Maggie waited as Sage climbed into bed, wearing only his long johns. He settled his head against his pillow, and Maggie snuggled against him, laying her head on his shoulder. “You smell so good,” she told him. “All soapy clean.”
A deep chuckle came from somewhere in Sage’s throat. “Only a woman would talk that way. And ‘soapy clean’ isn’t a term you can use very often for me—not after working with horses all day.”
“You always smell good. Even without a bath you smell like leather and the outdoors.”
“And one thing I love about you, Maggie girl, is you always try to look on the bright side of things.” He turned on his side and stroked her hair. “I love when your hair is brushed out long. I wish you’d wear it like this all the time.”
“Well, it’s not very practical for chores,” Maggie answered. “I can just see it dangling into chicken droppings when I go into the henhouse to gather eggs, or see it catching fire when I bend over the hearth.”
“And you wouldn’t have to worry about that if you used that fancy cookstove we have for cooking.”
Maggie kissed his neck. “I know. But then I have to mess with dirty coal. I’m too used to using the fireplace. It’s mostly Rosa who uses that stove. I’ll admit it’s handy for big gatherings where more than one oven is needed, but I’m fine with the fireplace for everyday cooking. Besides, you bought that stove for Joanna. Using it reminds me of your perfect, beautiful, prim and proper first wife.”
Sage pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. “You know better than to think like that. Joanna was selfish, and worthless as a ranch wife.” He grinned. “But I love your jealousy. It makes you more passionate when we make love.” He met her mouth in a gentle kiss.
Maggie studied his dark eyes. He’d hardly spoken all through supper, other than general conversation about the hunt for mustangs. You should have heard the cuss words that came out of Bill’s mouth when one of the mares bit him on the ass, he’d joked. Maggie could tell he was trying to keep things light and not talk about what was really bothering him.
“Sage.” Maggie ran her fingers into his shoulder-length hair. “What happened out there today?”
He closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss her throat. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does, because it affected your mood. I’ve seen you really, really angry, Sage Lightfoot, and it usually ends up with someone wishing they hadn’t crossed you. And I know when you’re trying to bury that anger. You could have a heart attack or something.”
That brought out a loud laugh. “You do know how to help get rid of my anger,” he told her. “Jesus, Maggie, I’m only thirty, and as far as I know, I’m healthy as a horse.”
“I don’t care. I don’t remember where I heard it, but someone once told me it’s bad for a man to hold in his anger. You, Mr. Lightfoot, usually let it all out in an explosion of yelling or fists or sometimes a gun. Maybe you already did that. I’m asking you again what happened out there. And if you don’t tell me, I will go sleep in a different bedroom.”
He ran a big but gentle hand over her belly, feeling the swell of her baby, then on over her full breasts, squeezing lightly, then to her neck, the side of her face. He leaned in and kissed her again. “Do you really think I’d let you out of this bed?”
Maggie sighed in resignation. “Well, I guess you are a little stronger than I am.”
“A little?”
“But then all I would have to do is ask, and you’d never force me to stay here.”
Sage grinned. “Pretty sure of that, aren’t you?”
Maggie kissed his chest. “Yes. Now, tell me what happened.”
Sage sobered, studying her eyes. “I love you,” he told her. “And I love this baby. Understand?”
Maggie frowned with concern. “Yes. Did someone say something about the baby?”
Sage pressed her closer. “How in hell can you know me so well when we’ve not even been together five months yet?”
His remark reminded Maggie of that very fact. Only in this wild, untamed country could two people still practically strangers in some ways find intimacy and love and marriage so quickly. That’s what caused some of her doubts and anxiety. This had all happened so fast. Maybe too fast. Would Sage later regret his decision of taking her for his wife so soon after they met?
“I’m learning that when a woman truly loves a man, she can sense his every mood,” she answered, “and you’re a man who can’t hide his feelings. I think that’s why men who challenge you usually back off. They can tell you mean exactly what you say, and they’re afraid to test you.” Maggie kissed his neck. “The short time we’ve been together scares me sometimes, Sage. I can tell that today’s events had something to do with me, or you wouldn’t be so hesitant to tell me. And I’m scared that whatever went on might have made you regret marrying me so quick.”
Sage frowned and shook his head. “That will never happen.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Look, someone came visiting that I didn’t care for. That’s all.”
“Oh, there was much more to it than that. You didn’t shoot someone, did you?”
“No, but I dearly wanted to.” Sage kissed her hair and kept her close. “You listen to me, Maggie. About this nonsense of us knowing each other only a few months…Don’t forget that I knew Joanna since we were teenagers, but it turned out I didn’t know her at all, so you stop worrying about the short time we’ve been together. I suspected deep inside that Joanna wasn’t right for me, but I went against my better judgment because I had known her so long.
