Spring Blossom (13 page)

“She seems to have blamed all men for what
happened,” Alastair added thoughtfully, “and she has banished any
would-be suitors. I know you wanted her to meet other men…younger
men,” he said, “so that she could explore her own feelings before
you returned. To some extent, she did associate with people her own
age before…but any young men who have called in the past year, she
would have none of them. And, I believe, the young men were of like
mind.”

“But none of them knew what I know, isn’t
that so, Alastair? None could understand what motivated her
behavior?”

“True,” Alastair said, “But you should also
know that Margaret has firmly declared her intention to live out
her life here, unmarried, and in control of her own destiny.”
Having completed his warning, Alastair rose from his chair, leaving
the thoughts suspended between them as he moved to a corner table
and poured brandy into snifters.

Hunter posed a question of his own. “Is that
because she’s afraid or because she feels that no one will have
her?”

Alastair immediately turned and stared
thoughtfully at his friend for a moment before walking back to his
chair, passing one of the drinks to Hunter before he sat. “I
suspect both,” he said in answer.

Hunter stared down thoughtfully at the drink
balanced between his hands. “I agree,” he said quietly. “It should
not be too difficult to make her understand that I want her as my
wife. Her fears will take time and understanding.”

“And are you prepared to take on that
task?”

“I could wish the situation different, of
course, for Maggie’s sake and my own.” His dark eyes held a
tenderness that accompanied his next words. “But I believe Maggie
is well worth whatever she and I have to endure to achieve her
adjustment to being with me.” And he had held her while she cried.
Maggie had not only allowed him to hold her, she had seemed to take
comfort in his embrace. Hunter felt that she had reached out to him
in that moment and that gave him hope. She had sought comfort from
him. Once her fears were alleviated, she would seek more.

His next task was to convince Maggie of
that.

*

Margaret had remained lying on her bed in
misery after Hunter left her. She simultaneously applauded her own
stupidity and cursed it; now surely he would leave…but he would
leave knowing her secret. And it took considerable time to convince
herself that that fact did not matter. The fact was that she had
told him. Hunter Maguire would not return to Treemont and she would
never have to face him again once he rode away from the house. This
had been her intention all along, and finally she had
succeeded.

Having no desire for food, Maggie had made
up her mind to go to bed rather than join the family for supper.
She had only started to change into her night clothes, however,
when Anna gruffly summoned her to join her father in his study.

It was with some trepidation that Margaret
discarded her wrinkled dress and replaced it with a fresh blue
high-necked gown with long, slender sleeves and layered straight
skirt. She quickly ran a brush through her tousled hair, knowing it
best not to keep her father waiting when he was angry. And there
was no doubt in her mind that her parent would be furious this
night. She had foiled his plans. By now he must be aware that
Hunter would be leaving, probably at dawn’s first light. And she
would be staying. No, Alastair would not be happy.

Hesitating at the closed study door,
Margaret braced herself, willing to face her father’s wrath for the
sake of her own serenity, but a little concerned with what form his
anger would take. Alastair seldom lost his temper with his
daughters, but on those rare occasions when he did, he could be
formidable.

Screwing up her courage, Margaret knocked
once briefly before opening the door and entering the dimly lit
room, only to falter when her eyes took in the sight of Hunter
Maguire standing off to one side. His elbow was propped on a shelf
of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases and he was studying her intently.
He casually swept back his coat, his hand disappearing into the
deep pocket of his trousers while he swirled brandy slowly around
the bottom of the snifter that was held in his other hand.

Margaret stared, frankly stunned by his
presence, until he smiled at her. If that smile was intended to
make her feel welcome, it had the opposite effect. Fighting the
urge to run, she turned away from the sight of him, her eyes
searching the room.

“I was told my father wished to speak with
me,” she said.

“I wanted to talk with you,” Hunter said,
his expression carefully blank.

“And you had to use a ploy?”

“Would you have come otherwise?”

“Of course not.” She reached for the
doorknob, but decided to give him a parting word or two. “I think
we’ve said all there is to say.”

