Forever in My Heart Read online

  "It's rather hard to imagine."

  She smiled faintly. The image of her father on his hands and knees, picking ore out of a vein of gold, was not an easy one to maintain. "I know. But it's true nonetheless. In the months before he was found he and Dancer Tubbs forged a binding friendship."

  "That's even harder to imagine." He leaned forward in his chair. "Look, Maggie, Dancer is something of a legend in that part of Colorado. People know of him, but not many people know him. That's the way he prefers it."

  "I'm aware of that. But he made an exception for my father. Rennie says he does that for all hurting animals. That's why he healed Jarret's shoulder. If you're hale and hearty he won't have anything to do with you, but if you need him, really need him, he won't turn you away."

  "Are you ill?"

  "No."

  "Then what makes you think—"

  "I need him. I think he'll understand." She saw by Connor's expression that she wasn't explaining herself well enough. "I've always wanted to be a doctor," she said softly. The ache from her shattered dream was still there. She realized belatedly that she couldn't expose herself to Connor Holiday. No matter what she had done with him, this was exposure of a different nature. One had only left her naked, this would leave her defenseless. "Never mind," she said. "It's not important."

  Connor had no problem translating that. She didn't want him to know. Sensing it would be futile, he didn't press. "Rumor has it that Dancer Tubbs is rather..." He searched for a way to say it. "...Rather difficult to look on."

  "So I understand. But it wouldn't bother me. It didn't bother Jay Mac. And it didn't bother Rennie."

  "You've never seen him then."

  "I've never been west of Pittsburgh. Have you seen him?"

  "Never. He's a hermit and he shows most trespassers the dangerous end of a shotgun. For all practical purposes he's a neighbor of mine, but I've always respected his privacy."

  Maggie was surprised when she felt the tug of humor. "It probably has nothing to do with the dangerous end of his shotgun," she said dryly.

  "Not a thing," he deadpanned.

  Comfortable silence descended briefly before she remembered she didn't like him, was a little afraid of him, and the first feeling at least was mutual.

  Connor watched her withdraw again. "Have you mentioned this idea of yours to anyone?"

  "Who would I talk to?"

  "Your sister."

  "Skye?" Maggie thought of Skye's reaction at the breakfast table. "No, she wouldn't understand. I don't share everything with her." I've never shared everything with anyone, she thought.

  "I was thinking of the other one, the one who's a nun."

  "Mary Francis. No, she wouldn't approve of me setting about so deliberately to get a divorce."

  Connor's voice was terse. "I would think divorce would pale in the face of abortion."

  In her lap Maggie's fingers knotted together. She managed to keep her voice steady. "It does," she said. Her dark green eyes were haunted. "And I have to live with my decisions."

  He stood. At six-foot-two Connor Holiday towered over Maggie Dennehy. In every other way she had managed to make him feel small. "So you and I are the only ones who know about your plan."

  "That's right. We're the only ones who should ever know."

  He nodded shortly.

  "You agree?" she asked anxiously. "To everything? The escort to Dancer's? The divorce?"

  "Yes."

  "And I'll never have to see you again? I mean, I didn't know that you lived so close to Mr. Tubbs."

  "As the crow flies."

  "It's closer than I'd hoped," she said bluntly.

  "You're assuming that I might want to see you," he said just as bluntly. "Don't flatter yourself."

  She flushed. "I'm sorry. You're right, of course. It would be as if we were still separated by two thousand miles instead of only twenty."

  "Exactly." He kept his remote gaze on her face. "Well then, Miss Dennehy, let me put the question to you again. Will you marry me?"

  "Yes, Mr. Holiday, I believe I will."

  Chapter 6

  She didn't quite believe she'd said it. Maggie stared at Connor Holiday and waited for him to take back his proposal. He didn't. He merely returned her gaze until she grew uncomfortable and looked away. Now that she had what she wanted she hardly knew how to proceed. Connor took matters out of her hands.

  "I'm leaving for home in four days," he said. "I've already had to delay my departure once. I'm not doing it a second time."

  "What about the wedding?"

