The Wedding Ransom (26 page)

She missed her papas. She needed them. She felt so alone. So very alone.

In that, Maggie knew, lay the danger. Fighting by herself, for only herself, gave strength to the enemy—the temptation to surrender. She wearied of waging the battle alone. She needed reinforcements. She was tired, so very tired.

The most dangerous monster of all, self-pity, sat poised and ready to pounce.

Maggie twisted her head back and forth on the pillow as her dreams receded. She needed help, but who could she turn to? Not the papas, not this time. Things were different now from when she’d fought the rheumatism as a girl. Years had passed and somewhere along the way she’d switched roles with her grandfathers. The men had become like her children and she their parent.

Ben and Snake, Gus and Lucky. For nearly all her life, they had been there for her whenever she’d needed them. They’d been her strength and her support. Her problem solvers. Now it was Maggie’s turn to be that for them. They weren’t strong anymore. They needed
her
to help
them
fight. They needed her strength.

Lying on the bed in the kitchen cabin at Gallagher’s Tavern and Travelers Inn, Maggie looked deep inside herself for a little more grit. No matter how easy it would be to give up and allow self-pity to take control of her will, she knew she couldn’t let it happen. She had to fight this cursed condition for her grandfathers’ sakes. She had to beat this illness, defeat it and her own weakness of will, so she could stand strong against Andrew Montgomery and Barlow Hill and Papa Snake’s heart trouble and Papa Ben’s breathing problem, and all the rest.

But, oh, how she wished she had someone to lean on. Just for a little while.
This damsel in distress sure could use a hero to hold off the dragons just until she got her strength back
. Finally facing the challenge of full consciousness, Maggie muttered, “Where is a knight in shining armor when you need him?”

“Here I am,” a cocky voice rumbled. “However, I wear my armor on the tarnished side. That shiny stuff attracts way too much attention when a man is trying to hide from his pursuers.”

She must be worse off than she had thought. She imagined she’d heard Rafe’s voice. With effort, she turned her head. A shape took form. A figure. She blinked once. Twice.
Oh, no. Now I’m hallucinating.

Rafe Malone peered down at her, the concern in his deep green eyes at odds with his easy grin. “Well, Sleeping Beauty awakes. It’s about time. I’ve reheated your bathwater twice, and that’s a lot of work, you know.”

“Rafe? Is that really you?”

“Yep. And I come bearing Bliss water.” He slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and propped her up. “Open your mouth, Maggie. Take a big ol’ sip.”

He put a cup to her lips, and the familiar bitter taste filled her mouth. He made her drink until she could hold no more. Then Maggie closed her eyes once again and tried desperately to make sense of her thoughts. She was so confused. “How did you get here?”

“On my horse, of course.” He winked.

She groaned as much from his wit as from the pain resulting from her effort to roll from her back onto her side.

“Stop that, love. I hate to hear that sound. Now, what do you want? What can I do to help you? Do you need to sit up? Are you hungry? Or do you want to take your bath first?”

“Why are you here?”
And why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?

He shrugged, and even in her condition, Maggie noted the ripple of muscles across his chest.

“I have to be somewhere,” he said. “Considering it’s pouring a gully-washer outside, I reckon beneath a roof is a good choice.”

Maggie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. “You left Lake Bliss.”

“So did you.”

“But I’m in east Texas. Your ranch is in the hill country.”

“Yeah, and you owe me a new saddle for the one I’ve worn out chasing you down. But we’ll settle all that once you’re feeling up to snuff. C’mon, let’s get you into the tub before I have to heat the water yet again. Martha says the hot baths help you.”

Cool air kissed her skin as he whipped the covers off her. Maggie kept her eyes closed as she felt his fingers at the buttons of her cotton nightgown’s scoop neckline. She thought she should probably protest his familiarity, but she didn’t have the energy. Besides, his touch was gentle and tender and just how she imagined a knight errant’s would feel.

“The mercantile must have run a sale on buttons when you sewed this gown,” he grumbled. “You have enough of them, don’t you think? Lift your hips, love, and I’ll slip it out from under you.”

“No,” Maggie said. “I can’t.” Today her hips hurt worse than anything.

