Part 20 (1/2)
Braden squirmed at the memory. ”You know, I still have scars on my body from it.”
To this day, he had a thin spot on his crown where one of the girls had pulled a handful of hair from his scalp. ”When I first ran into you that day, I thought you were in with them.”
”I know,” she said, smiling. ”I'll never forget the terrified look on your face when you ran me over. 'Tis the only time I've ever seen you panicked.”
”And I was too. I had no idea how to get away without hurting one of them.”
Then Braden recalled how he had escaped the l.u.s.t-crazed la.s.ses.
Looking at Maggie, he smiled. ”And I'll never forget how you shoved me into the hollow of that oak tree, then sent them off in the opposite direction.”
”I was shaking,” she confessed, ”terrified they would learn I'd lied to them and set upon me with a vengeance.”
That wasn't the way he recalled it. Barely ten-and-three, she had appeared out of nowhere to save him.
He didn't remember her looking afraid. ”You looked poised and calm to me.”
Braden stared in awe of her as memories played through his mind. Memories of Maggie sneaking him out of the tree, then the two of them literally crawling through the bushes to reach her house undetected by the girls.
And later, Maggie bandaging the cuts and bruises the la.s.ses had inflicted upon him. She had even hummed a gentle tune as she smoothed the salve across his skin. Her touch had been so light and soothing. Her voice pleasant.
He couldn't remember whether or not he had thanked her that day. But right now, with the sunlight on her face and the fire in her eyes, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her until eternity came and went.
Impulsively, Braden reached out and ran his fingertip over the freckles covering her cheekbone. ”I've always wondered why you saved me that day.”
She didn't pull away. Instead, she looked up at him with a strange emotion in her eyes. ”I was but returning the favor.”
”What favor?”
She drew her brows together. ”Don't you recall it?”
”I don't think so.”
Maggie's frown deepened. ”You truly don't recall saving my life?”
As he toyed with the delicate, soft skin, Braden searched his memory, but for his life, he couldn't remember ever saving her from anything except one of her brothers, and none of them would ever have truly hurt her. ”Nay.”
”I was but seven when you came to my rescue.”
”I would have been ten.”
”Aye. My father had gone to the castle to deliver wool. Ian and I were supposed to stay in the wagon, but I snuck his toy horse from his side and when he realized what I had done, he started after me.”
Braden smiled as he finally recalled the event. The two of them had been quite a sight. ”You were running through the great hall, screaming for help.”
”Aye, and I thought he was going to kill me for sure.”
”You ran straight into me and sent us careening into my mother's best tapestry.”
They both cringed at that part of the memory.
Maggie bit her lip. ”She wasn't overly angry, was she?”
His mother's wrath had been immeasurable, and she had given him quite a thras.h.i.+ng over it. Why, even to this day, she brought it up every time he displeased her.
Braden started to make a quip about it, but then caught the look of concern and guilt in Maggie's eyes.
And for some reason he couldn't fathom, he wanted to soothe her. ”Nay, she wasn't overly angry.”
Relief settled across her face. ”I'm still sorry I kicked you while I was trying to get up. But you know what I remember most?”
This time, he couldn't resist teasing her. ”The knee to my groin you gave me when you sat up?”
She flushed and bent her head down.
Braden ran his hand through her hair, caressing the s.h.i.+ny locks.
”Nay,” she said. ”It was after my father had scolded us and returned us to the wagon. I felt so terrible, and then all of a sudden there you were with your painted horse.”
”Connor,” Braden added, remembering the toys his uncle had carved for him. He'd loved those horses.
But the dark brown stallion he had given her had been his favorite. To this day, he didn't know what had possessed him to give it up to her.
It had been another impulsive act his mother had taken him to task over.
Still, he recalled the happiness he'd seen on her tear-streaked face as she had cradled the tiny horse to her chest. ”You looked as if I had just given you a king's treasure.”
”You had,” she said softly. And in that instant Braden felt in his chest a very strange tenderness toward her. One he couldn't define.
Never had he felt anything like it.
And when the edges of her lips turned up ever so slightly, it was as if lightning struck him.
”I still have it.”
Her confession amazed him. He would have thought she'd have tossed it out years ago. ”Do you?”
She nodded.
”Why?”
She shrugged sheepishly. ”It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me,” she said. ”I couldn't believe you gave me such a valuable gift.”
It touched him that even at so young an age, she had known the true value of the horse. Then again, Maggie had always been wiser, more insightful than most girls her age.
”Well, I felt badly for the way your father shouted at you. It wasn't your fault.”
”Nay,” she said, her eyes dancing as she wrinkled her nose. ” 'Twas Ian's for wanting to kill me.”
Laughing, Braden stared in wonder of her as foreign emotions swept through him. She was so different from most women he'd known. So giving and kind, yet fierce and independent.