Swept Off Her Feet (Swift Justice) Page 7

  With a sigh, I trudged to the table and collected the dishes. I handed them to Maggie, who was at the sink. She’d risen before anyone, as always. She took them from me without so much as a “good morning”. I turned away from her, unsurprised. Her silent rebuke no longer stung as much as it used to, though I still didn’t understand it.

  “Where’s our sister?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful—speaking only to dispel the silence. Maggie was content to wallow in it all day, but not me.

  “Still asleep,” she sighed.

  I stifled a sigh of my own. Maggie was forever acting put-upon. Oh, what burdens she had to bear! I could read her thoughts, they were written clear on her face! Two lazy sisters-in-law, while she was the only one worth a grain of salt. Indeed! I knew well what she thought of me, even if she’d never troubled herself to speak it aloud. Maggie Swift would never do that, oh no, not her.

  It was a pity that the effects of her whipping had worn off so soon, I mused. She needed to be taken down a peg or two every other week. She’d been so much more agreeable with a sore bottom. Before I could say so, however—and the words were already lining up on my tongue, ready to burst free—Abigail walked into the room in her red checkered dress.

  “Mornin’,” she said, the words a demure murmur that perfectly matched the sparkle in her eyes and the glow in her cheeks.

  Being newlywed suited her perfectly, I thought, without envy. Trent and she seemed made for each other, regardless of the fact that they’d never met before their wedding day. She was every inch the lady to his genteel manners. She chose her words carefully and was sweeter than honey: the consummate dutiful wife.

  I’d opened my mouth to greet her, but Maggie beat me it. “Hello, Abby.” I wondered what it must cost her to keep the ire out of her voice. Not for the first time, I wondered why she bothered. She’d certainly never troubled to show me any such kindness.

  Though I’d never admit it aloud, even in my darkest moments, the best I could hope for was that this Clay fellow would stay around long enough to marry her and take her away. Without her oppressive presence, I would be able to breathe freely and relax in what was supposed to be my own home. I would never be able to do that with her here, watching my every move and judging me lacking. If I so much as picked up her mother’s sugar bowl I got the eagle eye, as though I was a toddler playing with things that I shouldn’t. Clay would be a godsend, if he got her far away from here, but he was a smart man—I wasn’t holding my breath that she could keep him interested.

  “Good morning, Abigail,” I greeted her with a friendly smile. “And it does seem that it has been a good one thus far, if those red cheeks of yours are anything to go by.”

  The cheeks in question went from a rosy glow to a bright red as she dropped her eyes. I couldn’t help but tease her—she made it so fun to do!

  “Really, Libby!” Maggie exclaimed, sniffing. “Proper ladies just don’t speak of such things.”

  “Oh, silly me!” I declared, waving a hand in the air. “I didn’t mean anything by it, you know that, don’t you Abigail?”

  Though she couldn’t look me in the eye, she gave a small shake of her blond head. “Yes, of course. And please—call me Abby.”

  I turned on my sister-in-law and shot her a triumphant glare that she ignored, turning back to the dishes.

  “Did I miss breakfast?” Abby asked, even though it was clear she had. Her voice was soft and musical, like a bird’s song. I thought I would never tire of it—it was no wonder that Trent had taken her every night and day this week! I only knew because the walls were thin, and they hadn’t begun to take the same measures to avoid being overheard.

  “I saved you some,” Maggie replied, pulling a covered plate off the counter.

  I was struck dumb by this unfamiliar show of kindness. What power did Abigail have over my normally cantankerous sister-in-law? Perhaps she was trying to hide her normally bad temper under sweet smiles and favors. Might as well have one sister-in-law that liked her in case Clay got some sense and galloped away from here as fast as he could get.

  “You, too, Libby,” Maggie said, though her voice had cooled quite a bit. Still, I’d take what I could get—I was used to an empty belly on the rare mornings I convinced Wesley to stay abed with me a little longer. The only thing Maggie had ever let me rustle up was coffee, and even then she tended to hover over my shoulder the entire time, making clicking noises of disapproval with her tongue.

