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Thimbles And Thistles (Baker City Brides Book 2) Page 5

Maggie lifted her nose ever so slightly in the air. “Everyone knows I’m a grumpy old widow and I like it that way.”

  Tully laughed outright. Everyone he knew thought Maggie was a softhearted, caring woman who would help anyone in need that showed up on her doorstep. For now, though, he wouldn’t bother to set her straight.

  “You look just like a contrary ol’ crone. It might besmirch my good name to have to be seen with you in public.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes and smiled. “Prepare to be besmirched because you promised me dinner and I’m starving.”

  Tully opened the door to the hotel and tipped his head to her with a devilish smile. “Yes, ma’am. Just try not to embarrass me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know.”

  Chapter Five

  Wracked with nerves, Maggie found it impossible to focus on Pastor Eagan’s sermon. Her thoughts continued to drift to what possessed her to invite Ian on a picnic lunch. She’d spent the previous day wishing the weather would turn cool and rainy, making it necessary to cancel the plans. Unfortunately, the day dawned warm with the promise of blue skies and bright sunshine.

  Determined not to be rude to the man or behave like a crazy idiot as she’d done the last time she’d fed him a meal, she hurried to church. She slid into the familiar pew she shared with Tully, Thane, and his family. Tully had barely settled into the seat beside her when he was called away to break up a fight outside one of the saloons.

  When someone tapped her shoulder, signaling her to scoot over from her spot at the end of the pew, she didn’t give it a thought. Quietly moving closer to Jemma, she assumed the man taking a seat beside her was Tully, returned from dealing with drunken riffraff.

  Much to her dismay, Ian’s scent settled around her at the same time his warmth permeated her side. Through lowered eyelashes, she glanced at him, admiring his dark suit, striped vest, and white shirt.

  Although the ends mocked her with finger-tempting waves, he’d subdued his normally mussed hair into some semblance of order. He’d even trimmed the scruff on his face although he hadn’t gone so far as to shave.

  Her interest in him — her attraction to him, made her jumpy and ill at ease. Maggie had absolutely no plans to become involved with another man. Daniel’s death had not only shattered her heart, it had broken her ability to love. She couldn’t and wouldn’t put herself through such pain and agony again.

  If she’d wanted to marry someone just to be married, Thane or Tully would have fulfilled the role of a husband. However, she was glad she hadn’t accepted the offers either of them made over the years.

  Thane was utterly and undeniably infatuated with his bride. Maggie just hoped Tully would also find a special woman to love. He deserved the opportunity to be someone’s everything. For her, he’d never be more than a very special friend.

  She’d had her chance at experiencing true love and it ended tragically when she was barely more than a girl. Her brow puckered as she considered the years of loneliness she’d endured since her husband’s death. It would be foolish to put herself through that kind of misery again.

  A wiggling presence climbed onto her lap and pulled her from her somber musings. Maggie glanced down into Lily’s sweet little face.

  The impish child grinned and snuggled against her, releasing a contented sigh when Maggie wrapped her arms around her and cuddled her close.

  Lily’s eyes drifted shut and she slept through the service.

  Ian held out the hymnal during the closing hymn so Maggie could see the words while she continued to support Lily’s limp form.

  Jemma turned to her with an apologetic smile as soon as the service ended and started to take Lily from her. “I’m so sorry, Maggie. She couldn’t sit still this morning until she climbed onto your lap. You seem to have a magic touch with our girl.”

  Maggie smiled and placed a tender kiss on top of Lily’s strawberry-blond curls. “I don’t mind at all. I’m always happy to hold this little love.”

  “Here, let me take her.” Thane leaned over and picked up the child, nestling her against his shoulder then gave Jemma a hand as she rose to her feet.

  Maggie felt Ian’s hand at her elbow as he stood and helped her to her feet. She appreciated his attentiveness, but the fact he felt compelled to offer it set her on edge. She didn’t need a man to take care of her and she certainly didn’t want that particular man assigning himself the duty.

