Spring Blossom (32 page)

Hunter tried to reassure the younger man.
“They will live with Maggie and me,” he said firmly.

Tim nodded his head, obviously relieved.
“They are fine girls but…”

“You needn’t feel guilty, Tim,” he said
kindly. “I’m very fond of those girls, and you and Denise have yet
to establish your own lives. There is not a doubt or a concern in
my mind over the matter.”

There was, however, a concern that Tim
wished to address. “About Denise,” he said quietly, before lounging
back in his chair and taking a substantial drink of brandy. “We
were to be married next month, but of course that’s out of the
question now.”

“Why?”

Tim was taken aback by the question.
“Well…she’ll be in mourning.”

“That’s true, and a large wedding would
certainly not be acceptable,” Hunter said reasonable. “But perhaps
we should discuss the possibility of a small, private ceremony…that
is, if you are of a mind to wed her soon.”

“The sooner the better,” Tim breathed
wearily.

Hunter laughed for the first time in several
days. “The anxious groom,” he teased, and the young doctor actually
suffered from a decided warming of his complexion. “I don’t blame
you. I was feeling much the same not too long ago.”

“I’m glad someone understands,” Tim
confessed quietly.

“We'll hold a family conference in a few
days,” Hunter added, “and discuss the matter. And a year from now
we could have a proper celebration. Maggie and I haven’t observed
our own marriage with any of the usual festivities. Perhaps we can
make it a joint effort then.”

It was agreed and the two men downed the
last of their brandy and parted company for the night.

*

Hunter crept silently into the room. He
could hear the soft whisper of Maggie’s deep breathing as she slept
on while he removed his clothes and draped them over a chair.
Moving cautiously so as not to disturb her, he lay down, pulled the
blankets up, and stretched his tired body out as best he could in
the short bed. Rolling onto his side then, he wrapped his arms
around his young wife and drew her against him as his eyes drifted
closed and sleep overtook him.

*

Dawn was about to burst upon the fields of
Treemont when Maggie opened her eyes. Hunter was sleeping on his
back beside her, one arm holding her against his side. He was warm
and strong and breathing deeply as she snuggled against him and
closed her eyes once again.

*

Hunter drifted slowly up from sleep to near
awareness as he felt a small hand and delicate fingers trail slowly
across his chest. He opened his eyes to find Maggie gazing intently
at the path her hand was making, and he lay quietly, allowing her
the freedom to touch and feel as she would.

Maggie knew she had awakened him, but could
not bring herself to look at his eyes. It was bold, this thing she
was doing, but she had watched him sleep for long moments before
daring to fulfill her need to touch the living strength that lay
beside her. Something within her was driving her to touch and,
ultimately, to encourage him to touch her.

Her hand strayed up his chest, feeling the
hard muscles there before sweeping across one shoulder and down one
arm that was easily as wide as both of hers together. His muscles
twitched at times, she noticed, and then her hand was on the warm
firmness of his belly. She hesitated there, finally raising her
eyes shyly as if to ask permission to continue her quest.

Hunter had turned his head to stare down at
her with a tender dark heat that would have encouraged her if his
whispered words had not. “Touch me, little one,” he murmured, and
when she failed to react, he placed his large hand over hers and
guided her palm downward. “Hold me,” he prompted and breathed in
deeply when she did as instructed. “Do you want me, Maggie?” he
breathed after several long moments.

She nodded her head; she did.

And together they celebrated living.

*

The morning was a series of chaotic events
that made Maggie’s head reeling. The day had started out with
everyone feeling as taut as any bowstring over the tensions of the
previous days. Florence had completely withdrawn into herself, and
Denise was having a difficult time looking at Tim as she worried
over her duty to her sisters and her devotion to him. Jennifer
continuously chattered or, alternately, spilled things. Tim was
quietly trying to determine what was on Denise’s mind that she
would avoid him so, and Anna muttered and glared at everyone who
came near her.

