Rafe's Redemption (38 page)

Rafe’s jaw hardened, but Maggie heard his swift intake of breath, felt a shudder run through him. “Well, you were wrong. Money doesn’t make people happy. I would rather have been hungry.” He tugged Maggie out the doors, into the bright sunshine.

“Wait!” His mother dashed from the courthouse, her small trembling body blocking his large inflexible one.

Determination burned in her eyes. “Raphael, I was young. I made a mistake. Several in fact. Not a day has passed that I didn’t regret sending you away.” She leaned close as if to clasp his shoulders, but he reeled back, and walked away.

“Please, son,” she called. “Haven’t you ever done something you regret?”

Rafe jerked to a halt, making Maggie wobble on her puffy feet. She clutched his arm to steady herself, prepared for him to unleash verbal hell on his mother.

Instead, his expression crumbled, and his face paled.

Before her stood the desolate man she’d met in Cougar Creek.

A nger streaked through Maggie like lightning. How dare the woman place guilt on him? Wifely retribution loosened Maggie’s tongue and she wheeled around, ready to tell Mrs. Pierson just exactly how the cow ate the cabbage.

But Maggie froze.

Tears dripped unheeded down the woman’s face as she sobbed openly, her hand still reaching for Rafe.

Maggie looked from mother to son. Rafe’s gaze fell to the ground as he pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked moisture from his lashes.

She snapped her mouth shut, swallowing the incensed words. This fight could not be hers, no matter how much she wanted to rage in his defense. This time she would do what he’d always requested. She’d let him defend himself—if he so chose. The fight, or the forgiveness, had to be his decision.

He turned, the pain so raw in his eyes Maggie caught her breath.

“Rafe…” What could she say? Words couldn’t make this better. So she reached for him.

Pulling her close, he leaned his forehead to hers. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “I understand regrets better than anyone, but…” A rough swallow broke his words. “But I don’t know if I can trust her. What do you think?”

Maggie melted from the depth of his faith in her. She cupped his cheek and entwined their fingers. “It’s your choice. We can walk away right now, or we can offer an olive branch. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.” He held her gaze, and she watched a range of emotion cloud his eyes. Finally his lips grazed her brow.

“Thank you.”

He squeezed her hand, then shifted inch by inch until he faced his mother. “Mother, maybe you could, uh…

maybe we could talk…” His nervous gaze darted to Maggie, pleading for help.

“Perhaps you could come to luncheon tomorrow,” Maggie offered.

Rafe gave a slow nod. “But only if you want to.” His tone was cautious.

“Yes!” Mrs. Pierson mopped her face with the handkerchief. “I can do that. Thank you.” Maggie breathed a sigh of relief and gave her an encouraging nod. “It’s the Monroe House, across from Lafayette Park.” She peeked at Rafe.

Hope filled his eyes. If his mother didn’t show up tomorrow, Maggie would hunt the woman down and release all the righteous anger she’d just buried.

“I’ll be there.” Mrs. Pierson smiled, making familiar creased dimples run down her cheeks. “Thank you so much.” She tentatively reached for Maggie, then wrapped her in a tight embrace. “You gave me my son back,” she whispered. “I’ll never forget that.”

Maggie’s eyes filled, but she just nodded, knowing Rafe wasn’t ready to commit to complete forgiveness, hoping he and his mother could find a way to heal.

“A ll right, well…” He pulled Maggie free, and placed his hand in the small of her back. “We should go.

Tomorrow then.”

“Yes. I’ll see you at noon.” Mrs. Pierson smiled.

Rafe helped Maggie down the steps and called to a carriage driver. A fter lifting her inside, he settled them on the velvet bench and untied the strings to her plumed bonnet, then set it on the cushion.

“Better?” he asked, raising her skirts to her knees, allowing the breeze to circulate.

“Yes.” She dropped her head to the back of the seat, craning her neck to watch him. “But what about you?” Would he regret his decision?

He thumbed the felt hat from his head and tugged his starched neckline. “I’ll be fine once I can take this damn collar off.”

“No, I mean—”

“I know.” He sighed and slid his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “I want so much to believe her…” For a minute, his fading voice sounded like the little boy Maggie knew was hurting inside her strong husband.

Love and devotion welled inside her to the point of drowning.

“Then you should believe. She had no reason to seek you out. She wants for nothing—except her son.” A nd Maggie knew he had it in him to forgive. It would just take time.

Rafe blinked several times. “Do you believe her?” Maggie nodded, the pain on Mrs. Pierson’s face, in her voice, wasn’t contrived. “I do. I think you and she have a second chance. We have a couple of months before we leave for Colorado, enough time for you to get to know your mother again. A nd hopefully…” She couldn’t say it. It would break his heart.

“If it doesn’t work out, at least I tried. I can live with that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Because I’ve got you. I love you, you know. A nd I love this little girl, too.” His palm caressed Maggie’s swollen stomach.

She covered his hand with hers, anxious to lift his mood. “How do you know it’s a girl? I think it’s a boy.” Rafe grinned. “Maybe one of each.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. True, she was big as a house, but that didn’t mean twins. Did it? “Don’t even say such a thing. How would Nettie take care of two babies next year when we all go to Paris?”

He held out his hands, flipping them back and forth as if checking them for malformations. “What about me?

Don’t you think I can hold a baby with these two big hands?”

“Well…” Maggie nudged him teasingly with her shoulder. “I do remember how you held little Paul.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” He gave a crooked grin.

She smoothed her thumb over his mouth. “That was the moment I knew you’d make a wonderful father.

