Mackenzie shoved to his feet, his hand gripping the hilt of the dagger at his waist. “And how did Malone learn about it? When has he been talking to our Maggie? Has he touched you, lass?”
Maggie bounded to her feet. “Papa Snake, you calm down. Mr. Malone didn’t have to talk to me to learn what I’ve been doing the last few days. Yes, Papa Lucky, I repaired the roof, and I won’t be scolded for doing work that needed doing. If we’re going to own Hotel Bliss, then we are obliged to keep it up. I wasn’t about to let the spring rains ruin the upstairs walls.”
Bracing her hands on her hips, she turned her glower on Rafe. “I am not sickly. I’m as healthy a person as you’ll ever meet. It’s true that when I was younger I suffered spells of rheumatism. They came as flare-ups, occasional attacks much like Papa Ben’s malaria. But I’ve outgrown it. I haven’t been bothered by it in years. I won’t have it talked about by any of you.” She fired a glare around at all the men. “Does everyone understand?”
She didn’t give them a chance to reply. “Now, if we’re through discussing my personal business, I’d like to return to important matters.” She waited until each of her grandfathers nodded their acquiescence before turning to Rafe. He held her gaze for a long minute, silently conveying the message that the conversation was postponed, not finished.
Regally, she took a seat on the ground. Rafe had the distinct impression that she almost stuck her tongue out at him. He gave her his wickedest wink, then spoke to Ben. “She mentioned owning the hotel. I gather this is how you intend to use your treasure?”
Ben reached into his pocket and removed his pipe. “Yes. We convinced Barlow Hill, the viper—”
“The varmint.”
“The villain.”
“The vermin.”
“—To agree to sell the property back to us. He set an outrageous price and we agreed to it. We went so far as to have a legal contract drawn up spelling out the particulars. He has no idea we’ll be able to meet it.”
“From your mouth to the Mayan gods’ ears,” Gus grumbled.
“And then to the judge who will oversee the lawsuit,” Maggie added. “You can bet he won’t give up without a fight. That’s one reason it’s so important that we remain nice and friendly to the man. Surprise is a powerful weapon. We need to wield it when its power will be most effective—when we have the cash in our hands.”
“We’ll be able to meet it as long as Malone has better luck than Lucky and I did when we headed down there to fetch it,” Gus said.
Lucky frowned. “The first mistake was sending me to begin with. I’m full of luck—all bad.”
Nobody bothered to argue with him. Instead, Gus said to Rafe, “We’re running out of time. The rat’s moving into the hotel only rams that truth home harder. We have fewer than six months left. It doesn’t leave much room for error.”
“It doesn’t leave
any
room,” Snake added glumly. “If Malone fails we won’t have time to send anyone else.”
Rafe sat up straight. Lucky Nichols had no way of knowing that his words had touched Rafe’s most sensitive nerve, a nerve born during the war for Texas’s independence almost a decade ago. The setting of a failure that had changed the course of Rafe Malone’s life. He met the gazes of each of the others in turn, then flatly stated, “I won’t fail.”
At first no one reacted to his grim confidence. A long moment passed before Gus slammed his fist into his palm, Lucky broke out in a crooked-toothed smile, Snake folded his arms and smirked, and Ben acknowledged Rafe with a nod, his blue eyes twinkling.
Maggie St. John beamed and said, “Excellent! So, when do we set sail?”
The subsequent argument dragged on for hours. Rafe hadn’t seen such down-and-dirty fighting for years. When it was done, the victor kissed each vanquished combatant on his cheek. Each combatant except for Rafe, that is. To him she offered a smug, victorious smile.
He decided then and there he’d have his kiss, and soon.
Not on the cheek, either.
~~~~~~~~~~
Carrying a tea tray, Maggie paused outside the door to the suite of rooms Barlow Hill had usurped upon his arrival at Hotel Bliss. On the tray sat a pot of coffee and a plate of molasses cookies baked by her own hand. Hill wanted refreshments for two, and Maggie was pleased to provide them.
She eyed the sweets’ burned edges and smiled. For the first time in memory, Papa Snake had crowed with pride when viewing the results of Maggie’s baking. In fact, he had declared she should do all the cooking for Mr. Hill while her papas saw to the final preparations for their trip. A week of Cuisine Maggie probably wouldn’t kill the man, and a little bit of subversive activity was good for morale. Gus had even expressed the belief that enough of Maggie’s cooking might cause Hill to reconsider his decision to live at Hotel Bliss.
