Coming Up Roses (33 page)

The only thing Rose understood at the moment
was that she didn’t want anybody to know what a hick she was, and
that it felt wildly good to be this close to H.L. again. She
resisted the urge to fling her arms about him, but it was an
effort.

“
Dammit, didn’t you hear those people
out there?” He shook her again, still lightly or Rose would
probably have socked him. “Well? Did you?”

She admitted it. “Yes.”

“
You see? Those people read all about
you and what you call your deficiencies, and they love you more now
than they did before! And it’s because they admire you and what
you’ve made of yourself! Don’t you see that?”

“
Well . . .” Now she felt totally
foolish. It occurred to her that she simply couldn’t win with H.L.
May, and the notion was darned depressing.

“
Admit it, Rose. It’s true. You and
your friend Annie Oakley might not want to admit it, but it’s the
truth. You’re a phenomenal example of the human spirit triumphing
over circumstances. You’re a real-life, honest-to-God,
rags-to-riches story. You’re a tiny, beautiful, wonderful miracle
of life.”

She wanted to whack the side of her head to
clear it of fluff. Had he really said all those nice things about
her? Did he mean them? She’d really like to know but didn’t feel
comfortable asking. Anyhow, he was going on, so she couldn’t.

“
Those people admire you.
I
admire you! Hell, the whole world
would admire you, if they knew you. Dammit, you’re
special.”

She swallowed, then asked in a tiny voice, “I
am?”

He goggled at her. “How can you even doubt
it?”

Since she didn’t know, she shrugged.

“
Aw, hell, Rose.”

H.L. gazed down at her for several seconds,
as if searching for something to say. Rose recognized the exact
second he decided words weren’t enough, but she didn’t have time to
prepare herself because she was in his arms an instant later, and
he was kissing her as if there would be no tomorrow.

Rose felt his hunger and recognized it,
because it matched her own.

Unable to resist a moment longer, she threw
her arms around his neck and clung to him.

“
Ah, Rose, Rose, Rose,” H.L. mumbled
into her curls. “Damn, I want you.”

He did? A thrill shot through her at his
words. She wanted him, too, although she wasn’t sure for what. She
had a vague notion it had to do with one of the more basic secrets
of life, however. He resumed kissing her, feathering light touches
over her cheeks and throat and turning Rose to jelly in his
arms.

“
I can’t stand knowing you’re angry
with me, Rose,” he said after another few moments. “I was afraid
you’d never speak to me again, and I couldn’t have stood
that.”

She didn’t think she could have stood it,
either. Unable to form words, she only held him more tightly and
ran her lips over his jaw line. Recalling the punishment that jaw
had taken a mere two days prior, she lifted her hand and delicately
brushed her fingers against the livid bruises. “Does this still
hurt?”

He didn’t answer immediately. It seemed to
take a moment or two for him to process her question. Pulling back
slightly, he blinked down at her. “What? Oh. No, it doesn’t hurt
much.”

“
I’m glad.”

He crushed her against him again. She felt
his hard body against her own, and it was perfectly glorious.
Something hard and long pressed against her thigh. It took her a
moment to realize it was the evidence of his desire for her.

She was shocked for only a second before
passion subsumed her fear and replaced it with delight.

Yes! This is what she wanted from H.L. May!
She wanted his passion.

His desire. His— Oh, Lord.

Suddenly, Rose stilled in his arms, because
she understood what she wanted from him, and it frightened
her—mainly because she didn’t think she could get it.

Lord help her, she wanted his love.

“
Rose,” he whispered in her ear, “I
want you so badly, I can hardly stand it.”

The emotions that surged through Rose nearly
rendered her speechless. Understanding was followed almost
immediately by a sense of defeat. H.L. May, a man who lived through
words, could never love Rose Gilhooley. He might admire her for
overcoming her origins, but he’d never be happy with a woman who
couldn’t handle language the way he could.