  "What about it?" One eyebrow lifted. "You're not suggesting that we have a big affair with all our parents' society friends?"

  "N-no. I... I was just wondering when we would do it?" The uncertainty in her own voice added to her distress.

  "What's wrong with the day after tomorrow? That leaves us with only one night in New York and then we're on our way west the next day."

  "The day after tomorrow," she repeated without inflection. "Yes, that would be all right, I suppose."

  "Good, that's settled."

  "I won't marry you in church," she said.

  "You couldn't anyway. I'm not Catholic." He watched her bite her lower lip. "I'd think you'd be relieved."

  She was thinking of confession. Father Flynn was going to recognize her voice and she was going to get a lecture on excommunication. Her cheeks burned. Maggie didn't think she could summon enough courage to go to the confessional in the first place. "There's no relief with any of this."

  Connor picked up his tumbler and went to the sideboard. He poured half as much as Maggie had given him the first time. He didn't keep it for himself. He handed it to her. "You don't need to knock it back," he said. "Just sip it."

  Maggie took a tentative sip to appease him. It worked because he sat down again. "Who will marry us?" she asked.

  "Most anyone, I suspect."

  "Judge Halsey married my sister Michael. He's her godfather. Perhaps he'll do the same for us."

  "Do you want me to arrange it?"

  "Please."

  Connor indicated with a short gesture that she should take another sip of her drink. This time she did little more than wet her lips with the whiskey. "I'm not trying to get you drunk," he said, "only a little more relaxed than you are now."

  Maggie nodded her understanding, though it didn't change her actions. She held onto her drink but didn't taste any more of it.

  Connor leaned back in his chair. "What about our wedding night?" he asked.

  Whiskey sloshed over the side of Maggie's tumbler as she jerked stiffly. "Oh!" Without thinking, she sucked droplets of whiskey from her knuckles.

  He watched her. The dark centers of his eyes absorbed her artless action but he was remembering the suck of her mouth on his flesh. He felt his body stir almost immediately in response. She didn't have to touch him to make him hard. Beryl would hate that. Connor got up and took the tumbler from Maggie's hand. "It's a shame to waste good whiskey."

  Maggie noticed he didn't drink it, though, merely put it aside. She cleared her throat and managed to get out rather raspily, "You were saying?"

  Connor sat on the sofa beside her this time. He felt her draw her curled legs closer to her body. "I was asking about our wedding night. Since we'll be going away the following morning, I think we should spend it at my father's house."

  "I thought we'd spend it here," she said.

  "Why?"

  Because I'll feel safer, that's why. She said, "My dressing room has a day bed. You can sleep there."

  "Like hell. It's probably comfortable for your friends but I'd hang over at both ends." He saw by her slight smile that he had guessed correctly. "On the other hand, the chaise in my dressing room will accommodate you."

  She didn't relish the idea of sleeping on a chaise, but she was grateful he didn't expect her to share his bed. She avoided looking at him. "That... that will be fine."

  "Good."

  "I want to talk about the div
orce," she said.

  "In a moment. I want to talk about the journey west. I wasn't planning on first class accommodations. It will be days and nights of sitting up in—"

  Maggie shook her head, interrupting him. "Jay Mac will let us take the private Northeast Rail cars. He'll insist on it, actually, so there's no sense in thinking we'll be doing anything different."

  "And he always gets his way."

  Maggie stared at her hands, thinking about what she was going to do. "Usually," she said hollowly. "He usually gets his way."

  "This time I don't mind."

  She turned to look at him, her smile a little lopsided, a little sad. "It's hard to mind when Jay Mac throws money at you." Connor looked as if he might interrupt and Maggie stopped him. "No, don't explain. I understand. Believe me, I understand. Jay Mac's money is very seductive."

  So is Jay Mac's daughter. Connor didn't much like the direction of his thoughts. His eyes strayed to Maggie's slender waist. Thinking about the child that might have been, he found the common sense that had momentarily deserted him. "You wanted to talk about the divorce," he said tightly.

