For the Roses

Chapter 9

Friday turned out to be another lesson in humility. Harrison was up bright and early. He was determined to get the last of the horses he'd been assigned calmed down and decent before noon.

He missed his deadline by several hours, but by late afternoon, and at least ten bruises later, the speckled mustang was finally obeying.

Douglas was impressed with Harrison 's patience and endurance. He shouted to Cole to come over and see for himself what a fine job their houseguest had done.

"Look how sweet and docile Speckle is now," he remarked to his brother. " Harrison calmed him down all right."

Douglas had his arms draped over the top of the fence. He motioned for Harrison to ride Speckle over so he could give him a word of praise.

"You've done a remarkable job," he praised.

"I used patience and understanding," Harrison replied. He stared at Cole during his boast. "You would do well to learn a little of both."

Cole scoffed. "Patience and understanding? Hell, Harrison, you talked and talked until that poor animal would have done anything to get you to shut up."

Harrison refused to be goaded into an argument. He had better things to think about than Mary Rose's stubborn, never-give-an-inch brother.

He dismounted and removed both the saddle and blanket. Speckle followed him over to the fence. Harrison draped the equipment over the top, then took hold of the bridle and led the animal over to the largest of the corrals, where the other mustangs were being kept.

Going inside the fenced area with Speckle turned out to be a mistake. It took him a long, long time to get the bridle off the horse, for the other mustangs were crowding around Harrison and nipping each other in their attempt to get his undivided attention. Each horse apparently craved a little notice, and Harrison couldn't leave until he had patted and praised every one of them.

He took the long way around the corral so he wouldn't have to get into another discussion with Cole, picked up the blanket and saddle on his way, and continued on across the yard and into the barn.

Douglas and Cole both stared at the horses.

"Did you notice?" Douglas whispered to his brother.

Cole smiled. "I noticed all right." Then he shook his head. The mustangs were so besotted with Harrison they had circled the inside of the fence in a cluster and kept pace with their master as he walked around the outside.

"I've never seen animals act like that before," Douglas said. "Are you willing to admit Harrison 's talking might have worked a little magic?"

Cole shrugged. "I'll admit it, but not in front of Harrison. I wonder if he'll try to sweet-talk the steers into following him home."

"Probably will," Douglas replied. "Have you seen Travis?" he asked then.

"He's hiding in the barn."

Douglas didn't have to ask why their youngest brother had taken shelter inside the barn. The reason was sitting on the front porch.

Eleanor Border was rocking back and forth in Adam's favorite chair, while she fanned herself with Mary Rose's treasured, only-used-on-special-occasions fan.

Douglas and Cole both turned to frown at their unwanted guest just as their sister came hurrying outside with a fresh glass of juice for Eleanor.

"That woman sure is running Mary Rose ragged," Cole commented.

Douglas agreed with a nod. "Do you think she'll ever let our sister leave for the ridge?"

"I doubt it," Cole replied. "At least not today. Mary Rose has been trying to leave since early morning and it's going on three now."

"It's her own fault, letting the time get away from her," Douglas remarked. "She's going along with Eleanor's bossing. Mary Rose carried up two trays to her this morning. Eleanor didn't like the first breakfast cook prepared, so our sister fixed her another one." Cole shook his head. "She never lets us boss her around," he said. "Besides, she shouldn't have fixed her anything. Eleanor wouldn't be acting like a persnickety princess if she wasn't being treated like one."

"I think we should talk to Adam tonight," Douglas suggested. "He's being unreasonable about Eleanor staying here. You and Travis and I could gang up on him. We'll vote to give Eleanor the boot. Mary Rose and Adam will vote to let her stay, of course, but it won't matter. Majority rules."

Cole's conscience got in the way of his agreement. He couldn't block the memory of seeing Eleanor in such an anguished state. The poor woman had sounded plumb pitiful as she wept against Adam's chest. Even though Cole hated to admit it, the memory gave him a heartache.