And, in the midst of all this, Maggie was a
mass of acute embarrassment at having engaged the previous night in
what she considered as her first seduction. But Hunter guessed her
dilemma quickly enough and laughingly dragged her mentally away
from the ludicrous thoughts.

Sadly they all felt the absence of Alastair,
but Maggie felt duty-bound to help everyone return to some
semblance of a normal life. She easily took control over the
running of the household again and the disciplining of two little
girls who had easily slipped out of the routine of chores and
school.

Hunter sat back proudly and watched her.

No Longer was Maggie taking charge to fill a
void in her life. Her control over Treemont and the people who
lived there had been a caring thing from the moment of her return.
It was something she wanted to do, not something she was driven to
do. She possessed a new confidence that surprised even her
husband.

And there was something else about
Maggie…her newly acquired understanding of what it was like to be
in love.

Hunter had closeted himself in Alastair’s
study for most of the day, poring over books that outlined a fairly
bleak picture. And it was with some relief that he looked up from
his place behind the massive desk to see Maggie in the doorway with
a tray. He quickly closed the account book he had been examining
and sat back as she stepped into the room.

“I’ve brought coffee and cake,” she said and
placed the tray on the round table before the fire. “You’ve been
locked in here working long enough.”

Hunter left his chair and skirted the desk.
His gaze remained locked with hers as he pulled her easily within
the circle of his arms. “And you, my love, are the perfect
diversion.”

Maggie tipped her head back, waiting to be
kissed. She now reveled in the understanding of how much she had
changed. She now waited expectantly, eagerly, for a kiss or a touch
or a teasing caress each time he was near. She secretly celebrated
the fact that she had grown comfortable with his frequent touches,
and she would have been sorely disappointed if he had failed to do
so.

When he raised his head, she tightened her
hands on the back of his shirt. “I need to speak with you,” she
said. “I could come back later if…”

“Absolutely not.” He drew her down onto his
lap as he settled in the winged-back chair before the fire. “Now
that I have you in here,” he teased, “I’m not letting you go.”

Maggie adjusted her bottom on his thighs and
rested a forearm on his shoulder. “It’s about Denise,” she said,
watching his eyes closely for reaction. “I think she needs to be
with Tim.”

Hunter’s smile melted into something very
tender. “Do you, little one?”

Maggie nodded her head determinedly. “I
think she’s torn about what to do now. With the circumstances…with
her wedding plans…but I think they should be together somehow.”

“I agree.”

Maggie’s brows arched upward in surprise.
“You do?”

“What brought you to this conclusion,
Maggie?” he asked softly, while daring to answer the question in
his own heart.

Maggie blushed lightly, and her eyes darted
away from his as she began to toy with a button on his shirt.

“Can’t you tell me?” he coaxed, cupping her
cheek and turning her to face him. “Tell me.”

“Sometimes I watch them looking at each
other and I see us.”

Hunter’s dark eyes flared with
curiosity.

“Denise watches him all the time and she
looks at Tim the way I like to look at you,” she proceeded
hesitantly. “I mean to say…I used to look at you and feel so many
things I didn’t understand. And I would watch you and feel a need
for something I knew nothing about.”

“You used to?”

“Oh, it’s much worse now!” Maggie
blurted.

Hunter wasn’t certain whether he should
laugh or cry over that remark. “How is it worse?”

“Now I look at you and I understand all
those feelings,” she murmured. “And I want you all the time.”

Hunter’s smile returned and his hand roamed
up from her waist to lightly cup one breast. “Now you understand my
feelings as well, my love.”

Maggie captured the back of his hand and
stilled it, pressing it firmly against her breast as she buried her
face against his neck. “Now I understand what it’s like to love and
be loved,” she murmured. “And I want Denise to be as happy as I
am.”

“Oh, Maggie,” he breathed as he wrapped his
arms firmly around her and cradled her tightly against his chest.
“I do love you, little one.”

“And I think Denise and Tim must be going
through hell,” she returned bluntly.

Hunter laughed and then buried his grin in
the soft silken curls he loved.

