Rage of Passion (12 page)

Things were going along fine when a phone call came for her one day while Janet and Gabe were out. It was from her attorney in San Antonio, telling her that Dennis had initiated the custody suit. And as she'd dreaded, he'd named Gabe as her lover, claiming that she was unfit to raise a child when she was openly living with a man in an illicit fashion.

Maggie was devastated. She didn't mention it to the family, but Gabe seemed to sense something was wrong. He watched her as they went to get Becky's pup, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful.

“He's filed, hasn't he?” he asked under his breath when Becky cuddled the pup on the way back home.

“Yes,” she said miserably, glancing over the seat of his Lincoln to the happy little girl in the back seat. “I don't know how to tell her.”

“Leave that to me,” he said gently. “I'll handle it. Just relax, Miss Turner. You're going to be fine. So is Becky.” And he began to whistle as if he hadn't a care in the world. But Maggie was beginning to understand him now. And she knew he had something up his sleeve.

Becky carried her collie into the house with almost comical care, cuddling it and telling it not to be afraid. It was a sable-and-white female, and Becky was on top of the world. She showed the tiny animal to the whole household, delighted when Janet asked to hold it and cuddled it warmly. She could hardly bear to put it down long enough to have supper. It was fascinating, the change that small animal was making in the shy, withdrawn child. In fact, Maggie mused, watching her, the change Becky and Gabe had made in each other was amazing. The cold, taciturn man and the shy child had lit candles each for the other. They were both changing, day by day; opening up, warming. Janet had mentioned it to Maggie, who was seeing it at even closer range.

Becky walked up to Gabe when it was time for her to go to bed and looked at him with worshiping eyes.

“I wish you were my father,” she said with such wistfulness in her voice that Gabe's face actually softened.

He hesitated for a minute, studying the delicate little face with a curious, searching expression. He glanced at Maggie and seemed to come to a decision about something.

He went down on one knee, so that he could see Becky's eyes. “I'm not always going to be pleasant,” he said matter-of-factly, talking to her as if she were an adult. “I have a temper. I lose it. Sometimes I get impatient with people, and there are times when I want to be alone. I may hurt your feelings sometimes without realizing it. You might wish you'd never come here.”

Becky nodded, clutching the puppy to her chest. “I have bad days, too,” she said very somberly. “But I like you even when you're mad.”

He laughed softly. “I like you, too. So how do you feel about staying here?”

“You mean, like a vacation?”

He shook his head. “I mean permanently.”

Becky stared at him while Maggie held her breath. “Would you be my daddy?” she asked softly.

Gabe's jaw tautened. “Yes.”

Becky nibbled on her lower lip. There was a little fear left. But even as Maggie watched, it seemed to drain away. “My daddy was bad to me,” she whispered. “He made me afraid. But I know you wouldn't ever hurt me.”

“Oh, God,” he breathed huskily, emotion in his voice, his whole look. “No, I'd never hurt you, precious.”

Tears spilled over Becky's eyes. “Oh, Uncle Gabe, I love you!”

She threw her free arm around the big man's neck and nuzzled her little face against his. Gabe held her, but he didn't speak. Not for a long time.

“I'll take care of you, Becky,” he said at last, his voice oddly taut. “You and your mama. Nobody will ever hurt you again.”

Becky kissed his hard cheek. “I'll take care of you, too,” she promised, smiling. She drew back and frowned. “Uncle Gabe, your eyes are wet.”

“I guess they are,” he said without embarrassment, and grinned. “It isn't every day that a man gets a new daughter.”

“Could I call you Father?” she asked.

“Anytime at all.”

Becky glanced at her mother, whose eyes were also a little wet. “Can we stay with my new daddy?” she asked softly.

“Darling, of course we can,” Maggie said with feeling. She met Gabe's eyes. “Of course we can!”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Mother!” he called.

Janet came out of the living room in a rush. “What is it! Is something wrong? I was just watching a movie—”

“Maggie and I are getting married,” he told her without preamble. “How about arranging everything?”

Janet looked as if she might faint. “What?”

“We're getting married,” Gabe said curtly.

