Free MM03 - Saturday Mornings by Peggy Webb Page A

mattress, sighing. He arranged the covers over her with great care, tucking the blanket around her legs and snuggling it closely under her chin. When he had finished, he bent down and kissed her forehead.
    “Sleep tight, pretty one.”
    Margaret Leigh's gaze held him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and huge with pain. He tenderly brushed her hair back from her forehead.
    “Everything will be all right, Margaret Leigh. Just you wait and see.”
    “Thank you, Andrew.” He could barely hear her whisper.
    “You're more than welcome.”
    He left her bed and moved quietly about the room, doing small things that would make the bedroom a haven for her. He got a night-light off the closet shelf and plugged it in. Then he picked her dress off the floor, smoothed it down, and draped it neatly over the back of a chair. After he had done all that, he flicked the light off, left the room, and closed the door.
    He stood outside her door for a long while, listening for any sound. When he was satisfied that she wasn't going to try to leave, he went across the hall to his own bedroom. Leaving his own door open, he stripped quickly and climbed into bed. The sheets felt cool and crisp.
    He punched his pillow twice, an old habit of his, and was just turning onto his stomach for a good night's sleep when he remembered his nakedness. What if he had to rush across the hall in the middle of the night? It wouldn't do to rescue Margaret Leigh buck naked. She was a lady, even if she had tried to seduce him.
    He climbed out of bed and slipped back into his shorts. He felt as bundled up and restricted as if he were wearing an expedition outfit for the North Pole, but he was willing to make the sacrifice. After all, it wasn't every evening a man was called on to be a hero.
    He laced his hands behind his head and lay back on his pillow, staring into the dark. There was something heroic about being the one Margaret Leigh had turned to in her time of trouble. He felt about ten feet tall.
    What in the devil was bothering her? What had sent her flying into the night?
    His mind tried to latch onto some clue she had dropped, but he found himself drifting into sleep, lulled by the sound of pines whispering outside his window and the far-off call of a whippoorwill.
    o0o
    The sobs woke Andrew up. At first he was disoriented, then he came fully alert. He leaped out of bed and raced across the hall.
    Margaret Leigh was huddled in the middle of the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms around her legs, as she rocked back and forth and cried.
    “Margaret Leigh,” he called from the door.
    She made no answer. In fact, she didn't even look his way.
    “I heard you crying.” He approached the bed with caution. He didn't want to say or do anything to upset her even more. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
    “I want the world to come to an end.” She lifted her tear-streaked face to his. “Can you bring the world to an end, Andrew?”
    Andrew McGill was a man of action. Furthermore, he knew that drastic need called for drastic measures. He threw back the covers and climbed into bed with her.
    He pried her hands away from her legs and unfolded her like a pretzel. Then he wrapped her in his strong embrace and lay down with her.
    “I can't bring the world to an end, Margaret Leigh, and in the morning, you'll be glad I couldn't.”
    He spoke in the matter-of-fact tone his parents had used with him when he'd had some childish notion that the problems of the moment would last forever.
    “Now, just put your head on my shoulder.”
    He felt her stiffen as her mood took a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from sadness to anger. Then she was shoving him, pushing his chest with the strength born of rage. He held her tight.
    “No, don't struggle against me, sweetheart. I'm too big and strong for you. I’ll win every time.”
    “You didn't want me. I offered myself and you refused.”
    “You would have hated me in the morning. Be still,