Wild At Heart (20 page)

The next minute.

“Everything looks to be in order for your showing, Mr. McFarland.” The art gallery’s hostess stared at him with soft green eyes, her interest evident. “Could I get you a glass of punch?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Adam resisted the urge to tug at the collar of his new suit and to scratch his arm. The garment felt stiff and confining compared to the comfortable chambray or flannel shirts he preferred.

The gallery owner, Trent Howard, strode around the big, open room with his hands behind his back, looking at the framed pictures Adam had drawn. Several of them had already sold for a surprising amount, and he had assured Adam that probably the others would also before the end of the evening. His share of the money would enable him to realize his dream. Before winter set in at the ranch, he planned to be on a train, heading south.

He glanced at the door, disappointed to not see the one face he was looking for. Important officials and supporters of the gallery had been granted early admission, but it was still too soon for the general public to attend. Quinn and Anna stood in a corner with his mother and grandmother, looking at a rendition he’d done of his siblings sitting on top of the corral fence. Both Quinn and Anna had been excited and supportive when they learned he had started drawing again. His mother had been ecstatic.

The group of four turned and walked toward him. The women were all smiles, but Quinn looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

“I’m seriously thinking about buying that drawing of Quinn and Anna.” His grandma looped her arm through his. “My only wish is that you were in the picture, too.”

“You don’t have to buy that. I’ll give it to you.”

“Pishposh.” She smacked him on the arm with her wrinkled hand. “I can afford it. Besides, what would Mr. Howard think if you gave away all the drawings he commissioned?”

“He’d probably sue Adam, and then he’d be too poor to leave the ranch.” Quinn grinned.

“You just want me there so you don’t have to work so much,” Adam shot back. He enjoyed his brother’s good-natured teasing. Ever since he’d confessed to Quinn and Anna that he felt responsible for their father’s death, things had been different between his brother and him.

“I want that picture of your father, too.” Adam’s grandma tugged him toward the drawing of his pa on his horse, Carlos. “I’m amazed how you captured his likeness so well. You were only fourteen when he died.”

“We may get into a bidding war for that drawing. I rather like it myself.” Adam’s mother smiled and wiggled her brows.

Adam flinched at the mention of his father’s death, but Quinn lifted a brow. His brother had assured him that he wasn’t at fault in their pa’s accident. The ice storm that moved in while their father was returning to the ranch had been to blame. Quinn even told Adam that the bad wheel had mostly likely broken as a result of the fall. Nobody blamed him, except himself. All these years he’d suffered needlessly. He shook his head, wishing he had turned his problems over to God years earlier, instead of just months ago.

He glanced at the door again. There was still one big unsettled issue in his life. He walked over to the framed sketch that hung on the wall near the refreshment table. Mariah sat on Sugar, her long hair flowing in the breeze. Her head was lifted up as she watched a red-winged blackbird in the sky. Adam had struggled whether or not to include that particular picture in the showing but needed it to complete the quota he’d promised Mr. Howard. Maybe he’d get lucky and it wouldn’t sell.

Pursing his lips, he remembered how Anna had told him she’d encouraged Mariah to not tell him who she was. Anna had wanted him to heal first, and then one thing after another had happened, and Mariah had never gotten a chance to tell him that she was Drew Dixon. He was certain now that was what she’d been trying to get off her chest.

He sighed and poured a cup of punch to quench his dry throat. He’d been such a fool—wallowing in his pain instead of riding after the woman he loved.

Mr. Howard approached with a couple of his supporters. Adam knew he needed to make himself available to talk with them, but it wasn’t something that came natural to him. He cast a final longing glance at the door, hoping and praying Mariah received her invitation.

Mariah lifted up the skirt of her lavender party dress as she climbed the steps leading into the Trent Howard Gallery of Art. Waiting to get inside, she wrapped her cloak firmly around her to keep out the blustery chill. Since returning home, she’d shunned anything that had the sound or smell of artistry, but when she received the invitation to attend a showing of Western art, her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Sarah Beth stepped up the final stair, stopping beside Mariah as they waited for the people in front of them to enter the crowded lobby. “I’m so glad you agreed to come tonight, even though it’s colder than a polar bear’s nose. It’s been over a month since your grandmother passed. I was afraid you were going to become an old maid, lingering away in your big, old house.”

Mariah shook off her friend’s comment, eager to see if the artist’s drawings resembled Adam’s. His were certainly good enough to be in a gallery, and she wondered if he was still drawing. The crowd shifted, and she hurried inside, rubbing her palms together. They quickly passed their cloaks to the cloakroom attendant and allowed themselves to be pulled along by the crowd.

“Oh, these are good.” Sarah Beth stood on her tiptoes, looking over a short man’s shoulders.

Mariah struggled to see around her friend’s taller form. The people in front of them moved on, allowing her to step up beside her friend. Mariah couldn’t hold back her gasp.

Sarah Beth sidled an odd look her way. “What’s wrong?”

“This is Adam’s work.”

Sarah Beth’s eyes widened. “Your Adam?”

