Spring Blossom (3 page)

Taking a deep breath and forming her pink
lips into a brave smile, Maggie quietly pushed the double doors
aside, pausing in the opening only briefly as two sets of startled
male eyes turned in her direction.

Gratified when the two men rose to greet
her, Maggie swished into the room and stepped to the place to the
right of her father.

“Daughter?” he questioned.

Maggie chose to ignore his confusion as she
frowned at the table in feigned surprise. “Father,” she said
softly, “you really must speak to Anna. She has forgotten to set my
place.”

Hunter stifled laugh behind a subtle cough
while Alastair drew himself up in shock.

“Now see here, Margaret….”

Maggie merely smiled brilliantly in the face
of his obvious desire to reprimand. “Don’t worry, Papa. I shall
fetch my own place setting.” She turned and raced into the pantry
before her father had time to voice his objection.

“Perhaps it’s not my place,” Hunter offered
quietly as both men continued to stand and await her return, “but
would it be unforgiveable of me to suggest that we enjoy her
company? You did say that in a few months…”

Stymied, Alastair could only shake his head
in dismay as he plopped down onto his chair. A moment later Maggie
happily raced back into the room, plate and utensils in hand and he
found he could not deny her.

“Very well,” he muttered to no one in
particular, and Maggie’s heart lurched as she set down her burden
and graced their guest with a beaming smile.

Enjoying her daring, Hunter moved around the
table and held the back of her chair while Maggie sat in a motion
so well practiced he was amazed by its grace. And when he returned
to his own chair and sat smiling across the table at her, Maggie
knew without doubt that she had truly found her first love.

“Now we shall engage in some engrossing
conversation,” she said.

Alastair stared at her, perplexed and fell
to shaking his head yet again.

Hunter coughed suspiciously.

In fact, Maggie proved herself to be an
engaging conversationalist. Although she was still somewhere
between childhood and womanhood, she was nevertheless an
interesting table companion and a credit to her parents.

For her own part, Maggie found the strain of
maintaining an adult mien quite draining and was feeling wilted by
the time dessert was served. In truth, she would have preferred
being in her bed to struggling through more conversation. She had
already slipped a time or two and said something outrageous. The
last time, her father had scowled in her direction and she had
fallen silent until the men had been served coffee.

That was her cue.

“Well, it has been delightful,” she said,
rising to her feet and feeling gratified as both men rose in
unison. “I shall leave you to your brandy and cigars.” Seeing a
strange and unreadable expression in her father’s eyes, Maggie
experienced a moment of doubt “Am I not correct, Papa?” she asked
and knew instantly that she had spoiled her exit. Her eyes darted
to their guest. Then Maggie’s heart seemed to stop, missing only a
single beat before it began to thunder as Hunter Maguire bowed
slightly, and smiled.

“Good evening, Miss Downing,” he said in his
deep, resonant voice. “And I thank you for the pleasure of your
charming company this evening.”

Maggie was not certain how to respond to
that and felt it best not to respond at all. And so, blushing
madly, she curtsied and fled the room.

CHAPTER 3

Maggie Downing slept little that night and
what sleep she did manage to get was fitful at best. In the morning
she had no desire for food and fussed over her appearance during
the time she would normally have spent eating breakfast.

Deciding she had best not push her luck,
Maggie plaited her hair into a single braid. The style was
practical and more adult than the twin braids she normally wore,
yet not adult enough to earn her a scolding. Satisfied that her
hair would do, she donned an emerald-blue day dress that she had
been told flattered the light blue of her eyes, wishing once again
that she could wear full-length skirts. But wishing was fruitless
when it came to her father’s strict code and, feeling she passed
muster as she exited her room, made her way quietly down the
corridor toward the guest room.

And just in time!

Anna was ascending the back stairs, tray in
hand, and walking toward her. Ducking back into her own room,
Maggie closed the door all but a crack and watched as the
housekeeper knocked once on the door to Hunter’s room before
leaving the breakfast tray on the floor in the corridor. Maggie
thought it rude that their guest would not be served properly in
his room, but the priggish Anna would never enter a room occupied
by a male guest. Later she would straighten the bed but not until
Hunter Maguire was well away.