“You’re wrong, Maggie. I have many things to
say.” A thousand things. “Will you sit?”

She merely shook her head.

“You needn’t fear me.”

Margaret managed a semblance of a scornful
smile. “I don’t fear you, Mr. Maguire. But I have already spent
considerable time talking with you and I have other things to
do.”

“And what requires your attention now?” he
asked, turning to face her squarely; challenging. “The horses? The
supper? Your sisters? What chore is so urgent that you cannot spare
me a minute or two of your time?”

Margaret sighed heavily. He could be the
most exasperatingly determined man. “I should go and see to you
supper,” she muttered, knowing any meal she cooked would drive the
man away for certain.

Her tone puzzled him, but he chose to ignore
her statement. “A moment or two, Maggie,” he insisted.

Margaret’s hand dropped to her side and she
frowned as he took a step in her direction. “Hunter, there’s little
use in rehashing the past.”

“I don’t want to talk about the past,” he
said quietly. “I want to talk about the future.”

“We’ve already decided to be friends,” she
pointed out, her eyes dropping away from the intensity of his dark
gaze that was boring into her.

“You made that decision, my dear, not
I.”

Margaret’s head snapped up and her gaze
returned to his. “Friendship is all I have to offer.”

“Oh, no,” he said softly, standing a few
paces away from her now. “I disagree.”

Margaret tried to laugh at his earnestness.
“What does that mean?” But now she was growing wary.

Hunter turned away briefly, bending slightly
to place his glass on a nearby table. “I think you have a great
deal to offer the right man,” he said.

She did laugh at that. “And you, I suppose,
are the right man?”

“That’s right.”

Margaret folded her arms beneath her
breasts, trying for patience. “Hunter, as your friend it is not my
intent to hurt you, but I’m not interested in whatever you’re
proposing.”

“Marriage, Maggie,” he said quietly. “I’m
proposing marriage.”

Her eyes grew round and her lips parted in
shock before she could find her voice. “After all you’ve learned
about me?”

“Will you come and sit down a moment?” he
asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

Maggie back away. “I think you’ve failed to
grasp a simple concept, Hunter,” she said harshly. “I don’t want
you. I don’t want a husband. I have a good life here. One I
enjoy…where I can be happy.”

His head tipped slightly to the side. “Are
you happy?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

He smiled. “Liar.”

“Hunter…”

“It’s natural for you to be reluctant to
leave your home and family for the first time and…”

“I’m not leaving.”

“And your reluctance to marry has become
clear now, but we can deal with whatever concerns you.”

Margaret paced away in frustration and then
whirled to face him angrily. “What will it take for you to
understand? I simply wish to be left alone.”

“Oh, I understand.” He retrieved his drink
and sat in the chair that afforded the best view of the room.

She turned in his direction but remained
well out of reach. “But you aren’t about to leave me alone, are
you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t want to say this bluntly, Mr.
Maguire, but you have forced me to be direct.” She pulled herself
up stiffly, shoulders back, chin firm. “I reject your offer of
marriage, Mr. Maguire. You are free to go.”

He laughed shortly, lifting his glass to his
lips before responding. “You haven’t enough years left, as young as
you are, to see that happen.”

“But why?”

“Because I want you,” he said simply. “I
always have. You were too young when we met, Maggie. I’ve simply
been waiting for you to grow up.”

“You are deranged,” she shouted. “I’m not
pretty…”

“No,” he said. “You’re beautiful.” He
frowned as she nervously began to pace the room.

Margaret laughed off his comment. “I’m not a
virgin...”

“It was not your virtue that brought me
here,” he interrupted once again.

“Then what did bring you here?” she
snapped.

“I will have to help you come to understand
that,” he said simply as he cross his legs and settled back
comfortably in his chair.

Margaret stared at him, spun away, and
whirled back again all in the space of a brief second.

“You’re making me dizzy,” he said lightly.
“Please sit down.”

“No.”

He sighed. “This could be a very long
evening,” he told her, “unless you talk reasonably with me. Arguing
is not going to achieve anything. You might just as well sit so
that we can talk.”

