Читать книгу The Rancher's Temporary Engagement - Stacy Henrie - Страница 14

Chapter Three

Edward mumbled an apology, avoiding eye contact with both his foreman and Maggy. Of all the foolish, rash, ridiculous plans, he thought as he set down his cup, scooped up a napkin, and thrust it at Maggy so she could dab her tea-soaked dress.

Feigning affection for someone, as Beatrice had done five and a half years ago, was the last thing he wanted to do, least of all toward a practical stranger. He fought to keep his expression impassive, but his jaw began to twitch with the attempt.

“Didn’t know you were engaged, boss.”

“It is rather sudden,” Edward managed to get out between his clenched teeth.

Maggy glanced up from wiping her dress and frowned at him. Was his scowl leaking through, or had she heard the sharpness in his tone?

“So how did you two...” McCall shifted his weight, looking every bit as confused and uncertain as Edward felt. “Are you from England, as well...Maggy?”

She set down her napkin as she offered the foreman a brilliant smile. “No, I’m not from England, Mr. McCall. But I have come a very long way to see Edward here, so if you’d be good enough to allow us another few minutes in private.” With impressive skill, she linked her arm through the foreman’s and guided him toward the parlor door as if the idea to leave had been his all along.

“If you didn’t meet in England, then where—”

“Oh, we have a shared acquaintance,” Maggy said with a nonchalant wave of her hand and a tinkling laugh as she led McCall into the hallway. “Our friend introduced us, and after that Edward and I struck up a lively correspondence.”

Edward nearly forgot his fury as he watched her win over McCall. The poor man looked a bit in awe of Maggy. Edward had to admit himself that she’d accomplished much in the last hour and with great aplomb. She acted quickly on her feet and had successfully discovered two possible suspects.

If only she hadn’t gone and ruined everything with this harebrained scheme of them pretending to be engaged.

“We’ll be just a few minutes, Mr. McCall.”

Her back was to Edward, but he could tell from her tone that Maggy had graced the foreman with another smile before she shut the parlor door. An outlandish, irrational thought had him wondering what it would be like to have the full power of that charming smile directed at him.

It certainly wasn’t her smile that she aimed at him when she whirled around. “You are going to ruin this investigation,” she hissed. “Could you have looked any more appalled at playing the role of my fiancé?”

“Are you mad?” Edward countered, keeping his voice equally low. “Of course I’m going to be shocked and downright annoyed when you announce such a ridiculous fiction.”

Maggy crossed her arms and glared at him. Her eyes had turned a dark cobalt. “There wasn’t time to ask how you felt about it. Besides I told you that I was coming up with a role.”

“Yes. But I didn’t think that would be pretending to be my fiancée. Who will believe it?”

Her eyebrows rose in a haughty look as she motioned to the closed door. “I have no doubt that your foreman believes it.”

“This is madness.” He threw his hands in the air, then spun to face the fireplace. “There is surely some other role for you to play.”

He sensed her stepping toward him. “This is the best way for me to ingratiate myself into that club for the ranchers’ sweethearts and wives. If I can get them to trust me, they’ll share their secrets, which will likely include hints or knowledge of their husbands’ nefarious activities.”

“What about playing a servant at the inn? Or my...my visiting relation?” Edward jammed his hands into his pockets, his chin dipping low. He didn’t need to hear Maggy’s rejection of those ideas—in his heart, he knew they wouldn’t work in the way they needed.

Her voice came out surprisingly kind and placating. “It’s not enough to overhear their conversations, the way a servant would—I need to be someone they can confide in. You said it yourself, Edward. The only way I can gain access into that club is to pretend to be your wife or fiancée.”

He had only a moment to realize he liked hearing her say his name before she went on. “Believe me, I wouldn’t choose this role if I didn’t think it absolutely necessary to this mission.”

Edward wasn’t sure whether to be offended by that remark or not. Turning to face her, he glimpsed a touch of vulnerability on her face, as he had earlier, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Had she also been hurt in the past?

“Care to elaborate?” he inquired.

It was the wrong thing to ask. Maggy jutted out her chin and peered down her nose at him. “I have my reasons, which I do not need to discuss.”

“And if I refuse to go along with this charade?” He felt compelled to ask the question, though he could feel himself relenting—against his better judgment. Maggy had effectively bested his challenge, and if he let her go, he wasn’t sure where he’d look for another detective.

“Then I suppose I’ll drive myself back to the station. There’s nothing more I can do to help you.”

