.
After a moment, he smiled down at her. “You’re right. It’s big.”
Maggie relaxed slightly, glad that the moment had passed. When she sensed his sadness, she wanted to comfort him. Not smart, under the circumstances. She would be inviting trouble. She’d seen the possessive gleam in Rafe Kendrick’s eyes and knew it wouldn’t take much to make him amorous.
He struck off for a set of sliders at the opposite end of the vaulted enclosure. She tightened her hold on his neck as he bent at the knees to open the glass door. He stepped into a huge country kitchen with copper-bottomed pots hanging from hooks over a butcher-block work island. One entire wall was dominated by a stone fireplace. A cheerful fire crackled in the grate, and two well-worn wooden rockers sat before the hearth, inviting tired souls to sit back and kick up their feet. Across the room from the hearth was a long plank table with crossbuck legs. Individual stools were positioned haphazardly around it.
At the sound of the door opening, a hefty woman with a wavy cap of gray hair turned from the sink. When she saw Rafe, her green eyes filled with tears. She wiped her wet hands on the starched white apron covering her brown dress.
“Rafael!” She lumbered across the room and launched her sizable self at him, sandwiching Maggie between his hard chest and her soft, ample one. A plump arm hooked Maggie around the neck, forcing her face against Rafe’s jaw as it squeezed. “Oh, my boy! Praise the Lord. It’s a miracle. I prayed and prayed you weren’t dead, and now here you are, real as life!”
“Careful of Maggie, Becca,” Rafe cautioned with a laugh. “She’s still a little sore.” He dipped his head to kiss her wrinkled cheek. When he straightened, he grinned. “What’s to eat? I’m starving.”
Becca stepped back and cupped her pudgy hands to her cheeks, her gaze fixed on his dark countenance. Then her face dissolved and she started to cry in earnest. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you ask me that again.”
Rafe flashed Maggie an apologetic look and deposited her on one of the rockers. He went to take the older woman in his arms. Hunching his shoulders, he bent his head to kiss her temple.
“I never meant to put all of you through such a bad time,” he said gruffly.
She ran her hands over his broad back as if she couldn’t believe he was real even as she launched into a scolding. “Taking off without a word, and then never calling home. I’ve a good mind to warm your seat with my spatula!”
“Later,” he said with a choked laugh. “I’m not grabbing my ankles in front of Maggie. It’s not dignified.”
Becca sobbed and then chuckled. “Well, then, you’d better straighten yourself up! Any more nonsense out of you, and I’ll tan your hide right in front of her, mark my words. What you’ve put your mama through! For shame, Rafael! And your daddy, bless his heart. I’ve never seen that man shed a tear, mind you, and he cried like a baby the other night when he called to tell me!”
“I’m sorry. So sorry.”
When Ryan stepped into the kitchen, Maggie held up her arms for the baby. He shook his head. “I think you’re heading straight for bed.”
Overhearing his brother’s comment, Rafe pulled away from the housekeeper. Becca patted her cheeks dry and tugged at her dress and apron. “My, yes! What am I thinking, letting you sit there, Maggie? Forgive me.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Maggie assured her.
“Fiddle. Rafael told me on the phone how sick you’ve been. Well, never you worry. The master suite is all ready for you. Rafael had the room completely redone before he left. You’ll be the first to sleep in there since—well, in a good long while. And I’ve prepared the nursery as best I can. All the furniture in there was—” She broke off and glanced at Rafe. “Well, never mind. Rafael will have to buy more, is all. I’ve borrowed a few things from the wives of the hired hands that will do us for now.”
“I’d prefer to have Jaimie in the same room with me,” Maggie said.
“Only if I have your promise that you won’t try to take care of him yourself,” Rafe inserted. “Doctor’s orders, remember? Complete bed rest.”
The determined glint in his eyes told Maggie that arguing would get her nowhere. She decided a half a loaf was better than nothing. “I remember.”
He came to lift her from the rocker. To Becca, he said, “She isn’t supposed to be on her feet for a week.”
“And she won’t be,” Becca said firmly.
“It’s probably all right for me to get up for a little while if I’m—”
“No arguments!” Becca said, cutting Maggie short. “I’d like to give you a bit of time to settle in before I take after you with my spatula. But I won’t hesitate if I catch you disobeying your doctor.” She waddled from the kitchen into a long hallway, speaking to Rafe who followed behind her. “I already called Dr. Kirsch, so he’s standing by. Did you bring all the medication she needs?”
“Got it.”
“I’ll want a list of instructions in her care. Don’t be forgetting and taking off to the stables before you give it to me.”
“I’m not taking off anywhere, Becca. You’ll have your hands full with Jaimie and the household.”
“Oh, pooh. I can accomplish more with a baby in one arm than three women and a girl.” She threw open a door and stepped inside a huge room with mauve carpeting and creamy walls, her broad hips almost touching the door frame at both sides. “The bed is turned down,” she said, scurrying over to a long bank of windows to draw the drapes against the late afternoon sunlight. “Just set her there on the edge.”
“Did you get the nightgowns?”
