Calico (27 page)

“Then you found what you were looking for?”

“That I did.” Maggie scanned the crowd, disappointed that McCready still hadn’t shown up. She noticed that Pamela was doing the same and leaned down to whisper, “Where’s Lars?”

“He went to Clairmont when he heard there was a lawyer mining there. I guess he hopes to find a legal way to settle the matter of your husbands.”

“I’ll be settlin’ that meself.” She squeezed Pamela’s hand to silence her. “We’ll talk later. There’s somethin’ I’ve got to do.” Maggie looked up at Dutch. “Ready?”

“Don’t fight me,” he said, stepping behind her. “Quiet! I know you’ve all got something that begs saying to Maggie, but it’ll have to wait.” Without any warning, Dutch swung Maggie up into his arms, the move widening a small circle around them. “Be still,” he warned Maggie in a whisper. “Maggie’s exhausted and thirsty, and I’m taking her over to the Rawhider.”

Maggie wrapped her arms around him since he gave her no choice. “Haulin’ me like a sack will have them thinkin’ I’m one of them helpless females.”

“You
are
a helpless female, Maggie. You just don’t know it yet.” Dutch started walking across the street.

“Why’s that?”

“ ’Cause I believe McCready might feel partial to a helpless female along about now. And then, you got more trouble waiting.” Dutch saw that Mike was blocking the door and ordered him to open it.

“No way. That’s my wife you’re handling a mite too familiar like to please me.”

“Fella, you ain’t got the good sense the Lord gave your cows. Open the door and stand aside before I tear you apart.”

“Excuse me, please,” Samuel said, joining them at the door. “Am I to understand that
this
is Mary Margaret O’Roarke?” His gaze was judgmental. Dust-covered and dressed in the same rough mining clothes most of the men around here wore, Mary Margaret O’Roarke was less than tolerable. At least her face was clean, and dressed in the right clothes, she might not be too bad. He couldn’t forget the worth of those mines Slick had told him about.

Maggie glared at the man. How dare he call her Mary Margaret? No one used that name but McCready. But there was something unsettling about the man’s eyes. Maggie was tired, but she began to understand what his calling her Mary Margaret might mean. “Dutch! Dutch, it can’t be true. This ain’t the trouble I’ve got waitin’?”

“Afraid so. Meet Samuel Taylor from Albuquerque. And yes, before you ask, he’s another one of Pete’s proxy marriage males.”

Maggie buried her head against Dutch’s shoulder, glad that he was holding her. She couldn’t take any more. “Go away,” she pleaded. “All of you. Can’t you be seein’ I’m a helpless female in need of a glass of good whiskey?”

“She drinks?” Samuel exploded.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Mike answered, then opened the door. “We could all use a drink.”

The mutters behind him forced Dutch to realize he wasn’t getting away with taking Maggie inside alone. “Where did you leave Satin? We could use her help now.”

“Up at the cabin. I didn’t want to bring her here with me. She might remember what she did to McCready the last time. I really need to talk to him, Dutch, not kill him.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Well, get goin’. You’re already doin’ enough holdin’.”

Dutch walked inside just as McCready came down the stairs. The sight of Maggie held in Dutch’s arms held him immobile. Fearing that she had been hurt forced him to move, but there was a churning that fired his gut when he saw Samuel and Mike following closely along with men who appeared anxious to see what more could happen. His gaze sharpened on Maggie, but she was hiding her face against Dutch’s shoulder. He couldn’t see blood, and Dutch didn’t seem overly concerned, so he slowly started down the steps, but Dutch warned him back.

“Don’t bother. We’re coming up. Maggie needs quiet, and you’re taking her up to your room.”

“I am? Since when are you giving me orders, Dutch?”

There was both threat and warning that Dutch heeded when he looked at McCready. Uncaring of who heard him, he said, “You can’t turn her over to them. She only needs you.”

“The lost maid and her entourage of knights?”

“I wouldn’t be knowing about that, McCready,” Dutch answered, almost daring him. “About her being a maid, that is.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Mike demanded, trying to push past Dutch so he could face him.

“He’s telling you that Maggie and I were lovers.”

Maggie wanted to crawl inside Dutch to hide. She flinched hearing McCready’s biting voice, even if she didn’t understand what he meant about knights. Was he blaming her for having too many husbands? Even he wasn’t that much of a fool. After all, she didn’t go out and marry the passel of them. She closed her mind off from hearing Mike’s demand that McCready explain. She didn’t care that he told them they were lovers, but she was hurt that he sounded more bitter than proud.

