Spring Blossom (14 page)

There was the possibility that she could put
him off for a good long time, however. In that time she might grow
accustomed to him, as he suggested, making the getting of a child
at least endurable. A brief flash of anxiety warned her that she
could become too accustomed to him, but a child of her own might
eventually be a comfort. She was woman enough to desire a child
that would be hers alone and she would simply have to maintain the
right degree of control in order to achieve the quiet, secluded way
of life she needed. Once she had conceived, she could persuade
Hunter to find a mistress; perhaps she could even help him find
one. She would have the child and Hunter would have his lover. It
would be the best of both worlds for them and she knew of such
happenings in many marriages. She would see to it that it happened
in hers.

And Margaret knew her father’s code of
ethics well enough to realize that he would not tolerate such a
situation. Once she made it known that Hunter was unfaithful,
Alastair would welcome her home with her child and he would shelter
and protect them.

Perhaps her plan held some merit…

“You would not…force me?” she asked
hesitantly.

Hunter shook his head and lightly touched
her skirt with his fingertips. “Maggie, no words will convince you
that the act of loving bears any resemblance to your experience.
Until I can persuade you to see the differences, I swear…”

Maggie mulled over his words until finally,
knowing she would not be easily persuaded as he no doubt planned,
she agreed to his terms.

He wanted to embrace her, to soothe her in
some way, to let her know that he recognized the difficulty of such
a decision for her and that he respected her for bravely taking
this first step. Instead, Hunter sat back in his chair, eyeing her,
looking concerned.

CHAPTER 11

“Margaret told me she does not want to marry
you,” Jennifer whispered to Hunter the following morning as they
sat alone over breakfast.

He smiled ruefully and sipped his coffee.
“I’m aware of that,” he said, grateful they were alone and her
comments had not been overheard by her older sisters.

“Is it true Papa is forcing her?” Jennifer
sat squinting at him as a ray of brilliant sunshine found its way
through the heavy draperies.

“Not true, but I suppose you could say your
father’s opinion probably plays some role,” Hunter responded
patiently.

“Well, I think she’s a ninny,” Jennifer shot
back without hesitation. “I would marry you!”

Hunter laughed. “Don’t tempt me, monkey. But
I can’t wait for still another girl to grow up.”

Jennifer titled her head to one side. “What
does that mean?”

“Nothing. Eat,” he ordered lightly.

Jennifer chewed thoughtfully on a hot
biscuit before saying, “She’s up there pacing her room,” and then
she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

Hunter frowned at that. “Is she,
indeed?”

“Margaret seems awfully nervous.”

“I expect all brides are nervous.”

“If that's true then I’m not getting
married,” she said firmly. “Margaret is more nervous than Pride
when he gets around a mare.”

Hunter almost choked on the ham he had been
chewing.

“Well, it’s true,” she said, watching him
raise a white linen napkin to his mouth.

“Yes, I believe I understand,” he said,
after collecting himself. And then it occurred to him that this
child was perhaps serious in her observations of her older sister
and he did not want a lasting impression to warp her future with
some fine young man. “Jennifer, this might be difficult for you to
understand, but Maggie is nervous for a number of reasons. Not all
brides are so…reluctant. In fact, most young women look forward to
their wedding day.”

Frowning and staring thoughtfully across the
table at him for a moment, Jennifer eventually asked, “Is it
because of the ‘accident’?”

God how he hated that word! But to Jennifer
he said only, “Yes. Because of that day.”

“Because that man hit her?”

“Yes. And there are more complicated reasons
that I can’t explain.”

His young companion merely looked disgusted.
“You think I’m too young,” she accused.

“Perhaps a little,” he said, smiling in the
fact of her disappointment. “Let it suffice to say that some men do
not behave respectfully toward women.”

“And that has made Margaret nervous?”

“Yes.”

Jennifer thought about that for a moment, as
well. “That man must have been very nasty,” she concluded.
“Margaret has been nervous for a long time.”

