For the Roses (47 page)

Mary Rose pushed away from Harrison. "I would rather wait until tomorrow to meet him. Does he expect to see me tonight? It's almost dark now, and I would like to have a little more time to prepare myself."

"You've had two long months to prepare, Mary Rose," Harrison said.

"I need one more night," she insisted.

"Your father doesn't expect to see you until tomorrow, so you can calm down. He knew you'd be tired from your trip. Both you and Eleanor will stay with me tonight."

"I'm quite calm. Why would you think I wasn't?"

"You were shouting," Eleanor told her.

"I was simply trying to make my opinion heard."

"I hope you have spacious quarters, Harrison," Eleanor said. "Mary Rose told me she's going to insist on

a room of her own. I believe she's still upset with you."

"Honestly, Eleanor, I can speak for myself," Mary Rose said. She turned to Harrison again. "I am upset with you, and as I said before, things are going to be different now. We're going to have to start over." Harrison gave his wife a hard look, then took hold of her arm and started walking toward the main thoroughfare where the carriages were lined up.

"You're sleeping with me, in my bed," he told her in a rough whisper. "I've waited two long months, damn it. I'm not waiting any longer."

"What about our luggage?" Eleanor pestered.

"It's being taken care of," Harrison answered. "Quit shaking your head at me, Mary Rose. I meant what I said."

She wasn't going to argue with him in public. She would wait until they were alone to tell him about the decisions she'd made. Harrison was an intelligent man. He would understand how she felt.

"It hasn't been two months," Eleanor announced. She was determined to set Harrison straight. "You two have only been apart five short weeks. Mary Rose wanted to wait until the end of September to make the trip, but Adam wouldn't let her procrastinate that long."

Harrison came to an abrupt stop. "You wanted to wait until the end of September?"

"Now look what you've done, Eleanor. You've gotten him upset. Honestly, Harrison, we'll all get soaked if we don't hurry. We'll talk about this when we reach your home." Neither Mary Rose nor Harrison said another word for a long, long while. The rain caught them at the corner, and by the time they were settled inside the carriage, they were all drenched. They reached Harrison's town house thirty minutes later. It was an impressive two-story home with red brick facade.

The door was opened by a young man dressed in a black coat and trousers. His name was Edward, and he was currently on loan from Lord Elliott to act as Harrison's butler. Eleanor was thrilled to have a servant attending her. She hurried inside the foyer first. Edward smiled in greeting, but when he turned around to say his hello to Mary Rose, his expression turned to a look of startled surprise.

"She looks like her mother's painting," he whispered to Harrison. "Mi'lord Elliott will have to believe as soon as he sees her. She's the image of Lady Agatha."

Mary Rose overheard Edward's comment. "Lord Elliott doesn't believe I'm his daughter?" Edward looked embarrassed. "He wants to believe, mi'lady, but there have been so many disappointments in his life, he's afraid to have hope you are truly his Victoria." Harrison took off his wet jacket and handed it to the young man. He didn't have anything to add to Edward's remarks.

"I simply must have a hot bath," Eleanor insisted. "Edward, be a dear and show me to my bedroom. I'm going to catch a chill if I don't get out of my wet dress."

"You can't catch a cold in July," Mary Rose told her friend. "It's too hot."

"Haven't you ever heard of a summer cold?" Eleanor argued. She then began to list her other aches and pains on her way up the stairs. Mary Rose was happy for the diversion. Each time she looked at Harrison, her heart felt like it was fluttering inside her chest. She wanted to shout at him because he'd hurt her so and kiss him because she'd missed him so much.

Edward hurried on up the stairs to see to Eleanor's comfort. Harrison took hold of Mary Rose's hand and led her down the opposite hallway to his bedroom.

It was gigantic in proportion. The colors were warm, earthy tones of brown and gold and rust. They were the hues of Montana in the autumn months, she thought to herself. It was impossible for her not to notice the bed. It was quite regal-looking, with four posts, and it was big enough to sleep four people comfortably. She didn't believe she'd ever seen anything so grand. Her stomach did a flip-flop. She couldn't block the thoughts of Harrison sleeping in the bed, and since he never wore anything when he slept, the images were very provocative.