  When Abby and I sat down to a lukewarm breakfast of ham, biscuits and gravy, Maggie put up her dishrag and joined us at the table. For a few minutes we ate in companionable silence, the only sound our knives as they scraped against our metal plates.

  I’d just taken a sip of milk when Abigail said, “Say, Maggie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Christmas dinner.”

  I had to swallow quickly to avoid spewing the contents from my mouth. I turned my eyes to Maggie, watching for her reaction. I’d pestered Wes quite a few times since she’d turned down my offer to make dinner. It had earned me a spanking on the bare that I’d felt keenly for the next two days. My husband didn’t hold to being nagged, and I’d considered the matter dropped. But if Abby had something to say about it, maybe there was hope of swaying Maggie after all. I knew she liked Abby better than she did me, as well as I knew that she was determined to make a good impression on our new sister-in-law.

  “Yes, Abigail?”

  “Abby, please,” she insisted, smiling at Maggie. “I was just thinking, I’d love to help out. My Mama makes a delicious apple pie every Christmas, and I just thought that since I won’t be there this year…” she trailed off, her eyes lingering on Maggie’s face, with its stiff, forced smile.

  I had to pity her. They’d been exactly the wrong words to say.

  “I see,” Maggie replied, rising to clear the remainder of the dishes. I knew, even if Abby didn’t, that would be the last she would say about it.

  Poor Abby didn’t take the hint and followed Maggie into the kitchen, smiling eagerly. “Did you know that the crust is made with cold butter? I know some people let theirs warm in the window, but my ma taught me to do it with cold butter.”

  “Hmm,” Maggie replied.

  “And the apples can be any kind, but I prefer red. Do you have any apple trees?”

  “A few.” Her voice was more terse with each reply, but Abby was too excited to notice. I could see that she was getting to her breaking point, but Abby hadn’t lived with her long enough to know.

  “Are they red apple trees?”

  Maggie turned toward Abby, looking fit to be tied. “Yes, but you won’t be cooking anything for Christmas dinner, Abigail! I will tell you the same I told Libby—I will be handling the cooking.”

  Abby, clearly surprised by the rebuke, took a step back and began wringing her hands. “But I just want to help.”

  “I don’t need your help,” Maggie replied before turning away from the hurt expression on Abby’s face and going back to the dishes.

  I stood up and walked toward her. I was laughing inside, seeing someone else be subject to the poor treatment I’d been receiving, but the other part of me felt truly sorry for Abby. Maggie didn’t have any idea what it was like to leave your family and join another’s house. She wouldn’t know anything about it at all.

  “Come on, sister,” I said, maybe too brightly. “Let’s go start moving your things.”

  I felt Maggie’s eyes on me before I heard her speak. “Moving? Where would she moving them to, pray tell?”

  I met her gaze without flinching. “The main bedroom.”

  Maggie’s face contorted in shock and anger. She stared at us, blinking her eyes, clenching her teeth together. “You can’t have that room.”

  “Wesley told her to move in there yesterday, Mags.”

  “Don’t call me that!” she hissed at me. “Why? Why does she need to sleep in my mother’s bed? I haven’t even cleaned out her trunk!”

  “I know,” I replied, as cool
as you please. “Which is why I am going to help her.”

  She moved so quickly a plate clanged to the floor, dripping sudsy water onto the hard wood. She stepped in front of us, holding her arms out wide as though she were keep us standing there. “You cannot move into my mother’s room,” she repeated, her voice harsh. “D’you understand?”

  “We don’t have anywhere else to go,” Abby repeated, hanging her head in obvious misery.

  “I gave you my room!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been sleeping on the couch so—”

  “How long can that go on?” Abby asked, her voice soft.

  “That room is too small for a couple,” I put in. “It was never meant to be anything but a nursery.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you have that room.” Her voice had become softer, but she was still refusing to yield.

