Rose (25 page)

“My fertile time is over.” Rose said it casually as she put away the remains of the cake, as though her words were of no importance.

George froze in his tracks. His brothers had just left the
room, Zac anxious to try out his chaps, Hen willing to teach him how to put them on. George had paused, searching for a way to tell Rose how much he appreciated what she had done. Some way that didn’t make it sound like he was thanking her for a job well done.

“I just wanted you to know, in case you felt you had to sleep out at the camp.”

It was an invitation. It was also the moment for him to decide what he was going to do about his marriage. A series of circumstances had allowed him to postpone making a decision. Now nothing stood in his way. He had to make some commitment to this woman or let her leave. He couldn’t keep her here forever, loving him but waiting and wondering.

He nodded his understanding.

He could see the disappointment in her eyes. He could see it in her face, too. Her expression froze. She looked like something beautiful but inanimate.

“Thanks for the birthday party,” he said, feeling on firmer ground. “But you shouldn’t have given me credit for the chaps.”

“I knew Zac would like them better coming from you.”

“I know, or I wouldn’t have let him thank me.”

He paused. How did you tell a woman who looked at you with love in her eyes that something she had just done was sweet? It would be almost insulting.

“I don’t know how you always seem to find just the right thing to do. I never can.”

“Maybe certain things come more naturally to a woman,” Rose said, a thin smile curving her lips. “You’re doing more than enough as it is.”

“Considering the way things are going at the camp, I don’t know. I certainly can’t get them to enjoy an evening as much as this.”

“It’s the things you do that make times like this possible,” Rose said, a warmer look coming into her eyes. “There’s much more to the success of a family than birthdays and presents.”

She was trying to tell him something, but he didn’t know
what it was. But that wasn’t surprising. His family had never been happy. He had no experience of any times except unhappy ones.

“Maybe, but I don’t seem to know what they are. Maybe I should turn the family over to you. You’d do a much better job.”

He was feeling sorry for himself. No, he was still feeling guilty about forgetting Zac’s birthday. And frustrated that he was still dithering, like a foolish adolescent, about Rose.

“If you think I could get Monty to listen to anything I had to say on the subject of cows…” She left it hanging.

George smiled, and the tension inside him eased. “I guess I’d better stick around a little longer. And if I’m to do that, I’ve got to talk to the twins before they go to bed.”

He also had to have some time to think. Rose had clearly told him she wanted him to make love to her. He wanted it, too. He wanted it so badly he was surprised she didn’t see it in his face. But he had a couple of things to get straight in his own mind first.

He knew that tonight was crucial for both of them. He knew what he wanted to do, but he wanted to make sure he was doing it for the right reason. It was vital that he be sure.

Rose lay in the bed. Wide awake. Waiting.

Would he come?

He hadn’t said anything. He had just walked out.

They had reached a crisis point. At least she had. If she wasn’t important enough for George to come to her tonight, then she wasn’t important enough to be his wife. It hurt to say that, even in her thoughts. She had come too close to lose now.

No matter what happened, she would never forget George. Even if she never saw him again. She could never love anyone as she loved him. For the rest of her life she would measure every man she met against him.

She had memorized his features, his changing moods, whole
conversations, entire scenes. She knew every movement, every expression. He was part of her fiber. He would always be.

She wouldn’t forget his brothers, either. She felt as if they were part of her now. And that was odd, considering the fact that
they
felt she was an outsider.

She thought of the ease with which she had fitted into the Robinson family. She had felt welcome from the first. By the end of the first week, she felt like she had always been a part of them. Why couldn’t that happen here?

But she was a survivor. She had endured before George appeared in Austin, and she would survive if she never saw him or his brothers again.

The sound of an opening door caused her thoughts to snap like a thread, her breath to stop in her lungs. Footsteps in the kitchen. The handle on the door lifting.

George had come!

She waited in the dim lamplight, the wick turned down to conserve precious fuel. He continually marveled at her loveliness. He couldn’t understand how any man could let her father’s fighting for the Union blind him to her beauty. Inside and out.

She looked so vulnerable. So fragile. So afraid of what he was going to do.

Or not do.

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” she said. Even her voice sounded anxious, as though she was afraid the slightest misstep might drive him away.

“I had some thinking to do.”

“So did I.”

George felt a tremor of uneasiness. It had never occurred to
him that Rose might also have some questions which needed resolving. Fool! Why did he always think he was the only one who had to make decisions? He realized now he’d been doing that with the boys as well.

With Rose, too. He’d been taking her for granted, assuming she’d always be there, waiting, willing, forgiving, whenever he decided to turn to her.

George approached the bed. He sat down on the edge, facing Rose.

“Do you have things straight in your mind?” she asked.

“More than before.”

He wished she would turn the wick up. He couldn’t see her expression. He wanted to know how she felt about what he was going to say.

“You mind if I go first?” she asked.

George felt his stomach knot. There was nothing of the happy, comfortable Rose of earlier that evening. She seemed terribly serious. Unhappily so.

“No.”

She didn’t start right away. She didn’t look at him either. And that made him even more nervous. If she found it so difficult to find the right words, it could only be because she felt they were words he wouldn’t like. She looked up, straight into his eyes.

