Always Dakota - Debbie Macomber [67]
Margaret didn’t say anything else, simply turned her back and continued to work.
“It’s not like it sounds…” Matt tried, hating the look of hurt and disappointment in her eyes, hating the way her shoulders slumped forward. “I was hoping you’d hear me out.”
“Answer me another question first,” she insisted, slamming the pitchfork into the ground.
“All right,” he said, determined to be as forthright with her as he’d been with Sheryl.
“Is this the same woman you went to see a little while back?”
The question caught him off guard. So much so, that he literally took a step in retreat. Margaret knew he’d driven to Devils Lake to see Sheryl? It was the first she’d mentioned it.
“You think I didn’t smell her on you?”
“Ah…” He’d worried about that.
“Wasn’t I supposed to figure out why you suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to take a shower the instant you walked in the house?”
She had him there.
“What’s her full name?” Margaret asked. “Sheryl what?”
“Margaret, listen…”
“Don’t give me excuses.” She was stiff with anger. Rarely had Matt seen her in such a rage. If he didn’t watch out, she was liable to stab him with the pitchfork.
“Her name’s Sheryl Decker.”
“Sheryl Decker,” she repeated as if the sound of it was repugnant. “Did you sleep with her, too?”
“No.” His response was immediate. From the moment he’d taken his wedding vows, he’d been faithful to Margaret.
“Do you love her?”
“I swear to you that I don’t.”
“Then why’s she calling you?”
“I don’t know,” he cried, and it was the truth. “I don’t want to know. I didn’t talk to her just now and I won’t. I told her not to call here again and I slammed the phone in her ear. You can ask Sadie if you don’t believe me.” He didn’t entirely trust the housekeeper, but surely she wouldn’t tell an outright lie. “I swear to you I didn’t sleep with her.”
Margaret blinked a couple of times, her face vulnerable, uncertain.
He held out his palms, silently imploring her to believe in him.
Margaret cast down her eyes. “I don’t like this feeling,” she said, her voice low.
“What feeling?” If he could get her to talk about it, perhaps they could come to an understanding. He desperately wanted her to believe him, needed her to. She was the only woman who’d ever really loved him. The one thing she’d asked of him was that he marry her. Even then, she seemed to think he was doing her the favor. That was incredible enough, but then he stopped to consider what she’d brought into the marriage—the cattle, the land, the house and everything else. It was more than Matt had expected to accumulate in a lifetime.
“The feeling here,” she said, pressing her hand to her heart. “I hate it when I think of you with another woman. It makes me want to be sick.”
“No, Margaret, no…” He didn’t care what she did with that stupid pitchfork, but he wasn’t keeping his distance any longer. He walked right up to her and backed her against the wall. Before she could argue, he kissed her. By this time they were lovingly familiar with each other’s bodies. Matt savored the taste of her lips, inhaling the smell of hay and fresh soap—as seductive as anything he’d ever encountered.
“You wearing your lace underwear?” he whispered.
She nodded, then said, “Don’t try to sidetrack me.”
“I’d never do that,” he murmured. As he spoke, he opened her coat and made short work of the buckles holding up her coveralls. Before long, her breasts were in his hands.
“This is unfair,” Margaret protested, but he noticed she didn’t say it with real conviction.
“Is it now?” he asked, kissing away any further objection.
An hour or so later, Sadie came to the barn to call them in for lunch. The housekeeper’s eyes narrowed when she saw them.
“We’ll be there right away,” Margaret promised.
“Take your time,” Sadie muttered, pulling a piece of hay from the back of Margaret’s hair. Then she glanced at Matt and shook her head, as though to suggest he ought to know better.
That afternoon Maddy McKenna came