Shortly on the heels of defeat came
resignation and something she couldn’t immediately put a name to. A
second later she decided it was acceptance. If she could never
secure his lasting love, perhaps she could experience a brief
season of his affection and passion.

Swallowing both her dreams and her scruples,
Rose whispered, “I want you, too, H.L.”

His renewed kisses made her understand how
much he appreciated her admission. Rose decided not to fight the
heady sensations rioting in her body, but to relinquish herself to
them. If she couldn’t have his love, she could experience his
desire and her own, and she’d make do with that. She guessed she’d
have to.

As for H.L., he was lost. He wasn’t sure he
believed he’d really heard Rose say she wanted him, but if he
hadn’t he didn’t want to know it, so he kept kissing her. He
explored her small, sturdy body as he did so, allowing his hands to
wander at will. She was perfect, as far as he could tell through
touch.

Her breasts were wonderful, as he’d expected
them to be. Thank the good Lord, she didn’t wear a corset during
her act, but only a chemise and underdrawers. He managed to get the
top of her costume open with a minimum of struggle. It was crafted
of lightweight calico, he presumed so as not to interfere with
movement during her act, and it fastened with buttons, which he
worked with ease.

“
H.L.!” she cried softly when his hand
covered her breast.

Worried that she’d object, he whispered,
“You’re so beautiful, Rose.

Please . . .” He wasn’t sure what he was
pleading for, but it had something to do with her not making him
stop.

She said no more, but sighed deeply as her
nipples pebbled under his tender assault. He stroked them lightly,
longing to taste them but not wanting to rush anything.

It wasn’t until Fairy got fed up with being
ignored during this, her favorite time of the day, and gave Rose’s
back a firm push with her nose, that H.L. realized what he’d been
about to do. He staggered when Rose fell against him. He barely
managed to straighten up with her in his arms in time to prevent
them both from tumbling onto the stable floor.

He glanced around the stable, confused,
before reality conked him over the head with a
thunk
.

Good God! He’d been about to ravish Rose
Gilhooley, star of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West and woman
extraordinaire, in a horse barn! He could hardly believe such a
thing of himself. Aghast, he muttered, “Good God.” Then he shook
his head, trying to get the jumble therein to organize itself.

“
Oh, my,” said Rose in a rattled
whisper.

Gazing down at her, H.L. noticed that her
eyes appeared about as unfocused as his own brain. This would never
do. He ought to be horsewhipped, as Annie Oakley had
recommended.

With tremendous effort, he forced out a word.
“Rose.” That was as far as he got before fuzz overtook him once
more.

Rose said, “H.L.,” and she, too,
subsided.

He cleared his throat.

Fairy nudged Rose again, propelling her
against H.L., whose arms tightened automatically around her. The
temptation to continue where he’d left off was so great, he almost
succumbed to it, but he knew Rose deserved better. So did he,
actually. He didn’t particularly fancy getting straw stuck in
indelicate places.

With that thought foremost in his mind, he
finally came up with a coherent suggestion. “Finish with the horse,
and let’s get out of here.”

Rose stared up at him for a moment as if she
didn’t comprehend the meaning behind his words. He swallowed,
praying hard that when the meaning penetrated the fog inside her,
she wouldn’t slap his face and rush off in the opposite
direction.

She didn’t. After only another few seconds of
looking befuddled, Rose gave a sharp nod, wheeled around, and
resumed brushing the horse. She snapped out orders to H.L. as she
worked, as if she, too, wanted to finish up and get out of there to
more felicitous surroundings.

“
Hand me the curry comb,
please.”

H.L. handed her the curry comb.

“
Fill that bucket with water.” She
jerked her head at a bucket hanging from a hook on the wall. H.L.
obeyed then stood, holding the dripping bucket, awaiting further
instructions.

“
Dump it in that trough
there.”

H.L. did so with alacrity.

“
Fill that other bucket with oats from
that sack over there.”

H.L. filled the other bucket with oats.

“
Dump it in the bin in that
stall.”

He did it.