Mariah nodded then shook her head. He’d been hers for a short, sweet time. But no more. She moved to the next picture, holding her breath. Sarah Beth stood beside her and leaned forward. She looked at Mariah and then back to the drawing and back to Mariah. Her mouth gaped open. “Why… that’s you—riding a–astride on a horse. You didn’t—”

Waving her fingers, she shushed her friend. “Not so loud. Please.”

The couple beside them cast curious glances their way then moved on to the refreshment table. They looked at a picture there, whispered some words to each other, then stared back at Mariah. The woman nodded excitedly to her husband.

Mariah was curious what picture they’d seen but didn’t want to be too obvious.

“You never told me how good Adam is. Why, he has his own show. How exciting.” Sarah Beth scampered over to the next exhibit.

Mariah took the moment alone to study the picture of herself. It was a good likeness. Peeking over her shoulder, she scanned the crowded room, hoping to see Adam. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Quinn and Anna laughing with two older women. Mariah turned to her left, and there stood Adam, gazing at her with those sapphire eyes she loved so much.

Her heart all but stopped. She held her breath, afraid she was dreaming. He looked so handsome in his fancy black suit that matched his hair. His gaze held uncertainty. A shy smile tugged at his lips.

“I was hoping you’d come tonight.”

“Adam.” She reached out, needing to touch him, but pulled her quivering hand back, unsure if he’d welcome the contact. Tears stung her eyes, and she struggled to blink them back. As hard as she’d tried to forget him, her loved for him burned even stronger today. “I—I missed you.”

“Could I talk to you? Privately?”

Holding a hand to her chest, she glanced around for Sarah Beth. She found her friend drinking punch and talking to a nice-looking gentleman.

“Are you with someone?” Adam’s lips pursed.

“Yes, well… I mean a friend—a lady friend.”

Adam’s tense expression immediately relaxed. Had he thought she was there with Silas?

He held out his arm, and she looped hers through his. As he stepped forward, the crowd parted with many curious glances sent her way. He led her into an office and shut the door then stood there gazing on her face. Finally, he lifted his finger and brushed it along her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Mariah.”

She crinkled her forehead. “What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

“No, I should have come after you instead of stewing in my own pot of self-pity and pain for so long.”

Tears blurred her vision, but this time she didn’t even try to stop them. “I feel horrible for hurting you. I should have told you right from the beginning who I was, but I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No, not you personally, but I thought you’d send me packing if you knew the author you invited to your ranch was a woman. You made it clear that you were expecting a man.”

Adam took her hands and pulled them against his chest. “I’m sorry I was so insensitive. Can you ever forgive me?”

The hum of voices and music from a stringed quartet and harp player could be heard through the wall. Mariah smiled. “Of course, I forgive you.”

His gaze turned hopeful. “Do you think we could pick up where we were when that Silas guy interrupted?”

Mariah nodded, her mouth suddenly gone dry. “Silas is no longer an issue. I told him shortly after Grandmother’s funeral that I wouldn’t be seeing him again.”

Adam smiled. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.” He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight. “I missed you, Fancy Feathers.”

She pushed away. “Fancy Feathers?”

He grinned. “That’s the name I gave you on the train when the feather from your hat kept poking me in the back of the head.”

“I never knew. I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. I think that crazy feather was just trying to get me to notice you. It worked.” He wiggled his brows, sending delightful shivers through her body.

“I have something I want to give you.” He took her hand and led her to a chair. Suddenly he looked shy and unsure.

From inside his jacket, he pulled a folded piece of paper that looked very similar to the note she’d left him. Her breath quickened as she reached for it.

She opened the paper and stared at another sketch of herself dressed in a white blouse and a split riding skirt. Western boots covered her feet, and a cowboy hat hung down her back, held by a cord against her throat. The picture spoke attitude. Gone was the unsure city girl, replaced by a woman who knew where she belonged—in the arms of the man she loved.

The letter
M
peeked out from the edge of her thumb, and she slid her hand down, revealing a message.

Tears blurred the writing, but the words had found root in her heart. She let out a sob. This is what she’d prayed for—dreamed for.

Adam knelt in front of her. “Are you all right?”

She smiled at him. “Oh yes. I’m wonderful. And I can’t wait to marry you, Adam McFarland.”

His grin rivaled that of the noonday sun, and she threw her arms around his neck. He lifted her to her feet. His mouth found hers. His kiss held a promise of sweet things to come, but he pulled away much too soon for her.

A charming smile tilted his lips as he brushed his forefinger across her face. “I love you, Mariah. You know that, but there’s one condition to marrying me.”

Mariah blinked. Condition? She felt herself pulling back away from Adam as she found her voice. “What condition?” she said with no inflection.

Adam’s grin tripped her heart. “That you never turn those hatpins on me.”

Her apprehension instantly dissolved, and she tugged him closer. “You’ve got a deal, cowboy.”

With a chuckle, she went back for seconds, kissing the man she dearly loved.

Three weeks later

Mariah glanced up at her groom. She and Anna had managed to alter her mother’s wedding dress with a few minor adjustments. She wished her parents and grandmother could be there to share this most wonderful of days with her, but at least she had Adam’s family. She listened to the reverend’s words in the small Medora church and then shared her vows with Adam, pledging to love, honor, and cherish him all of her days. Just one more thing. Well… two.