Spring Blossom Read online

  “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 turn
ed 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.

  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 re
spected 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’?”