It doesn’t hurt to hope,
Maggie told herself as she knocked on the door.
“Enter.”
Maggie pasted on a false smile and pushed the door open.
“Ah, Miss St. John,” Hill said from his seat behind Papa Ben’s large mahogany desk. He climbed laboriously to his feet. “Finally. I’ve been looking for you the better part of the day.”
Actually, he’d sent Malone and the papas with his various summons. Far be it from Barlow Hill to make the effort to search for her himself.
The other occupant of the room also stood and Hill motioned to him now. “I want to introduce you to our visitor. Mr. Graham Knight is the architect overseeing the construction of my personal home here at Lake Bliss. Knight, may I present the most beautiful lady in Texas, Hotel Bliss’s hostess, Miss Mary Margaret St. John.”
Befitting her finishing school education, Maggie outwardly glided right along with the social amenities. Inwardly she wondered what Hill was up to. He’d always treated her politely, even during the trial. Now, though, he acted as if she were queen of the castle.
She poured coffee for each of the men beneath Hill’s watchful eye. When she returned the silver server to the tray, she saw him nod with what appeared to be satisfaction. What in heaven’s name was going on? The situation grew even more strange when she turned to leave.
“Maggie, dear,” Hill said, stopping her. “If you have a moment, I’d like you to look at the plans I have had drawn up.” He wiggled a finger at the architect who spread a set of blueprints over the desk.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. Had Hill found a subtle way to get back at her for her cooking? Did he have any way of knowing how much she hated the idea of his building a home at her beloved Lake Bliss?
She approached the house plans with a sour taste in her mouth. When she saw what he had planned, nausea swam in her stomach. It was perfect. A dream house. Three stories high, gables and verandas, and literally dozens of windows. Maggie couldn’t hold back her sigh of envy.
“It’s magnificent.” The words dragged from her mouth. “You’ve done an excellent job, Mr. Knight. It will be the showcase home in Texas.”
Barlow Hill preened. “I quite agree. Knight has done a superb job, using my ideas, of course. I plan to build on the far side of the lake from the hotel. We’ll construct a dock, and I plan to put a rowboat and possibly a small sailboat on the water. Eventually we may add other amenities to those you have already established at the spa. I envision an English country home atmosphere. What do you think of my idea, Maggie dear?”
Maggie dear?
She wished he wouldn’t call her that. She backed away from the desk. “It’s a fine idea, Mr. Hill,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my grandfather needs my help.”
“No.” The word shot from Hill’s mouth like a bullet. “I have a matter to discuss with you.” He speared the architect with a look. “If you’ll excuse us?”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Knight, rising from his chair. “I need to be on my way if I’m to make it into town before dark.” He looked at Maggie and added graciously, “Thank you for the cookies, ma’am. They were quite…” He faltered just an instant before adding, “Delicious.”
As the visitor departed, Maggie inched closer to the door. Hill frowned, shook his head, and gestured toward the chair Mr. Knight had vacated. Maggie took a seat on the horsehair sofa near the doorway. Hill smiled smugly and sat down beside her. “Maggie,” he said, leaning toward her. “Maggie, my dear.”
Good Lord,
Maggie thought. Tell me he’s not batting his eyelashes. He was so close that she could smell on his breath the onions he’d had at noon.
“While our case was before the court, I watched you closely. You impressed me. I recognized loyalty and integrity in your character. I admired your tenaciousness, your spirit, and your mettle. And through it all, faced with losing the home that appeared to mean so much to you, you never lost your poise, grace, and refinement. That impressed me. And of course, your beauty captivated me.”
Oh, no. Oh, heavens, no.
Maggie pressed back against the cushion wishing the sofa could swallow her whole. “Mr. Hill, I appreciate your kindness, but I really must be going.” She tried to stand. “My grandfathers—”
“Can wait. I am building my manor house, Maggie, my dear. Such a home needs a lady in residence. My home will not be complete until I live there with my wife.”
She forced a breath past the lump in her throat. “Well, um, how nice. I am certain your lady will love it here.”