She clung tight to Dutch, wishing she had never asked for his help, and never wanted to see McCready alone. But Dutch had his own plan, and without a word he handed her over to McCready.

“She’s all yours for now, boss.”

Maggie was afraid for a minute that McCready was going to drop her. He staggered a bit under her weight, then quickly recovered his balance.

Dutch turned and faced the men. “You’re all welcome to the bar and the tables. But no one goes up the stairs.”

McCready’s continued hesitation cost Maggie her courage. She couldn’t look up at him. What if he didn’t want to talk to her? What if he wouldn’t agree to what she wanted to do? Heat stole into her face that he wasn’t moving. And then she wondered why being held in his arms felt like coming home.

“Guess you’ve left me no choice, Dutch,” McCready said, his hard look at Mike and the others an added warning to the way Dutch’s body blocked the stairway. Angling his head down, he whispered to Maggie, “So you’re all mine and you need only me. Well, Maggie mine, I’ve a few needs of my own.” He turned and started up the steps.

“McCready?”

“Quiet, Mary Margaret. You’ve come willing into the devil’s den, and it’s too late to change your mind.”

Maggie was quiet. The wee ones were awake.

McCready was breathing hard by the time he reached the door to his room, but this time he knew it wasn’t Maggie’s weight that caused it, just Maggie herself being in his arms.

“Open the door,” he ordered, waiting until she did before he stepped inside and set her down. He kicked the door closed behind him.

“McCready?” Maggie looked at him, and the hard cast of his features warned that he was furious. “Wait—”

“I’ve waited long enough.” He grabbed her hat and threw it aside before she could think about backing away from him. Raking both of his hands through her short, coppery curls, he tilted her head back and satisfied the first of his needs with her mouth.

Maggie pushed him, but he nipped her bottom lip in warning. “Dare me to take your mouth now, Maggie mine,” he whispered.

She started to, but the tip of his tongue ran lazily around her parted lips, slipped inside, and teased her tongue to play. If he had demanded, she would have fought, but he took a kiss that gentled into heat and left her defenseless. An emptiness twisted her belly like a hunger too long denied, and spread until it was an ache to be loved. Her body yearned for it, yearned to know again the fire and flight that McCready brought to her.

Her heart told her he was the only one she could share herself with, not without risk, she knew, but without pain. Her mind began to cloud. The feel of his strong hand skimming her back, urging her closer to his body, the heated intensity that deepened his kiss, combined to make her forget what she wanted from McCready. If she gave in, gave herself to him again with nothing solved between them, Maggie would be the loser.

His hot, spicy kiss stole her breath, his mouth demanding her attention. His hands skimmed her hips, grinding her against his aroused flesh, and Maggie knew the safety seconds that would allow her to pull away were flying past. Need was ready to take over, and Maggie struggled until he let her go.

“Stop it, McCready! No more of your kisses and touches and fancy words that leave me steaming like a kettle set too long on the fire.”

He caught hold of her arm and with a jerk brought her stumbling against him. “Why not, Maggie? That’s all you want from me, isn’t it? All you’ll let me give you?” His eyes were nearly black with fury. “No more—”

“I came here to talk to you, damn you, McCready.” She clawed at his grip. “An’ what’s wrong with me wantin’ you? Can you say different? What’ve you ever wanted from me but me mines and me body?”

The words stung. He didn’t think. He acted. He had never felt the same toward another woman. It went beyond physical need and had nothing to do with her damn mines. Still holding her arm, his other hand slid around her neck, exerting enough pressure to still her.

He gazed into her defiant and fearless eyes and smiled. “You’ve made me ache, Maggie mine. Nights when I’ve longed for sleep, I can’t find any. There’s no ease with whiskey for me, either. One minute you’re soft and giving and the next you’re snarling. You can’t make up your mind what you want from me or yourself. So I’ll do it for you.”

His lips claimed hers so that she tasted desire and fury. Maggie fought against it even as it found its answering chord in her.

McCready knew he had hurt her, knew that her trust wasn’t his completely and might never be again. The frustration of it made his kiss ruthless, his hands urgent. This was the only way she was completely his. He backed her toward the bed and, with their mouths still fused, tumbled onto it, feeding the fire that would take them both. Her slender body molded to the fit of his. Maggie, his Maggie, had no wiles, and he had no tolerance for them. She consumed him with need and fury, and he fought the assault on his senses.