"Let's not jump the gun, Douglas. I say we wait a couple of days before we put it to a vote. Adam must have had some sound reasons for letting the woman stay with us."

"Why hasn't he told us his reasons?"

"I guess he isn't ready to," Cole replied. "Maybe Eleanor will quit complaining in a day or so. She's about covered every topic around."

"She'll just start over," Douglas predicted. "She sure likes to hear herself whine, doesn't she?"

Cole smiled. He stared at the woman under discussion and couldn't help but notice how pretty she might be if she ever tried to smile. "It's the red in her hair," he told his brother. "Makes her temperamental."

"Travis has red in his hair, and he isn't temperamental."

"He's hiding in the barn, isn't he? That sounds a might temperamental to me."

Harrison walked over to join the two men. Douglas turned to him. "Can you believe it? Cole's defending Eleanor."

"I only said we should give her a couple of days before we take a vote to toss her out," Cole countered. "I think she's scared and that's why she acts bossy."

Harrison nodded agreement. "I believe she's frightened too. Being difficult must give her some sense of control over her current situation."

Douglas shook his head. "I think you both have turned into milk toast. I'm going with Travis over to Hammond to barter and sell a couple of my horses. Are either of you interested in tagging along?"

"Will you be stopping by Pauline's place?" Cole asked.

"Who is Pauline?" Harrison asked.

"She runs a house outside of the town," Douglas said. "Just past Sneeze Junction."

"She's…" Harrison began.

"Friendly," Cole supplied.

Harrison declined the invitation. Cole, Travis, and Douglas left for the junction a short while later. The brothers had made the assumption that because of the lateness in the day, their sister wouldn't still want to go up to the ridge to take Crazy Corrie supplies.

They were mistaken in their assumption. The duty of escorting Mary Rose would fall on Adam's or Harrison's shoulders.

Adam let Harrison decide. He called him into the kitchen and explained the situation. "One of us has to stay here and keep Eleanor company. The other one has to go up to the ridge with Mary Rose."

"I thought you never left the ranch," Harrison remarked.

"Where did you hear that?"

"In town. Dooley or Ghost mentioned it."

"I only avoid going into town, Harrison. The mountains are my home. I often hunt with Cole, and fishing is my favorite pastime," he added with a nod.

"I would rather go with Mary Rose," Harrison said.

"Can you use a gun or did you exaggerate? I don't mean to insult you, but I need to know you can protect my sister if the need arises."

"Yes, I can use a gun," Harrison assured him. "If it will make you feel better, I'll carry two."

"Strap a rifle behind the saddle as well," Adam suggested. "We've had only one bad run-in with a bear in all the time we've lived here, but this time of year they're roaming for food. You might take one by surprise."

"I'll be prepared for any eventuality."

"Mary Rose can hold her own, of course. I wouldn't want you to get the notion she wasn't educated. Cole taught her how to shoot to kill. Thank God, she hasn't had to use her expertise."

"We should get going," Harrison said then.

"Just a minute more, please," Adam requested. "I'm going to be blunt instead of dancing around the issue," he said. "Mary Rose is attracted to you, and from the way you look at her during suppers, I have to assume the attraction is mutual. I expect you to behave as a gentleman. I realize I'm insulting you, but Mary Rose is more important than your feelings right now. Do I have your word?"

Harrison wasn't offended. Adam was acting like a loving brother. Harrison wouldn't have expected less.

"You have my word. I'll keep Mary Rose safe, or die trying, Adam, and I will assuredly protect her honor."

Adam shook his hand and then walked with him to the front door. "I wish she'd wait until tomorrow, but she's stubborn, Harrison."

"I noticed."

Adam smiled. "Yes, of course you noticed. I'll be curious to get your take on this Corrie woman. Mary Rose tends to see only the good. Watch out for her when she's talking to her new friend. I don't like the idea of a rifle being pointed at my sister all the while she's talking."