“We really are,” Maggie assured her, smiling. She turned to Becky. “Darling, go on up to bed, and I'll be right there to tuck you in. Oh, the dog…”

“It's all right,” Janet said. “I had Jennie put a nice wooden box with a blanket by the bed.” She smiled warmly. “Becky, I'm going to be your grannie!”

“I'll be so good,” Becky promised, going close to her grandmother. “You'll be proud of me, I promise.”

“I always was,” Janet laughed. She stared from Maggie to Gabe, all smiles. “What a delightful surprise!”

“Surprise, my eye,” Gabe said disgustedly, glaring at her. “But you got your own way. As usual.” Janet's pleasure dissipated a little with that cutting remark. Gabe brushed by Maggie on his way back upstairs. “We'll talk later,” he said. “Come on, Becky, I'll go up with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Becky said smartly, and ruined it all with a large, mischievous grin. She cuddled her puppy and giggled as it licked her cheek.

“Oh, Maggie, I'm delighted.” Janet sighed, hugging her. “If you knew how your mother and I hoped for this day.”

“It isn't all what it seems,” Maggie said gently. “It's mostly for Becky. Gabe says I wouldn't have a prayer in court as things stand. Dennis has remarried.”

“I know. But it will work out for the best. Really it will. I only wish my son could forgive me for the past,” she added wistfully. “Maybe it will happen someday.”

“Of course it will,” Maggie assured her. “Janet, am I doing the right thing?” she added, glancing worriedly up the stairs. “For Becky, of course it is. But I…don't love Gabe. And he doesn't love me.”

“Love comes after marriage sometimes,” Janet said. “Give it time, darling. Just give it time.”

Maggie nodded, but she was worried, and not just about the distant future. Gabriel was going to want a physical commitment from her. And despite the desire she felt for him, she wasn't at all sure she was going to be able to give in to him—marriage or no marriage.

She occupied her mind by taking a minute to call Trudie in London, with Gabe's permission, to tell her the news.

Her boss was delighted for her, even though she hated losing her only employee. She made Maggie promise to write her all about it, then launched into delightful details of her European trip. She added that it must be nice to marry a man who could allow his intended transatlantic phone calls.

Maggie agreed that it was, but all the while she was talking about how wonderful it would be for Becky, she worried about what she was walking into. Gabe had been so good to Becky, and to Maggie. He deserved more than gratitude. He deserved a wife who could love him and take care of him and be everything he needed in bed. Would she be able to live up to all that, ever? Or would he regret his impulsive decision to marry her?

Chapter Seven

G
abe had to go out with one of his men to see about a sick bull—a purebred one, apparently, from the worried look on his face—and he still wasn't back when Janet went up to bed, humming delightedly.

Maggie curled up on the sofa in the living room, tucking the full skirt of her candy-striped shirtwaist dress around her slender legs and bare feet. She was halfheartedly watching television when he returned, and her eyes were drawn immediately to the sight of him standing in the doorway.

He always looked different when he was in casual clothes. His denim jeans clung lovingly to the powerful muscles of his long legs. The chambray shirt outlined every hard contour of his chest and arms. The wide-brimmed hat he wore gave his face enticing shadows, and the boots made him even taller than he actually was. Maggie could never get enough of just looking at him. He was so virile, such a—a
man.

“I hoped you'd still be up,” he said, closing the door behind him. As an afterthought, he locked it, then, with a wicked smile, stood watching Maggie's disturbed expression as he shucked off the thick leather gloves he was wearing and tossed them aside, along with his hat. “Nervous of me, Margaret?” he taunted gently.

She felt her breath lodge in her throat as he came closer. “A little,” she said. Why try to deny it? Those pale, narrowed eyes saw altogether too much.

“Why? Because I locked the door?”

“Everyone's gone upstairs…to bed,” she faltered.

He stopped just in front of her and searched her green eyes quietly. “I don't want to be interrupted while we're talking.”

“What are we going to talk about?” she asked hesitantly.

He pursed his lips and reached for a cigarette. “Why you're afraid of me, for one thing.”

“I'm just nervous,” she corrected. “Not afraid.”

“They're usually one and the same.” He went to the television and switched it off, then came back and dropped down beside her, pulling an ashtray forward on the chrome and glass coffee table before he leaned back.