“I sent Delores to town after you called me. You forgot to give me a shoe size, so she bought stretchy-type slippers. The robe is a nice heavy velour.” She paused with one hand on a draw cord. “It’s all there at the foot of the bed.”
Maggie wanted to remind them she was an adult, not a sick child. They were talking back and forth as if she weren’t there. Rafe set her on the mattress, which was covered with taut sheets that looked as if they had been ironed. He crouched to untie her shoes just as Maggie bent forward to do it herself, and they bumped heads. She blinked away stars and grabbed her temple.
“Sweetheart, are you all right?”
Much more help, and they were going to kill her. She stared at him, rubbing the throbbing place. It usually took a lot to make Maggie angry, but she was quickly getting there.
“I’ll do it!” she said as he reached for her foot again.
“Don’t be silly. It hurts your back to bend over.” He unlaced one of her shoes and jerked it off. As he attacked her other sneaker, he glanced at the floral-print gown and burgundy velour robe at the foot of the bed. “Ankle-length flannel?” he said with a curl of his lip.
Finished with drawing the drapes, Becca ambled to the bedside table to flip on the light. “If you want negligees, go buy them yourself.”
Rafe winked at Maggie as he brushed her hands aside to unzip her coat. “Maybe I’ll just do that.”
Maggie started to peel off the jacket. He drew it down before she could move, trapping her arms at the elbows. As he tugged the sleeves off over her hands, Maggie got a bad feeling about this. Sure enough, after tossing the jacket aside, he reached for the buttons of her blouse.
Maggie grabbed his wrists. “I’ll do it,” she said.
“Honey, don’t—”
Maggie’s temper snapped. She slapped at his hands. “Out! Both of you. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not an invalid.”
Rafe rocked back on his heels, looking mildly startled. Becca planted her hands on her ample hips. The two of them stared at her.
Maggie felt light-headed when she pushed to her feet. She grasped the ornately carved bedpost. “Out,” she said firmly. “When I’m done, I’ll holler.”
Becca and Rafe exchanged worried looks. “She’s just tired,” he said.
“Poor dear,” Becca said.
Maggie felt like pulling her hair. To her relief, though, they both left the room to afford her some privacy. She had just started to unbutton her blouse when Rafe opened the door and poked his head back in. She jerked her blouse closed. “If you need me, I’ll be right here in the hall. Don’t hesitate to call me.”
Maggie felt guilty after he shut the door. He was only concerned about her, and here she was, biting his head off. Little wonder he was treating her like a child. She was behaving like one.
She finished undressing and slipped into the flannel nightgown before sitting on the edge of the bed. Taken separately, the things she was upset about seemed trivial. Not being allowed to hold her own glass. Having pills shoved in her mouth. Being packed around. Starting to do things, and having him stop her. It was a hundred little things. It was only when they were heaped together that they became something big. He was suffocating her.
Feeling drained, she slipped between the crisp sheets and fell back against the pillows. Scanning the large room, she took in the ecru walls and slightly darker drapes. There was no fire in the grate of the rock fireplace, a smaller version of the one in the kitchen, but Maggie could imagine the amber warmth, even so. In one corner, two easy chairs were cozied up around a small reading table. On a cold winter night, reading near a crackling fire would be nice, she guessed. It was just a little difficult to feature herself in here with a husband who might want to have sex with her after he closed his book.
She turned her face into the pillow, wanting to cry, which made no sense at all. She’d never been the weepy sort and had no patience with people who were. Postnatal blues? She’d read about the hormone imbalances women could get after having a baby. Was that what was wrong with her? She didn’t feel as if her system was out of whack. It was the world around her that seemed to be careening.
She heard the bedroom door open. Thinking it was Rafe returning to check on her, she didn’t look up.
“Maggie?”
At the sound of that sweet, familiar voice, Maggie’s heart leaped. She sat bolt upright and stared at the child standing just inside the room, her small hand still clasping the doorknob. “Heidi?” Maggie couldn’t believe her eyes. “Oh, Heidi! What—how did you get here?”
Her little sister gave a glad cry and came racing across the room. When she reached the bed, she bounded onto the mattress and flung both arms around Maggie’s neck. “Oh, Maggie, I’m so glad you’re here! It’s been lots and lots of fun, but I’ve been so awful lonesome for you!”
Maggie barely noticed the pain of being hugged as she caught her sister in her arms. Heidi. She ran her hands over the child’s back and pressed her face into her hair, breathing in the familiar, sweet scent of her. “Oh, Heidi. I’ve been lonesome for you, too. I had no idea you were here!”
“It was a surprise.” Heidi reared back, her big brown eyes dancing with excitement. “Guess what! Rafe and Ryan have horses. Tons of ’em, and Sly says he’ll teach me to ride.”
“Who’s Sly?”
“The ranch foreman. He’s really nice. You’ll like him lots. Just wait till you see him spit.”
“Spit?”
“Yeah. He chews.” Heidi wrinkled her nose. Then she brightened. “He says he can nail a fly at four paces.”
Maggie gave a startled laugh. “What an amazing accomplishment.”
“He says he’ll have me ready to barrel race at the rodeo next summer. Won’t that be awesome?”
“Barrel race? Heidi, you’re only ten.”
