Undercover Bride (17 page)

The next day, Maggie headed for the dressmaker’s shop to drop off the fabric she’d purchased from the dry goods store. After his initial outburst, Garrett had made no more mention of the bills, and things had returned to normal between them that morning at breakfast. Apparently he didn’t hold grudges. Not like her father used to do… She blew out her breath. But would Garrett pay his debts with stolen money?
Oh God, please no!

Mrs. Button greeted her with a mouthful of pins.

“I was hoping you’d have time to make some nightgowns for Linc’s grandmother,” Maggie said.

The seamstress nodded and quickly finished pinning up the hem on a skirt.

“Will next week be soon enough?” Mrs. Button said, stabbing a pin back into the pincushion.

“That will be fine,” Maggie said. She set the bolts of cotton on the table.

“While you’re here, we can do a fitting for your wedding dress.”

Maggie had neither the time nor inclination to try it on, but the dressmaker insisted.

“It won’t take but a few minutes, and it will save you a trip later.”

Refusing to take no for an answer, Mrs. Button rose and vanished into the back of the store. She reappeared a moment later carrying a white satin gown.

Maggie’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. It was a simple, yet elegant gown, and the fitted bodice was trimmed with white crystal beads and faux pearls. A slight bustle in back fell from a large satin bow, and the sleeves were puffed on top and tapered to the wrists.

She gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

Mrs. Button looked pleased. “Try it on and I’ll measure the hem.” She ushered Maggie into a curtained area that served as a dressing room.

After Maggie stepped out of her skirt and pulled off her shirtwaist, Mrs. Button helped her into the gown. The satin slid down the length of her body like a soothing cool breeze.

Every detail, from the delicate lace at the neckline to the fitted sleeves and flared ruffles at her wrists, was exquisite.

Mrs. Button laced up the back and fussed with the skirt until it was draped to her satisfaction. She then lifted a wedding veil off a hook and pinned it in place upon Maggie’s head.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Maggie stared at herself in the mirror. She looked and felt like she was floating on a cloud. Never had she worn anything so elegant.

The satin fabric felt soft and smooth to her touch, and whispered with her every move. She imagined herself walking down the aisle and into the arms of the man she loved. Startled by the vision of blue eyes that suddenly came to mind, she quickly turned away from the mirror.

“Everything all right?” Mrs. Button asked with a worried frown.

“Yes, I just didn’t expect the dress to look so—”

“Perfect on you?” The dressmaker gave a dimpled smile and pressed her hands together. “You make a beautiful bride.” She separated the draperies hanging at the doorway for privacy and stepped out of the small confined area. “Come and I’ll pin up the hem.”

Maggie lifted the skirt and ducked through the opening.

“Stand on the stool,” Mrs. Button said, indicating a four-legged one in the center of the room next to her worktable.

Maggie inched her skirt to just above her ankles and stepped onto the stool. Mrs. Button grabbed her cloth measuring tape and pincushion and dropped to her knees.

“It looks like we need to take up a good two inches,” she mumbled around the pins in her mouth.

Still shaken by her thoughts, Maggie held herself rigid and tried not to think or feel. Silly schoolgirl dreams about love and marriage had no place in her life. Certainly she had no right to feel anything toward Garrett Thomas.

She curled her hands into balls by her side. Mustn’t think about the blue eyes staring back at her. Or the crooked smile or…

She blinked twice, but the vision refused to go away. With a start she realized it wasn’t her imagination. It really was Garrett Thomas standing outside Mrs. Button’s window, gazing back at her.

Something intense flared in his eyes—not anger but admiration and something else she dared not name. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world, and at that moment, she believed that what he saw was real.

Maggie?

Garrett stepped closer to the window to peer inside. His pulse quickened, and it was all he could do to catch his breath. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe the way she looked in her wedding gown, all soft and dewy-eyed. She looked like an angel.

It shocked him to realize he’d memorized every plane and angle of her face. Beneath the wedding veil her hair held golden highlights, but he also knew that the shifting light would turn it a radiant auburn at day’s end. Just as the sapphire of her eyes as she watched him through the window would later pale to robin’s-egg blue on nothing more than a whim.

Stunned by the overwhelming feelings that assailed him, he was momentarily riveted to the spot. He’d only known her for a few weeks, but already she’d worked her way into his heart. How was such a thing possible?

Her smiles commanded his dreams. Her laughter seemed to echo, even from the metal he pounded into shape in his workshop.

Nothing had gone as planned. He’d never intended to have feelings for another woman. Losing Katherine had been too painful. Her death devastated him. He’d vowed never again to put himself through that much pain and grief and sorrow.

A marriage based on mutual respect was safe and sane. A marriage based on love was not. That’s why he’d picked out a wife through a mail-order-bride catalog. That seemed safe enough.

What were the chances of falling in love with a woman picked at random, sight unseen? None. Absolutely none. And that’s how he had wanted it.

It took every bit of strength he possessed to finally pull away from the window. Even then, he had trouble walking away, though he knew he must. He needed time to think, to organize his thoughts. Dare he take a chance on love again? Did he even have a choice?

S
omething had changed. Maggie sensed it the moment Garrett walked into the house later that day.

He made no mention of seeing her in her wedding gown. Nor did he say anything about the bills she ran up, but she noticed him watching her intently at times, noticed a softening in the eyes that regarded her, heard a disturbing gentleness of voice whenever he said her name.

After the children had been bathed and tucked in bed, he invited her to join him outside to look at the nighttime sky. His attentive manner told her he had something more than stars on his mind.