Maggie eased her head around the doorframe
and watched until the top of Ann’s head disappeared from sight.

Once she was certain the corridor was
deserted, she darted the few paces to Hunter’s room, knocked on the
door vigorously and stooped to pick up the tray of coffee and warm
cinnamon rolls.

*

Hunter groaned softly, his face half buried
in his pillow as he became aware of a knocking at the door.
Normally he was up and cheerfully greeting the dawn, the best time
of the day. But this morning he was reluctant. He cautiously opened
one eye to stare out the French doors. The sun was already high and
bright. He must have been more tired from his journeys than he
realized.

The sound came again.

No help for it; he could not lie abed all
day. Reluctantly, he turned over, propping a pillow behind his back
even as he called, “Come!”

The door opened partway and a round, smiling
face framed by wisps of white-blond hair appeared. “Are you
decent?” she asked and he laughed shortly as he ran his long lean
fingers through his hair.

“I never seem to be when you come skulking
about.”

“I am not skulking,” Maggie returned
indignantly as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind
her. “Anna left your tray and you took so long waking up that the
coffee was growing cold.” She stopped short a few steps from the
bed. “Oh! You don’t wear a night shirt!”

“No, I don’t wear a nightshirt,” he returned
wryly as he made certain the blankets covered his torso to the
waist. “You really are shameless.”

“I know,” Maggie agreed, before placing the
tray across his lap. “Are you going to look at the horses today?”
she asked as she plopped herself down on the bed beside his right
hip.

Pouring coffee from the small silver pot, he
smiled, nodding his head as he steadied the try with his free hand.
“I am.”

“I could help you choose,” she offered and
reached out to take the small piece of roll he offered.

“You fancy yourself a good judge of
horseflesh, do you?”

Maggie nodded, chewing on the roll. “There
is a prime little mare that is in foal and I don’t believe Papa
knows.” She reached for another piece of roll. “You could have two
for the price of one!”

Hunter stared at her in amazement. “Now,
that’s disloyal of you, Miss Downing,” he said sternly. “And how is
it you know that the mare is in foal and your father does not?”

“I was there when Salamander mounted her,
that is how,” she informed him with absolutely no hint of
embarrassment. “I just happened to be in the loft.”

While Hunter believed that young people
should be aware of the act of procreation, he somehow did not think
Alastair would share his views. “Is your father aware that you’ve
witnessed such things?” he asked softly.

Maggie brows arched upward. “Good heavens,
no! Papa would be scandalized.”

“And you’re not?”

Shaking her head, Maggie said, “The breeding
was a mistake, actually. The stable boys let Salamander get away
from them and, of course, once he smelled the mare, they could not
keep him away. They would have been injured if they had interfered.
Still, Papa wouldn’t be happy to know about their blunder.”

Hunter could visualize this sprite
witnessing the particular event; it was a wonder she had not fallen
headlong from the loft while she straining to see! “I don’t think
it would be fair of me to dupe your father, do you?” he asked.

Maggie shrugged her shoulders, licking a
sticky finger. “You would be saving the stable boys from a
scolding,” she returned. “Unless, of course, the breeding didn’t
take and the mare is not in foal. Then Papa would never know what
happened.”

Hunter chuckled; she was such a delightful
minx. “You had best get out of here, Miss Downing,” he said a
moment later. “I do believe you're corrupting me.”

Maggie merely shrugged.

“I’m serious, Maggie. I am about to get out
of this bed.”

Maggie flew into action then, knowing she
had over-stepped the bounds of propriety again. At the door, she
turned back. “You won’t tell Papa I was here?”

Hunter shot her a good impression of a
frown. “I’ll have to give the matter some thought.”

“You won’t!” She laughed and raced from the
room.

*

The day was bright and sunny and not overly
humid, considering the time of year. It was mild with the smell of
freshly cut grass and hay in the air mingled with the headier odors
of animals.

