Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6) by Debra Holland Page B

you think she’ll mind blue bedding?”
    “How kind you are,” Maggie murmured in a low voice so Edith couldn’t hear. In the vardo , Charlotte would have slept with her for there wasn’t room for a cradle. Suddenly tired, she wished she could lay her head on his shoulder like she had a few times before when in his arms. We can no longer indulge in such intimacies. The thought made her heart pang, but she refused to question why.
    Caleb carried her into the bedroom, dominated by a spindle four-poster bed. A puffy blue satin cover was pulled back to expose crisp white sheets.
    She looked around. Blue velvet curtains were drawn back from a window to let in light. A cradle sat next to a blue velvet wing chair. A washstand ensured she wouldn’t have to use the bathing room to keep her hands and face clean. Her single dress would be lost in the big wardrobe, and the bureau was another unnecessary piece of furniture, for she had nothing to put inside. A small table held what looked like a game.
    Edith entered with Charlotte.
    Maggie glanced at her, expecting to see the woman frowning at being forced to carry the baby.
    But as Edith bent over the cradle to lay down the child, her pinched expression softened, and a hint of a smile lingered about her mouth.
    My Charlotte works her magic. Feeling better, Maggie allowed herself to recline. Plump goose down pillows cushioned her sore back and shoulders. Ahhh.
    Without a word, Edith left the room. Her lips, once again, pressed thin.
    The woman needs to hold Charlotte for several hours, so the baby’s goodness can seep into her heart. Maggie shifted so more of her weight rested on her uninjured hip.
    Not that I can spare my baby for so long. My darling is still too new and precious to give her to someone else for more than a few minutes.
    Caleb came in and tucked the featherbed around her. “Are you comfortable?”
    “Very.”
    “I’ll be up with a tray and some ice for your ankle.”
    Although she was hungry, Maggie grimaced. “I’m sorry you have to wait on me.”
    Caleb’s eyebrows drew together. “We won’t go over that argument again,” he said in a stern tone.
    “Why not?” she asked, unable to resist teasing him. “I’ll keep winning.”
    He shook his head. “You’re a guest in my house. I have to let you win.”
    “Oh.” Maggie chortled. “And what was your excuse when I wasn’t a guest in your house?” Laughter bubbled within her. She couldn’t remember ever having this sense of playfulness with a man. The feeling was rather intoxicating. Am I flirting with him? She’d never behaved in such a way before, but she’d witnessed other women flirting with handsome men.
    “I think being in the midst of childbirth makes you a winner in any dispute.”
    “I should have thought ahead, then, and had all our future arguments at once.”
    “Oh, no! That was enough of a nightmare experience without you making it any worse.” Caleb chuckled.
    The sound swelled her heart. Caleb always seemed so serious. Making him laugh gave her an odd sense of feminine power. “A little disagreement is good for the soul,” Maggie said in a smug tone.
    “Says what philosopher?”
    She made her smile mischievous. “The one whose name starts with M.”
    “Only you, Magdalena Petra. No one else dares cross me.”
    Maggie wrinkled her nose. “It’s not good for anyone —especially a grown man—to always get his way.” She tilted her chin as if in hauteur. “He becomes too self-important.”
    Caleb’s smile died away.
    Oh, dear. Did I just hurt his feelings?
    A knock sounded on the doorframe. The stableman stuck his head into the room. “Ah, sir. . . .”
    “I’ll be right back,” Caleb told Maggie. He walked out the door, partially closing it behind him. “What is it, Jed?”
    “I went to the parsonage like you wanted, Mr. Livingston. The elder Reverend Norton wasn’t there.”
    “Did you leave a message for him to call on Mrs. Baxter?”
    Although Maggie