She could feel herself blushing. She knew she was going to have to talk to Harrison now, before she lost her nerve. Looking at the bed was already making her weak-kneed and weak-willed.

"Harrison, we must have a talk. Now, please."

"He's left the chamber, mi'lady. Shall I have Caroline draw your bath for you?" She whirled around and found Edward standing in the doorway.

"Where did Harrison go?"

"Back downstairs. Did you wish me to go and get him for you?" She shook her head. "I would like a bath, thank you. Why do you keep calling me mi'lady?"

"Because you're Lady Victoria. It's the proper form of address, mi'lady." She didn't argue with him. Edward asked her if she also wanted cook to prepare a tray for her. He explained that Eleanor had requested a light meal to be served in her bedroom after she'd had her bath. Mary Rose declined the food. She was too nervous to even think about eating. For the next hour she was pampered by her lady's maid. The young woman's deference toward her embarrassed her. She felt as though she were a pretender to the throne each time Caroline called her mi'lady, and though she probably should have enjoyed her pampering, she found the maid only made her more nervous.

The hot bath helped, and taking the confining pins out of her hair made her feel much, much better. She soaked in the porcelain tub a long while, until the water turned too cold for comfort, and then wrapped herself in her robe and returned to Harrison's bedroom.

Caroline spoke very little English. She used gestures and incoherent phrases to explain she wanted to brush Mary Rose's hair for her. The dark-haired woman appeared to be just as nervous as Mary Rose was, for her hands shook and her gestures were awkward as she tried to make herself understood. Her French accent was quite apparent, and so Mary Rose spoke French to her when she explained she would brush her own hair. Caroline wouldn't let her mistress decline her assistance, however. She was even more determined than Mary Rose.

The maid kept up a constant chatter while she ushered Mary Rose to a straight-back chair. Mary Rose took her seat and clutched her robe tight over her collarbone while Caroline tended to her hair. The last time anyone had ever brushed her hair for her was when she was a little girl, and she'd gotten peppermint candy chips stuck in her curls. Cole had had to work the sticky mess out of her hair. Mary Rose had learned a few new curses that day.

No one had ever had to brush her hair for her again. She felt so foolish sitting there like a princess while another woman took care of such a private chore.

The chair faced the bed. Mary Rose noticed one of her nightgowns had been spread out on the sheets. The covers had already been turned back, and there was a single, long-stemmed red rose on one of the pillows.

"Why is there a rose on the bed?" she asked Caroline.

"Your husband ordered it placed there, mi'lady. Wasn't that sweet of him?" It was sweet, and therefore quite surprising in Mary Rose's estimation. It was such a romantic gesture. It wasn't like Harrison to be so attentive or thoughtful. He really wasn't the romantic sort. When he wanted something, he went after it with a vengeance. He was very like her brothers in that respect. Harrison didn't seem the type to add such an elegant touch, but then, she really didn't know him, now did she?

"Do you know what your husband told Edward when he ordered the rose? He said it was to remind you."

"Remind me of what?"

Caroline laughed. "That he loves you," she suggested. "What else could the flower mean, mi'lady?" Mary Rose shrugged. She reached up and took hold of the brush. She had had quite enough pampering. She thanked the maid for her assistance and dismissed her for the night. Caroline made a perfect little curtsy and bowed her head before she left the room. Mary Rose didn't know what to make of that. She started toward the bed to get her nightgown but stopped when she heard the door open behind her. She turned around just as Harrison walked inside.

Her husband had also had a bath. His hair was still damp. He was barefoot and wore only a pair of dark trousers.

