Chapter Eleven
Rafe tapped his pen on the desk and then tossed it on the blotter. Kicking back in the leather office chair, he propped his boots on the edge of an open drawer and stared at the check he’d just written to Lonnie Boyle. To someone like Boyle it would seem like a fortune. It was no small chunk of change, even to Rafe, and it rankled to give the bastard so much. Everything within him rebelled.
He sighed and ran his gaze over the richly appointed study. After being away for so long, he was acutely conscious of the smell of orange oil and furniture wax each time he drew breath, scents that had been nonexistent for him these last two years. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound classics and agricultural and animal husbandry tomes lined most of the cedar-paneled walls. The few bare spots played host to paintings, all of them nature scenes by a local artist named Dobbs.
The last time he had sat in this chair, he’d felt as if his life was over. Now he had Maggie, Jaimie, and Heidi. He no longer mourned what he had lost. The future beckoned to him, as shiny-bright as a brand-new penny.
There was so very much that he could give them. A second chance. He remembered how Lonnie had thrown it up to Maggie about the advantaged childhood Jaimie could have with his adoptive parents, making it sound as if anything she had to offer was little better than chopped liver. Well, the boy would have even more advantages now, and so would Heidi. Maggie could pore over decorating books to her heart’s content and bring in professionals to fix up their rooms. Those kids would never want for anything. As for college, Rafe would definitely encourage both children to further their educations, be they related to ranching or another field entirely. Rafe had two degrees himself, and no doors would be closed to his kids.
When it was all said and done, Maggie would never regret keeping her child or feel that by doing so, she had shortchanged Jaimie in any way. He would make damned sure of that. He already loved the boy, and he’d be a good father, not only seeing to it that Jaimie wanted for nothing, but that he was raised with a sterling set of values and work ethics.
Right now, Rafe suspected that Maggie found the vastness of the ranch intimidating, but she’d slowly acclimate and grow to love it here as much as he did. He just wished she were well enough to begin enjoying it now. But she wasn’t.
Rafe sighed. It felt so strange, being back at his desk. True to his word, Ryan had closed none of Rafe’s bank accounts. An authorized cosigner, Ryan had written occasional drafts to reimburse himself for Rafe’s half of the ranch expenses and left the banking setup alone. Rafe needed to get his driver’s and pilot’s license reinstated, but otherwise, it was as if he’d never left. Yet so much had changed, all for the better. Maggie. God, he was so lucky to have found her.
A smile touched his mouth as he pictured her sweet face and recalled her telling him that she wasn’t Susan. As if he had the two of them confused? That was another concern of hers that he needed to address, but everything in good time. She was nothing like Susan in looks or personality, and Rafe wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Maggie was a beautiful person, inside and out.
He drew his gaze back to the check. He was stalling. No matter how he circled it, paying Boyle off was a necessity. He could fantasize about beating the hell out of the son of a bitch, but for Maggie’s sake, he had to set aside his feelings and get this settled, cleanly and as painlessly as possible.
He dropped his feet to the floor and pulled a business envelope from the drawer. After writing Boyle’s address on the envelope, he sealed the flap, the muscles across his shoulders bunching with tension. For Maggie. Under any other circumstances, he’d never buy Boyle off. He had to think of this as an investment, the price he had to pay to have her in his life. Once he mailed this check, she’d be safe.
And his.
The thought jolted Rafe, and for a moment, he gave serious thought to the warning Ryan had voiced the other day. This was a hell of a foundation on which to build a relationship. Was he being selfish? What if he was wrong, and he couldn’t make Maggie happy? If he put his mind to it, he could come up with alternative ways to help her without binding her to him in marriage. Legally, they wouldn’t be as surefire, of course, especially when it came to Heidi. But he could give it a shot and only marry her as a last resort.
I could also climb out on a high limb and saw it off, he thought dryly. He needed her. That was all he could think about, how very much he needed her and how much she needed him. Despite her determination to control her own destiny and do everything on her own, underneath all of that, she was vulnerable and scared. When she looked at him, he felt like a man again, someone worthwhile with a purpose for existing.
