Forever in My Heart Read online

  Maggie knew without a doubt that if this were the man she had seen in New York she would never have made her proposal. The confinement of a city like New York had not set well on Connor's shoulders, but she had not realized how much until she had seen him shrug it off. She'd heard him say at the train station, in response to a question from her father, that he missed the space and silence. Looking at him now, she understood it better, understood how contained he had been by convention, how crowded he had been with the choices forced on him by her father and his own.

  She thought about the space and the silence he wanted and was more certain than ever that divorce was the best way to give both those things back to him.

  Maggie had been silent so long that Connor wondered if she had heard him. "Maggie?" he asked. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

  "No," she sighed. "I heard you. I look like hell." She swiveled in the chair and gave him a dead-on look. "Are you going to shoot me?"

  One corner of his mouth lifted and he said dryly, "They shoot ugly women in Kansas. We're in Colorado now. We string 'em up."

  Maggie stared at him for a moment. She blinked as his words registered, and then she burst out laughing.

  Connor had not expected her laughter. It washed over him like a refreshing spray of mountain water. It seemed to have substance, touching his face, his neck, the back of his hands, sending a skittering sensation down the length of his spine. For the brief span that her laughter lasted Connor had to revise his opinion. With her bright green eyes, with her wide smile flashing her teeth, with the flush of color that suffused her cheeks, Maggie was simply beautiful.

  Maggie's laughter faded as she felt Connor's critical gaze. Uncomfortable beneath it, her hands fell to her lap. "I gather you're concerned because my sister might suspect there's a rift between us."

  "I'd have thought that would be your concern," he said. "I'm more worried she might think I beat you." He got up from the arm of the chair and approached Maggie. She tried to brush his hand away when he reached for her chin but he was insistent. She let him cup her jaw and raise her face for the cold and distant scrutiny of his dark eyes. "How much weight have you lost?" he asked.

  Maggie wasn't certain that she'd lost any. She'd been so inactive lately that she thought it was more likely that it had merely been redistributed. "I have no idea."

  "At least ten pounds," he said. "When you couldn't afford to lose one. You're not going to be strong enough to make the journey from Queen's Point to Dancer's." He drew her to her feet and made her go with him to the mirror above the washbasin. "Look at yourself," he said, standing behind her. "There are hollows under your cheeks and your eyes look bruised." He plucked at the shoulder seams of her charcoal-gray day dress and demonstrated how loose the material was. "What are you going to tell your sister?"

  She shrugged. Because Connor was still holding parts of her dress her action gave her the appearance of a marionette. She didn't like the effect at all. Knocking his hands aside, Maggie pushed away and put some distance between them. "I'll think of something to say to Michael," she said.

  "If you don't do something about the way you look, you're going to have to tell her you have the plague."

  "Bastard," she snapped at him under her breath. "You're the one who told me to—"

  He held up his hand. "I never told you to hole up here like some damned prairie dog or hermit. Unless you've been trying to anticipate what life will be like with Dancer Tubbs, then you've got no excuse for what you've become. I told you to stay out of my way, not crawl underground. You've never once come forward to meet anyone on the train. Passengers think you're a regular blue-blooded Eastern bitch, too good even for the first-class folks. Did you expect me to come back here to try to coax you out of bed or out of your self-pitying mood?"

  Her green eyes flashed with anguish. "What is it you want from me?" she cried.

  Something snapped in Connor. He closed the distance between them. His hands snaked around her waist and he pulled her up against him. Caught off balance, her body laid flush to his. His fingers bit into her waist as he secured her against his chest and thighs. Her head snapped back and he cradled it with his palm.

  "I want you to remember," he said. Then his mouth covered hers.

  Connor's lips moved over Maggie's, his tongue probing the line of her lips, pressing for an opening against her teeth. Her small gasp gave him the entry he sought.