“I am too. Because, you see, she already does.”
Maggie’s stomach dropped to her feet. “Uh, Mr. Hill.”
“Barlow, please.”
“I couldn’t,” she replied to more than the use of his Christian name.
“You must. Think of how nicely it all works out. It’s true I would have preferred to establish my residence in New York, but my funds stretch further here in Texas. However, I have high hopes that in the not-too—distant future one of my investments will pay off and allow me to relocate, but until then, Bliss will be my home. As it is yours. I didn’t enjoy the thought of evicting you, my dear. This solution means I’ll not be obliged to do it. And with you as my lady of the manor, I wouldn’t think of forcing your grandfathers to leave the spa. They will spend their declining years living at Hotel Bliss. It is a perfect solution for all of us. Don’t you agree? The house should be finished by fall. We’ll marry then.” He lifted his teacup in a toast. “You, Mary Margaret St. John, will make a beautiful bride.”
M
aggie couldn’t speak. She could hardly draw a breath. Marriage? Marriage to the very man who had stolen her home away from her? How could he even think she’d consider it? Barlow Hill was nutty as a pecan pie.
Or was he? The question slithered through Maggie’s consciousness. What if he hadn’t agreed to sell the hotel? What if she didn’t have the treasure to fall back on? What if, God forbid, he refused to honor their contract once they presented him with the money? What if a court found in his favor yet again? How far would she be willing to go to ensure that the papas didn’t lose their home, their health?
As far as marriage to Barlow Hill?
“I don’t know what to say, sir,” she finally managed. “This is so sudden.” A sudden threat, to be precise. Maggie didn’t cotton to threats one little bit. But as much as she’d like to tell him to take his proposal and sink it in a mud bath, Maggie realized she had a narrow path to tread. She must refuse him without offending him or raising his suspicions.
Despite his having signed a contract agreeing to the sale of the hotel, Maggie knew it was best to keep him in the dark until the papas had the purchase price in hand. Bitter experience had taught her that with enough time, lawyers could turn good-faith contracts into rubbish. Surprise was her family’s weapon. Better to present Hill with the cash and a bill of sale all at the same time, to fill up his pockets and send him on his way before he had a chance to reconsider. That was the best route to take.
In the meantime, she’d need to buy time. The question remained, what was the best way to do it?
She pushed to her feet. “We hardly know one another. Please, sir, don’t take this wrong, but wouldn’t you prefer marriage to a woman who…well…who has had the opportunity to develop…uh…feelings for you?”
Feelings other than hatred,
she silently added. His offer to allow the papas to stay at Hotel Bliss if she married him—it was blackmail pure and simple.
He dismissed her objection with a wave of his hand. “I have no doubt we’ll suit just fine. And now that my house plans are finalized, we shall have more time together. We will spend the next few weeks getting to know one another better.”
No, they wouldn’t. The trip. Gratitude for the upcoming journey washed over Maggie like a sea swell. In that moment she could almost taste the salty tang of freedom on the cigar-stained air here in Barlow Hill’s suite.
She affected an air of distress. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Hill. I mean, Barlow. With the hotel temporarily closed, I have planned a holiday of sorts. I’ll be away from Lake Bliss for a time.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes. In a few days.”
“Where do you intend to go?”
“New Orleans,” she replied, lying instinctively, because information was power and Barlow Hill already had enough of that.
“New Orleans?” He shook his head. “No, that won’t do at all. You’ll be gone weeks. You must change your plans. I had thought we would host a betrothal ball. I want it held before the summer heat comes. Much more comfortable that way.”
Betrothal ball! She hadn’t even said she’d marry the slug.
She could go ahead and lie to him, tell him yes, but her tongue refused to form the words. Maggie needed a diversion, a way to sidestep the question. She seized on the first possibility that popped into her head. “Tell me, Barlow, if I were to accept your proposal, would you wish us to have a formal wedding? Would I require a special gown? I could shop for one while I’m in New Orleans. That is one of the main reasons I’m taking the trip, you see. I’m in desperate need of new, more fashionable dresses. I feel it’s important to keep up appearances, don’t you agree?”
He blew out a heavy onion-scented sigh. As his brows furrowed in thought, he pursed his pale, fleshy lips.