He would make her happy. They were meant to be together. He sensed it every time he looked at her—a bone-deep feeling of rightness that defied explanation, but was no less compelling, for all that. Meeting her had given him a second chance, and this time, he wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. Nothing would ever be more important to him than his family. Nothing.
He couldn’t let her go. He simply couldn’t. If he was being selfish right now, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her.
Maggie surfaced from sleep slowly the next morning. The first thing she focused on was an ornately carved mahogany bedpost, and her stomach immediately knotted. At home she didn’t even have a headboard, only a mattress and box springs on a cheap metal frame.
Last night, she’d fallen asleep staring at that bedpost, for in her mind, it was representative of everything in Rafe Kendrick’s world—amounts of money beyond her comprehension and all the power that accompanied wealth. Maggie was used to choosing the cheapest brands of tuna. She felt as if she’d wandered into a maze and might never find a way out.
She heard a sound behind her and realized someone besides just Jaimie was in her room. No big surprise. Yesterday evening, she’d barely been able to yawn without getting pills shoved down her throat by Rafe or Becca. And water. They’d continually pushed tall glasses of the stuff at her. If it was possible for a person’s pipes to rust, hers were corroded.
Rolling over, she sought the source of the sound that had awakened her and saw Rafe. This morning he wore a chocolate-brown shirt, the sleeves rolled back over strong, tanned forearms dusted with dark hair. Bent over the borrowed bassinet to change Jaimie’s diaper, he held a cordless phone wedged between his jaw and shoulder to free his hands.
Maggie watched him care for her son with mixed emotions. When it came to Jaimie, he was the epitome of patience, every touch of his big hands gentle, his voice—which could boom when he barked orders into the phone—always pitched low and laced with affection. Jaimie was her baby. Rafe didn’t even know who the child’s father was. Yet to watch him, a person would think Jaimie was his.
No big surprise. Almost from the beginning, his feelings about Jaimie had been glaringly apparent to her. He’d lost his own little boy, and in a twinkling, he’d had a substitute child dropped in his lap.
As grateful as Maggie was for all that he’d done for her, and all that he planned to do yet, a part of her grew frightened every time she considered the possible ramifications. A grief-stricken man who’d been running away from life. Now, he had put that grief on hold by submersing himself in a fantasy. Jaimie wasn’t the little boy Rafe had lost. And, God help her, she wasn’t Susan, the paragon, whose praises were continually sung by the plump housekeeper, Becca.
What was going to happen when Rafe Kendrick woke up one day and realized that his surrogate family could never replace the one that had been taken from him? That Maggie herself was a pathetic substitute for the woman he had adored? When he finally came to his senses, would he begin to resent her? And if that happened, wasn’t it possible that he might vent his frustration on Jaimie?
As he tended to the baby, he listened to whoever was on the line, interjecting an occasional “Hmmm” or a low-pitched “I see.”
Evidently unaware she was awake, he tossed the soiled disposable diaper in a nearby r
eceptacle, then scooped Jaimie from the small bed, laid him over his shoulder, and stepped into the hall, drawing the door partly closed behind him. Through the crack, Maggie saw him pacing back and forth, patting the baby’s back as he talked, his voice modulated so as not to disturb her. She found it amazing that a man who seemed so absorbed with other matters could, at the same time, give a child the attention it needed. Women did that sort of thing all the time, but in Maggie’s experience, men rarely did.
Maggie wanted to believe his feelings toward Jaimie would never change. But if they did, he’d get the surprise of his life if he ever tried to mistreat her son. He’d have to go through her first.
“I called Harry yesterday right before he left the courthouse, and he’s arranging for a waiver on the waiting period.” Rafe turned to retrace his steps, jiggling Jaimie, who was starting to fuss. “How’s the situation with Heidi looking?”
He listened for a moment.
“Yes, Becca got her enrolled in school this morning. I spoke with the principal on the phone and told him heads would roll if he allowed anyone but Becca or a family member to pick her up.”