McCready pulled his head back and stared down at her. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were almost closed, and he couldn’t read them. She lay still so that he could feel every tremor of her body. He wanted her so badly that he almost begged. And in the end all he could tell her was of the want that tore inside him, a wanting that she shared, for she drew his lips to hers and drank his groan of pleasure.

Maggie understood the honesty of desperation. She couldn’t doubt the urgent search of his mouth or frantic touch of his hands. Shadows disappeared with the blazing light of desire. His swearing as he tugged at her clothes made her laugh, breathless with the same need to have his gone. McCready knew her better than anyone, and he wanted her. He pulled the buttons on her shirt, then cursed. Maggie heard the material rip and only waited to feel his flesh against hers. Her hands wouldn’t be still, and she drove him as he had driven her. She pulled his shirt from him and felt the loss of her own, greedy to have his mouth on hers again.

He raised himself up and rolled to the side, tugging the pants down over her hips, cursing when they caught on her boots. He came to his feet and stood between Maggie’s spread legs, pulling off her boots while he watched her. Her chin was up, her eyes glowing and silently hurrying him. There was no fear, no submission. Her breathing was as labored as his own, and her look became challenging even as her second boot hit the floor.

“Daring me, Maggie?” He kicked off his boots and stripped off his pants. He knew he could take her, take her any way he chose. But McCready didn’t deny to himself that he would be taken as well.

He covered her with his body, a muffled oath dying with a kiss.

Every deep, greedy kiss took her away from the narrow world she made for herself. He was relentless from the moment he touched her flesh, bringing hunger to a fever pitch that brought the words he had longed to hear.

“I need you, McCready. Need you.” She felt his hair brush over her bare shoulder and the burn of his mouth on her breast brought fire. He could cherish her and rake passion higher at the same time. Her moan came from knowing that as much as from desire to have him inside her making her whole again.

McCready never had a woman snap his control the way Maggie did. One kiss, one touch from her, and he lost himself. She arched beneath him, more in demand than an offer of herself. Her eyes were dark with need, and he had what he wanted from Maggie. She thought of no one and nothing else.

“Maggie, love,” he whispered, “take me inside you.” He saw the change in her face as he moved slowly, her soft drawn-out moan bringing forth his own pleasure sound. Need surged in his blood and he fought it with a control that he had thought lost.

Maggie couldn’t stop him, couldn’t hurry him, and didn’t think she could stand a moment more. Tremors rode her body as he did, leaving her weak and crying out his name, then breathing it over and over as if she knew no other word, no other sound, forcing his control to snap until they plunged into a dark swirling void where thunder ruled the skies.

Reason returned long minutes later when McCready moved to her side and tried to take her into his arms. “What have I done?” she whispered.

“Made me a happy man,” he answered, nuzzling her neck. His arm rested across her waist, and once again he tried to gather her close.

Maggie would have none of him. She pushed his hand away and came off the bed, grabbing up her clothes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’ve come to me senses, McCready. We need to talk about me mines. I want to buy you out. I’ve got the money.”

“Money?” McCready slowly sat up, watching her haste to dress. “Woman, we just made love, and you’re talking about those damn mines and money?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Maggie couldn’t look at him, afraid she would be tempted to fling herself once more into his arms. He weakened her—that’s what the devil did. He wiped out her thoughts faster than a jackrabbit ran from wolves. “Never thought we’d be … well, lovers like you said. Didn’t ask for that to happen. That’s all we got between us, McCready, right?”

He hung on to his temper because he knew what would happen if he unleashed it. He hadn’t even known he could feel this kind of hurt. His hand swept the rumbled bedcovers. “This is all there is, Maggie.” McCready picked up his shirt from the floor, watching her almost dispassionately as he buttoned it.

Maggie was running scared. There was a coldness in his eyes that she had never seen, and when she caught his gaze with hers, he looked away. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. They were going to talk, she would make her offer, and he would accept it. Then, once she had the mines open, she would tell him that she loved him. McCready was the one she wanted to be married to, no one else.

But things hadn’t gone the way she planned, and now she didn’t know how to fix them.

“McCready?”

“What?”

His sharp voice made her flinch inwardly. “Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?”

“I did. I worried myself sick over where the hell you were. No one could find you. Want a good laugh, Maggie? I had goddamn search parties out looking for you. I was afraid for you. But no, to answer your question, I don’t give a damn where you were.”

She stood and watched him yank on his pants, then sit to pull on his boots. Her heart was in her eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her. “McCready, I’m not laughin’.”

“Neither am I.”