He smoked his cigarette in silence for a minute, and she began to relax when he didn't seem intent on pouncing. She hadn't realized just how strung-up she was until then.

“That's better,” he said, glancing at her. “Now, suppose you tell me what's got you so upset.”

She clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “Dennis has accused me of being an unfit mother. He's stating in his custody suit that I'm having an affair with you.”

“Well, honey, we knew he was going to, didn't we?” he asked reasonably.

“Yes, but he's done it! It will make headlines, don't you see?” she asked, her eyes wide with apprehension. “Janet will be hurt!”

His face hardened. “You overestimate my mother's capacity for pain.”

“And you underestimate it,” she countered. “She's a sensitive woman, and her health doesn't seem all that good, Gabe. I don't want to do this to her. Becky's so young, she won't even understand it, but other people will.”

He studied the tip of his cigarette. “It bothers you, what other people think?”

“I know you don't care what they say about you,” she muttered. “But I'm not a man.”

“Thank God,” he drawled. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth and took another draw, stretching lazily. “I'm tired,” he said unexpectedly. “I hadn't realized how lazy I've gotten since I've been hanging around the house this past week.”

“You, lazy?” She laughed. “That'll be the day.”

He draped a long arm across the back of the sofa and stared down at her. The shirt pulled taut across his chest, revealing a patch of dark skin and thick hair at the wide opening. Maggie averted her eyes.

“I like that,” he said under his breath. “I like the way you react to me. You can't even hide it. I can see your heart beating from here.”

She swallowed a surge of panic. “You're a very attractive man,” she said evasively.

“No, not really,” he replied. “Just to you, I expect. But as long as that interest is exclusively for me, I won't complain.” He finished the cigarette and stretched back toward the arm of the sofa, his powerful body covering almost all of its length except for where Maggie was sitting.

“Did you mean it, what you told Becky?” she asked, turning her head to look at him.

“Of course I meant it,” he replied. “She needs a stable environment, a family, a place to grow up without pressure. She can have that here. I can give her damn near anything she wants.”

“She loves you,” Maggie said gently.

“I know. It's a pretty big responsibility, being loved,” he replied, leaning forward to crush out his cigarette. “That's why I was honest with her. There will be bad times as there are in any relationship. She had to choose for herself.”

“She's so different around you,” Maggie told him, standing up and staring down at him. “She's always been frightened of men. But she's opened up with you. She laughs and plays—she's not the same shy little girl I brought here. And all this has happened in just over a week.”

“She wasn't happy,” Gabe replied. “She told me. She was afraid her father would take her away from you. Now she's not.” He grinned at her. “I told her what I'd do to him if he tried.”

She relaxed even more, her weary eyes seeking his. “You told everybody we were getting married.”

“Yes, I did, didn't I?” He stretched, easing his back against the arm of the sofa. His pale eyes narrowed, searching her slender body in the colorful dress. “Come here.”

She hesitated. He looked…very sexy like that. Dangerously male.

“Come on,” he coaxed. “I'll let you play with my chest.”

She colored feverishly and glared at him. “Of all the masculine arrogance I've ever seen…”

“You haven't seen anything, yet,” he laughed softly. He reached up unexpectedly with his good arm and jerked, landing her squarely on top of him with such delicious force that it winded her. He held her there with both hands on her waist, immobilizing her with devastating ease.

“Let go of me,” she muttered, panting as she tried to free herself.

“Stop wiggling, Maggie,” he whispered at her ear, “or I'm going to have to do something drastic.”

All at once, as her hips came into contact with his, she began to feel what he was talking about. Stiffening, she tried to move away, but he held her there with one large, lean hand at the base of her spine. After a moment her eyes came up to meet his, finding there a wry acknowledgment, and a kind of quiet pride.

“I'm more of a man with you than I've ever been with a woman,” he murmured, holding her shocked gaze. “You can arouse me by walking through a room, for God's sake. I don't even have to touch you.”

“Isn't that…the normal thing with men?” she asked bitterly.

“Not with me, it isn't,” he replied. “I'm thirty-eight. I've reached the age when I have to work up to arousal, as a rule.”