Rose (34 page)

She tried to shake her head, tried to dismiss his words and to deny her own need, but found it impossible to do so.

“You do not understand,” she interrupted.

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “I do understand. I had no right to take you to my room the night of Flossie’s party. I should not have made love to you, no matter what you said that night. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had to go through what you did the next morning. I’m sorry for the way it turned out”—he slid his palms down her arms until he held her hands in his—“but I won’t lie to you, Rose. I’m not sorry that you were safe at Flossie’s when Bert Dawson tried to break into your place. And I’m not sorry about what happened in my room. I’m not sorry about the way I feel when you’re in my arms. I love you.”

“Kase—”

“I do.” He admitted it with a smile. “And this time I want to do this right. My being here for dinner was all my idea. Quentin told me it wouldn’t work, but now it seems that even the weather is on my side.”

She tried to pull away, afraid of being lulled by his husky whisper and the touch of his warm fingers against her skin. When he continued to hold her hands, she stopped struggling and found herself almost afraid he would let go, yet equally afraid of what would surely happen if he did not. She tried to make sense of what he was saying, but all she could concentrate on was his declaration of love. He loved her. The words played over and over in her mind like a litany.

“Rose, that night I wanted to tell you everything about myself, I wanted to explain the way I treated you when you first came to Busted Heel. Will you hear me out now?”

Her heart melted as she stared up at him. Rosa nodded and indicated that he should sit on a leather chair near the window. She crossed the room to sit on the bed.

Slowly, choosing his words carefully so that she would understand fully, he told her the story of his life from the very beginning. He talked of his background in Boston and the West. When he spoke of his mother’s rape, she cried. He spoke with detachment as if he were telling someone else’s story. There was no pity or self-loathing in his tone. He told her of his argument with Caleb, his stepfather, and of his self-doubt.

As he spoke, Rosa drew up her knees beneath the wide folds of the gown and hugged them to her. She became mesmerized by the story and was able to picture it all. She found herself longing to know his courageous mother, Analisa. There was much she could learn from such a woman.

He concluded with the tale of his visit to the old Indian wise man. She smiled when he told how the man suggested he see the world through eyes of love. When he finished, he sat without moving, awaiting her reaction.

She never dreamed there was so much to this man’s life. Given what had happened to his mother, Rosa understood why he had feared for her own safety and tried to get her to give up and go home. She understood his fears of becoming a man like his blood father. Wouldn’t anyone be afraid of such an uncertainty?

Most of all she realized that he had finally opened his heart to her. It was an indication of how much he did trust and care for her, and Rosa’s heart sang with joy.

In the dim, lamplit room, it was hard for them to see each other clearly. Their faces were muted planes of light and shadow. Afraid of what her reaction to his revelations might be, Kase asked softly, “You haven’t said anything.”

Rose stood, trying to find the words that would express her joy. He mistook her lengthy silence for anger, her hesitation for rejection, and swiftly crossed the room to tower over her. “Listen, Rose,” he said, his lips taut, his features set, “I’ve faced up to what I feel. I know you’re as hardheaded as I am, and I figured that if we were going to get anywhere at all, I’d have to speak up. I guess I was wrong.” He turned away and stalked across the room.

She did not have to see his expression to know that he was truly angry now. The knowledge spurred her into action, and she ran across the room after him. She reached out for his hand. When her fingers touched his, he stopped immediately, but he did not turn to face her.

“Kase.” Her voice was hesitant, uncertain. She hoped he was not so angry that he would not forgive her. Slowly he turned to look down at her again, his face still expressionless, his emotions well hidden. “
Io te amo,”
Rosa whispered, then realized he might not understand. “I love you. For everything you tell to me this night, thank you.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he drew her roughly into his embrace and nearly knocked the breath from her as he pulled her against the unyielding hardness of his chest. His lips captured hers in a kiss that was punishing in its demand. She returned it full measure until, breathless, she pulled away. When she looked up at him, Kase’s eyes were warm and alive again, his lips softly curved in a smile.

“God, you scared me, Rose,” he said with a shake of his head.

She shrugged and smiled. “You surprise me, that is all.”

“I guess I surprised myself.” He bent low and kissed her again. “You never told me how you liked the roses.”

“Molto bene.
I liked.”

“Good. I’ll send for more.”

“There is no need.” She shook her head. “They are expensive, no?”

“No. Nothing’s too expensive for you.” He held her close and rocked her slowly. “Nothing.”

A door closed somewhere on the first floor, and Rosa tried to step out of his embrace. “You must go now,” she warned.

“Go?” he whispered.

“
Sì
.”

He kissed her again. It was a slow, lingering kiss that held both a question and a promise. As his lips plied hers, Rosa felt a moist warmth spread through her until it concentrated itself in the throbbing pearl between her legs. When she leaned close and pressed against him, his arms tightened around her.

When the kiss finally ended, he whispered again, “You want me to go now?”

“
Sì
.” She would not give in again.

This time he nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear. A shiver ran downher spine.

“Rose?”

“Umm?”

“If you want me to leave, you’ll have to let go.”