“
Now give Fairy a pat, H.L. She likes
to know she’s appreciated.”

Although it had never occurred to him that
horses had feelings, he was willing to do pretty much anything in
order to get Rose in his arms again. Therefore, he walked up to
Fairy, stroked her velvety neck and nose and stepped back again. He
was glad he’d obeyed Rose’s peremptory commands when she shot him a
glowing smile and led the horse to her stall.

His heart was thundering like a bass drum
when Rose dropped the latch on Fairy’s stall and turned to face
him. They gazed at each other for what seemed like hours, but could
only have been seconds. H.L. felt a sudden pang of trepidation, for
fear Rose had decided, in the few minutes it had taken her to deal
with the horse, that she didn’t want to go through with his plans
for the rest of her evening.

She opened her arms, whispered, “I’m ready,”
and his relief was so great, he felt lightheaded for a moment.

That didn’t last long. Elation filled him a
moment later, and with one giant step, he’d reached Rose and swept
her up into his arms. “Shall we go to your tent, Rose?”

She nodded and buried her face in his
shoulder. She made a compact and tidy little bundle, and one that
felt swell in his arms as he carried her through the encampment. It
was thin of people at the moment since most of the cast were in the
arena shooting at each other.

Without missing a step, he ducked under her
tent flap, and fetched up a second later. It was pitch-black inside
her tent. He muttered, “Bah.”

Sensing his concern, Rose whispered, “There
are matches and a lantern on my night table.”

“
Where’s your night table?”

There was a smile in her voice when she said,
“Set me down. I find my way in the dark all the time in this
tent.”

“
I don’t want to put you down,” he
objected.

“
Better that than falling and breaking
both our necks.”

She kissed him, and he decided she was right
and he could probably stand letting her go for a couple of minutes.
He set her gently on the floor of the tent, and he heard her move
toward the bed, which he recalled as being more of a cot, really,
but would do. He’s see to it.

A startled cry from Rose jolted him out of
the pleasant contemplation of the consummation of his lust. He
called out, “What is it?”

“
I—I—
Oh
!”

Her cry of fright curdled H.L.’s blood. With
a roar, he lunged in the direction of the sound, his arms
outstretched so as to feel where he was going.

“
Put me
down
!” Rose shouted.

The panic in her voice made H.L. curse.
“Dammit, Rose, what’s wrong?”

“
That man!” she cried. “That man!
He’s—oomph!”

H.L. bumped into something huge and human,
and bounced off. Fury consumed him. If it was that one-legged
bastard, he was going to kill him for certain this—

Pain and light exploded in his head. He
grunted once, then darkness engulfed him. He felt himself fall, as
if from a great height, and then there was nothing.

# # #

Rose had never experienced such rage. She
didn’t have any idea who’d kidnapped her, but she knew good and
well she’d been kidnapped, because why else would she be in this
filthy burlap sack, being bounced all over the place? She struggled
like a mad cat, to no avail. If she weren’t so crunched up in so
small a space, she might be able to reach a gun or a—but, no. She
didn’t wear weapons during her act. She had nothing on her person
with which to fight off whoever it was who’d taken her.

She could use her voice, though, and she did.
At the top of her lungs, she shrieked, “Help! Help me! Somebody,
please help me!”

“
Shut up,” a growly voice sounded from
outside the burlap. “Shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”

Rose was too scared and angry to care about
threats at the moment. She struggled wildly in the sack—although
wildly in her present confines wasn’t very. She continued to
screech, though, since that was something the burlap couldn’t
confine.

“
Help! Murder!
Police
!”

“
Dammit, shut up!” the growly voice
said again.

It sounded moderately frustrated, and Rose
experienced a sense of triumph that was probably unwarranted,
considering the circumstances.

“
No!” she shrieked. “Let me
go!”

“
Dammit, if you don’t shut up, I’ll
shut you up.”

“
Try it!” she bellowed. She hoped he
would. If he so much as reached into the sack, she’d bite his hand
off.