Eleanor stood up when the two men walked out onto the porch. She nodded to Harrison and turned her attention to Adam.

"Are you letting her go, Adam? It looks like rain. She'll ruin her clothes if she rides off into a thunderstorm. I do wish you'd tell her she has to stay home."

"Where is Mary Rose?"

"She's in the barn," Eleanor answered.

"Why don't you come inside with me. You can keep me company while I prepare supper."

Eleanor looked thankful for company. She eagerly nodded and followed Adam inside.

It took Harrison and Mary Rose two hours to reach the secluded cabin tucked up high on the ridge. The climb was slow, for the trail was broken in spots and nonexistent in other sections they needed to cross.

The time passed all too quickly for Harrison. The landscape held him in constant awe. It kept changing with every turn he made, as did the colors and the aromas, and it required his full concentration to keep his eye on Mary Rose too. His gaze wanted to linger on the cascading waterfall to the right of the zigzag path and the rolling hills on the left, thick with heavily scented pines, with clusters of small meadows tucked in between. Wildlife was plentiful in the area. The animals had come down from the higher peaks to shed their winter coats and feed on berries and sweet spring grass. There were deer and elk, mule bucks and red squirrels as thick as cottontails. A whitetail fawn, more curious than afraid, didn't move at all when they passed within inches of the animal. If Harrison had reached out, he was certain, he could have touched her brown, velvety nose.

Mary Rose became his eager guide in the wonderland. She gave names to all the wildflowers he'd never seen before and pointed out several plants the locals used to cure their aches and pains. When the trail was wide enough to accommodate both horses, they rode side by side. She stopped several times to point out animals and views she thought would interest him.

Her love for the land became more evident the higher they climbed. She pointed to a cow moose and calf feeding near a spring and whispered her opinion that they were simply adorable.

She stopped once again near the top of the ridge and motioned to the hill below.

"Brown bears," she whispered. "On the left of the stream. Do you see them, Harrison? One's just going in the water. If there were enough time, I would insist we watch them fish. They're much better at it than we are."

"How do you know they aren't grizzly bears?"

If she thought his question was foolish, she didn't let him know it. "A grizzly has a distinctive hump behind his head," she explained. "We don't see too many around here. Don't be disappointed. They can be troublesome."

"I read that some men who live in the mountains like to hunt the grizzly."

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "I'll bet you read that in a dime novel, didn't you? Those stories are all made up. Men hunting grizzly bears? Only very foolish men perhaps," she allowed.

The tiny frown that creased her brow as she gave the earnest explanation and the enthusiastic tone of voice as she instructed him made him smile.

He suddenly realized he was as much in awe of her as he was of the land.

"Why are you smiling? Don't you believe me?" she asked.

"I believe you. I'm smiling because you make me happy."

She was inordinately pleased with his compliment. "Thank you," she said.

"Mary Rose?"

"Yes?"

"Why are we whispering?"

The look of surprise on her face told him she hadn't realized they had been whispering. She laughed with delight.

"Adam and I used to whisper whenever we were up here. I was much younger then, and he tended to let me have my way."

"But why did you want to whisper?" he asked.

"You'll laugh," she predicted.

He assured her he wouldn't. Then he had to promise. She made him.

"I whispered because I thought I was in God's backyard."

"You what?"

"You haven't been around many children, have you, Harrison?"

"No, I suppose I haven't. You really thought you were in…"

"Yes, I did," she interrupted. "It seemed appropriate to whisper to show my respect."

"And now that you're all grown up? What do you think now?"

She decided to be completely honest with him. "That I'm still in God's backyard."

He burst into laughter. She had to wait for him to quiet down before she spoke again. "I like it when you laugh, even though you promised you wouldn't. Whenever you smile, which is a rare occurrence indeed, the worry lines at the corners of your eyes crinkle up. It's very appealing. You do worry too much."