“The way we were torn apart when her family sent her away, and then seeing her again years later and hearing her lies about how much she loved me… I guess I just wanted to believe it all. I felt responsible to make her happy and to give her everything she wanted. But all those years meant nothing to her.” He sighed deeply and turned onto his back, keeping an arm around Maggie so she rested into his shoulder. “It’s all different with you. You’re the kind of woman a man doesn’t need to know for a long time. Sometimes you just know when you’ve found the right woman. I love you, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life, so I don’t want to hear that you doubt that…ever. Understand?”
“I think so. What I don’t understand is what all this has to do with whatever happened today.”
Sage laid there quietly. Maggie could tell he didn’t want to say whatever it was she was forcing him to tell her. “Sage?”
With a deep sigh, he finally answered. “I’d roped that black mare you saw Julio ride in with. I was bringing her in when I saw someone heading for the house in a fancy buggy. Julio and Joe were accompanying them. I rode down to catch up with them, and that’s when I gave Julio the mare and had him bring it in with Storm.”
Maggie ran a hand over his bare chest. “Who was in the buggy?”
Sage stroked her hair for several more silent seconds before answering. “A preacher, and a bitch of an old woman named Elvira Hart.” He paused. “She was Jimmy Hart’s mother,” he finally admitted.
Maggie stiffened and pulled away slightly. “Dear Lord! What on earth did she want?”
Sage studied her lovingly and forced her back into his embrace. He told her what happened, leaving out the worst of the names Mrs. Hart and the reverend had called Maggie. Maggie couldn’t help the tears that filled her eyes. She tried to rise.
“You stay right where you are.” Sage told her. “And you listen to me. We’ve been over this too many times, Maggie. I didn’t want to tell you because it would remind you of those men and what happened. I sent her and that damn preacher out of Paradise Valley. I had Joe go with them to make sure they were well off the ranch.”
“They said all that in front of Joe?”
“Don’t be worrying about that. Joe loves you practically as much as I do. All the men love you, and just like me, they think of the kid in your belly as mine! It doesn’t matter to any of them if it’s true or not, and there isn’t a man on this ranch who would ever speak otherwise. Joe doesn’t think a damn thing about what those people said, and all the men know what happened to you and why you went with me to find those men. I wanted you to go so you could identify them…”
Maggie felt his whole body tense up.
“…before I blew them away!” he finished.
“But Mrs. Hart heard all this from someone who was up at Hole-in-the-Wall, which means all those men were talking about it.”
“Let them talk! Jesus, Maggie, we’ll never see any of them again.”
A tear slipped down one side of Maggie’s face. “But I’m your wife. You have to hate knowing men are talking that way about me.”
“Not any of my men, and that’s all that matters. Joe won’t say one word about what was said out there, and I made sure that so-called preacher knows not to come back here. If Mrs. Hart wasn’t a woman, I would have landed my fist in her face for the things she said. And if I didn’t love you and this baby like I do, why would I defend you so fiercely? Tell me you trust in my love, Maggie Lightfoot.”
Maggie moved her head back and looked into his eyes…eyes that could not lie.
“I trust you.”
“Do you trust that I love that baby you’re carrying?”
“Yes. I just wish so much it was yours, Sage.”
“It is mine, just like the babies after this one will sure as hell be mine. I’m claiming this baby as my own, Maggie, not just in words, but legally. He or she will carry my name, and that’s the end of it. No more discussion.”
Maggie leaned closer again and reached around his neck. “I love you so much.”
“Yeah?” Sage moved on top of her. “How about showing me? Nothing calms me down more than being right here in this bed with you, especially when you’re underneath me.”
Maggie smiled through tears as he met her mouth in a deep kiss that told her everything she needed to know. She closed her eyes as Sage moved down and nuzzled her breasts through her soft flannel gown. He moved a hand up her leg, pushing her gown up as he did so. Maggie rose up and let him pull off her drawers.
“You okay with this?” he asked. “You worked hard today, too. And now I’ve upset you.”
“I’m just upset over you having to hear what those people said,” Maggie answered softly.
Sage grinned, sadness in his eyes at the same time. “I’m part Indian, Maggie girl, found abandoned in the desert and raised in a wealthy neighborhood in San Francisco by Christian people who I thought loved me…till I dared to kiss a white girl. I’ve seen and heard it all. Nothing could hurt me more than what my own family and that white girl did to me.” He kissed her eyes. “I know the goodness of your soul, so nothing anyone says about you can hurt me. The only thing that could hurt me is not having you in this bed every night. And I’ll always protect you against people like the ones I chased out of here today.”
Another deep kiss erased it all as Sage again worked his magic, making Maggie ache to take this man who always filled her every need.
For the next stretch of time, she was lost beneath him, breathing in his kisses while he pushed deep inside her, branding her, sealing their love. She pressed her fingers against hard muscle, bracing herself by keeping hold of his arms while she offered herself to him like a royal feast to a king. This man had risked his life hunting down those who had so horribly abused her, and now he loved her and had accepted the child she carried.
