He grimaced. “I never seem to get my timing right with you.”
“That’s not true.” It was more an offer of appeasement than a comment.
“Isn’t it?” He shrugged and walked to the door. He paused there a moment, then looked back, his eyes raking hers with pain. “If you want anything, call out. I’ll be in hearing range. As unbelievable as you might find it, Maggie, business doesn’t come first with me. You do. You and our child. You always will.”
He left her with that quiet statement of fact and Maggie couldn’t block a rush of tears. A huge lump of emotion constricted her throat. It was impossible to call him back right then, and perhaps it was better not to. She needed time to think, to sort herself out in the light of how Beau perceived her.
For a while, her mind couldn’t move past his assertion that she came first with him. She and their child. It was such a huge thing to comprehend. She hadn’t expected him—anyone—to put her needs ahead of his...to care so much...for her to be so important to him.
She’d never been that important to anybody.
She’d stifled the urge to cling to him this morning, to ask him to stay with her, dismissing it as silly weakness and unfair to him. Now the accusation of holding herself in and shutting him out hit home. She had been doing that, automatically shying away from expecting anything of him, not trusting.
Yet what was there not to trust in Beau? What more did he have to prove to her? Hadn’t he done everything he said he would? And given her much more!
So they’d had an unfortunate start. He’d explained what he’d felt and why he’d acted as he had. He’d more than compensated for his errors in judgment where she was concerned. It was wrong not to trust him.
He’d left the bedroom door open. She was free to call on him anytime. He’d invited her to. There was no reason to feel inhibited about it. Whether he responded or not was his decision, his choice. It finally dawned on her that without open communication, trust couldn’t grow and she was denying any chance of that with second-guessing him, as well as burying her head in the sand rather than look at the future.
Maggie sipped the tea Beau had brought her as new resolutions formed in her mind. He’d put some cookies on the saucer. She ate one slowly, testing her stomach’s reaction. Feeling no ill effects, she finished the lot, then tentatively got out of bed again.
The world remained normal.
She dressed quickly and went in search of Beau. He was sitting at the table under the vine-covered pergola which spread along the front of the villa. A notebook and Biro were at hand but he wasn’t writing anything, just staring out at the view, apparently in deep thought.
When she stepped out on the flagstoned terrace, his head jerked around as though he had been listening for any noise, reacting instantly to it. The tension in his body leapt out at her. She hesitated, suddenly uncertain of her welcome. Then he visibly relaxed, his mouth curling into an ironic smile as his gaze swept over her appearance.
“Well, I guess you’ve shown you didn’t need my help.”
“Yes, I did,” she quickly corrected. “The tea and cookies helped a lot. I feel much better now.”
“Glad to hear it.” He gestured to a chair. “It’s very pleasant sitting out here. Would you care to join me?”
She nodded. “Don’t get up. I’m fine now. Really.”
He subsided in his seat and watched her sit down. Maggie’s nerves jangled. Had she done the wrong thing again, rejecting the courtesy of seeing her seated? Heat rushed into her cheeks and just as quickly receded, reflecting the emotional mess she was in.
“I’m sorry I offended you earlier,” she gabbled, her eyes pleading his forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. I’m just not used to...to depending on other people.”
He shrugged. “No need to apologise. It’s not your fault. I do appreciate it’s difficult for you, Maggie. With your background.”
He turned his gaze away to the view spread out below them. Maggie wanted to dismiss his reference to her past, yet it was relevant. Somehow his sympathy and understanding shamed her. She shouldn’t be letting the far past taint her judgment. There were no points of comparison to it in her relationship with Beau. None at all.
“My grandfather used to call me the wild child,” he said whimsically. “Not undeserved. But I think the name more aptly fits you.”
“Me?’ Maggie frowned, not seeing the parallel.
He sliced her a darkly knowing look. “Not even the compound could tame you, Maggie. And you’ve been roaming free ever since you got out of there.”
Only because I never felt I really belonged anywhere, she thought.
He shifted his attention back to the view. “I was looking down at that field of poppies earlier, before you came out. All those flowers growing wild and free, so vibrant with their red petals. The thought came to me that they probably wouldn’t thrive nearly so well, transplanted to a formal garden. Better to let them grow their own way. Let them shine how they will.”
She sensed melancholy and despair and inwardly railed against the darkness falling between them. He was withdrawing from her. She could feel it. He swung his gaze to her again and she saw it, the deep personal pain behind the restraint he was grimly holding.
“I’ve done everything wrong with you, Maggie. I thought I could right it. Sheer blind arrogance on my part.” He managed a travesty of a smile. “The pushing stops here. If you want us to lead separate lives...well, it’s up to you to decide on what arrangement suits you best.”
She understood then. It was she who’d been blind. Beau loved her. And she had wounded his generous heart to the point of giving up on ever winning her love. She also knew words would be meaningless, as meaningless as they’d been to her without the right actions to back them up.
She rose from her chair, her heart gripped by a panicky urgency. She had to prove to him that all his gifts of love to her had not been in vain. She had learnt. The past was not going to blight her life with him. It wasn’t going to touch them anymore.
Without a word she turned and walked away, heading straight down the hill to the field of red poppies. A feverish energy pumped through her veins. A sense of destiny pounded through her brain. Beau Prescott was her mate. She was going to spend the rest of her life with him. She was not going to be afraid of anything.
Once amongst the wildflowers, she stooped to pick a bouquet of them, gathering them up as fast as she could. When she had an armful, she took a deep breath to steady herself, then started the return journey to the villa.
It startled her to see Beau had followed her and was standing only a few metres away, watching her intently, obviously worried over her physical or mental state. She smiled to ease his concern and headed straight for him. There was puzzlement in his eyes as she offered him the bouquet of poppies.
“I give them into your keeping, Beau,” she softly explained, her eyes begging him to understand. “With them comes my absolute trust. And my love. And my life.”
“Maggie...” Hope conflicted with doubt.
“Please?”
“Dear God!” He took the flowers, though his eyes said they were no substitute for her. “I thought...”
“I think we do much better together when we stop thinking, Beau.”
He laughed and tossed the poppies aside to wrap her in his arms. “I love you, Maggie Stowe. You are where I want to be for the rest of my life.”
Her heart caught, then soared. She slid her arms around his neck, pressing closer as she kissed him, the great surge of feeling between them pouring into the swift, fierce passion they had known from the very beginning. For a long, long time, they lay amongst the wild poppies in the field, bathed in the soft