"I do?" He was actually surprised by her opinion. He couldn't imagine anyone worrying too much. The notion seemed foreign to him. When a man worried, he stayed on edge, always ready, always prepared for any eventuality.

"Oh, yes, you worry too much."

She softened her criticism by smiling at him. He immediately smiled back. And still they lingered. Neither one of them wanted to move. The moment suddenly became filled with promise. A new intimacy flowed between them, in this peaceful interlude when the outside world couldn't invade. Just now she belonged only to him. He didn't have to share her with anyone.

A clap of thunder sounded in the distance, but Harrison ignored the warning. So did Mary Rose. She was fully occupied staring at him. He was just as content to stare at her.

A twig snapped behind them. Harrison reacted with lightning speed. He turned in the saddle, his gun drawn and cocked, and waited for the next sound. A rabbit raced across the trail then, and Harrison put his gun away.

Mary Rose watched him in astonishment. She hadn't ever seen anyone move that fast, except Cole, of course, but brothers didn't count, and she couldn't help but worry about where and why he had developed the skill. Or was it instinct?

He was making her nervous again. There was definitely more than one layer to the man, and she didn't know how she felt about that.

"Now you're frowning. What's wrong?" he asked.

"The way you moved just now. That's what's wrong. You're used to being on your guard, aren't you?"

He didn't answer her. She shook her head. "You're a complicated man. You behave one way and then do something that changes what I'm supposed to think you are. I wish you'd stop it."

"Surprises can be good, can't they?"

"How?"

"Intrigue," he replied. "Occasionally surprising someone could be…"

She didn't let him finish his argument. "I'm already intrigued. I like you just the way you are."

"You like me the way you think I am."

"You're driving me crazy, Harrison."

He laughed. "You make me crazy too, Mary Rose."

She turned away from him. "I won't get into a discussion of the flaws in your personality now. There isn't enough time. It's getting late, and if we don't hurry, I won't have any time at all to visit with my friend. Please quit dawdling."

Harrison wasn't about to let her have the last word. "I have never dawdled in my life."

Her unladylike snort was her rebuttal.

He wasn't irritated. In fact, he couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't felt this good in a long, long time. Peace and contentment seemed to radiate from the mountain. And when he looked into Mary Rose's eyes and saw the joy there, he felt as though he could do anything he ever wanted to do, no matter how impossible the obstacle. He felt… complete when he was with her, and all because of the trust in her gaze, and the acceptance.

Acceptance. Hadn't he spent his life trying to gain that? Wasn't that the true reason he had become so obsessed with his hunt to find Lord Elliott's daughter, so that he would accept him as an equal? Or was it all a payback for his kindness?

Harrison didn't have any answers. He knew he was grateful to Elliott for taking care of his father; yes, of course he was. He was the one man who didn't turn his back on his friend when everyone else in London did. He gave them money and took over the payment of the taxes, and when constant nursing became mandatory, he saw that they had the best staff available. Thanks to his generosity, neither his father nor he ever went without. Elliott had even financed Harrison 's education.

He owed a tremendous debt to Elliott, and because of honor, he would spend his life repaying. Harrison didn't shirk his responsibilities. And he certainly could never ask for anything more… even happiness.

Mary Rose. Lord, how she'd made him think about things that could never be. He was in love with her, and he had absolutely no one to blame but himself. He knew better than to get involved, and yet he'd done exactly that.

Elliott had made plans for his daughter within a month after her birth. Harrison hadn't been part of her future then, and he knew that when they returned to England, nothing would change.

Honor kept him from asking for her hand in marriage. He was neither worthy enough nor financially secure enough to give her his name.

He didn't want to think about his future. He decided he would appreciate the time he had with Mary Rose so that he could savor the memories on all the cold nights ahead.

He was thankful when they reached Corrie's cabin because there wasn't time to wallow in his misery.