“I don’t know why you asked me to marry you. Quite frankly, I’ve been afraid to ask.”

She lowered her eyes. She seemed reluctant to continue.

“You know I love you,” she said. “I never made a secret of that.”

He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to say.

“I’m afraid that love betrayed me into making some promises I don’t think I can keep,” she went on.

The queasiness in his stomach grew worse.

“I said I understood your fear of responsibility, that I would never tie you down. I do understand, but I can’t go on living here waiting for you to decide you want to come to me, fearing
you will change your mind any minute. That used to be enough, at least I used to think it was, but it’s not anymore.”

Was she about to tell him she wanted to leave?

“When I came here, I had a fantasy about St. George rescuing me. I knew it was unrealistic, just a child’s fairy tale, but I believed if I could stay here a while, somehow things would work out.”

“But they didn’t.”

“I fell in love with you. Then Zac seduced me with his impish grin. Next I became awfully fond of Hen. I even like Monty when he’s not shouting or trying to stampede me by the sheer force of his personality. I don’t mind Tyler, and I worry about Jeff.”

“You learned to care about all of us.”

“You’ve got a wonderful family. They are so bright, energetic, and fiercely loyal. Each of you has so much love to give, but you’re afraid to reach out for fear it’ll be refused.”

“They haven’t refused you.”

“No, but they’re holding back. They’re waiting for you. They won’t let themselves love me as long as you don’t.”

George was stunned. It had never occurred to him that his brothers’ decisions might rest on his own. It was an even greater shock that they would hold back from something they wanted just because of him. And to think he’d been holding back because of them.

If Rose was right…

“No one can live here as I have and not become deeply involved with your family,” Rose continued. “It hurts to still be on the outside. I don’t think I can stand it any longer.”

“You want to go back to Austin?”

“No!” She spoke softly, but the intensity was unmistakable. “I want to stay here for the rest of my life, but I can’t. Not the way things are. I thought I could, but I can’t. Can you understand how I feel?”

Can you? You’ve never thought about anything from anybody’s point of view but your own.

He was trying, but he’d been so absorbed by his own fears, his concern for his family, he hadn’t learned to see anything from someone else’s point of view.

And much to his shock, he also hadn’t had time to consult his own feelings. He had to now because Rose was on the point of leaving them. Of leaving him. And clearer than anything he’d ever known in his life, he knew he didn’t want her to go.

“I’m beginning to,” George said, “but you’re wrong about not being accepted by the family. There are times I think Zac loves you more than he loves the rest of us.”

“Zac wants to love me, but even though he doesn’t understand what he’s doing, he’s keeping his distance, waiting for you to let him know it’s all right.”

“You think he can understand things like that?”

Rose looked at him as if she thought he was handsome and wonderful but something of an idiot.

“All of them understand. Look at Monty. He used to tease me. When it became clear there was something between us, he backed off. If he thought you loved me, he would start to tease me again, but like a sister this time.”

George had seen what Rose was talking about but had just assumed that Monty was being difficult as usual.

“Even Jeff is waiting. He may decide to leave. He may decide to come back. But until you make up your mind, he’s going to wait.”

George felt worse than before. Not only had he failed Rose. He’d failed his family as well.

“I never meant for this to happen,” he said.

“I know. The last thing you wanted was a woman to complicate your life.”

“After watching my parents, I decided not to risk making their mistakes. Then I met you, and everything started to change. You ask why I married you. I couldn’t do anything else. That may seem a stupid thing for a grown man to say, especially one who’s set himself up to tell everybody else what they
ought to do, but it’s the truth. My feelings for you have grown stronger every day, but I can’t tell whether I just like you a lot, whether you’ve made me so comfortable I can’t bear to give you up, or whether I’m drawn to you because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that all?”

“No. I keep telling myself I’m crazy to keep doing exactly what I don’t want to do, what I never meant to do. Then I realize I don’t
not want it
anymore, that I actually like it very much. But when I look inside and see I’m still the same person, I start to wonder about my motives. Am I feeling this way because I want to use you for my own pleasure, or have my feelings really changed enough that I might have grown to love you without knowing it?”

“And what did you decide?” The anxiety in her voice was plain.

“I realized I don’t know what love is. I’ve never seen it. I don’t count Ma’s love for Pa. It made her blind to what he was. I don’t think love blinds you to truth. If it does, I don’t want it. My feelings for you are very strong, but I don’t know if they’re strong enough. Everything else doesn’t cease to matter when I look at you. I couldn’t count the world well lost as long as I could hold you in my arms. No matter how much I want you, I can’t forget my brothers. I just know I can’t let you leave.”

Rose hardly dared let herself hope again. What made her think anything was going to change now? George was married to his brothers and his obsessive fear of being like his father. What chance did she have against such powerful forces?

Yet even as her brain told her that George still hadn’t made a commitment to her, that he still hadn’t been able to decide she was more important than his family, she realized he had made another step forward. Small, but still a step forward. He had decided that in the face of all his difficulties, he didn’t want her to leave.

Maybe he did love her and just didn’t know it.