The words themselves were spoken with clipped finality, but the flicker of desperation that entered her blue eyes belied their strength. Did she stand to gain or lose something from this case? Something beyond a paycheck for her time and efforts?

Edward pushed out a frustrated breath as he eyed the ceiling. The intricate plasterwork was a unique fixture of his home, a nod to his English heritage. He’d been hard-pressed to find someone who could do the work and had been relieved and proud when the old chap he’d hired had finished. This place represented Edward’s hard work and ambition, not to mention his confidence in himself and his place in the world. He couldn’t imagine watching everything he’d accomplished be picked off and destroyed bit by bit.

And that meant making a rather large concession now.

“If I go along with this...” He emphasized the word if, though Maggy still lit up with interest. “I don’t want it to be an outright lie.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

How to explain? He didn’t know if she was religious or not, but even if she wasn’t, he hoped she would honor his desire to be scrupulous. It was a way of life he’d attempted to live fully, in light of his sister’s example—a determination reinforced by Beatrice’s dishonest behavior.

“What will we do to end this charade?” he asked, trying a different approach.

Maggy shook her head and shrugged. “Decide we don’t suit and I go back to Colorado.”

“Then I would like to make the engagement official.”

Her eyes widened as a look of near panic and suspicion crossed her face. “Official how?”

“Will you...” Edward cleared his throat—he could well relate to the alarm she felt. It was as if he stood at the top of some great mountain peak and had been commanded to jump. “Will you agree to be my fiancée, for the duration of your time here? I only ask it that way,” he hastened to add, “so that we won’t be living or telling a lie when we tell people I asked for your hand.”

She took his measure, making him wonder what she saw. “All right then. I’ll agree to be your fiancée for as long as I’m needed here.”

Then her lips curved upward in a dazzling smile, similar to the one she’d bestowed on McCall, leaving Edward as charmed as his foreman and thinking this temporary engagement might prove to be a decent idea after all.

* * *

Maggy resisted the urge to shout with triumph. Things were going splendidly and she’d only been at the Running W less than two hours. “Since we’ve already established our plan, I’d like to change.” She motioned to the tea splotches on her dress. “And then I’d like to see the rest of the ranch.”

“One moment,” Edward said, scrutinizing her with those gray eyes. “Have you played the role of someone’s fiancée before?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Have you ever been engaged before?”

The question pushed memories best forgotten into her mind and she frowned. She and Jeb were betrothed just two days before they married. That hardly counted. “I don’t see how that’s relevant, but no, I have not.”

“Then how do I know this plan of yours will actually work?”

Now he was simply being obtuse. She’d already proven herself twice over, and she’d agreed to be his fiancée so they wouldn’t be lying. Crossing her arms, Maggy challenged his probing look with one of her own. “Of course it will work.”

“We also have your reputation to consider.”

He was worried about that now? “I’m a female detective, Edward. I have little to no reputation as it is.”

“Be that as it may,” he clasped his hands behind his back as he paced the room again, “as my fiancée and a hopeful member of the ranchers’ wives’ club, you must be seen as the consummate image of propriety.”

Concern nagged her, causing Maggy to tighten her arms against her bodice. “Fine. I will be.”

“That would entail things like staying in the guest cottage rather than here inside my home.”

She nodded with impatience. “I can do that. Now I’d like to—”

“What about your wardrobe?”

Full annoyance sparked inside her. So she hadn’t factored in every detail; at least she’d come up with a plan. “What about it, darling?” she ground out.

The merest hint of amusement lit his gaze before he shuttered it. “You only came up with this scheme a moment ago—I doubt you packed with this role in mind. How up to snuff are your clothes?”

“They’re a bit out of style. But, again, I’m a detective, not a socialite.”

He stopped and stood in front of her. “A socialite is exactly what you must be, Maggy, if we are to pull this off.”

Fear began chewing at her frustration, riddling her thoughts with doubt. “I can show you what I have to wear to social functions.” While most of her dresses were simple in style and adornment, they would surely do. “I’ll get my trunk...”

She let her voice fade out when Edward slid his fingers around her wrist to stay her exit. Icy terror froze her for a moment, except for the painful, rapid beating of her heart.

“Unhand me,” she said in a firm whisper.

Edward blinked in obvious confusion, then glanced down at her hand. “My apologies.” He released her at once, restoring Maggy’s ability to breathe normally. His contrite expression was further proof he’d meant nothing by his gesture. “I only wished to detain you another minute.”

Gripping her hands together, to hide their trembling, she lifted her chin. “What more did you want to say?”