Hunter propped one booted foot on the lower
fence rail while his forearms rested on the upper rail of the
corral. Several mares were paraded by for his inspection. Treemont
boasted some extremely fine animals and, as a result, he was having
a difficult time choosing.

Maggie had changed into her best
forest-green riding habit, hoping Hunter would select a mare and
want to take her for jaunt. If he wanted to ride, of course, he
would need an escort; someone who knew every inch of the
plantation; herself, of course.

Coming up beside him, Maggie placed both
feet on the lower fence rail and boosted herself up before turning
her head to smile at him on a much more even level. “Hello,” she
said. “Have you decided?”

Hunter smiled before returning his attention
to the center paddock. “The roan, I think. She appears to be
healthy and strong and she has fine lines and intelligent
eyes.”

“She is not the one,” Maggie whispered.

Her father was standing to Hunter’s right.
“Good choice,” Alastair advised. “One of my finest mares and she
has already given me an excellent colt. Tired and true, she
is.”

Maggie had heard her father repeat the same
words a hundred times. “Would you like to take her out?” she asked.
“You can better judge her temperament once you have ridden
her.”

Hunter knew her game for what is was but he
played along. Besides, he enjoyed her company. “Will you join me?”
he asked and drew an immediate response; Maggie raced for the
stables.

Alastair watched her run through the open
doors and frowned. “That girl is something beyond me,” he said.
“Last night she was a perfect lady. Today she is racing around like
a hoyden. I’ve never seen her like this.”

Hunter smiled and turned his back to lean
against the wooden rails. “You have four daughters, my friend. You
had best prepare yourself, for they seem to be growing up.”

Alastair straightened away from his post and
stared at the young man as if he had gone mad. “They’re babies,” he
said, “each and every one of them.”

“Not Maggie.”

Alastair was instantly alarmed.

“Relax, man,” Hunter continued. “I recognize
puppy love when I see it.” But in his own mind, he wondered if the
man’s alarm stemmed not so much from the shock of realizing his
daughter was maturing, as from the knowledge that she appeared to
be attracted to a man who was beneath her station and of mixed
blood at that. He hadn’t seen Alastair since he was a child
himself. With so little background between them, it was difficult
to know the bent of the other man’s mind. Still, remembering that
his father and Alastair had once been friends, Hunter wanted to
give the man the benefit of doubt.

*

In the stable, Maggie was rushing about,
finding the best and most suitable saddle for Hunter to use, even
as she urged the stable boys to set a faster pace.

When the two mounts were finally ready and
led outside, Maggie followed, her heart beating joyfully until she
saw the concerned expression on her father’s face. Surely he would
not demand an escort for them? She stopped before the two men,
looking into her father’s eyes, awaiting some word from him.

It was Hunter who spoke first. “I’ll take
care, Alastair.” He smiled when the older man looked his way. Give
the girl her moment, Hunter attempted to express silently. After
expressing a drawn-out breath, Alastair nodded his head in
agreement.

Maggie knew she had missed something that
had passed between the two men but she also understood that an
agreement had been reached. Taking that as confirmation that her
father was permitting her to ride out with Hunter, Maggie turned
and prepared to mount. Taking up the reins in one hand, she awaited
a boost up from one of the boys and was pleasantly surprised when
Hunter bent to the task. Taking her small booted foot in one hand,
he put the other hand on her waist and boosted her high with ease.
Once she was settled, he stepped toward his own mount.

One of the proudest moments of Maggie’s
young life occurred when Hunter turned slightly in the saddle,
keeping his mount steady until she could draw up beside him. It was
the first time she had actually been allowed to ride out alone with
a man – although she had secretly ridden all over the county with
one local boy or another – and she knew she had just taken her
first step toward womanhood.

They rode in silence for a time; and Maggie,
shocked to find she was suddenly tongue-tied became unsettled.
While Hunter was clearly enjoying the silent ride, she began to
panic because she could not think of a suitable topic of
conversation. “It’s a beautiful day!” she finally said in a
rush.