Rikker’s voice echoed in her mind. “
You better watch your step.
” But Garrett looked anything but dangerous tonight—at least not in the way that Rikker meant.

“It’s a beautiful evening,” he said as if he sensed her hesitation.

“Let me get a wrap,” she said.

She hurried down the hall and tiptoed quietly into the children’s room. The light was out, but she was able to locate her shawl.

Out of habit, she reached into her false pocket. Her holstered weapon was loaded and ready. Not that she thought she’d need it.

“Are you coming to bed?” Elise asked.

“Soon, pumpkin. Soon.”

Wrapping the shawl around her shoulders, she left the room.

Garrett held the door open as she walked out to the front porch. He startled her by reaching for her hand.

He must have felt her stiffen because the light from the open door revealed his questioning look. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. If only his touch wasn’t playing havoc with her senses. Her heart thudded, and suddenly she had trouble drawing air into her lungs.

He reached back to close the door. With a slight nod, he led her down the steps but didn’t release her hand until they reached the front gate. Just then a shooting star arced across the northern sky.

His soothing voice washed over her like a gentle wave. “Some people believe that a shooting star foretells good fortune.”

She shivered. Why did he have to mention the word
fortune
? “Some people also believe they bring bad luck.”

“I like my version better,” he said. The light from the house reflected in his eyes, and the slight desert breeze ruffled his hair. “Look, there’s another one.”

She looked up just in time to see the tail end of a meteor fade away. He was right; it was beautiful even without the moon. The stars sparkled like diamonds scattered across a silky black sky.

She couldn’t get over the weather. She’d grabbed a wrap out of habit, but didn’t really need it. It was like summer, but without the humidity of the East.

“That’s Orion,” he said. “And that’s the Big Dipper.” He pointed out several more constellations, some she’d never heard of.

“How do you know so much about the stars?” she asked.

“Not much to do in the stockades but look up.” She waited for him to continue, but he changed the subject. “You said you liked it here in the Territory,” he said. “A lot of people don’t.”

No doubt, he was thinking of Katherine. “I didn’t think I would either, at first. I heard so many horror stories.” Arizona had appeared bleak and desolate from the train window, but she had since come to appreciate the ever-shifting light across the desert sands and mountains. No artist could capture such splendor. “I was also a bit nervous about the Indian problem.”

“I won’t lie to you. There are still some small Apache bands causing trouble in parts of the Territory. But most of the Indians abide by the treaties and are peaceful.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said. “Crazy as it sounds, I even like the weather.”

He laughed. “You may change your mind come summer.” He fell silent for a moment before asking, “And the children? You like them, too?”

“I love them both,” she said with meaning. Somehow those two little pumpkins had stolen her heart, and there wasn’t a blasted thing she could do about it. “Why all the questions?” she asked.

“I just want to make certain,” he replied, his smooth baritone voice wrapping around her like a velvet ribbon.

She furrowed her brow. “Make certain about what?”

Even in the darkness she could see the flash of his teeth as he smiled. “You’ll see. Let’s go inside. I have something for you.”

She couldn’t help but be curious. “You’ve done enough for me already. The check for my family—”

“I was glad to help,” he said.

“You didn’t sound glad last night,” she said.

“I take the blame for what happened,” he said, sounding apologetic. “We’ve never discussed money or budgets. You had no way of knowing our limitations.”

She stared at him in a mass of confusion. Budgets? He was talking budgets? A man who supposedly stole seventy thousand dollars?

Rikker had nearly convinced her she was wrong, that she had let personal feelings get in the way. But what if she was right? What if the agency that was usually so methodical had made a mistake? What if they had their sights set on the wrong man?

The thought froze in her brain, and she quickly banished it. The Pinkerton Detective Agency didn’t make mistakes. Thinking him innocent was only wishful thinking on her part.

Momentarily lost in her reverie, she was startled when he took her by the hand again. “Come,” he said softly.

They walked side by side along the gravel walkway to the porch. Once inside the house, he released her and reached into his pocket for a small square box.

She stared at the box, and her mouth went dry. “That’s not—”

“I think it’s time we made our betrothal official. So there’s no confusion.”

It was all she could do to find her voice. “I’m not sure what you mean. What confusion?”

He chuckled. “You haven’t noticed the way other men look at you?”

She blushed and shook her head. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

He handed her the box and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hopefully you’ll know what to say when you open it.”

Fingering the small box, she lifted the lid. The gold ring etched with ornate scrolls took her breath away. “It’s… it’s beautiful.” She looked up to find him watching her intently. “You made this?”

He nodded. “It was originally my mother’s thimble. My grandmother brought it all the way from England.”

Obviously the ring meant a lot to him, and she was at a loss for words.

He took the box from her and pulled out the shiny band. Stuffing the box back in his pocket, he held the ring between his thumb and forefinger.

“I think this is where I’m supposed to recite some poem or say something halfway intelligent. But the only poem that comes to mind at the moment is a silly nursery rhyme I used to recite to Elise about a couple of children tumbling down a hill with a pail of water. That hardly seems to suit the occasion.”

She couldn’t look away from him even if she’d wanted to; she couldn’t even breathe.

He continued, “As for saying something intelligent… Miss Maggie Taylor, would you do me the honor of wearing this ring as a symbol of our betrothal?”

She moistened her lips. Things were going exactly as planned. Accepting his ring was her job; it was part of the methodical plan Pinkerton had devised. If only the object wasn’t a family heirloom. If only she didn’t feel like a criminal for accepting it.