He gave a decisive nod.
“Got it covered. I understand we need to move fast. Dr. Kirsch is coming out this morning, and a courthouse clerk is coming by with the paperwork. So get on it, will you, Mark? Before we get married, I want my name on that birth certificate. This Boyle character is a fruitcake. I sent him the check, but according to Maggie, he can’t be trusted. I tend to think she’s right.”
Silence. Then Rafe released a weary sigh.
“No problem there. She’s willing to sign whatever’s necessary. Just fill out the forms, draw up the papers, and bring them out.”
Maggie drew the covers closer and gazed forlornly at the empty fireplace across the room. When Rafe Kendrick decided to do something, he was like a bowling ball rolling down a steep incline. She was glad, on the one hand. She didn’t want there to be any chance she might lose Jaimie, and it was critical that they get temporary custody of Heidi as soon as possible, which probably couldn’t be as easily accomplished if they weren’t married. But having everything happen so fast was a little unnerving as well. She hadn’t yet been in this house twenty-four hours, and Rafe had been making arrangements ever since they arrived. It sounded to her as if he was pushing for their marriage to take place immediately.
“I don’t give a frigging damn about how you accomplish it,” she heard him say.
Startled by the vehemence in Rafe’s voice, Maggie jerked her gaze back to the partly open door. She saw him make another turn and then pause.
“Yeah? Jameson, huh. Never heard of him. How good is he?” Another silence. “Get him on retainer then.”
Maggie glimpsed the housekeeper’s stout form in the hallway. The next instant Rafe had a baby bottle in his hand. “Thanks, Becca,” he murmured. He shifted Jaimie from his shoulder to the bend of his arm and began feeding him. “Hell, yes. I won’t hesitate,” he said. Then he laughed. “It’s the least of many evils. I won’t lose any sleep over it, I can tell you that.”
He stopped pacing to gaze warmly at the baby in his arm. “The way I see it, in all the ways that count, he is mine.” Another long silence. “I appreciate it, Mark.”
She heard the phone bleep as the connection was broken. The next instant, Rafe poked his head in the doorway. When he saw that she was awake, he smiled and reentered the room. He clipped the phone to his belt as if it had become a necessary body part.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He came to the bed. “Would you like to finish feeding your son his breakfast?”
Maggie held out her arms for the baby. Keeping his hand tilted so Jaimie wouldn’t suck air, Rafe settled the child beside her. As she grasped the bottle, her fingers brushed against his, and a tingling sensation trailed up her arm. As though he sensed her reaction, he rested a twinkling gaze on hers. Maggie was so unnerved that she forgot to keep the bottle angled, and the nipple emitted a whistling sound.
“Oops.” Rafe caught the end of the bottle to tilt it back up. A knowing grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Colic, here we come.”
He stepped over to a cream-colored box mounted on the wall by the door. Pressing a button, he said, “Becca, Maggie’s awake.” An instant later, the housekeeper’s voice came back, saying, “I almost have her tray ready now.”
He pressed the button again. “Don’t forget her medication, please. Oh, and Becca? Bring in a fresh pitcher of water, would you?”
Though Maggie kept her gaze on the baby as Rafe returned to the bed, she was aware of his every movement. She could feel him watching her and guessed that he was smiling. At least one of them was enjoying this situation. Personally, she felt as if she’d climbed onto a high-speed roller coaster with Rafe Kendrick manning the controls.
“Penny for them,” he said as he sat on the edge of the mattress, the rich, faintly spicy smell of his shaving cologne surrounding her. “You’re looking mighty solemn about something this morning.”
Her thoughts were solemn. If left to her own devices, she would never get married. A little voice at the edge of her mind kept saying, Don’t do this, Maggie. It’s not just a temporary arrangement.
