Always Dakota (14 page)

“You want me to be happy about this? In your dreams.” With that, she raced out of the house. Calla could hear her mother’s frantic shouts, begging her to come back, but she ignored her, desperate to get away.

Whatever hope there’d been of rebuilding their relationship was gone now. Completely destroyed. As soon as the new baby arrived, Calla would be old news. They wouldn’t want her around. She’d stay in Buffalo Valley, not because she wanted to but because she didn’t really have a choice anymore. Her grandfather had said she could live with him and she would until she graduated, but not a minute longer. Once she had enough money for a car and a life of her own, she was leaving Buffalo Valley.

Next time, she wouldn’t be back.

Margaret smiled to herself as she sat at her desk doing paperwork, thinking about her life since her marriage. It was the first full week of the new year. Matt was busy working on his truck engine. He enjoyed tinkering with cars. Margaret was fully capable of changing oil and doing other basic maintenance, but it wasn’t her favorite task. Matt, on the other hand, seemed to like it.

In the very beginning, she hadn’t been sure what to expect from married life. Still wasn’t. However, Christmas had turned out to be a wonderful day. Since this was the first Christmas without her father, Margaret had thought the holidays would depress her. But Matt had been sensitive in unexpected ways. Instead of ignoring her father’s absence, he’d asked her questions. Before long, she was telling him about holidays from years past. Early on, some or all of her uncles had come, but eventually they’d all married and scattered throughout the country. Then it’d just been Margaret and her father. Matt had talked about his early years with his family, and she’d formed a picture of a small boy torn apart by his parents’ divorce. A couple of times she’d been tempted to shed a few tears—for both of them. Even then, her husband seemed to understand and encouraged her to vent her grief.

They’d spent Christmas Day together, just the two of them. They’d eaten a turkey dinner Sadie had left for them—reminiscent of their Thanksgiving repast. And they’d exchanged small, simple gifts. In retrospect, she was pleased they’d been alone.

Marriage to Matt was even better than Margaret could have anticipated. Clearing away any misconceptions regarding his feelings for her, or lack of them, had been a calculated risk. Confronting him the morning after their wedding could easily have backfired. Matt could have lied, could have tried to convince her of his undying devotion. But they both knew he didn’t love her. The lie would have oppressed them both.

Margaret realized she should never have proposed when she did. It’d been much too soon, but she loved Matt and needed him. Mostly, she was unwilling to wait. Without her father, she was terribly lonely. Perhaps if Matt hadn’t kissed her, she would have been more patient, but he had—and the kiss had been…incredible. So she’d taken a risk and it had paid off.

In the weeks since their wedding, their lives had fallen into a pattern of working side by side. They’d each sold off the better part of their herds rather than feed them through the winter. But that didn’t mean they could idle away their time. Most mornings they were either in the saddle or the truck, riding out to check on their breeding stock.

Matt was an experienced cattleman, and they often became involved in lengthy conversations about ranching and cattle. Margaret could hold her own in any such discussion. Matt loved listening to stories about her father and laughed with her, bringing Bernard’s memory to life in a way that made her happy rather than sad.

In the evenings, they talked over the events of the day during dinner, then played cribbage. It was a game she enjoyed, one her father had taught her. Almost every night she and Bernard had sat across from each other and counted out the cards, moving the pegs on a huge board he’d made one winter more than thirty years ago. Margaret had been gifted with good card sense; Matt, too, was an accomplished player and they were evenly matched.

Cribbage didn’t occupy the entire evening. They sometimes watched television, but not often. Matt had a program or two that he liked and so did she, but for the most part the television was off.

It seemed to her that most of their time together was spent in bed. Margaret had taken to wearing silky concoctions to entice her husband. During the day it was coveralls and flannel, but the nights were made for lace and perfume.

The physical delights of the marriage bed had turned out to be an extraordinary bonus. Margaret supposed it was natural they’d make love often, since they were newlyweds. They were both young and healthy. Although she could have asked Maddy or even Lindsay, sex was a subject she found herself oddly shy about discussing. If what they were doing was too much or not enough—if the intensity and frequency of their love life wasn’t “normal” or “average”—she didn’t want to know, because it suited her and Matt, and they were the only ones who mattered.

All the books and manuals she’d read about sex had page upon page of description. Although none of the so-called experts had come right out and said it, the implication was there, plain as day. The authors seemed to imply that sex was overrated. Not in Margaret’s opinion.

Perhaps because she hadn’t had many expectations, she’d been pleasantly surprised by how much she liked it. Apparently Matt did, too, because he was as eager for her as she was for him. He often told her she was a fast learner. Margaret was convinced she’d taught him a thing or two herself, although he probably wouldn’t admit that.

Her husband might not have married her for love, but she was determined to win his heart. Every day she grew more and more encouraged. Eventually he
would
love her; she was sure of it.

The phone pealed and Margaret automatically reached for the receiver on her desk.

“Hello,” she said in her usual no-nonsense tone.

Sadie picked up at the same time. “Hello.”

“I’m calling for Matt Eilers.” The voice on the other end of the line was decidedly female. Decidedly sexy.

“I’ve got it,” Sadie said gruffly.

Margaret was about to replace the receiver, but hesitated, listening for a moment longer while Sadie informed the woman that Matt was out for the day. Lately, she noted, the housekeeper made a mad dash for the phone any time it rang. Now Margaret wondered if there was a reason she knew nothing about.

“Have you given Matt my messages?” the other woman asked, her voice defiant and angry.

“I have.” This came from Sadie.

“But I have to talk to him!”