“No need to be shy.” His fingers continued to work the buttons that ran the length of the gown. “Maybe that’s not it, though. Is that where it hurts, Maggie? In your hips?”

She didn’t want to snivel, but the sweet concern in his voice made it easier to confess the truth. “It hurts all over.”

His hands froze and after a moment’s pause, he said, “Well, maybe I should kiss it better, then. Everywhere it hurts. Medicinal purposes, you know.”

Maggie opened her eyes. “Malone,” she replied, the tiniest bit of starch in her voice. “How could you even think—” She broke off abruptly when she saw the teasing twinkle light his eyes.

“There. That sounds much better. I don’t like whiny women.”

He’d done it on purpose just to rile her. A smile flirted with the corners of her mouth as she settled back onto her pillow. Mentally bracing herself for the pitchforks in her joints, she lifted her hands and pushed his away. “I can do it.”

“I know you can, Maggie.” He reached out a finger and gently traced it across her forehead as if he were smoothing away the wrinkles. “You can do anything you put your mind to. I know that without a doubt. But let me help you here, all right? It’s not like I’ll be seeing anything I haven’t seen before, and if it makes you feel better, I won’t even look.”

“Your word on it?”

“Aw, Maggie!”

“Aw, Rafe.” She allowed her hands to fall back to her sides as weariness overcame her. She’d exhausted the little spate of energy Rafe’s appearance had given her and didn’t even have the gumption to be embarrassed by her nakedness. “Don’t let me drown.”

“You have my word on that.” Rafe stripped the gown off her body, then carefully slipped one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her thighs. “I don’t want to hurt you. You tell me if I do.”

She clamped her teeth against crying out as he lifted her from the bed. She’d already whined once, and she figured that should be her limit. Besides, being in his arms was almost like a healing balm itself. “If I could bottle this up, we could sell it at Hotel Bliss along with our water.”

“What’s that, love? Am I holding you wrong?”

“No. It’s just right.”
You’re just right
. She lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Rain drummed against the rooftop, punctuated by an occasional crack of lightning and boom of thunder. As he carried her from the bedroom into the kitchen, the scent of burning cedar drifted like ribbons on the air. Cedar and Rafe Malone. Maggie breathed deeply of the combined fragrances and sighed with more pleasure than pain.

“Fair warning, fair lady. It’s time for the big dip. Yell if it’s too hot, and I’ll yank you out.”

For all his talk of dipping and yanking, Rafe lowered her into the oval tin tub like the most fragile of fine crystal. She leaned her head back against the tub’s hard rim. Seconds later Rafe tucked a folded towel between her and the metal lip, and Maggie smiled her thanks for that and more. The heat from the water seemed to soak into her swollen joints, soothing them and bringing her relief. Questions nagged at her mind, but the fatigue washing over her convinced her they could wait. Sleep beckoned and she surrendered to it, saying in a soft, drowsy voice, “Thank you, Malone. You’re good medicine.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As Rafe lifted a poker to stir the smoldering logs in the fireplace, he realized his hand was shaking. Taking a quick inventory, he discovered the rest of him pretty much had the shivering fits, too.

Maggie hurt and it killed him to see her this way.

He’d about shed a shoe when he first got a good look at her. Pale as new milk and weak as a sick kitten. When she’d looked at him with those beautiful eyes grown dull and glassy with pain, Rafe had felt a stab of hurt in the general vicinity of his heart. She was such a strong woman, and to see her brought down like this just tore him apart. If he could have freed her from her suffering by taking it on himself he’d have done it fast as double-geared lightning.

He glanced back at the tub where she lay sleeping and wondered if too long a soak could adversely affect her condition. She’d been napping now for a good twenty minutes. He’d added hot water twice. Maybe he should try and wake her up. It would be just his luck to cause her harm when he was trying to help.

Lord knew she needed some help. He wished one of the pirates were here to answer some of the questions buzzing around his brain. He wanted to know how long spells like this one usually lasted. More than a week seemed like a hell of a long time. Also, was it normal for her to lose weight like she had? The poor thing was skin and bones. Why did she refuse the laudanum? Was there a medical reason, or was it Maggie’s own stubbornness—something she had in abundance?