She realized he well understood how it felt to be adopted and supposedly loved, only to be cruelly rejected later. The sudden revelation of why he’d vowed to love her baby as his own brought a wave of relief to her heart. Sage Lightfoot would never treat a child he accepted as his own the way he’d been treated. He’d been rejected because of his Indian blood. He would never allow her baby to be rejected for not knowing who his father was. He wouldn’t allow her baby to suffer that kind of hurt.
The sheets were damp by the time they finished. Sage stayed on top of her, grasping her face in his hands. “I almost forgot… I have a wedding gift for you.”
“A wedding gift? Sage, you didn’t need—”
“Yes, I did. We had such a simple wedding, with a preacher coming here and just the men to witness.”
“But living here in Paradise Valley is the most wonderful gift a woman could ask for, especially in this big, beautiful home you built. I’m perfectly happy, Sage. You are my wedding gift. Your love—accepting my baby.”
He kissed her lightly. “A woman should have a true wedding gift. I got you something I know a woman like you will appreciate much more than a house and fancy dishes, something that’s truly all your own.”
Maggie smiled, getting excited. She scooted back and pulled a sheet over herself. “What is it?”
“Did you like the looks of that black mare Julio brought in?”
“Oh, she’s beautiful! She’s one of the prettiest—” Maggie hesitated. “The mare?”
“The mare. I’ll have Roland break her in for you, but I can already tell it won’t take much. She seems pretty gentle, even in her wild state.”
“Oh, Sage, thank you! It’s a wonderful gift! As soon as we get up in the morning, I want to go out and see her!”
“Just be careful. You are carrying, you know. I don’t want you on that horse until Roland has her fully broken in. Even then, I want him or me to be there the first time you ride her. Promise me that. I know how stubborn you can be.”
“I promise.”
Sage pulled her close again. “I’ll let you name that mare whatever you want…the baby, too.” He furrowed his brow. “When in hell do you think you are you due, anyway? I just realized we haven’t talked about that.”
Maggie counted—hating the fact that she had to start with that awful night in mid-May. She hoped once she held the baby in her arms, it would help her forget the horror of how he or she was conceived. “Sometime in February,” she answered.
“Dead of winter,” Sage said, looking concerned. “Heavy snows could make it hard to get a doctor here. I think I’ll hire the doctor from Cheyenne to come here to live the first or second week of February, just to be sure someone is here who knows what the hell he’s doing if anything goes wrong.” He pushed a red curl behind her ear. “I don’t want to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I’m healthy, far as I know. My first birth went just fine, in spite of how young I was.” Maggie’s heart tightened at the memory of burying her little one-year-old daughter, who’d died from fever back in Missouri. It seemed as though she’d already lived a lifetime in the twenty years she’d lived. At fifteen she’d practically been sold by her drunken father to James, a neighbor who wanted a wife. James was decent to her, but not a truly loving husband. She was pregnant by sixteen, had her baby at seventeen, and buried her at eighteen. When she was nineteen, James, fifteen years older than her, decided to head west. She turned twenty before they reached Wyoming, where outlaws murdered James and had their way with her.
Then Sage came along and taught her what being loved was supposed to be like. Yes, it was possible to fall in love at first sight…first touch. “This baby has to live, Sage. I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to bury another child.”
“That’s why I intend to make sure a doctor is here.” He kissed her forehead. “And not just for the baby’s sake, but for you, too. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.” Another kiss. “But let’s not think about bad things, Maggie. Let’s think about that mare and what you want to name her.”
Maggie smiled. “I have to see her close up first.” She ran a hand over his arm and shoulder. “Thank you for wanting to give me a gift, Sage. It only shows how much you love me.”
“You bet.” He settled beside her and pulled the covers over them. Even in summer, the evenings were cool in high Wyoming country.
Big country, Maggie thought. Filled with big men that fit it. She couldn’t be more in love, and she loved every man on this ranch for accepting and loving her as Sage Lightfoot’s woman. She loved that term—not just his wife, but his woman. The man owned her, heart and soul…and body, and that was fine with her. But oh, how it hurt to think of the things that preacher and the woman with him had said to Sage, and in front of Joe.
“I’m so sorry, Sage, for what those people said.”
He settled next to her. “Don’t be sorry, Maggie—not ever. Sorry is for people who’ve done something wrong, and you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. Men like me, we’re the ones who have things to be sorry for. I don’t deserve something as loving and generous as you. The only thing more perfect is that baby you’re carrying.” He ran a hand over her belly again. “This kid had no choice in how he or she was conceived, so no man has a right to ever judge or refuse to love him or her, especially not that snooty Mrs. Hart or that hypocrite of a preacher who drove her out here. I’d better not see either of them again. I might not be able to hold my temper the next time.”