Rafe's Redemption (37 page)

“What about here?” He prayed as his palm slid over her lower stomach.

“No. Higher.”

Relief washed over him. “Sweetheart, I think your ribs are broken.”

“What about the baby?” Her voice held more fear than he’d ever heard from her.

He squeezed her hand. “I think it’s fine. Just lie still and let me find something to wrap around your middle.” Digging beneath the bed, he pulled out the strips of petticoat she had used for his bandages. “This will have to do. But wrapping you is going to hurt.” His voice sounded strained, hollow even to his ears.

She nodded. Silent tears rolled down her face as he helped her to sit. He worked as quickly as possible until the bruises were covered, and she was wrapped as tight as any corset would hold her.

“Lie back so I can cover you.” He helped her down, then pulled the blankets over her again.

Dragging the chair over beside the bed, he took her hand. What should he say? Her breathing was so shallow it scared him. She could still die or lose the baby. He didn’t know the extent of her injuries and wrapping broken ribs was about all he knew how to do. If she started bleeding…He shuddered.

“Rafe?” Her eyes opened, and her hand gripped his.

“I’m here. Don’t worry. You and the baby will be fine. Just rest.”

She tried to smile, but winced as a cut on her lip broke open. “Thank you.”

Hot tears scalded his face.

How could she thank him? He didn’t deserve her thanks or forgiveness. He didn’t deserve her. But he was still selfish enough to want her.

What if she woke and told him she never wanted to see him again? He couldn’t blame her. He had sworn to protect her and look what had happened. But the thought of going on without Maggie shot a shaft of pain through his heart.

“Forgive me, sweetheart.” Rafe buried his face on the mattress beside her and sobbed. “Forgive me.” One more chance was all he wanted. He’d keep her and the baby safe. No more living in the wild. He would spend the rest of his life in St. Louis where madmen didn’t threaten all that was dear to him. He’d give up anything, as long as he had Maggie by his side.

“Please, God,” he prayed. “Give me one more chance.”

Maggie roused from a fitful dream, not sure how long she’d slept. Her body ached, proof her nightmares were real.

Rafe dozed beside her in the rocker. He had changed his muddy clothes, but results of the fight were obvious.

Knuckles cut and scratched, dark purple bruises covered his eyes, his jaw, lips cut and swollen.

She longed to go to him, to soothe all his injuries.

But even if she could move, the fear he’d push her away froze her limbs.

What if he was angry? He had repeatedly told her he didn’t want help, told her to stay out of trouble, away from danger. To run. Yet, she hadn’t.

I couldn’t! He would be dead if she had obeyed his rules. But the choice had nearly cost their baby’s life. She sobbed, overwhelmed by grief.

“Sweetheart?” His concerned voice soothed her. He knelt beside the bed and brushed the hair from her eyes.

“Don’t cry. Please. Everything is all right.” She grasped his hands in hers. “A re you mad at me?”

“Mad?” He crawled under the blankets with her, holding her like a piece of glass. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I didn’t mind your rule. I didn’t run.” She sniffled. “You always told me to run, but I couldn’t leave you. He was insane.”

Rafe stroked her arms with his fingertips. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me. You’re too stubborn.” He smiled sadly as he brushed a kiss to her temple. “You’re the one who should be mad.” His voice filled with self reproach.

“You were my responsibility, and I let—” He choked on the words, his tears dripping onto her face. “I let Simon rape you.”

“He didn’t rape me!” She turned to look into his haunted eyes. “He ripped my shirt and touched me.” A painful shudder tore though her. “But when he heard your voice, he stopped.”

Rafe threaded his fingers through her hair and leaned over until they were face to face. His gentle kiss gave her hope for their future. “Still, he hurt you,” he whispered against her lips. “A nd it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” His eyes filled again, and he wiped the tears with the back of his hand. “You are my world. I thought I’d lost you.”

She pulled him closer, holding him to her heart. Her aching body protested, but she needed him to know how she felt, how much his love meant to her.

“I’m sorry you were so worried, but I couldn’t let him kill you.”

He pulled away. “But you could have died!”