“That’s old enough. Sly says the younger I start, the better chance I’ll have to become a champion.” She giggled at the worried expression on Maggie’s face. “I won’t get hurt, Maggie. It’s so fun. There are fourteen horses, just in the stable. I helped muck stalls this morning. As soon as you say it’s okay, Sly says I can have my first riding lesson.”
Heidi had always wanted a horse. It was a wish that Maggie had never been able to grant.
“Say yes, Maggie. Please? I’ll be real careful, I promise.”
“Give me some time to discuss it with Rafe,” Maggie settled for saying. “If he says it’s safe, then I’ll give the go-ahead. But in case he doesn’t, don’t go getting your hopes up. He may recommend that you wait until you’re older.”
“Oh, he won’t!” Heidi assured her. Then with a giggle, she kissed Maggie’s cheek. “Thank you! Thank you! I’m so excited. Just wait and see, Maggie. I’ll be an awesome rider. Rafe says I’ve got a great build for racing because I’ll never weigh very much.”
Fantastic. “You mean he’s already said you can learn to ride?”
“Not until you say I can. But when I asked him on the airplane, he said he’d talk to you. He started learning when he was a lot younger than me.”
Rafe stepped into the open doorway just then. Loosely folding his arms, he leaned against the door frame, his gaze meeting Maggie’s over the top of Heidi’s dark head. He smiled slightly, then appeared to listen intently to the child’s excited chatter.
Maggie was dying to question him. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine how he had managed to get Heidi away from Lonnie. Absently, she attended Heidi’s enthusiastic accounts of her experiences at the stable. When the child wound down, Rafe finally spoke.
“Heidi, I know you’ve got all kinds of catching up to do with Maggie, but Sly’s waiting for you. He says you asked to ride over to Ryan’s with him this afternoon.”
Heidi bounced off the bed. “To see the colt! Sly says he’s beautiful.” She whirled to glance back at Maggie. “Is it all right if I go? He’s a brand-new baby. His name is Lightning Dancer, and I want to see him so-o-o-o much!”
Maggie no sooner gave her permission than Heidi raced from the room. Rafe gazed after her for a moment, still smiling. Then he returned his attention to Maggie. “She thinks of you more as her mother than a sister, doesn’t she?”
Maggie nodded. “Mama’s so childlike that Heidi naturally looked to me. The feeling’s mutual. I’ve taken care of her since she was tiny.”
“I suppose you’re anxious to hear how I got her here.”
“Day before yesterday, when you came by the hospital to tell me you’d be gone all day ‘taking care of some business,’ that’s where you went, isn’t it, to get Heidi?”
“I did it in a way that didn’t upset your mom,” he hastily assured her, “just in case you’re concerned about that.”
Naturally that worry had occurred to her. She loved her mother, and due to Helen’s heart condition, the very thought of distressing her was terrifying to Maggie. “How did you manage not to upset her?”
He rubbed beside his nose, looking sheepish. “Well, actually, I lied through my teeth.” He explained about the fictitious honeymoon plans to Disneyland. “Amazingly enough, she fell for it,” he marveled. “There I was, a total stranger who popped up on her doorstep, and it never occurred to her to be suspicious.” He gave her a slow wink. “She kept patting my arm, saying, ‘It’s about time my Maggie found herself a nice young man.’”
“I told you, she’s not very—well, it doesn’t occur to Mama that anyone might lie to her.” Maggie searched his gaze. “How did you know how much she’s always wanted to take Heidi to Disneyland?”
“It seemed like a sure bet.” He sighed, bending his head and lightly scuffing the sole of his boot on the rug. “I would have told you what I was up to, Maggie, but I didn’t want to worry you. A lot could have gone wrong, and I figured the less you knew, the better, until you could see for yourself that Heidi was here, safe and happy.”
He launched into a detailed account of how he and Ryan had pulled it off. “Apparently she’s enjoyed staying here the last two days,” he concluded. “I’ve never seen a kid quite so wound up. She really loves horses, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. She always has. I could never afford to get her one.” Maggie smoothed a hand over the blanket that covered her knees. Her throat went tight when she met his gaze again, for she suspected that he’d glossed over the very real risk that he had taken in getting Heidi there. “If Lonnie gets Mama to file charges, isn’t there a good chance you could go to jail for doing this?”
His mouth quirked at the corners. “Hoping to get rid of me?”
A pang of guilt stabbed into her chest. “No, of course not.”
He pushed away from the door frame and stepped to the foot of her bed. “I’ve got my lawyer working on it. If I get my hand slapped, I get my hand slapped. The important thing is that Heidi’s safe.” His gaze held hers. “You may have to give a deposition, but my attorney feels we can present a strong case and that once we’re married, we can get temporary custody of her. When that’s accomplished, he’ll start to work on a more permanent solution.”
Maggie seriously doubted it was as cut and dry as that. Nothing that involved Lonnie Boyle ever was. “Thank you, Rafe.” Her voice came out sounding tight and a little shrill. “Having Heidi here—knowing she’s safe and happy—that means more to me than I can say. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
His firm mouth tipped into a grin, and a mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”