“I told Mr. Eilers about your calls and he said he didn’t want to speak to you. He asked that you not phone here again.”

“Then you tell him that either he gets in touch with me soon or he’ll live to regret it.”

Margaret had already listened to more than she should have. Quietly putting down the receiver, she kept her hand poised over the phone. She should be pleased Matt didn’t want to talk to another woman but she wasn’t. She wanted to know more.

Before doing anything rash, she tried to reason out her feelings, sorting through the days for any evidence that her husband had been unfaithful. She knew for a fact that he hadn’t been with anyone else since their wedding. There hadn’t been a day in which they weren’t together almost every hour.

Jealousy burned in her. Margaret had never thought of herself as the suspicious type, but she couldn’t just ignore this. Her father had taught her to go to the source and that was exactly what she intended to do.

Margaret got up and retrieved her hat and coat from the hallway, then marched outside.

Matt had pulled his truck into one of the outbuildings and was bent over the side, working on the engine. He didn’t hear her approach or if he did, he was too involved in what he was doing to acknowledge her.

“Who’s the woman who keeps phoning the house asking for you?” Margaret demanded.

Matt straightened and reached for a rag to wipe the grease from his hands. “I thought you were clearing your desk.”

“I did, but the phone rang.”

“Oh.” The red in his ears wasn’t from the cold; Margaret would have wagered money on that.

“You’d better tell me.” Her eyes hardened and she refused to release his. Anger settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew what people said about her marriage. She didn’t want to look any more of a fool than she already did.

“Maybe we should wait and discuss this later,” Matt suggested.

Margaret shook her head. “We’ll talk about it now.”

He stared at her a moment, then a slow, sexy grin widened his mouth. He was obviously about to say something.

She didn’t give him a chance. “Nor am I willing to be sidetracked.”

Matt sighed. “Dammit, Margaret, there’s nothing for you to get upset about.”

“I’m not upset.” She crossed her arms, disliking this unpleasant feeling that came over her.

“She isn’t important—”

“Does
she
have a name?”

Matt met her gaze straight on. “It’s Sheryl, but I swear to you I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

The uncomfortable tightness in her chest lessened slightly. “Have you seen her since we’ve been married?”

“No.” He was adamant about that. His face softened and he offered her a second, tentative smile. “You’re all the woman I can handle.”

Slowly Margaret grinned. It could be a ploy to bolster her ego, and if so, it had worked. She felt better already. “I—I never knew I’d be a jealous wife.”

“You don’t need to be, I promise you that.”

She relaxed.

“Any more questions?” he asked.

“No.” She started toward the house, but a few feet away she turned back. “You don’t plan on seeing Sheryl again, do you?”

“No,” he said. “Not on purpose, anyway.”

“One more question.” She looked down, embarrassed to be asking it, but needing to be sure. “Am I really all the woman you can handle?”

He took his time answering. Meeting her eyes, he didn’t say anything for a long moment. “In all my life I’ve never had anyone believe in me the way you do. Without conditions. Without expectations. I figured I was lucky to marry you, but I had no idea how damn lucky.”

He didn’t kiss her, didn’t so much as touch her. Without another word, he returned to the truck and resumed his task.

Reassured, Margaret headed back to the house. Sadie was waiting in the kitchen. “Did he tell you about her?” the housekeeper demanded as soon as she hung up her coat and hat.

“This is between me and Matt,” Margaret told her, tired of the same old argument, resenting the housekeeper’s disapproval of her marriage.

“He’s playing you for a fool.” Sadie made a soft belligerent sound. “Mark my words, you’re going to rue the day you ever laid eyes on that man.”

Rachel and Heath were married in a private ceremony the third week of January. The reception that followed was in a posh Grand Forks hotel. Against the advice of her physician, Lily Quantrill attended both the wedding and the reception, looking frailer than Heath could remember.

The reception was well attended, with friends from Buffalo Valley as well as Grand Forks. The Sinclairs were there and Hassie Knight and the McKennas and more. Best of all, Rachel’s parents had flown in from Arizona. Heath divided his attention among his bride, his guests and his grandmother.

“I think it’s time you went back to the retirement center,” he told Lily, ready to call for the attendant. Heath didn’t want to make a fuss, but he was worried. Her health had declined rapidly in the past few weeks.

“Would you kindly allow me to make my own decisions?”

“Grandma…”

“What are you doing spending time with me, anyway? You have a bride.”

Heath glanced toward Rachel who stood in the center of a group of men, his business associates, completely winning them over. “She’ll have me the rest of my life,” he countered. But he didn’t know how much longer he’d have Lily.

“Before I go, there’s something I want to tell you,” Lily said.

Heath had to strain in order to hear her and crouched by her wheelchair so they could look eye to eye. “Then you’ll go back to the center and to bed?”

“You make me sound like a disobedient child,” she muttered, scowling at him.

It was a scowl he knew well. She’d been critical of him nearly his entire life. In his youth, Heath had watched his parents and brother kowtow to Lily Quantrill. He never had. He viewed her as cantankerous, opinionated and wonderful, but he’d always been his own person, even as a boy.

“What’s so important that you have to say it right now?” he asked.

Lily reached out and touched his cheek with an arthritic finger. “You always were my favorite.”

“Me!” The shock of it nearly bowled him over.

“You were the only one with enough grit to stand up to me.”

“That being the case, you might’ve occasionally let me win an argument.”

Lily’s face beamed. “You won your fair share.”

Heath had never thought of it that way.

“Rachel will make you a good wife.”

Heath smiled at his bride, loving her with an intensity he’d never known. “I think so, too.”