“He would have raped and killed me once you were dead,” she protested. “You know it’s true. Don’t think I could do less to protect you than you would do to protect me.” She traced his jaw, and his eyes slid closed, shuttering the sharp pain she’d seen.

“He hit you, kicked you. Kicked our baby.” Rafe’s voice was thick with regret.

“He hit you, too.” Her mind replayed the scene over and over. The fight, the blood. Simon standing over Rafe with the gun. “It’s over now. He can’t hurt us anymore.” Rafe nodded. “I know. We’ll go back to St. Louis and get settled. We can have a big wedding and buy a different house if you don’t want to live in your father’s.” Though she replayed the words twice in her head, they made no sense. What was he saying? “What do you mean? I don’t want a big wedding, and I don’t want to stay in St. Louis.” She stared into his eyes and tried to read what was going in his mind.

“Sweetheart, it’s safe there.” He gave her a sad smile.

“You’ll see. Moving to St. Louis is for the best.” The condescending tone of his voice sparked her temper.

“I’ve thought it all out.”

How could he think about going back now? Not after everything they’d been through.

“No, you haven’t.” She rose to her elbow and winced in pain. He reached for her, but she brushed him away.

His words hurt worse than her ribs. “You didn’t think at all. You let guilt and fear make your decision. Our decision.”

“Maggie—”

“No! You promised me if we married, you would always ask my opinion. We haven’t even met the preacher, and you’re going back on your word.”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

“To what end? Until I’m as cloistered as I was by my father?”

“No.” He frowned.

“Do you intend to let me travel and sketch?” Doubt warred with pain in his eyes. “I don’t know.” He trembled as he took her hand and entwined their fingers. “Something might happen to you. A ren’t there things you can draw in St. Louis?”

Frustrated rage boiled through her. “What about the ranch you want?”

“It was a stupid idea.” He shook his head. “Too dangerous here. Too many evil men.”

Her heart clenched. Where was the man she knew?

He couldn’t give up. Where was his spirit, his fight?

Damn it! She wasn’t going to let him give up.

“What if something happens to me in St. Louis? I could be trampled by a horse, catch a fever or fall down a staircase. A nd there are evil men everywhere.” She pushed on, despite the stricken look on his face. “No, I won’t stay in St. Louis. A nd I won’t be told what to do.

“I have to go settle my father’s estate and collect Nettie. But then I’m leaving. I want travel. I want to see France and then—” What could she say to make him see what he was doing? “A nd then I’m coming back here. I’m going find a land agent and see if that valley you like is for sale. If it is, I’m going to buy it.” He stiffened. “You can’t do that.”

“I can. I will. This is where I’ll be. With or without you.” It was a brash statement. If he refused, she would regret it the rest of her life. But if ever there was a time for her independence, it was now.

“Maggie…” Something desperate flickered in his eyes, and he sucked a ragged breath.

She gripped his hand. “You’ve spent two years of your life trying to avoid trouble, trying to be safe. A nd look where it got you. Now you want to spend the rest of your life avoiding some unknown threat, spend the rest of your life being miserable.”

“I don’t want to be miserable,” he snapped, scrubbing his forehead with his palm. When he looked at her, worry wrinkled his brows. “I just want us safe. I want you and the baby to be safe.”

Her anger drained like water down a spout, replaced with a sadness that wrenched her heart.

“Rafe, we can’t have that guarantee. Nobody can.

People live their lives and hope for the best. A nd if they’re lucky, they find love during that life. I have. A nd you said I was your world.” She leaned toward him, pressing a long, soft kiss to his lips. Maybe the last one he’d ever allow. “Everything we want is for the taking.

A re you really ready to give up and let it all slip away?”

****

The St. Louis courthouse buzzed with spectators and newspaper men all eager to see attorney Phillip Bouse stand trial for murder. Maggie gripped Rafe’s hand, needing his strength, as she waddled from the court room, escaping the commotion inside. He led her past the throng of suited men, shaking their pomaded heads and whispering hotly about Bouse’s conviction.

“A re you all right?” Rafe guided her down the marble tiled hall to an alcove and helped her to an oak bench.