Rosa looked down and was surprised to find his shirtfront clutched in her hands. She was even more surprised when Kase scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

He set her on the edge of the bed and knelt before her. Tenderly he tugged down the hem of her nightgown until it reached her ankles, then reached up and brushed the riotous fall of thick ebony hair behind her. Rosa cupped his face in her hands.

“I intend to do this right this time. I sent you flowers. I’m on my knees. Will you marry me?” He had never thought to say the words, never dreamed he would find a woman able to face the challenge that marriage to him would entail.

“Sì.
Yes.” She bent to kiss him and he straightened, his warm, sure hands resting on her thighs.

His lips played against hers with a feather-light touch before his tongue teased them open. As the kiss deepened, she drew him near. He pressed closer. He was still on his knees when his hands began to explore, and soon, before she was even aware of what he was doing, he drew her nightgown up until the hem rested on her thighs.

“So much for propriety,” he whispered against her lips when the kiss ended. He shrugged. “I tried.”

She clung to him as though she would be lost if she let go and reveled in the feel of his gentle touch. Kase ran his hands along the smooth, satin length of her inner thighs until his fingertips rested against the warm nest of their apex. Rosa gasped in surprise and straightened. She pulled back and found him staring into her eyes.

“Relax, Rose,” he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing. “I won’t hurt you.” He gently nudged her legs apart and began to explore her inner recesses with his fingertips.

“The door ...” she protested weakly.

“Is closed. Everyone’s asleep by now.”

With her hands resting on his shoulders, she closed her eyes, unwilling to submit to the intensity of his stare. She heard him clear his throat, felt him lean closer and then touch his lips to hers.

“Look at me,” he said.

She opened her eyes.

She slid his fingers farther inside her, and she felt her inner flesh melt around him.

“I love you, Rose.”

“I, too, love you,” she managed to gasp before she lost herself to the pleasure of the incessant thrust of his hand. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders and she leaned back, opening herself further to his explorations. Lost in sensation, she closed her eyes and tossed her head from side to side as he teased her until she felt about to burst into bloom.

When he withdrew his hand, she moaned in frustration and opened her eyes. Kase stood where a second before he had knelt, between her knees at the bedside. His eyes never left hers as he unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off, then reached for his belt. He tossed his pants aside and then shrugged off the long wool underwear that did little to hide the evidence of his desire.

He bent over her, but instead of taking her in his arms, as she expected, he reached for the abundant white lawn of the borrowed nightgown and began to draw the material upward. She assisted by raising her hips off the bed and then her shoulders until she was free of the cumbersome nightdress. Kase tossed it aside. Rosa fought back the urge to grasp the bedspread and draw it over her.

She expected him to join her on the bed, to take her in his arms and end his silent perusal of her body. Instead, he reached for her, grasped her by the waist and pulled her toward him until her hips rested against the edge of the bed and her legs dangled toward the floor. She held her breath, expectant, yet uncertain of exactly what to expect. Focusing on the burning intensity of his gaze as he stared down at her, she tried to avoid blatantly staring at his throbbing arousal.

He leaned down and carefully lowered himself into her. With his hands beside her head, he took the bulk of his weight on his arms. His skin was on fire where it touched her, his breath warm against her cheek. Kase slowly eased into her, deliberate in his movements, careful to hold back lest he bring himself to fulfillment before her. Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside her, he paused long enough to sigh and tenderly kiss her cheek.

“You feel so good,” he said.

Her heart clamored against his. “You, too.”

“I’ve never loved anyone this way, Rose. No one.”

“Not for me, either.”

He searched her eyes for the truth. “You don’t have to say that, Rose. I know you loved your husband.”

Her eyes flooded with unshed tears, and then as he watched one trickle down across her temple he regretted having mentioned her husband at a time like this.

“I’m sorry,” he began to apologize but she stopped him with a shake of her head.

“No. I loved Giovanni, but not this way. Never the way I love you.”

“God, Rose.”

It was all he said, all he could say before he began to move inside her, to ride and thrust and press full length against the shuddering wall of her inner core.

She clasped him to her, clinging with her arms about his neck and her legs wrapped about his waist. She rode out the storm of their heated exchange, rose to meet his thrusts and urge him on until she moaned with the pleasurable pain of his frenzied movements.

“Come, Rose,” he invited. “Come with me.”

She gave herself over to the insistent throbbing that had built inside her, lost herself in every pulsing wave after wave of rapture that shook her as she felt him burst forth inside her.

They drifted back to reality with the same gentle settling as the snowflakes outside the window, and like the snowflakes, they lay side by side, each uniquely different from the other, and yet the same. Replete, comfortable in each other’s arms, they rested while their ragged breathing calmed and their heartbeats slowed to normal. Kase held her close until he felt Rose shiver, then let her go long enough to help her rise, pull back the covers, and see her safely tucked beneath them.

He put a log on the fire and stirred it back to life, turned down the lamp, men crawled into bed beside her.

They slept as they had but once before; she nestled against him, her head resting near his collarbone, her hip-length hair a veil that draped them both.