A little groan from the bathtub sent him hurrying to her side. Was she awake? No. Her eyes were still closed and she lay without moving. Rafe started to turn away when he spotted something that froze him in his tracks. A tear. A single tear had slipped from under her long lashes and was running down her cheek.

Maggie was crying in her sleep.

Rafe took it like cannonball to the gut. This strong, stubborn, doesn’t-know-the-meaning-of-the-word-surrender female hurt so fiercely that she was crying in her sleep.

Rafe closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, his hands clenched at his sides. He felt helpless as a field mouse in a hawk’s shadow. If he’d been a few days earlier, then he could have ridden to Lake Bliss for more water, instead of Lucky. He’d have made better time. He could have gotten the water back to her sooner. Damn it all, she needed relief.

And he needed to give it to her.

The significance of that thought washed over him. Never one to lie to himself, Rafe admitted that what he was feeling wasn’t solely about Maggie’s needs. He couldn’t stand to see her hurting. He couldn’t bear to see her cry. He needed to help her.

He loved her.

His eyes going wide, Rafe took a step backward. Good Lord. It was true. He’d gone and fallen in love with Mary Margaret St. John. Maggie with her hard head and harder-headed grandpas. Maggie with her crystal laugh and Caribbean eyes. Maggie with a curse on her body that sapped all the strength and joy and spirit from her being.

He loved her. The knowledge flowed like whiskey through his blood, warm and intoxicating. How had he gone so long without realizing it? Rafe wasn’t a stranger to love. He’d been in love before, a number of times. He liked being in love.

But you’ve never been in love like this.

Rafe backed up until his knees hit a chair, and he sat down abruptly. He rubbed his palm across his jaw and considered the thought. Was it true? How could it be true? Take Elizabeth Perkins, for instance. He’d been in love with her. He’d courted her for months, even proposed marriage. Hadn’t it hurt like a son of a bitch when she turned him down to marry another man? Hadn’t he still been wallowing in misery almost a year later when she gave that other man a son?

Yes, but it was your pride that was hurting, not your heart.

Maggie had the power to rip his heart plumb in two.

Well, hell. It was true. What he felt for Maggie was bigger than anything he’d ever felt for any other woman. What he felt for her was greater than his feelings for all the other women who’d passed through his life combined.

In the bathtub Maggie stirred, and Rafe stood and crossed to the tub. As her eyes fluttered open, he smiled at her. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s about time you woke up. I was beginning to fear Martha would come in and try to make prune pudding out of you for dessert.”

Maggie gave a tired smile. “No, peach cobbler is on tonight’s menu.”

Rafe lifted her from the water, helped her dry herself with a towel, then gently laid her on a soft pallet he’d prepared before the fire.

“I want my clothes,” she weakly demanded.

“I have some liniment I want to rub on you first. I think it might help.”

“Not horse liniment,” she said. “I’ve used that before. It doesn’t do any good, and the stink doesn’t wear off for days.”

“This isn’t horse liniment. It’s something Martha fixed up for you. You’ll like it. She used her rose—scented soap to make it.” He brought the bowl over and knelt beside her.

“Onions,” Maggie said weakly.

“Just a little bit. What I smell most is the brandy.” He dipped his fingers in the thick, slick mixture and said, “Lie still and let me work this into your skin. Let me know if I rub too hard.”

At first her muscles remained tense. “This embarrasses me,” she admitted.

“Don’t waste any energy on something as silly as that, honey. You need all your focus on getting well.”

As he gently worked the ointment into her skin, Rafe distracted her with a story about Honor and Luke’s girls. Slowly she relaxed, and soon he realized she’d drifted back into sleep.

But Rafe didn’t stop his tender touches. His hands massaged her swollen joints, silently speaking of his sympathy, his admiration for her strength, his need to exorcise her pain.

His desire to act out his love for her in a million large and small ways each day.

“Aw, hell, darlin’.” He cupped her swollen knee joint, absorbing its heat between his palms and fingers. He wished he were a good enough thief to steal this pain away from her. He’d give damn near anything to make her better. That’s how a person felt when he was in love.

And God knows, he did love her. Passionately. Profoundly. Blissfully.

Bliss. Lake Bliss. Lake Bliss water. Good God, he was in trouble.