  Maggie's arms hung loosely at her sides. They rose slowly and her hands touched Connor's shoulders first, lightly, not pushing him away and not pulling him closer. Gradually they looped around his back. Her fingers closed over the soft leather of his vest and held on. His mouth was warm and firm and the movement of his tongue was causing her heart to slam. Her breasts swelled against his chest. She rubbed herself against him and a ribbon of heat curled between her thighs.

  Connor's mouth was insistent, hungry. It moved over her greedily. He felt her body stir, respond, then blatantly match his own need. He backed up to the desk, leaned on it, and pulled Maggie intimately between his open thighs. She fit against him the way he remembered, her arms around his neck, her breasts curved against his chest, her thighs supporting his.

  Connor's hands cupped her buttocks, pressing her closer so that she was ground against the fly of his jeans. Her mouth absorbed the sound of his groan. He tugged on one of her arms and found her hand, folding it in his. He brought it along the side of his chest, rested it against his hip, and then moved it between their bodies, over his swollen groin. He held it there, letting her feel his need as he turned them both and began backing Maggie over the desk.

  Maggie tore her mouth away and pushed at Connor's chest. He backed away immediately, his breath coming hard, his feral glance harder as he fought for control of his body. Maggie slumped forward, her head in her hands. She stared at the floor. The intricate pattern of the Oriental rug shifted and blurred in front of her eyes.

  It wasn't fear of pregnancy that had brought her to her senses. It was the realization that she was letting Connor Holiday take her on her father's massive desk. It seemed somehow shameful that she had been willing to let him and shame is what gave her the strength to push him away.

  She looked down at herself and saw that Connor had unfastened most of the buttons on her bodice. Her breasts rose and fell with each of her ragged breaths. Maggie closed the buttons with fingers that trembled.

  Connor watched her. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth swollen. She refused to look at him. He didn't think she remembered what had happened on the occasion of their first meeting, but she couldn't have any doubts about what he wanted from her. "It won't happen again," he muttered, his voice harsh with the frustration of denial. "It shouldn't have happened this time."

  He slipped out of the car and went looking for the whiskey drummer.

  Maggie leaned on the edge of the desk and cried.

  * * *

  Connor sat with Maggie on a bench outside the Denver depot, a few valises stacked on either side of them. From time to time he glanced at her but couldn't see any particular effect from his impulsive and ill-conceived attempt to make love to her. She had taken his advice about her manner and mood and had managed to look brighter and happier. There was nothing she could do about the weight loss, though when Connor considered it later he thought perhaps he had misjudged the situation. She had felt surprisingly full in his arms, her breasts actually larger than he remembered and her bottom more rounded. Her cheeks were still gaunt, however, and where her gown was open at the neck he glimpsed the pronounced line of her collarbone. The shadows beneath her eyes hadn't disappeared either, but her hair was shining, and her faint smile seemed less nervous.

  "Michael's not usually late," Maggie said, glancing up and down the platform. No. 454 had left the depot an hour earlier. Their private cars had been uncoupled and were standing idly on sidetracks in the rail yard.

  "Maybe she didn't get my wire," Connor said.

  Maggie leaned back against the bench and tr
ied to relax. "Have you been to Denver often?" she asked.

  "Not often."

  "What do you like about it?"

  "Not much."

  She glanced sideways at him. "Are you provoking me deliberately?"

  He realized how tersely he had answered her questions. He grinned. "Not intentionally."

  Maggie laughed.

  The grin had transformed his face, the laughter hers. When Mary Michael came upon them, her young daughter in tow, she wasn't surprised they hadn't noticed her. It eased her mind. There was little about Maggie's marriage that didn't trouble her. "Madison," she said to her daughter, "you and I are intruders on a private moment."

  Maggie and Connor looked away from each other simultaneously. Maggie's expression was almost guilty as she turned her face in Michael's direction; Connor's was merely remote.

  Recovering quickly, Maggie jumped up from the bench and threw her arms around her sister. They hugged fiercely, young Madison squeezed between their skirts. "Oh, Michael, it's wonderful to see you!" The sentiment could not have been more heartfelt. Tears gathered in Maggie's eyes and she didn't have to look at Michael to know it was much the same with her. It was only the tugging on their skirts that separated them.

