This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“No, I don’t suppose I would,” he admitted. Then he asked, “How’s Maggie? I heard she saw it.”

But his question was ignored. “When was the last time you saw Culley?”

“It’s been a while.” His eyes narrowed, appearing even smaller.

Chase sipped at the murky black coffee, hot and strong. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. “You and the O’Rourkes used to be as thick as thieves.” He used the phrase deliberately.

“Yeah.” It was a growling agreement. “You can think what you like about me, Calder, and the kind of man I am, but I’d never do anything that might cause Maggie pain. It wasn’t a pretty sight she saw. Knowing what you’re thinking, she’s gotta be hurting inside.”

“If you know anything about this, Tucker, and I find out you do, you’re through,” Chase warned, but he half-believed what the man said. The hardest cases were often easy pushovers where women were concerned, able to bash a man’s brains out without blinking an eye, yet helpless as a newborn kitten when confronted with a woman’s tears.

“I told you what I know.”

Chase took another swallow of coffee and emptied the mug in the sink, flicking the cigar ash down the drain. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You just treat Maggie right, or the next time your cup will be laced with arsenic. I always keep some handy in case a rat turns up.”

“I’ll remember that.” Chase was half-smiling to himself when he walked out. It seemed Maggie had no lack of knight errants eager to save her from him. Didn’t any of them realize how much he loved that woman?

The thought of her directed his footsteps to The Homestead. The house was silent when he entered it, except for the sound of an electric mixer running in the kitchen. He walked through, expecting to find Maggie busy with preparations for the evening meal, but Ruth was there alone.

“Where’s Maggie?”

“She’s upstairs lying down for a while. A headache.”

Chase didn’t wait to hear more, leaving the kitchen and crossing the living room to climb the steps two at a time. At first glance, the bedroom appeared empty; then he saw her standing at the far window. She had turned when he entered, and the strain of the day’s events showed in her green eyes.

“Ruth said you were lying down.” He paused a moment to close the door before walking toward her.

“I told her I had a headache. I wanted to get away by myself so I could think.” Her glance was pulled to the window, then rushed back to him. “You believe Culley did it, don’t you?”

He stopped, searching her eyes. “Don’t you?”

She turned away from him to stare out the window and rub her elbows in the palms of her hands. “I can’t imagine Culley doing it. I can’t believe my brother would hang … anything. Culley isn’t like that.”

“Maybe he wasn’t like that.” He walked up behind her, his hands caressing the soft points of her shoulders. “You were gone a long time, Maggie. You don’t know what kind of a man he’s become.”

“He’s still my brother.” A chill ran down her spine. “Chase, what are you going to do?”

He turned her around, his hands sliding down her back to fold her into his arms. “I’m going to hold onto you, Maggie. I’m going to hold onto what we’ve got.”

That wasn’t what she meant, but it ceased to matter. As long as his arms were around her and his mouth was covering hers, she could forget the rest for now.

Chapter XXXV

In her sleep, Maggie reached out for Chase, but her hand encountered empty space where he should have been lying. She was instantly awake, her eyes searching the night-darkened bed. It was empty. Then she caught the pungent aroma of cigar smoke. Her head turned on the pillow.

The cinnamon armchair had been turned to face the window. Chase was lounging in it, his bare feet propped up on the windowsill. He was partially in the shadows, but the glow of his cigar laid its dark yellow light along his face. In this faint light, his cheeks were flat and ridged beneath the covering of tanned skin.

She was content just to look at him. She had never felt so close to him, so much a part of him than she had that evening. Instead of undermining their love, the incident with the stallion had brought them closer together. Yes, their bodies had joined in lovemaking, but it had gone beyond that, their silences joining, each of their voices speaking the other’s thoughts.

Yet he had not slept. She sensed he was pulling away from her. His mind was tracking through their problems alone without her. He was leaving her out, not letting her be a part of it. She couldn’t allow it.

“Chase, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” he replied. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be coming to bed shortly.”

Instead, Maggie pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. The moonlight cast a satin sheen over the whiteness of her naked skin as she crossed to his chair. “You’re thinking about the stallion.”