  I wasn’t surprised by her reaction, but if the spots of color on Abby’s face were any indication, she was horrified. “You don’t have a choice,” I told her plainly. “Wes told them they could have the room. You can’t control everything, Maggie.”

  Maggie’s face paled at my comment and then turned bright red. She was as angry as I’d ever seen her. “I do not try to control everything!”

  “Sure you do. First, Christmas dinner, now this. I know that this is your home, but you’re not master here.”

  “Girls, please,” Abby spoke up, her voice strained. “Let’s not—”

  “I never said I was master here!” Maggie gasped.

  “But you sure act like it!” I snapped.

  “You were not raised here, Libby Herrington! This is not your home. You should know how sick it makes me to even see you in my mother’s kitchen, at her table. You do not belong here!”

  The venom of her words shocked some of the fury out of me. When I replied, my voice was softer than it had been. “I was nice to your ma, Maggie. I was kind to her.”

  “That doesn’t mean you fooled anyone! We all know you’re a vicious, conniving schemer! Why my brother married you, I will never understand!”

  I drew myself up to my full 5’ 4’’, straightening my shoulders and throwing my head back. There was no way I was going to be intimidated by this shrew. “It’s not for you to understand—why, you’re just his unmarried sister! Why would he care one mite what you think? And you can say what you want, you can throw your tantrums, but it doesn’t change a thing. Abby and Trent are moving into that room, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  For a moment, I thought she might strike me. Her eyes had a wild look in them, and while part of me wanted to turn away, I met her gaze, defiant. Let her, if she wanted to. It would only land her over my husband’s lap.

  In the end, Maggie lowered her hand and flounced out of the room. I heard the back door creak open and slam shut. Only then did I turn to Abby, who looked close to tears. I put my arm around her and squeezed her shoulder in a quick hug.

  “Never you mind,” I said, forcing a smile. “She’ll come around.”

  Abby took in my lie, probably not even knowing it for one, and nodded. I had to admire her—sweet she may be, but she seemed to have some grit in her as well. “OK.”

  “Now, let’s get started. We have a lot to do if we’re going to get done by supper.”

  Chapter Five

  Maggie

  By the time I came back to the farmhouse, I felt foolish about how much time had passed. I hadn’t done any of my chores, and the men would be due any minute now. With a start, I remembered that Clay was expected for dinner. How I wish I could get a message to him and ask him not to come. It would be hard enough as it was to sit through dinner with those women… I was sure they had been talking about me, and I could already hear the comments they would make through dinner. Or maybe they wouldn’t say anything—maybe they would ignore me, pointedly looking past me as though I weren’t in the room. Either way, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

  I trudged on, the farmhouse looming in the distance. From here, I could see that it was in need of a coat of paint, though my brothers, like my father before them, thought it ridiculous to spend money on such a luxury. There were some shingles that would need to be replaced before next winter, but they would most likely get us through this one. Darn my luck, as I was coming up, I saw Clay riding toward me. When he pulled up beside me, I walked toward him, my hand outstretched for Sapphire.

  “Evenin’, ma’am.” He tipped his hat to me.

  I felt my heart flutter so quickly I put a hand to my chest. “Hello, Clay.”

  He dismounted swiftly, and I walked beside him as he took Sapphire to the barn. He put Sapphire into a stall as I stood nearby, watching him work. “Are you still finishing chores? I thought you’d be started on supper by now.”

  “Actually…” I blushed under his intense gaze. What was it about him that made me want to tell him everything? He pulled words from me in a way no man had before. “I didn’t get to my chores today.”

  He arched a dark brow. “Is that so?”

  I nodded, my cheeks feeling hotter by the minute. “I’ll get to it after supper.”

  “It will be dark then,” he commented. “Why didn’t you get them done?”

  I shrugged and mumbled an excuse, but as I turned away I felt his strong grip on the crook of my arm. “What?”

  “I asked you a question, Maggie. You have the darndest habit of avoiding answering. Perhaps I should remedy that for you?”