“Honey, can you talk about it? Whatever’s upsetting you, just tell me. If you’re still worrying about losing Jaimie or that we’ll have to send Heidi home, don’t,” he told her in a husky voice. “The legal arrangements are being taken care of. I was just on the phone with Mark Danson, an old friend and attorney. He told me to tell you there’s nothing for you to fret about, that he’s on top of everything. He can handle the changes on Jaimie’s birth certificate by fax and have it done this afternoon. He’s also phoning an adoption attorney named Jameson. The guy is a guru. He’ll handle any legal difficulties resulting from those papers you signed, and he’ll be handling the situation with Heidi as well. Once we’re married, we’ll be one step closer to getting temporary custody of her, and in regards to Jaimie, Lonnie’s hands will be completely tied.”
Oh, how Maggie wished she could be absolutely sure of that, but experience made her almost afraid to hope.
“And when will the marriage take place?” she asked. “It sounds as if you’re pushing for soon.”
“In a situation like this, the sooner it’s all a done deal, the safer we are.”
She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.
“Honey, what is it?”
“It just seems—” Maggie bit her lip. “It’s all happening so fast, is all.” She gathered her courage and looked up at him. “Here I am, about to get married, and I can’t even get out of bed yet.”
He touched a fingertip to the end of her nose. His voice was laced with amusement when he replied, “If you were completely well, you’d probably spend the first week of our marriage in bed.”
Maggie’s stomach felt as if it dropped through the mattress beneath her and plopped onto the floor. Fiery heat flooded into her face.
He sighed and braced a hand on each side of her, his broad chest forming a canopy of muscle over her and the baby. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease you like that.” When she averted her face, he leaned around to look her in the eye again. “Maggie…” he said in a gently scolding tone, “I told you not to worry about it. Right? It’ll be fine, I promise you. Whatever it is you’re afraid of, just put it straight out of your head.”
He made it sound so easy, only it wasn’t. At least not for her.
Shifting his weight to one arm, he trailed the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “You’re not going to back out on me at the last minute, are you?”
Jaimie’s warm little body lay pressed against her, a reminder of all that she might lose if she did. “No,” she managed to say. “I don’t want to back out.”
She felt some of the tension ease from him. “You’re sure? If you’re having second thoughts, speak up now, sweetheart, before it’s too late.”
He acted as if she had a choice. “I’m sure,” she sa
id hollowly.
Chapter Twelve
Late the following afternoon, Maggie became Rafe Kendrick’s wife, with only Heidi in attendance as one of her family members, and Ryan and Becca acting as witnesses. For Maggie, the quick bedside ceremony was an ordeal.
“Do you, Margaret Lynn Stanley, take this man, Rafael Paul Kendrick, as your lawfully wedded husband, promising to love and honor him, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” the judge asked.
Maggie directed a panicked glance at Heidi and then at the bassinet. Through the flannel gown, Rafe’s hand felt as big as a baseball mitt curled over her ribs. “I, um…I do.”
His fingers tightened when the judge finished his recitation and it came his turn. Then, in a strong, steady voice, he said, “I do.”
“Do you have the rings?”
When cued by the judge, Ryan stepped forward with the rings. When he flipped open the lid of a red velvet box and held it toward her, Maggie plucked the man’s plain gold wedding band from the folds of white satin.
Rafe drew his arm from around her to extend his hand. She stared at his long fingers, the knuckles calloused and scarred from a lifetime of grueling work. She was aware of Becca sniffing and saying, “Oh” in a quavery voice.
“As you slip on the ring, Maggie, please repeat after me…” Judge Barker instructed.
The sound of the judge’s voice and her own tangled in her mind. As she aimed the ring at Rafe’s finger, it slipped from her grasp and fell to the carpet, bouncing before it landed between her bare feet.
As Rafe crouched to retrieve it, he curled a warm hand over her ankle, which was hidden by the hem of her nightgown. Maggie leaped like a startled gazelle. He tipped her a look, his expression changing swiftly from concern to bewilderment. As he pushed erect, his gaze held hers. This time he helped guide the ring onto his finger.
After that, everything seemed to happen with dizzying haste, and the next thing she knew, Rafe was saying in a strong voice, “With this ring, I do thee wed.”