Mary Rose wouldn't let him get close to the clearing. In fact, she made him stay a good half mile away. She explained she didn't want Corrie to become upset, and the first sight of him might very well upset just about anyone. He took immediate insult, of course.

"Exactly what do you think is wrong about my appearance?"

"You've got a days growth on your face and your hair has been in dire need of a trimming for two weeks now."

"So?" he demanded.

"I shall have to be blunt," she said. "You look menacing and… scruffy. I find you appealing. She won't."

He snorted with disbelief, then laughed over the sound he just made. Heaven help him, he was starting to act like her.

"I'm sorry if I've stomped on your tender feelings," she said.

"I do not have tender feelings."

"Yes, well, as soon as you open your mouth and speak, everyone knows how cultured and refined you are."

"Cultured and refined people can also be killers, Mary Rose. You make it sound as though an education ensures decency."

She shrugged. She didn't want to waste any more time arguing with him. The heaviness in the air indicated a storm was closing in on them, and she didn't want to get soaked until after she had a nice visit with her new friend.

She wouldn't even let Harrison carry the supplies into the clearing. She made three trips and finally finished stacking all of her gifts in a pile in the very center of the clearing.

Mary Rose was thrilled that Corrie let her get much closer to the porch this time. She saw that as real progress in their relationship.

She didn't mind at all that the shotgun was pointed at her the entire time she stood there. She was just thankful Harrison wasn't close enough to notice. He was bound to make a scene if he thought she was in danger.

He hadn't stayed where she'd put him, however. Without making a sound, he moved to a spot where he was both concealed by the foliage and yet had a clear view of the front of the cabin.

When he spotted the barrel of the shotgun protruding from the window, his heart damned near stopped beating. It was aimed at Mary Rose's middle. His initial reaction was to pull his gun free and shoot the barrel. It took extreme willpower not to interfere. He broke out in a sweat, of course, but after ten, then fifteen minutes passed, he realized the shotgun was all for show. He still wasn't going to take his gaze off the threat, of course, but he was finally able to breathe normally again.

Mary Rose's behavior and her one-sided conversation for the next hour were both bizarre and endearing.

She would never have gone on and on if she'd known he was listening, of course, and he didn't plan to ever let her find out.

After she had placed the last of the jars in her stack, she stood up and mopped her brow with the edge of her sleeve.

She apologized because she hadn't been able to keep her word and visit the day before.

"I always keep my word, Corrie, unless something terrible prevents me from doing so, and after I've told you about all the sorry things that happened to me, you'll understand my tardiness," she assured the woman. She then gave a full accounting of her time. Harrison noticed she didn't mention the reason why she had gone after Bickley. He assumed she didn't want Corrie to worry that the vigilantes might still come up to the ridge to burn her out. Mary Rose said only that she had a difference of opinion and tried to use reason when she conversed with the man. One thing led to another and another, and before she knew what was happening, she was being attacked.

Her recollection of the events made him smile. She didn't linger on the injuries or the pain she endured, or on the fact that she damn near got killed. No, she spent the time telling all about the lovely skirt that got ripped and how frightful her hair looked.

She wasn't finished telling about her woes. She went into a long explanation about her experience waiting in Catherine Morrison's parlor. That was when Harrison found out Mary Rose considered him her exclusive property. He didn't have to guess. Mary Rose told Corrie all about her right to "have" him. She even outlined all the reasons why he belonged to her.

"I took him home with me before he got himself killed. When I think of what could have happened to the poor thing, well, my heart just aches. Can he help it if he's inept or awkward? No, of course he can't. He's terribly naive too, Corrie. The man wore a gun into town and didn't even know how to use it. Can you imagine such idiocy. I swear he needs a keeper. God love him, he doesn't know how incompetent he really is. No one has the heart to tell him, except Cole. Harrison did fight those men after they tore my dress and messed my hair, but they were scrawny little men, so Harrison was able to get in a couple of solid punches. I worried about it for a while, seeing him fight and all, and then I thought about it and realized anger had made him stronger and luck had been on his side. He took me by surprise on the way up here, and then I had to think it through and realized I shouldn't have been surprised at all. You see, he thought he heard a noise, and he drew his gun lickety-split. He was fast all right, but the fact is he probably couldn't shoot his way out of a barn. Being quick isn't worth a sneeze out here if you can't hit anything, now is it?"