  She supposed she had angered him with her talk of money. He probably didn't like being reminded that twelve thousand dollars had bought him. "I think we should begin proceedings as soon as we arrive in Denver. It could take a while and I'd rather not draw it out longer than necessary."

  "You don't think it would be better to wait, say a year or so, before beginning?"

  "No!"

  "It's hardly flattering that you're so horrified."

  "Good," she said stiffly. "I don't mean to be flattering."

  Connor considered that. "You'll have to get over this aversion to me at least for one day."

  "My family won't expect that I've suddenly fallen in love with you," she said. "That would make Jay Mac suspicious. He imagines love will come in time. We need only be civil."

  "All right," he said. "That'll make things easier for me, too."

  Maggie blinked. For a moment she had forgotten she wasn't the only one with an aversion. "Then it seems we're agreed."

  He stood. "I'll talk to my father tonight and yours tomorrow."

  Maggie also stood. She looked at him uncertainly when he held out his hand.

  "A shake," he said. "To seal our bargain."

  Maggie's slender fingers were swallowed by his as she extended her hand. Long after he was gone she could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers. She'd struck terms with a man, she thought. Why then did it seem as though she'd made her bargain with the devil?

  * * *

  For three days Maggie lived in fear that someone would see through to her heart. Everyone, even Jay Mac, asked her why she was changing her mind about marrying Connor Holiday, but they all accepted her explanation that Connor himself had helped her see the sense in it. Perhaps because it was a little of the truth or perhaps because they all found it remarkably easy to believe she could be led about so simply, there was no unpleasant interrogation.

  True to form, Jay Mac was congratulating himself for being so foresighted in his estimation of both his daughter and Connor Holiday. Knowing that she was going to thwart his plans, Maggie almost felt sorry for him. Almost. For three days she permitted herself the small satisfaction that accompanies revenge. She understood herself well enough to know that she would live with guilt after that.

  She saw little of Connor. He spoke to her once, as a formality, after speaking to her father. Their conversation was stilted on that occasion. She was invited to dine at his home by his father and Beryl, but during that ordeal, Maggie felt oddly protected by Connor's presence. He called for her to go riding in Central Park. They sat side by side in an open carriage, more to be seen than see, laying rumors concerning their hasty marriage to rest. She smiled. He smiled. Their hands never touched.

  Maggie remembered that leisurely ride through Central Park as she stood beside Connor in Judge Halsey's private chambers. The last time they met they hadn't exchanged a single word and now they were exchanging vows.

  She had thought it would be the hardest part. She had forgotten about the kiss.

  Maggie raised her face. Connor was studying her, his dark eyes sliding over her forehead, over the tiny crease between her brows, over her pale cheeks and anxious eyes, until they settled on her mouth. She had drawn in one corner of her lower lip, worrying it gently. He shook his head slightly and she released it. Somewhat self-consciously the tip of her pink tongue peeped out and dampened the line of her lower lip. She saw her reflection in Connor's darkening eyes as he lowered his head.

  His mouth was firm on hers. He didn't press but the pressure was there. Her lips parted yet he didn't invade. As a kiss it was chaste and Maggie knew that because the one she was comparing it to had been filled with carnal promise.

  She shivered slightly as memory prodded her senses.

  She could feel his mouth on hers, insistent, hot in its seeking. She could taste him as his tongue wedged itself between her teeth and she opened her mouth wider. He teased her, his lips mobile on hers, sucking, plundering. Then playful. He released her. And his mouth went lower. He touched her...

  "Maggie?"

  She came out of her reverie with a start, blinking widely. Connor's face was very close to hers. His breath was warm against her skin as he said her name. "Oh," she said softly, dazed.

  "Oh, indeed," Judge Halsey broke in, his tone knowing. He beamed hugely at Jay Mac and Moira, who returned his fulsome smile. Skye giggled. Mary Francis grinned. Rushton nodded, pleased. Only Beryl looked thunderous.

  Feeling foolish, Maggie stepped back, slipping out of Connor's light hold on her elbows. She was grateful he let her go. She turned away from his cool and distant gaze and faced her family.

