Wildest Heart by Virginia Brown

Author:Virginia Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2013-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

DEVON WAS gone again. Off doing whatever it was he found to do, leaving Maggie alone and restless without him nearby. She felt oddly disgruntled when he disappeared like he did, riding off without telling her where he was going, then coming back at night to sweep her into his arms and smother any questions she might have with kisses that made her forget everything but being with him.

There had been no more confessions, no more shared pain and confidences, but Maggie sensed his growing trust. It was there, still shrouded behind his barriers but shining more brightly every day. Soon, she hoped, soon the barriers would be gone, and Devon would realize he could fully trust her not to disappear. At times, she caught a certain wistfulness in his eyes that he couldn’t hide, a brief glimmer of longing that seemed to embarrass him.

She suspected that he’d begun to love her, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself just yet. The knowledge was a precious secret that she held closely to her heart.

“Dear,” Mrs. Lamb said, coming flushed from the kitchen with a steaming bowl, “do try this. It’s a new recipe.”

Caught in her daydreams, Maggie stood quickly from behind her desk, half-embarrassed. “What is it?”

“Stew.”

Her brow rose. “Stew? That’s not new.”

“This is.” Mrs. Lamb gazed at her with a twinkle in her eyes and lowered her voice. “A secret ingredient.”

Maggie laughed. “Ah. A secret ingredient. What do I get if I guess what it is?”

“An entire bowlful.” Mrs. Lamb held up the bowl and spoon enticingly. “Come now—see if you can guess.”

There was a distinctive aroma that curled up on waves of steam, teasing Maggie with a familiar hint. She smiled and dipped the spoon into the bowl and lifted it closer. It was then that a wave of nausea so strong it was almost overwhelming hit her, and she released the spoon with a startled gasp. It splashed into the bowl, sending up a geyser of stew that stained her gown.

Maggie thrust the bowl back at Mrs. Lamb and clapped a hand over her mouth, then raced for the porcelain bowl on a nearby cabinet. She barely made it, and bent, gasping and retching, over the bowl as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

“Well, my word,” Mrs. Lamb said, coming to her with a wet cloth for her face. “I’ve never had a new recipe affect anyone like that before.”

Maggie managed a weak smile. “I didn’t even taste it. I think I must be coming down with something. I’ve felt queasy for several days now, and... and just the smell of the stew must have been enough to prompt this reaction. I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Lamb remained quiet for a moment, dabbing at Maggie’s forehead with the cloth as the young woman sagged weakly in a chair. “There’s no need to apologize, dear. Being sick is hardly something one can help.”

Maggie frowned. “I should have paid more attention when I first began feeling ill. I know better, but things have been so.

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