“I’ve got the money to open the mines,” she said, lifting her boots in one hand and glancing around his room. He had rushed her into bed so quickly she hadn’t noticed how large it was. A massive writing desk slanted across one corner, a wing-back leather chair behind it. She could picture him sitting there, the light from the desk lamp playing shadows over his face. But Maggie wasn’t about to sit in that chair. It reminded her too much of the one Thadius had. She shivered, thinking about what she had risked, and now McCready didn’t want her to share it with him.

The sound of water splashing made her turn, and she found him at the washstand, wiping his face.

“Help yourself,” he offered, refusing to look at her. McCready went to the sideboard on the wall opposite the bed where a tray of crystal decanters was displayed. He hesitated a moment, then pulled out the stopper and poured himself a drink. He hoped that she didn’t see the betraying tremble in his hand. He hoped that Maggie had the sense to get the hell out of here quickly before he exploded.

“Aren’t you offerin’ me any?” she asked, coming to stand behind him. She reached out to touch him but withdrew her hand before she did. Fury was coming off him like the heat waves of the desert. “I went to see Thadius Cornwallis.”

“You did what?” He set the glass down carefully, closed his eyes briefly, and when he was sure that he wouldn’t grab hold of her and shake the daylights out of her, he turned. “Why, Maggie?”

“He owed me for Pete’s death. For other things. I took what I needed. What I was promised by Quincy.”

“And that’s all that matters to you, right? Those mines?”

“They mattered a hell of a lot to you, too, McCready.” Maggie had her hands on her hips, anger flushing her face, set for battle.

McCready pushed by her. “I’m not selling you my share of the mines. And if that’s what you have come here to find out, you can now leave.”

“Don’t fight me, McCready. You’ll lose this time.”

“This time? No, Maggie, you’re all wrong. I’ve already lost. But I won’t lose the mine, too.” His gaze snared hers and he grinned. “If you’re not leaving, Maggie, I’ll assume you weren’t satisfied. If that’s true, the bed’s behind you, and being a gentleman, I’ll do what I can to accommodate you.”

“You bastard!”

“True. Quite true, Maggie. My mother was raped and bore me against her will. She never let me forget it.”

“McCready, please, I didn’t—”

“Your pity is worth about as much as the dust on your boots, Maggie. I made you an offer. If you’re not taking it, I suggest you leave.” He opened the door and stood there.

Maggie snatched up her hat and held it with her boots in one hand. “I came here in good faith to deal with you.”

“Another offer?” he questioned, crossing his arms over his chest, then leaning against the door.

“The same one,” she whispered, walking toward the door.

McCready put out one arm to stop her. “Maggie, if I told you that you and what we share meant something to me, more than I’ve had with any other woman, would you believe me?” He knew he could lower his mouth to hers and make her forget, make her believe him, but he didn’t move.

“Before, maybe I would’ve. But now, I ain’t so sure.”

McCready dropped his arm. She stepped into the hall. “Maggie, make sure you take your husbands with you. I’m damn tired of shepherding your growing flock.”

“Me husbands? McCready,” she snapped, “by the time I’m through with you, boyo, you’ll be knee-deep in
me husbands!
”

“A threat, Maggie?” he taunted, knowing she wouldn’t let him have the last word. He almost grinned when she spun around and shoved one finger against his shoulder.

“Just bet on it.”

He waited until she reached the stairs. “Maggie, just remember that I always win.”

By the following afternoon, when McCready returned from a solitary ride to clear his head, he finally understood what Maggie had meant. Knee-deep in husbands, indeed! Ira was daring to nail a sign to the outside wall of the Rawhider.

“McCready,” he said by way of greeting. “Just doing a few odd jobs for Miss Pamela and Miss Maggie.”

“Miss Maggie?”

“Yep. That’s what she said folks got to call her now.” He scurried away with the other signs tucked under his arm.

McCready stepped up on the wooden sidewalk. He instantly recognized Pamela’s neat printing, but that didn’t make what he was reading easy.

AUCTION! AUCTION! AUCTION!

One week from Saturday at the Rawhider Saloon in Cooney Camp. Goods from Burton’s Mercantile will be offered to the highest bidder in one lot.

Mary Margaret O’Roarke will take bids on herself and her ownership of three ore-producing silver mines and one gold mine. Object is matrimony with the highest bidder.

ALL MERCHANDISE WILL BE AVAILABLE FOR INSPECTION ONE HOUR PRIOR TO THE START OF THE AUCTION
.

Pamela Burton, acting auctioneer