CHAPTER 24

Maggie charged headlong up the stairs to the
second floor as if she were a very young girl again. But before
entering Denise’s room, she paused, patted her hair into place, and
caught her breath.

Coolly, she swung the door open and stared
across the room at her unhappy sister. “I’ve come to talk with
you,” she said, entering the room and closing the door. “I believe
I know what’s causing these doldrums of yours, Denise. I know
you’re saddened because we’ve lost Papa, but I sense there’s more.”
Maggie then sat primly on the side of the bed and waited.

Denise raised tired eyes and left her chair
by the window. “I miss papa,” she said. “Everyone does.”

Maggie nodded as Denise paced toward her.
“And…?”

Denise stood before her, eyeing her warily.
If she mentioned her problem…one that Maggie would surely not
understand…she would sound selfish. On the other hand, her heart
was heavy and her thoughts confused. “I don’t know what to do,” she
admitted fretfully.

Maggie stood and clasped both of her younger
sister’s upper arms. “I think you should get married.”

Denise could only stare, mouth agape.

“I’ve talked it over with Hunter, and he
agrees.”

“You have?” she stammered. “He does?”

“Of course.” Maggie hugged Denise then. “I
want you to be happy, Denise,” she whispered, “just as I am.”

The sisters stepped away from each other,
and Denise looked at Maggie as if the wrong person had returned
home to Treemont. “Are you happy with him, Mag?”

“Very.”

Denise’s expression broke into a beaming
grin. “I don’t believe it!”

But she obviously did.

“He’s been very patient,” Maggie admitted.
“And very persistent. Now,” she continued, looking around the room,
“we must plan a small supper.” She stared at the white gown on the
dress form in the far corner of the room and added solemnly, “I’m
afraid we’ll have to choose a simple dress for a quiet, family
occasion, Denise.”

Denis understood. They could not hold a gala
affair when the household was in mourning.

The dress didn’t matter.

She would have Tim.

*

It was very late in the afternoon by the
time Maggie left Denise’s room. They started sewing another,
simpler gown while Maggie assured her sister that a private
ceremony and a family dinner would be suitable under the
circumstances.” After all, she and Tim had already waited for over
a year to marry. And Maggie understood now how passions could run
high.

At the bottom of the steps, Maggie turned
toward the kitchen. It was time to set the table for supper and
Anna would need help serving the meal.

Before she could swing the door open and
enter the room, however, she was jolted to a halt by the sound of
china breaking, followed by a heavy thud.

Alarmed by the noise, Hunter darted out of
Alastair’s study and came up behind Maggie. “What on earth was
that?”

“I don’t know,” she returned, even as she
sprang into action and darted into the kitchen.

The sight that greeted her there almost
defied belief. Florence had fallen and lay on the floor with her
head perilously close to the heavy lion’s-claw base of the table.
She was half under the table, surrounded by broken china and globs
of food which defied recognition. Anna was pulling furiously on the
child’s arm in an attempt to drag Florence out from under her
shelter. And, unbelievably, the woman was poised to strike the
girl.

Maggie’s immediate reaction was to race
forward and clutch the woman’s raised arm with both hands. “What
are you doing?” she cried.

Anne turned enraged dark eyes on her. “I’m
sick of this,” she hissed. “The girl will never do as she is told.
And she sassed me again!”

“Florence?” Maggie asked, astounded.
“Florence is the most amenable person on this earth. What could she
have done?”

“She refused to take the supper to those
stable boys again!” The woman said belligerently. “I’ve had this
problem with her before. I can’t do everything in this house and
everyone on this plantation is fed from this kitchen.”

Maggie’s complexion had turned to angry
purple by this time. “And for this you struck her?” she asked
evenly, with slow, deceptive calm. “You struck her when you know
she is shy of those boys?” Maggie jerked the woman’s hand down in
high fury and took a threatening step forward. “How could you
strike her for refusing to do something that makes her uneasy? How
could you strike her at all?”