  "Someone wants to be noticed," Michael said, laughing. She made a swipe at her eyes to brush away tears and picked up her daughter. "Do you want to go to your Aunt Maggie?"

  The flame-haired youngster displayed no shyness. She struggled to get out of her mother's arms and into her aunt's.

  "Traitor," Michael whispered. She dropped Madison into Maggie's eagerly extended arms and turned to Connor. "Would you like to be noticed, too?" she asked. Her smile was playful and engaging. Her dark green eyes radiated warmth.

  Some of Connor's natural guardedness faded. "I think I'd like that," he said.

  Over the top of Madison's bright head, Maggie watched her husband's easy response to Michael. She felt a tug of sadness that she couldn't coax a smile from him so simply, then another tug that she had never tried. She turned away and gave all her attention to Madison.

  Mary Michael was several inches taller than Maggie. She didn't have to raise herself quite as far to place a kiss on Connor's cheek. "Welcome," she said feelingly, then confided with characteristic honesty, "Frankly, I don't know what to think about this marriage, but I'll have time to sort it out over the next few days."

  "I take it I'm only being accepted for inspection," Connor said dryly.

  Michael's laughter was bright. "Something like that." She glanced at Maggie. "Now don't glower at him." Her attention darted back to Connor. "You're doing a credible job of hiding your surprise, but I know you've met Rennie and I can see that no one's thought to tell you about me."

  Looking at her, Connor had no difficulty understanding what she meant. "You're right," he said. "No one thought to tell me you were Mrs. Sullivan's twin."

  "Actually, she's mine," Michael said, dimpling, "but you can't get her to admit it."

  Maggie watched Connor study Michael for a moment. She knew that he was making a comparison to Rennie, searching for differences in the twins. But she also knew where his comparison would finally rest and that he would find her, as was always the case when she drew scrutiny next to Rennie and Michael, a pale and unexciting replica of her older sisters. Their hair was dark copper and wildly curling, while hers was merely red. Their green eyes were several shades darker than her own, more deeply emerald while hers were green glass. The shape of their mouths was similar, and they all shared a serious nature that flattened the full outline when they were deep in thought, but Rennie and Michael had dimples when they broke into smiles, while Maggie knew hers was unadorned.

  Maggie felt her face flush as Connor finished studying Michael and turned his eyes briefly on her. Angry with herself for caring what he thought, she stared back at him defiantly. His glance narrowed in response, and she found herself using Madison as a distraction and a shield.

  Connor's attention rested on Michael again. "The resemblance is striking, but I didn't mistake you for your sister."

  Michael was used to hearing how much she and Rennie were alike. "Rennie and I take pleasure in our similarities," she said, "but we're always complimented when people notice how different we are. We can't fool our husbands for a moment."

  Maggie put her wriggling niece on the platform. "I can't believe you tried."

  "Once," Michael said. "It was an ill-conceived plan from the beginning."

  "Rennie's idea, then," Maggie said with complete confidence.

  "Of course." She shrugged. "You'd think I'd learn, but I went along with it."

  Madison wasn't particularly interested in the adult conversation floating above her head. She'd been there when her mother and Aunt Rennie had decided to switch places and she'd seen how her father and Uncle Jarret had pretended to be fooled. But she hadn't really liked it when Uncle Jarret kissed her mother in a way that only her father did. Aunt Rennie hadn't liked it much either. There had been some arguing after that and then some laughing and then some scolding. It had been very confusing and really not very much fun.

  Connor was also only listening to Michael's account with half an ear. He hunkered down on the platform and patiently waited out young Madison's shy approach. The two-year-old smiled coyly in response to his encouraging grin. Long lashes that were much darker than her bright red hair shaded her glance. Her head was tilted to one side as she inspected him and made her judgments.

  Connor crooked his index finger and she leaped into his arms, nearly bowling him over. Laughing, Connor stood and gave Madison a little toss above him. She giggled joyfully as her dress fluttered and her curls bounced.

