Mary watched as Lee rolled gracefully out of bed, and taking the sleeping puppy with him, walked unashamedly naked across the room to the pile of clothes he had dropped on the floor. He bent down and lifted his waistcoat from the pile before he placed Barker on the bundle of clothes for the night. Lee removed his gold watch from out of his waistcoat pocket, let the garment fall to the floor, and returned to the bed with the watch in his hand.
He handed the watch to Mary. Mary studied the ornate gold design on the lid and the initials engraved in the center: L.G.M.K. The gold pocketwatch hung on a fancy gold rope chain and a small portrait watch fob hung beside it.
"Open the watch," he said.
Mary lifted the lid and found herself staring at a miniature of a woman—a woman with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes—a woman who was the grown-up version of Madeline. Mary turned to look at Lee.
He nodded. "This is what Maddy will look like in thirty years."
"Who is she?" She already knew the answer. There could only be one reason for the unmistakable resemblance to Maddy. The woman in the watch was family—Lee's family.
"My mother," Lee answered softly. "Jane Alice Mclntyre Kincaid, aged thirty-two. It was painted shortly before she died. She gave me the watch with her portrait inside for my eleventh birthday so I wouldn't forget her." Lee managed a little laugh. "As if I ever could. She meant everything to me."
"And now you have Madeline, who's the spitting image of her grandmother."
Lee smiled. "Yeah. Now, I have Maddy. I didn't know about her until I arrived in Denver the day before you and I got married." He shook his head. "I had no idea. But the minute I saw her, I knew. And Tabby never told me, never sent word."
"Maybe she didn't know how to reach you or what to say."
"She knew," Lee said. "She knew how to reach me before she died."
"Look at the situation from her point of view," Mary suggested, "would knowing about Maddy have made a difference between the two of you? Would it have changed your relationship?"
"Of course," Lee said. "I would have gone back to Denver and married her."
"Even though you didn't love her?"
"Yes."
"That's why she didn't tell you. Tabitha would rather have lived her life alone with Maddy, than to have you marry her on those terms. You may not have loved her, but I think she loved you very much." And so do I, Mary wanted to add, so do I.
Lee cleared his throat. "Now that you and I are married in every sense of the word, I thought I should tell you the truth. I don't want any lies or 'Pinkerton truths' between us, Two-shot." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I don't regret tonight. I don't apologize for it. I wanted you. I still want you. And I think there's a very good chance that I'll always want you. But you have to be sure, Two-shot. You have to be able to live with my past."
"I love Maddy," she said simply. "I loved her before I was certain she was your daughter and I love her even more now that I know she is."
"You knew?" Lee stared at her.
"I had a fairly good idea."
"You had a fairly good idea, and yet you let me go through this—torture—of trying to tell you and wondering how you would react? Wondering what you would say or do?"
"Yep."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because confession, Liam Gordon Mclntyre Kincaid"— Mary accentuated each of his given names with a kiss—"is supposed to be good for your soul. And, now that I'm your wife in more than name only, looking after the welfare of your soul is part of my business. Have you any more confessions to make?"
Lee shook his head.
"Not even one?"
"No. Why?"
"Aren't you even going to tell me who put that hole in your birthday suit?"
Lee shook his head again. "You wouldn't believe it."
"Try me," she invited.