  Discreetly, she pulled her arm away from him. She followed Thane, Jemma, and Jack into the aisle then toward the back of the church. From the solid presence behind her, she knew Ian remained close.

  After greeting Pastor and Mrs. Eagan, Maggie stepped outside into the gorgeous spring sunshine and breathed deeply. It was a beautiful day for a picnic, even if she’d rashly invited Ian to share it with her.

  Several men joined Ian and Thane as they discussed progress on the big house at the Jordan Ranch while Jemma stood nearby talking to a group of women.

  Under normal circumstances, Maggie would have eagerly joined the women in conversation. Today, she felt out of sorts.

  Uninterested in making idle conversation, she decided to go home and finish preparations for lunch. If Ian still wanted to join her, he knew how to find her.

  Half a dozen steps away from the church, he fell into step beside her.

  “Do you no longer wish to have lunch together, Mistress Dalton? If you’re not well, I won’t hold you to your invitation.”

  An opportunity to escape her obligation presented itself with Ian’s question. She could feign illness and hide out in her apartment the rest of the day. Despite the temptation, she couldn’t bring herself to lie.

  “No. I’m well. I promised you lunch and lunch you shall have.” Maggie couldn’t help that her tone sounded clipped and curt as they walked toward her shop. She took a deep, cleansing breath then turned to Ian with a half-hearted smile. “I’m looking forward to a picnic. The day seems perfect for one, don’t you think?” That much was true.

  “Aye, lass, I do.” Ian looked at her and relaxed his stiff shoulders.

  Maggie acted as prickly as one of the cactus plants he’d seen in his travels. He had no doubt, though, if he could get past the thorny outside, the inside held something succulent and sweet.

  Never one to back down from a challenge, no matter how insurmountable, Ian grinned as he walked with Maggie around to the back of her shop and followed her inside.

  “I need to finish a few things before we go. Did you choose a location?” Maggie asked as she preceded him up the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder and almost tripped on the last step as the sunlight filtering in the window highlighted his golden head and accented the tan of his skin.

  “I’ve got just the spot for lunch in mind. I think you’ll like it.” Ian glanced around her inviting sitting area, stepping into the sunny room.

  She motioned for him to take a seat. “It shouldn’t take me too long to finish putting lunch together. Please make yourself at home.”

  “May I help with anything, lass?” Ian started to follow her to the kitchen. She put up a hand to stop him but dropped it before she made contact with his chest.

  “No. I’ll just be a minute.” She whirled around and disappeared into the kitchen while Ian walked over to the fireplace mantle and studied a collection of photographs.

  A photo of a much younger Maggie with Tully and Thane as well as another handsome man drew his interest. The man had to be her Daniel. Ian’s gaze settled on a wedding photo of Maggie with the same man. She looked barely out of braids and he suddenly wondered how old she’d been when she married.

  She appeared both happy and frightened in the photo but the man beside her had his eyes set adoringly on his young bride. It was good that Maggie’s first husband loved her and, from what he’d heard, cherished her. No wonder she clung to his memories like a lifeline.

  Most people went through life without ever experiencing that kind of love. Ian wondered how old she’d been when Daniel died. If memory
served him correctly, he thought Thane had once mentioned in passing that Maggie had been alone for a decade.

  It seemed unfathomable to him that a woman as enchanting as Maggie could remain single. She owned a successful business, possessed a tender heart, and had a fair hand in the kitchen. Maggie Dalton would make some fortunate man a wonderful wife.

  The problem seemed to be her disinterest in accepting a second husband and marrying again.

  Ian wondered what it would take to change her mind then reminded himself of his vow to stay away from the woman. That lasted up until she’d walked by the other day with all that glorious hair down and curling along her back. His hands still itched to bury themselves into her tresses. He wanted to feel the silky locks a second time almost as badly as he wanted to taste her lips.

  Some inexplicable attraction continued to draw him to the widow. He noticed things about her he’d not paid any mind to before when he’d courted a woman. Like the way her eyes sparked with amusement or anger. Or the delicate curve of her cheek. He’d even taken note of her many fine dresses.