She wondered if he even owned a proper robe. He did like to walk around half-naked, and while that had been perfectly all right in Montana, it wasn't all right in London. There were maids running about, and Mary Rose didn't like the idea of any of those women seeing her husband's bare chest. She thought about saying something to him about his lack of attire, then changed her mind. She would take on that issue later. Now she had a more important matter to address. Harrison shut the door behind him, turned the bolt to lock it, and went to his wife. He had a determined look on his face. She started backing away. "You and I must have a talk," she began. She put her hand up to ward him off. "I mean it, Harrison. Stop right where you are." He ignored her command. Mary Rose continued to back up until the side of the bed prevented her from going any farther.

"All right," he agreed. He reached for the belt holding her robe together and began to untie it. "Talk." She tried to push his hands away. He wouldn't be deterred, however. He had her belt undone before she could draw a proper breath.

"I'm trying real hard not to become angry with you, Mary Rose." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What do you have to be angry about?"

"September," he answered in a near shout. "Were you really going to wait until the end of September to come to England?"

She refused to be put on the defensive. "You deliberately lied to me. Leave my robe alone, damn it."

"Then take it off, damn it."

"Do you expect me to sleep with you?"

"I don't expect you to sleep much at all. I'm going to keep you up all night making love to you. I want you, and I know damned good and well you want me."

Tears came into her eyes. "I don't trust you."

"Yes, you do."

She suddenly felt like throwing her hands up in despair. He was making it impossible for her to argue with him. He was deliberately refusing to be logical. She couldn't present a valid argument to a man who was in the process of taking his pants off.

"I've had a long time to think about our situation," she began. "We are married, and because I made a commitment to you, I don't feel it would be right for me to walk away. We're going to have to start all over, Harrison."

"And how to do you propose we do that?"

"You could court me, and in time I'm hopeful I'll eventually learn to trust you again. I don't feel I know

you at all, Harrison. The man I loved broke my heart."

Lord, but she was given to dramatics. He heard most of what she said to him. He paid attention too, until she got to the part about courting her. The hell with that, he thought to himself. They had gone way beyond courting days.

He was hard and aching with his need by the time he kicked his trousers aside and reached for her.

"Am I supposed to forget what it felt like to move inside you? I've had you, remember? I've felt you come in my arms, Mary Rose. I've heard you scream my name, felt you squeeze me tight, and if you really believe I can put those memories aside and start all over again, you've got to be out of your ever-loving mind."

She could barely stand up straight by the time he finished reminding her what loving him had been like. The roughness in his voice made her shiver with desire to feel his touch once again.

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Come here and I'll show you."

She shook her head. She knew exactly what would happen if she moved into his arms. She wanted to reach some sort of understanding before she gave in to her own needs. She kept her gaze directed on his face. "Tell me first." He grabbed hold of her shoulders. "No, you tell me something first. Do you still love me?"

She lowered her gaze to his chest. She didn't want to start lying to him, even though she knew full well the truth would mean she would lose the argument.

"You broke my heart," she told him once again. "I warned you, remember?"

"You should have told me about my father."

"No, the duty belonged to your brothers. It would have been wrong for me to tell you."

"Then why weren't you with them when they told me? It would have made it easier for me."

"I was in Hammond defending a man in court when your brothers finally got around to telling you, and when I came back to the ranch, you'd disappeared. Damn it, Mary Rose, you shouldn't have run away from me. I'm your husband."

Considering the fact that she'd thought about killing him, she believed running away was a minor infraction in the rules governing marriage.

"I was extremely angry with you."

He shrugged. It wasn't the reaction she'd hoped to gain. "Where did you go?" he asked.

"Douglas took me to the Cohens' house. I stayed with the family for two weeks. Are you sorry you hurt me?"

She was hoping for an apology. She didn't know if it would help her get over her heartache, but she believed it might.

"I did what was necessary under the circumstances. In time you'll realize that."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, I love you."

He pulled her up tight against him. "Can we please hold each other now?" He put his arms around her and leaned down. He kissed her brow, the bridge of her nose, whispering all the while how much he'd missed her.

He pulled back, removed her robe, and then lifted her into his arms and fell onto the bed. He was careful not to crush her with his weight, and once his body completely covered hers, he braced himself on his arms so he could look down into her eyes.