“Yes.” Maggie hovered over the seat, then plopped down in the unladylike fashion she’d gotten used to the past few weeks. “I’m just glad it’s over.” Rafe squatted beside her, his clean-shaven face furrowed with concern. “I’m just glad the bastard will be locked up. You’re safe now.” He blew a long sigh and squeezed her hand. “You wait here while I go hail a carriage. I want to get you home and put your feet up.”

“Raphael?” A soft feminine voice blew across them.

Maggie watched him freeze at the sound of his given name. Tension, thick as the summer heat, radiated from him as he pivoted in a stiff, slow half-circle.

“Mother.” The word came through a clenched jaw.

His hands trembled at his sides before curling into fists.

Mother? Maggie peeked from behind him, wishing like the devil she wasn’t so damned round, so damned unable to stand without help. She tugged his hand, but he didn’t help her to rise. Instead he stood like a soldier sentenced to death, her palm encased in his.

The small woman wrung her hands and gave a hesitant smile. Her dark hair was salted with white, but her gray eyes matched those of the man crushing Maggie’s hand.

“Rafe.” Maggie grasped his arm, and he whirled as if he’d forgotten she was there.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling her to stand, hanging on to her as if she was his only hope for survival.

Mrs. Pierson took a timid step forward. “Someone told me you were back in St. Louis.”

Rafe backed away. “You can see that I am.” His cold sarcasm made Maggie cringe. This was the one dark spot left on his soul. He had accepted the death of Simon, but his mother’s betrayal haunted him.

Mrs. Pierson pressed her lips together, and her gaze flicked to Maggie, then widened. “Son, you’re married?

A nd expecting a child?” The words quivered out, and tears filled her eyes.

“You can very well see that, too,” he clipped.

The woman nodded into a lace handkerchief and brushed aside her tears. “I guess I deserve your harshness,” she whispered. “I just hoped…Well, it’s been so long. A nd since Seymour’s dead…I waited and waited, yet you never came to the house.”

“A nd you’re surprised?” he snapped. “The last time I was there you told me to never come back!” Several heads turned at the sharp words.

“Raphael, I sent you away because—”

“This isn’t the place, Mother.” He glanced at the gawkers, his dark scowl scattering men and women alike.

Maggie ran her palm over his rigid back. “Rafe, let’s move into one of the empty rooms to talk.”

“No. We’re done here. There’s nothing left to say.” He turned and guided Maggie into the large rotunda, headed for the front doors at a marching pace she scurried to match.

The hollow click of Mrs. Pierson’s heels followed.

“Raphael, I need you to listen to me.” She crowded around them and reached for his hand.

He flinched away from her touch. “You mean the same way I needed you to support me that day? I had no one. Yet you sent me away like a stranger.” The hurt in his voice brought tears to Maggie’s eyes.

“I only told you to go because I knew Seymour and Simon would kill you! You had to go. I couldn’t think of any other way.” Two years of regret lined her face.

Rafe’s expression darkened. “That’s not why. We both know it.”

A frown marred her fine brow. “Yes, it is. What other reason could there be?”

“Because—” Rafe’s throat convulsed and Maggie knew what he was going to say, knew the anguish he’d kept locked inside for too long. “Because you’re ashamed of me. A shamed of what I did to Shane. But you’re more ashamed that I’m…I’m a bastard.” The whispered word wrung Maggie’s heart dry. But at least he finally said it.

Mrs. Pierson gasped. “Who told you that?”

“Simon and Shane. Believe me, they never let me forget.”

Fresh tears glistened in her eyes. “It never mattered to me,” she choked. “You are my son, and I love you.” Rafe scoffed. “I killed Simon in Colorado. I stuck my knife through his ribs. Do you still love me?” To her credit, Mrs. Pierson never blinked at his bald declaration. “Of course. That man was evil. A ll three of them were…I just didn’t know. If there was any way I could undo the harm I did by marrying Seymour…” She shook her head. “When you were small, I couldn’t stand that you went hungry sometimes. I thought by marrying him, I could give you a better life.”