  Watching them, Michael shook her head in amusement and confided to Maggie. "She's an incurable flirt," she said. "I'd like to blame it on Skye, but Madison's only seen her a few times. Though, come to think of it, it might have been long enough for her to teach—" She stopped as she noticed Maggie's stricken look. "What's wrong?"

  Maggie barely heard her sister. Connor and Madison caught her complete attention. This is what it would be like with our child. She watched him toss Madison into the air again, his enjoyment so genuine that Maggie was momentarily wrenched with grief. He never let me think he might want our child. And, on the heels of that thought, as he tumbled and tickled Madison, I never really asked.

  Michael took her sister by the wrist and gave her a little shake. "Maggie? What is it?"

  Michael's concern drew Connor's attention. He held Madison in the crook of his arm and took a few steps toward Michael and Maggie. His wife was pale, the shadows beneath her eyes suddenly more pronounced. She was looking at him as if she'd never seen him before, and Connor was not flattered by the almost accusing, horrified cast of her eyes. For a moment he wondered if she had suddenly remembered everything about their first meeting. "Maggie?" His voice was gentle but his eyes were sharp and they held a warning.

  Maggie managed to make the sob she was choking back sound like laughter caught in her throat. Under the hard probing of Connor's dark eyes, she came out of her reverie. She shook her head, clearing it, and smiled with self-mockery. "I'm sorry," she said, her mind working quickly as she tried to find an excuse for her odd behavior. "I thought you were going to drop her. I just froze." She saw immediately that Connor didn't believe her but accepted the excuse for what it was. Maggie was relieved when Michael latched onto it.

  "Then you won't want to watch Ethan play with her," Michael said, kissing Madison's downy cheek. "I can tell you that my heart sticks in my throat when he pitches her skyward. And she just laughs and laughs." She hugged her daughter. "Don't you, Maddie? You laugh and laugh..."

  Madison giggled obligingly.

  "Where is your husband?" Connor asked, chucking Madison lightly on the chin. She batted at his hand while her eyes begged him to do it again. "Maggie thought he might be with you."

  "Ethan's gone to Stillwater to testify in a murder trial. I'm hoping he'll get back before you
have to leave for your ranch." She pointed to their bags. "That doesn't look like very much to me. You're planning on staying more than a couple of nights, aren't you?"

  Maggie spoke up quickly. "We're anxious to get to the Double H, Michael. Connor's been away for a long time and I'm excited to see my new home."

  Connor saw that Michael's eyes had narrowed faintly and that she was studying her sister more closely now. He'd heard more desperation in Maggie's tone than enthusiasm, and he thought Michael was perceptive enough to have heard the same. "We're grateful for the invitation," he said, slipping one arm around Maggie's waist, "but Maggie's right. I'm anxious to get to the Double H. I'll try to get her back here at least once before winter sets in."

  "That's October," Michael warned Maggie, wagging a friendly finger at her. "Winter comes early to the Rockies."

  "Winter comes early," Madison mimicked in a singsong treble. She wagged her finger at Connor.

  "Flirt," he said, grinning at the child.

  Michael sighed. "It must be Skye's fault," she said again to Maggie. "I know I've never been accused of being one." She hefted Madison in her arms again and glanced backward at the bags. "It's not a long walk from here to home, but you don't want to carry those. We'll hire one of the porters to bring them."

  "I have some trunks in the car that I want you to take," Maggie said. "I'm not dragging all my belongings to the Double H."

  Michael was immediately sympathetic. "You don't have to explain," she said. "Mama and Skye did all your packing. I still have some of Rennie's things in my attic because she and Jarret move around so much with the railroad. I can put your trunks there until you decide you want them." She put Madison down and took the little girl's hand. She started to lead the way, then stopped, giving Connor a flirty sidelong glance that was remarkably like her daughter's. "Did Mary Francis threaten to break your kneecaps?" she asked.

  "That's all been taken care of," Connor said gravely.

  "Oh, good. Then you really are one of the family." She tugged on Madison's hand and began walking.