He waited silently, refilling his coffee cup
as she continued to struggle with her thoughts and confusion.

After a moment she raised worried eyes to
him. “Hunter?”

“Hmm?”

“You will behave respectfully toward her,
won’t you?”

“I promise, monkey,” he said fondly.

*

Margaret was harried by everyone but
Jennifer from the time she opened her eyes that morning. Denise and
Florence had learned of the forthcoming wedding the previous
evening, but their father he told them not to mention it until
Margaret had a chance to get over the excitement.

Denise sincerely doubted that ‘excitement’
would described Margaret’s feelings on the matter and she was first
to reach her sister’s room with tea and biscuits.

“I’m happy for you, Margaret,” Denise said,
setting the tray on the small table near the window. “I think
Hunter Maguire is a fine man.”

“Or a fool,” Margaret returned heatedly.

Turning from the table, tea cup in hand,
Denise raised her eyebrows, but not in surprise. “He is not the man
who left his mark on you, Maggie,” she said softly but firmly.

Margaret looked startled for a moment,
wondering if her sister was referring to more than the scar she
bore. Shrugging into a pink robe trimmed with matching eyelet lace,
she crossed the room and sat in one of the small chairs Denise had
pulled up to the table.

“I’m happy that you have someone to love,
also,” Denise said. “I think life would be painful without a
special someone to love.”

Margaret snorted at the concept and stared
at her sister suspiciously. “Do you now?”

The younger woman nodded, suddenly intent on
staring at the bottom of her cup. “We’ve never had anyone to talk
with us about the kind of…loving that I think you’re worried about,
Mag. But you mustn’t think that being with Hunter in…physical love
will be…unpleasant.”

Margaret laughed caustically. “And you're an
authority?”

Denise blushed shyly, having previously
never had conversations of this nature with any of her sisters.
“Sometimes Tim becomes very bold,” she said. “But, frankly, Maggie,
when he touches me, I like it.”

“Denise,” Maggie gasped, utterly astounded
that the girl was so brazen.

“We don’t do anything wrong," Denise replied
defensively.

“You will not to be married for two
months.”

“I’m still a virgin, silly. I did want to
see if I like him touching me, though. That only makes sense.” She
leaned toward Margaret then, to whisper, “It’s so wonderful when he
touches me, Maggie.”

“You are not supposed to like it,” Margaret
snapped.

“Now, who told you that?”

There was no response to that question.

“Tim says women enjoy it, too.”

“He’s lying to you,” Margaret returned with
equal heat. “He’s telling you these things so he can get what he
wants.”

Denise got to her feet. “I will not listen
to you.”

But Margaret followed her to the door.
“There is so much for us here at Treemont, Denise. Life could be
good…quiet and organized and peaceful. If my plans bear fruit, I
shall…”

Denise whirled to face her sister. “Is that
really what you want, Maggie? A life in which you never have to
take a chance on being hurt? A life without children? Is that
really what you want?” she demanded again. “Think very carefully
about growing old and very alone here.”

Turning once again toward the door, Denise
almost collided with Florence in her haste to leave the room.
Reaching out a steadying hand, she stared at her younger sister and
offered some sage advice. “Do not listen to her, Flo,” she said
harshly. “Margaret has warped views. You do not want to think as
she does.” Without further comment Denise angrily fled the room,
leaving thirteen-year-old Florence totally confounded.

“What is she talking about, Margaret?”

Maggie waved a dismissive hand. “Forget
about her,” she said quietly, turning back to fetch her tea.
“Denise fancies herself in love.”

“And you, too!” Florence said, suddenly
animated. “I’m so excited for you. I think Hunter is
wonderful.”

“You and every other female I know,” she
muttered.

Florence’s gay smile turned into a brief
frown. But Florence was never unhappy for long. “I’ve come to help
you decide on a dress,” she announced as she skipped toward the
wardrobe. “And I’ll help you pack for your trip. Oh, Maggie,” she
said with the wistfulness only a young girl verging on womanhood
could manage. “I can’t believe you’ll be leaving us in just two
short days and you’ll be a married woman!”