She wanted to believe that. She wanted it desperately. But
could she stand another disappointment? It didn’t help to know that George had never promised her anything, that she had done this to herself. It had happened, it was nobody’s fault, but she was the one who was suffering.

And George. He suffered, too.

George was trying to learn how to love. Could she desert him just when he was about to reach out to her? And not just as a lover. He was reaching out to save himself from the morass of his own doubt, from the terrible sense of worthless-ness about to drown him.

She wanted to be his lover, not his savior, but she realized it might not be possible to be the one until she had been the other. He had reached out and saved her against his will. Didn’t she owe him the same?

Maybe, but she didn’t want to stay with him because she owed him something. She wanted him to stay with her because he loved her, because he couldn’t do anything else.

That’s exactly what he said, you little fool. He said he married you because he couldn’t do anything else.

He did love her! He was approaching knowledge slowly, unable to see his way, unable to catch sight of his goal, but he was coming, steadily, inexorably.

But how long could she wait? Could she withstand disappointment once again?

She could stand anything as long as George loved her. She knew that. She might not like to admit it, she certainly didn’t want to have to endure it, but like George, she would stay because she couldn’t do anything else.

“I’ll stay if you’re sure you want me,” she said.

“Even though I can make no promises?”

“Do you want me even though I can’t make any either?”

His answer was instantaneous. “Yes. And I will make you one promise.”

Rose felt disappointment. She knew he was going to promise to take care of her. She also knew it was no longer enough.

“I promise to try to learn to love you. I want to.”

Rose was so happy she almost jumped up and threw her arms around George. She’d have done it if she hadn’t been afraid it would cause him to withdraw. He did love her. He only needed some more time to realize it.

“And I promise to wait as long as it takes.”

Rose felt as if they were pledging their vows for the first time, that this time their lives were truly bound together. If he made love to her tonight, their marriage would truly begin. She reached out and took his hand.

“Are you going to stay with me?”

“Are you sure you want me to? I can’t leave you untouched. I tried, but I can’t any longer.”

“I don’t want you to.”

George felt his whole body tremble with hunger. Even as his fingers took hers in his grasp, he felt the heat of desire begin to spread through his loins. He knew if he didn’t leave now, he’d never be able to tear himself away from her.

But he didn’t want to leave. Tonight he had decided he wanted Rose with him for the rest of his life. And he would do what it took to keep her here.

George felt the tension flow from his body. Not the tension caused by Rose’s invitation. Not the tension of anticipation that caused his muscles to quiver. But the tension that kept his senses from focusing entirely on the fulfillment of a longing that had been tearing him apart for weeks.

George moved up on the bed until he lay alongside Rose. For the first time he felt as if he belonged here. He didn’t feel the fear of his own failure or the nagging guilt about his intentions. He felt happy. At ease.

He felt content.

Almost without conscious thought, he reached out and let his fingers move over her skin. More than an act of passion, it was an act of commitment. It established a line of communication between them. It said he wanted her; he desired her. It also said he would continue to want her for the rest of his life.

His head sank until his lips brushed the top of her breast, scattering feathered kisses across her velvety smooth skin. His lips said he wanted her, that he desired her. They also said he would cherish her, that she was precious to him. That he would care for her as long as he was able.

The subtle scent of violets assailed his nostrils. He usually liked it, but tonight he wanted to inhale Rose’s scent, not something from a soap.

Yet the scent seemed to fit her. Strong, yet not heavy or clinging. Like Rose herself.

He tasted her skin. It tasted faintly of moisture. Moisture produced by the warmth of the night. Moisture produced by uncertainty. By desire.

He, too, felt damp. The fire building inside him would soon cause him to break out in a fierce sweat. Already his body had begun to swell with urgent need. George shifted to get more comfortable, to be able to roll on his elbow so his lips could range over still more of Rose’s tempting perfection. But as he planted a chain of kisses across her shoulder and along her collarbone, his body grew taut with need. His right hand covered Rose’s breast, caressing it through the thin cotton of her nightgown.

Responding to the primeval urge to capture and possess, he claimed her as his own. He encompassed her with his passion, surrounded her with his desire, draped her in his need, covered her with his heat.

Rose moaned softly. She rolled toward George, bringing her body into full contact with his. The feel of her against his whole length stretched George’s self-control to the limit. Using every bit of restraint he could muster to keep from throwing himself on her, he raised himself until he could kiss Rose’s closed eyelids. A kiss dropped on the tip of her nose, a more demanding kiss on her parted lips.

Rose moaned again and wiggled against him. Her mouth responded to his, and George deepened his kiss. Her arms wound
themselves around his neck as she pushed her body hard against him. Her breasts, firm and full, pushed hard against his chest, their firming peaks burning his skin. Her scent filled his nostrils; the moisture of her skin mingled with his. The taste of her mouth invited him to ask for more.

George moaned. And not softly. It was the moan of a man deep in the toils of desire. Even as his tongue forced its way into Rose’s mouth, his hands slipped the straps over her shoulders and freed her breasts from the light restraint of her gown. With a growl of desire, he attacked one nipple with his hungry mouth, the other with his fingertips.