  I could only imagine the remedy he would choose. It made me squirm, but when I opened my mouth to reply I found myself giggling nervously. “I’m sorry,” I said, even as his eyes narrowed. “It’s not you, just…”

  “Just what? Do you think I’m playing with you, Maggie? I’m not. I’m dead serious.” To prove his point he took my shoulders in his hands and turned me around. With my back to him, I could only imagine what was coming next. Sure enough, before I could protest two short, sharp smacks landed on my behind.

  I groaned as my behind tingled with pain. “I wasn’t laughing at you,” I said, the words soft if a bit sullen.

  “I think we should marry soon, Maggie.”

  “Why, Clayborn!” I turned to face him, fanning myself with my fluttering hand. “Is that a proposal?”

  “As like as you’re ever going to get,” he replied, his voice gruff. “I’m not good with words.”

  “You seemed mighty fine with them the other day,” I remarked, and to my delight, his lips spread into a smile. Was he remembering, as I was, the feel of his hand slapping against my bottom? Idly, I wondered what it might feel like, if it was bared to him? Perhaps he would only give me gentle spankings once we were wed. The thought made me sigh aloud, despite myself.

  “I won’t apologize for doing a job well,” he said, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was teasing me. “Shall we go in? Don’t want to stir any gossip.”

  I felt my stomach tighten at his words. I truly did not care for going inside, but I cared even less for explaining why. “Sure.”

  “One of your sisters fixin’ dinner tonight?”

  “Sisters in-law,” I reminded him pertly. “And do you really think that I’d let anyone but me fix your dinner, Clayborn?” It was my first attempt at a flirtation, and by the way his lips twitched beneath his mustache, I judged myself successful.

  When we walked into the farmhouse, it was dark except for the kerosene lamp that had been left burning on the table. The sun was beginning to set, and the light coming in through the windows was dim. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, and I frowned at the silence.

  “Where is everybody?” Clay asked from behind me.

  “My brothers are still working. They’ll be in any minute now.” As for my sisters-in-law, I hadn’t the faintest clue.

  “You don’t think they would have left the house, do you?” His brow was furrowed in concern.

  “Like me?” I asked softly, with a smile. “No, I doubt they are that stupid.”

  “Hey now,” his words were
sharp. “Watch the sass, Maggie.”

  “That’s what you were thinking,” I defended myself, quickly stepping to the side and out of spanking range.

  He evaluated me for a long moment before saying, “I think you can be impulsive sometimes, Maggie. That’s all. I would never call you stupid, and I’d thank you not to do it either.” His firm words already had me nodding, but his frown didn’t lessen. “And if I want to spank you, don’t think for one moment that you’ll be able to get away.”

  Good Lord! I thought, ignoring the sudden urge to stick my tongue out at him. Had God ever made a more stubborn, bossier man? I’d used to think that title was reserved for the oldest of my brothers, but that had been before I’d met Clayborn.

  “Let’s check the house,” Clay said, strutting through the main area as though he owned the place.

  I stiffened as he neared the main bedroom. I knew with certainty that that’s where they were. He rapped his knuckles on the door, calling, “Ladies? Are you in there?”

  There was no answer, so he turned the knob and swung the door open. He stepped back and looked at me, clearly waiting for me to take the lead. I huffed, loudly.

  “What if they’re… indisposed?” he asked.

  “Surely you’ve seen your fair share of…” I trailed off at the affronted look on his face.

  “That’s neither here nor there, Maggie, and I’ll thank you to watch your tongue.”

  I lowered my eyes and nodded. He was right, of course. I had grown quite bold since my father’s death. “Forgive me,” I said sweetly.

  “Go have a look, darlin’. I’ll be right here, if you need me.”

  I smiled up at him—I liked hearing those words, and I believed he meant them. When I stepped into my parents’ room, the first thing I noticed was that the curtains had been drawn and dusted. Gone were the cobwebs in the corners that had formed since I could not stand to go into their room. The floor had been swept and now gleamed from washing; the thick layer of dust that had collected on the cedar chest was gone as well.