  The coral-colored gown she wore to church brought out roses in her cheeks and accented the juicy ripeness of her mouth. Thoughts of that mouth made his collar tighten while heat boiled through him.

  For a moment, he considered hauling her into his arms and kissing her, just to see if she’d taste as sweet and divine as he imagined. The small, sane part of his brain still functioning advised against such action.

  Ian lifted the photo of Maggie and Daniel on their wedding day, studying it closely until he heard her footsteps in the hall. He set it on the mantle then turned as Maggie entered the room carrying a large wicker basket with a lid.

  “Ready to go?” He stepped across the room and took the basket from her hand.

  She gave him an appreciative smile and picked up a quilt from a chair by the stairs. “I believe I am. Lead on, kind sir, to this wondrous picnic spot you’ve found.”

  Ian traipsed down the stairs with her then took the blanket from her hand, tucking it under his arm as she locked her shop door. He held out his other arm to Maggie, but she shook her head and took a step away.

  “Mr. MacGregor, I do believe I’m capable of walking without your assistance.” Maggie waved her hand in front of her. “Shall we go?”

  “Yes, Mistress Dalton.” Ian felt somewhat irked she wouldn’t even allow him to take her elbow or offer his arm, but he hid it behind a cocky smile. “Is the sheriff joining us? Perhaps the blacksmith? Or the new man at the land title office? Surely there’s some bachelor starved for a home-cooked meal you’ve included in the invitation.”

  Maggie laughed. Her entire face lit up and Ian thought he could easily get drunk on the sound.

  “No, you daft man. I already told you, this is a meal to make amends for the last one.”

  “So you’re not going to bombard me with other guests, flirt unabashedly, and make an eejit out of me this time?”

  Although his tone was teasing, his question was sincere. He still hadn’t gotten over her playing him for the fool a few weeks ago in the presence of the sheriff. Tully harbored some unseated resentment against him since the debacle and Ian didn’t need to add any fuel to that fire.

  Taken aback by Ian’s words, despite his lighthearted grin, guilt niggled at Maggie’s conscience. Her behavior, to both Tully and Ian, had been deplorable and unkind. It was no wonder Ian seemed wary of her motives and manners. Determined to make amends, she held back a sigh.

  Maggie focused her attention on guessing the location of their picnic, eager to enjoy an afternoon in the pleasant sunshine and fresh air. Ian led her past the lumberyard then strolled across a meadow toward a snug house set back by the river, nearly hidden by a grove of trees.

  “Welcome to my home.” Ian smiled at her as he motioned toward the house.

  Although Maggie had been out that way many, many times, she’d never noticed the house. It looked like something out of one of the picture books she kept in her shop for Lily. A whitewashed fence surrounded the two-story stone home.

  Ian’s brand painted onto the center of the front gate made her smile.

  “It’s a beautiful setting, Mr. MacGregor. I didn’t realize you lived back here.” Maggie followed him past the house and barn. They strolled down a path to the bank of the river where sunshine dappled the water and a gentle breeze carried the scent of pine.

  “It seemed like a good idea to have my house close to my business. I can keep an eye on it, yet also be away from the lumberyard when I want to relax.” Ian set the picnic basket on a large rock then spread the blanket on a grassy area in the sunshine. He thought about placing it beneath the shelter of the trees, but Maggie seemed to enjoy having the sun on her face.

  When he turned around, she’d already removed her hat and gloves and set them next to the basket. The movement of the water in the river appeared to draw her gaze.

  “May I offer you my hand?” Ian asked, holding a hand out toward her so she could take a seat on the blanket.

  She nodded and placed her palm against his. A jolt rocked him at her touch and he wondered if she could hear the pounding rhythm of his heart.

  Gracefully, she lowered herself to the blanket and settled her skirts around her. Snatching the picnic basket off the rock, he set it beside her then folded his legs. He took a seat on the blanket across from her, keeping a respectable distance.

  Visions of her with her hair down, spilling across the blanket while he pressed kisses along the smooth skin of her neck made him jerk off his tie and loosen the top button on his shirt.