Only two short, days…and a married woman.
Those days would be far too short for Maggie, also; particularly
the current one.

*

That day and the following morning sped by
as Margaret and her sisters packed trunks and cases with all of the
items she would need for her new life as Hunter’s wife. There were
the linens she had painstakingly embroidered as a young, wistful
girl, and the silver tea set that had belonged to their mother.
Denise contributed a few household goods that she had collected for
her own home but insisted that Maggie take with her; Denise’s
fiancé had a house of his own, that was also his place of business,
and she would be moving into a well-established home.

And finally came the hour that Margaret had
dreaded. She was standing at the top of the stairs, knowing her
family and a minister awaited her in the parlor. She was too proud
not to take pains with her appearance and had dressed a in pale
blue dress with a high collar and lace bodice. The same lace graced
the long tubular sleeves and the hem of her skirt. Denise had swept
her long, heavy hair loosely back off her face and secured the
curls in two sections, allowing the longer lengths to fall past her
shoulders, adding tiny blue flowers to both sides. Denise had
thought her sister would balk at the style, preferring instead to
have her long hair partly covering the scar on her face. But
Margaret was long past the point of trying to hide.

As she hesitated on the landing, Margaret
looked down to see her father waiting at the bottom of the stairs,
a nervous smile on his face and his hand extended upward. ”Come
along, my dear,” he said. “We are waiting.”

She took her time, gripping the banister as
she went because her knees felt slightly weak. When Margaret
reached the last step, she placed her hand in her father’s.

"Margaret,” he said, almost sighing. “You
are as lovely as your dear mother.” He smiled warmly. “Do you think
she will forgive me if I say you are even lovelier?”

Margaret wanted to be angry with him for his
part in this, for not sending Hunter away so that she could live in
peace with her family and remain with her horses. But she could
not. Not today, her last full day at Treemont. She simply loved him
too much. “Thank you, Papa,” she said. “You lie so sweetly."

Margaret had told herself time and time
again over the past two days that her father had done as he felt
best and she could not accuse him of meanness or of not caring for
her welfare. That thought had served to dim her indignation…with
Alastair, at least; Hunter Maguire was another story. The moment
she entered the parlor on her father’s arm and saw her future
husband standing there looking confident, and devilishly handsome,
her resentment returned full force. He, after all, had been the one
to coerce her father into agreeing with this arrangement.

Hunter turned, as did the rest of the
family, when he heard the approaching footsteps of his host and his
bride. He found himself drawing in a deep breath, which his lungs
refused to release. What man could notice a small pink scar when
there was such total beauty to behold? In truth, Margaret was
breathtakingly lovely. Once he found a way to appease her fears and
overcome her stubbornness, Hunter knew that he would be a very
fortunate man. He remembered the love of life and living that she
had possessed as a girl, and he would see to it that her former
happiness returned to her, ten-fold.

Here was woman in all her glory. Here was
the summation of all his hopes and dreams. Here was a woman so
delicate and lovely that he could not get enough of staring at her.
And here, also, was the vulnerable girl who did not yet understand
what being a woman was about. Here was a woman who would need his
assurance and understanding and loving in order for them to achieve
their full potential as partners. Every single fiber of her being
radiated some special kind of sensual warmth into him, deep inside
him, as no other woman had ever done, and he would have it all. One
day, Maggie, he thought.

As her father led her forward, Hunter smiled
at her, then took the delicate, gloved hand that trembled slightly
at his touch. And then they were turning together to face the
minister and hear his words.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…”

CHAPTER 12

Anna, with the help of Denise and Florence,
had grudgingly outdone herself in preparing the wedding feast.

Margaret noted that a fresh young turkey had
been sacrificed for the occasion, and she felt that was fitting. It
fell in line with her own thoughts of being the sacrificial
lamb.