  She was enveloped in their loving arms, in their fierce congratulations. Jay Mac and Moira hugged her warmly while Skye danced around her happily. Mary Francis was more subdued but just as affectionate. Judge Halsey made certain he got to kiss the bride. Rushton also stepped forward to welcome Maggie into the family.

  Beryl moved to stand beside Connor. She looped her arm in his, securing him in case he wanted to make a scene of fighting for his release. "It seems the bride is getting all the attention," she said softly, provokingly. "Perhaps the groom would like a kiss?"

  "It's not necessary."

  "I know that. Still, I wouldn't mind congratulating you."

  "I'd mind." He didn't even look at Beryl. His gaze swept Maggie and her family, and for the first time, he appreciated the difficulty of the task she had set for herself. It wasn't easy going against a force like Jay Mac and now that she had drawn others in with the deceit of her marriage, it was going to be even harder. Connor didn't think Maggie was by nature a deceitful person. She had told him plainly about the abortion when it would have served her just as well to lie. She caught him looking at her and when he refused to look away it was she who flushed and turned her attention to his father.

  "She's a pitiful thing," Beryl said, following the direction of Connor's gaze. She witnessed Maggie ducking her head in embarrassed confusion.

  "Do you think so?" he asked.

  "She doesn't even like you looking at her. What are you going to do in the bedroom?"

  "Turn back the lamps, I suppose."

  Finding it impossible to goad him, Beryl almost stamped her foot in frustration. Across the room she saw that Mary Francis was watching her. "I don't think I like the nun," she said under her breath.

  "It isn't hard to imagine why."

  "Oh God, here she comes." Beryl managed a credible smile as Mary Francis approached.

  Mary Francis was struck first by the proprietary grasp that Beryl Holiday had on Connor's arm. She was struck secondly by Connor's complete indifference to it. "I don't know that anyone's officially welcomed you into our family," she said softly to Connor.

  "Thank you." He eased out of Beryl's arm by pinching her surreptitiously on the soft underside of her wrist. When he was free
he leaned forward and kissed Mary Francis on the cheek. It was impossible not to feel warmth from her smile. "I regret we won't have a chance to get to know each other better."

  "Connor," Beryl said, drawing out his name disapprovingly. "Shame on you lying to Sister Mary Francis that way." Her pale blue eyes darted over Mary's placid and thoughtful expression. "He was just telling me how happy he'd be to get back to his ranch."

  Mary Francis didn't rise to the bait and addressed her remarks to Connor. "That's understandable. Even on brief visits you must find New York terribly confining."

  Beryl wasn't used to being ignored. "I think he meant that going home was preferable to spending another minute in the company of your family."

  Mary Francis laughed. It was no light, musical trilling sound that came from her either. Mary Francis had a deep and hearty laugh that usually shocked people with its robustness because it was so unexpected. She saw Beryl's beautiful features contort with surprise and she laughed harder. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes and she didn't bother trying to brush them away. Across the room Skye began laughing without even knowing what was funny. It had always been that way. Mary Francis's laugh was completely contagious.

  Connor saw his wife was smiling. He grinned back at her and this time her smile broadened. It was the first spontaneous moment they had shared all day.

  Mary Francis caught her breath. She found a handkerchief tucked beneath the sleeve of her habit. Treating Connor to a watery smile, she dabbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said to Beryl. "Did you think I was laughing at you?"

  "I—I..." Completely bewildered by Mary's frankness, Beryl stuttered to a halt.

  "Of course you did. How could you help it?"

  Beryl's eyes sought out Rushton's. She was frantic to escape. "If you'll excuse me," she said. "My husband wants a word with me."

  Mary Francis nodded serenely. "By all means." She watched her go, then turned to Connor. Her smile was gone and her forest green eyes were hard. "That woman's a witch," she said with quiet fierceness. "What is she to you?"

  Connor found himself admiring his sister-in-law's directness. "My father's wife," he said. He watched Mary Francis consider that, wondering if she should take it at face value. He helped her out. "That's all she is to me."