There was so much tenderness on your face…” He dropped his head to the back of the seat, their noses brushing as they shared a smile. “Because I was wondering what it would be like to hold my own son or daughter.” He squeezed her hand and winked. “I was also wondering what it would be like to be married to such a ferocious woman.”

Maggie lifted her head. “What do you mean by that?”

“Humph. A s if you don’t know.” He settled her into the crook of his arm. “But you surprised me a while ago.

I expected you to run to my defense with Mother, but you controlled yourself.”

Maggie bit her lip. “Mmmhmm.” Maybe telling him how close he was to the truth could wait until another day. A fter all, she did manage to hold her tongue.

“You made me proud, sweetheart.” He heaved a long sigh. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.

Didn’t Nettie say she was making a cake for dessert?”

“Yes, but you know she’ll make you wait until after supper. Besides, a nap sounds better than cake.” Rafe chuckled. “To you maybe.”

Maggie walked her fingers down his chest, lingering at his waistband, circling his buttons. “Not to you?” She pouted her lip.

“Oh.” His eyes widened, then darkened with understanding. “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind escorting you to bed. For a nap, of course.”

“Of course.” Her heart fluttered at the thought of what he’d do to her.

He nodded, but a quirk lifted his mouth before he brushed hers with a kiss. “Then after supper I need to answer Cecil’s letter.”

Mention of their friend made Maggie eager for the summer to be over. “I can’t wait to see him and Owl, to get back to Colorado.”

Rafe frowned. “I thought you were excited about your upcoming gallery show.”

“I am.” She patted his hand. “But I’m excited to see our new house, too. Is Cecil sure it will be finished by the time we arrive?”

“The men already started the roof. It’ll be done. I can’t have my two girls getting snow on their pretty heads, now can I?” He caressed her stomach again.

“You’ve got your heart set on a girl then?” Maggie rubbed the knotted little foot from her ribs. Surely this stubborn child was a boy.

Rafe shrugged as the carriage stopped in front of the house. “Either way, I’ll be happy. I’ve got the one girl that matters.” The words wisped her ear before he opened the small door.

He jumped from the conveyance and lifted Maggie to ground.

“There you two are,” Nettie scolded as they walked into the kitchen. “Is the trial over? Is that man in jail where he can’t hurt my girl?”

“It’s all over.” Maggie smoothed the woman’s wrinkled brow.

Nettie pulled Maggie into a motherly embrace and kissed her cheek. “I swear, I’m jittery about being away from you after all these evil happenings.” She clucked like a hen, and removed Maggie’s cloak.

“I’ll never let anything happen to her.” Rafe squeezed the old woman’s shoulder. “I swear.”

“I know, Mr. Rafe. I know she’s safe with you. But I still worry. Can’t help it. I love her.” He wrapped his arms around both of them and brushed his lips over Maggie’s forehead. “That makes two us. A nd the three of us make a force to be reckoned with.”

A lump lodged in Maggie’s throat, happiness that she couldn’t

swallow,

almost

couldn’t

believe.

A fter

everything they’d been through, here she stood in with the people she loved the most.

“Mmm.” Rafe sniffed and edged closer to the food, then lifted the lids from various pots. “Do I smell cake?”

“You do, but you and your sweet tooth just have to wait.” Nettie shooed him away from the table. “It’s too close to supper now.”

Maggie laughed out loud. “Told you so.” She stuck her tongue out at Rafe’s outrageous groan, then pressed a kiss to Nettie’s wrinkled cheek. “I want to take a quick nap anyway.”

Capturing Rafe’s hand, Maggie led him from the kitchen and up the curved stairwell, but he dawdled a step behind. She could feel his gaze burn through her clothes, scorching her skin as she climbed ahead of him.

“You know, I miss seeing your ass in britches.” His low voice rumbled with lust against her lobe as he pressed behind her. He ushered her inside the bedroom, then kicked the carved oak door shut. “But I have to say, a dress holds a certain advantage.”

He nuzzled her neck, sending chills down her spine as his clever hands fisted the yards of material, raising her skirts until he touched damp, bare flesh through the slit drawers.

Desire spiraled through her body, sending a shock of need to her cunny, a need that had only grown stronger since their first kiss. A need that would last until she drew her last breath.

“Oh?” Her breath caught in her throat and need pulsed through her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him down for a long, wet kiss, tracing the dimples she loved so much with her tongue.

“Uh-huh. I’m a man in favor of dresses.” He worked the buttons on her bodice, then dropped onto the mattress and pulled her down beside him. Teasing gone, his eyes filled with wonder. “Do you know how much you mean to me?” His fingers trailed down her face. “You’re so beautiful. You took my heart the first moment I saw you.” He bent his head as he bared her full breasts. “I love you,” he whispered. “More than you’ll ever know.” She gasped at the feel of his mouth on her nipple, a biting snap of pleasure that sent shivers down her spine.

“I believe I have some idea,” she purred. “I’m somewhat fond of you also.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I paid five hundred dollars for such a sassy-mouthed woman.”

Maggie tugged off his shirt. “Haven’t you figured out what to do with me yet?”

A hot look hooded his eyes as he eased his hand between her legs and grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, I know exactly what to do with you.”

About the Author

A fter trying several careers—everything from a beautician to a dump truck driver—Jennifer finally returned to her first love, writing. Maybe it was all those Clint Eastwood movies she watched growing up, but in her opinion there is no better read than a steamy western historical.

Married to her very own hero, she lives on fifteen acres along with two beautiful daughters, two elderly horses, and two hyper dogs.

During the summer she does Civil War re-enacting and has found it a great research tool, not to mention she has continued appreciation for her microwave and hot water heater.

Visit Jennifer Jakes at

www.jenniferjakes.com

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