  The glance she gave him held interest, but she continued setting out the meal. Fried chicken, potato salad, wedges of cheese, pickles, a jar of peaches, and buttered bread comprised the feast.

  Maggie filled a plate and handed it to him then filled her own and waited while he offered thanks for their meal.

  They ate in companionable silence, listening to the water babbling over the rocks in the river, the birds singing a merry tune, and the breeze softly whistling through the trees.

  Enthralled with the impromptu symphony provided by nature, Maggie relaxed. Peace settled over her and she breathed deeply, soaking in the restorative moment.

  When Ian had eaten his fill, Maggie put the dishes and food back in the basket and set out a plate holding a cake.

  “It’s angel cake. Have you had it before?” Maggie asked as she cut a slice and placed it on a small plate then added a fork.

  “Can’t say that I have.” Ian took a bite and nodded appreciatively. “Mercy, lass, this is quite good.”

  Maggie grinned, pleased by his praise. “I’m glad you like it.” She cut herself a small piece and took a bite.

  “Tell me why it’s called angel cake.” Ian glanced at her as he finished his piece. She set down her plate and cut him another. “Is it because an angel baked it?”

  She disregarded his teasing. “The story goes that the cake is so airy and light, it has the sublimity of angels.” Maggie laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know about all that, but it usually is tasty. Beaten egg whites create the puffy texture.”

  “I didn’t expect you to go to all the work of frying a chicken and baking a cake for our lunch, Mistress Dalton, but I appreciate your efforts. Everything was verra delicious.” Ian set aside his empty plate and finished drinking the glass of tea Maggie had poured for him earlier. “I thought I heard you tell Jemma you don’t like to cook.”

  “I don’t, for myself, but I don’t mind cooking for someone else.” Maggie hated to admit it, but she’d put a lot of work into making the meal for Ian. She didn’t enjoy cooking for herself, which is why she looked forward to Thursdays when Tully joined her for dinner. Although she wavered between dreading the picnic with Ian and greatly looking forward to it, she had taken pleasure in creating the meal. His multiple words of praise and thanks made it clear he appreciated her efforts.

  Daniel had always been good to thank her for a meal, too.
r />   The smile on her face faded as recollections of her husband flooded her thoughts. Lost in her memories, she jerked when Ian placed a hand over hers, pulling her back to the present.

  “Are you unwell, lass? Your face is pale and you look not quite yourself.” Ian’s worry was evident both in his voice and on his face.

  Touched by his concern, she shook her head and worked up a smile. “I’m fine, Mr. MacGregor. Just thinking about things I shouldn’t.”

  Ian leaned back on his elbows and waggled his eyebrows at her. “I suppose I should be disappointed then.” At Maggie’s uncertain look, he continued. “If you were entertaining forbidden thoughts about me sliding over close to you and taking liberties with your delectable person, your cheeks would be red and you’d be all huffy instead of wearing a sad frown.”

  “You’re a terrible tease.” Maggie wanted to be offended by his words, but couldn’t stop her smile, entertained by his good-natured banter.

  He raised both eyebrows and looked at her with wide-eyed innocence. In that moment, she could picture Ian as a fun-loving boy and her heart softened toward him.

  “Please, Maggie, tell me what’s bothering you. In sharing our burdens it often lightens the load.”

  “Or weighs another down.” She brushed imaginary crumbs from her skirt then tipped back her head to stare at the blue sky overhead, dotted with fluffy clouds.

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, soaking in the welcome warmth of the sunshine before Ian stretched out, crossed his hands beneath his head and released a weary sigh. “I think I would have liked your husband.”

  Maggie dropped her gaze to Ian and studied him. Intrigued, she wanted to know what made him make such a statement. He’d never met Daniel and didn’t know anything about him other than what he’d most likely heard around town. “Why?”

  Ian settled his bright blue eyes on her, holding hers captive. “Thane and the sheriff both speak highly of him. From knowing you, and what you appear to hold in high regard, I surmise he must have been the best of men. To be loved so well and so long by a woman such as you would require more than most ordinary men have to offer.”