Margaret stubbornly took refuge behind a
chair, her fingers digging into its soft back. “You cannot marry
me,” she insisted.

“Why not?”

“I told you why.”

“You told me a distressing tale that makes
me angry, little one. I hate what was done to you. But it has not
turned me away from wanting you, if that was your hope.”

Margaret’s next argument died in her throat
as the meaning of his words registered.”

“Now please sit down and stop acting like a
stubborn child.”

She paced around the chair and sat on the
edge of the seat, gripping its rolled border. “You cannot take me
away from my home and my family,” she said firmly.

“Can’t I?” he challenged quietly as he
reached into an inner coat pocket and produced one of the small
cheroots he like to smoke.

Maggie flopped back in her chair. “You are
too high-handed by half.”

Hunter grinned. “That’s how I get what I
want.”

“Wanting does not mean love, Hunter,” she
said, trying a new tactic.

“Really?” he asked in feigned surprise. “And
you are an expert on the two?”

“I know enough to understand what men want
when they say ‘want’,” she said angrily. “I know enough to desire
no part of it.”

“Maggie, you know only something ugly. I
strongly suspect you know very little of love and loving. He stole
that from you,” he said sadly. “I only mean to give you what you
deserve...I only mean to give you the other.”

Frustrated and growing weary of the
conversation, she turned to logic. “If you are determined to marry,
wouldn’t you rather have a woman you could love as well as
want?”

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning again…the
grin that set tiny lights sparkling in those dark eyes.

Margaret sighed with relief and dared a
small smile of her own. “There, you see! That's resolved.” Getting
to her feet she looked down at him and said earnestly, “I wish you
well, Hunter.”

He laughed shortly. “Sit down, Maggie.”

The small smile slipped and she frowned in
confusion. “I wish to go to bed now.”

“Soon,” he said, staring up at her. “When we
have finished our conversation.”

“But I…”

“Sit,” he ordered quietly and, perplexed,
Maggie sat. “I have suggested to your father…”

Maggie jumped on that comment. “You spoke
with father?”

“Of course,” he said simply, “and he has
agreed…”

“But I have not,” she snapped.

“As I was saying, I suggested to your father
that we hold the ceremony here in two days’ time.” He held up a
hand when she started to protest. “I must get back to my own farm
very soon and, therefore, there is little time to plan an elaborate
wedding, but you may wish to invite a close friend or two.”

“Hunter, I cannot marry you.”

“We will spend our wedding night here,” he
continued, as if she had not spoken, “and leave the following
morning.”

“I cannot bear the thought of you touching
me,” she cried. Then her eyes widened, aghast at what she had said.
Margaret had wanted to appeal to him on a purely logical basis.

Hunter was not at all surprised by her
outburst; in fact, he had been expecting it. Uncrossing his legs,
he leaned forward in his chair, supporting his elbows on his knees
as he stared at her with understanding. “Don’t you think I’ve
guessed that?”

“Then why would you continue with this
farce?” she pleaded.

“It will not be a farce,” he returned
adamantly. “I believe we can have a good marriage.”

“But you must want children?” she asked,
daring to read her own meaning into his words.

“I do,” he said, nodding resolutely. “And we
will have children.”

“But if you understand how I feel…”

“I understand and I will be solicitous of
your needs. You surely do not believe I would throw myself at you
without a care for your fears?”

That is precisely what she thought…and
expected from any man. This turn of events gave her pause, however.
If her father was determined to see her wed, she had no real
choice. No matter how strongly her mind rebelled. And Hunter held
some merit over other men she had met; at least she knew him to be
honorable. Well, perhaps now that was questionable given what she
knew of men who wanted a woman. Even if he were suggesting that
their marriage would not include an intimate relationship,
eventually he would expect her to perform as his wife, and, in
truth, Maggie did not know if she could endure that. The vague
memories of a different man crawling and panting over her, hurting
her, were nauseating, even though she had been spared much of that
event because the blow to her chin had caused her to black out from
the beginning of the attack.