“I want to address this.”

Maggy eyed him, feeling puzzled. “Address what?”

“What just happened.” He motioned between them.

Fresh dread washed through her and she clasped her hands more tightly together. She would not divulge her past to him. “I don’t see how that’s important to your case.”

“I disagree.” His mouth and brow were both drawn downward. “As an engaged couple, we have to appear as if we share genuine affection for one another. But if you can’t abide my hand on yours...”

He wasn’t asking about her past. Maggy allowed a small breath of relief. “I can certainly feign affection.” Her tone came out far more self-confident than she actually felt. Surely she could play any role she needed to. She always had before. “Can you do the same?” she countered.

To her surprise, Edward didn’t rattle off a quick retort. Instead he lowered his head and shut his eyes in what appeared to be a silent prayer. A prick of guilt stung Maggy as she tried to remember the last time she’d prayed. Probably not since she’d been a girl. She shifted her stance, feeling uncomfortable and at a disadvantage. It wasn’t an emotion she enjoyed.

Edward opened his eyes and took a decisive step forward, which meant they were standing toe-to-toe. Maggy had a strange urge to ask him what he’d concluded. However, when he scooped up one of her hands in his, she had a guess what his answer had been.

“I believe I can act the part of a devoted fiancé.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “At least I shall try.”

The gentleness of his voice and the warmth of his fingers on hers inspired a renewal of her trepidation but also an unfamiliar and entirely unexpected sensation of safety. Could she play this role as thoroughly as Edward was implying they must?

“I... I need to change.” She pulled her hand free and fell back a step.

His brow creased again, but he didn’t attempt to stop her this time. “I’ll show you to the guest cottage then.”

Nodding, Maggy waited for him to lead the way. The hallway was empty, which meant his foreman had decided not to wait. Edward easily shouldered her trunk a second time and she trailed him out the front door. A stone’s throw away stood a stable and another small building. The guest house sported the same white clapboard as the main one and its own tiny porch.

Edward set her trunk down to open the door. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.” Maggy stepped inside. The single room was spacious and clean, and the window revealed a lovely view of the mountains.

He placed her luggage on the bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” She shook her head.

Slipping out the door, Edward paused. “How shall I introduce you to the rest of my staff?”

“While I’m here, I’ll be Maggy Worthwright.” She liked to keep her maiden name, which was the surname she went by since becoming a widow, to herself to preserve her anonymity and ability to be anyone she needed.

He nodded. “I’ll be at the main barn, when you’re ready to see the ranch.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Once he shut the door, Maggy sank down on the bed beside her trunk. What if she couldn’t effectively play the part of Edward’s fiancée? She hadn’t exactly thought through what that would mean. And she’d all but panicked when he grabbed her hand. Could she endure days, possibly weeks, of pretending to adore him in the company of others? As if she were young and in love...all over again?

Maggy shivered, despite the room’s pleasant temperature, and folded her arms tightly against her tea-soiled jacket. The thought of being under another man’s thumb made her stomach roil.

What did she know about love or being betrothed to someone? In the past, love had been a weapon used to hurt or a dangerous path leading to foolish choices and weakness. She’d vowed at Jeb’s funeral that she would never, ever allow herself to be tied to another man. Instead she would live alone—and free. Free of belittlement, hurt and pain.

You’re nothin’, Maggy. Just you remember that.

The deep-rooted, ugly words repeated in her mind and made it hard to breathe. She rubbed a hand along the fabric at her collarbone and sucked in several breaths.

“I am not nothing,” she fiercely told herself. “I am one of the best Pinkerton detectives out there.”

And that meant seeing this mission—this role—through completely. Maggy jumped to her feet and opened her trunk, fresh determination battling her fears. She could do this. The next few weeks would be worth the sacrifice, especially if her success here meant she secured the position as head female detective.

She removed her trousers and shirt from the trunk, eager to exchange her traveling dress for more comfortable clothing. After all, she was about to tour a working ranch. The feel of the loose material eased some of her trepidation. She tucked in her shirt, laced her shoes back up, and pulled her worn straw hat from its equally tattered box. Positioning the hat on her head, she eyed herself in the bureau mirror.

Did she look the part of Edward’s fiancée? Maggy frowned at her reflection, pulling her naturally pink lips downward. Whether she did or not, this was the part she would play. She’d navigated far more complicated roles in her six years as a detective. But as she exited the cottage, she couldn’t help a faint tremor of misgiving that this charade might prove to be her most challenging yet.