She paused to let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Harrison could feel his face heating up. He wanted to stomp into the clearing and set the little woman straight. By God, he wasn't that inept.

Mary Rose wasn't through tearing his pride to shreds, however. "You should have seen him trying to learn how to break in some horses for Douglas. It was a pitiful sight, all right. I hid up in my room and watched from the window so he wouldn't be more humiliated than he already was. It's a blessing he didn't break his neck, Corrie, bless his heart."

Harrison gritted his teeth together and started counting to ten. His temper had reached the simmering point.

"I don't want you fretting about Harrison," Mary Rose continued. "I only told you about him because he came with me up to the ridge. He's supposed to protect me. That's why I wore my gun, Corrie. I can keep him safe enough. Anyway, he won't bother you. He'd kind and sweet-natured, and you should know me well enough by now after our last visitation to understand I wouldn't put up with him if he were mean. Did I tell you about Catherine Morrison throwing herself at him?"

She guessed she hadn't told the woman and went into a long, blown-out-of-all-proportion explanation about all the wrongs the woman had done to her over the years. Mary Rose had stored up a lot of complaints about Catherine and she proceeded to tell Corrie about each one, going all the way back to their early childhood. Since Corrie couldn't or wouldn't tell her to stop, she became Mary Rose's dream come true. A trapped listener who couldn't run away.

Harrison had started out worried that Corrie would shoot Mary Rose because the woman was as crazy as everyone said she was, but by the time the one-sided conversation was finished, his concern had changed. Now he couldn't figure out why Corrie didn't shoot her just to shut her up.

Mary Rose kept interlacing comments about Harrison. His ego took one hell of a beating, and if she "blessed his heart" just one more time, he swore he was going to have to throttle her.

Her voice finally gave out. She promised her friend that she would return as soon as she could for another long visit and turned to leave. She suddenly remembered she hadn't mentioned her newest houseguest yet and promptly stopped in her tracks.

Both Corrie and Harrison then listened to another long discussion, about Eleanor.

"She's going to settle down real soon," Mary Rose predicted. "She may even turn out to be a good friend once she gets over feeling sorry for herself. My, how the time has flown. Do get your supplies inside before the rain comes. Bye now, Corrie. God keep you safe."

Harrison stayed where he was until Mary Rose left the clearing. The rifle barrel was moved from the window a minute later. He backtracked, making a wide circle around Mary Rose, and was back to the spot where she'd told him to wait before she got there.

"Did you have a nice visit?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she answered. Her voice sounded hoarse. "She's a dear woman."

He couldn't imagine how she knew that. "Did she talk to you?" he asked.

"No, but she's getting ready to," Mary Rose assured him. "We should get going, Harrison. It's late."

"How do you know she's getting ready to talk to you?" he asked, ignoring her suggestion to leave.

"She let me get much closer to the center of the clearing," she explained. "We're obviously friends now."

"Because she didn't shoot you."

"Yes," she said, pleased he understood.

He thought she was making as much sense as a two-year-old having a tantrum.

"You're being completely illogical," he told her. "You do know that, don't you, Mary Rose?"

She shook her head at him. "Is it illogical to look for the good in people? Everyone has feelings, Harrison. 'No man is an island.' Remember the passage both you and Adam are so partial to?"

"Yes, of course, but…"

"We cannot exist without each other. Do the words, 'any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind' mean the same thing to you that they mean to me? We're all part of the same family, Harrison. Corrie has needs just like the rest of us. Now do you see?"

"Point taken, Miss Clayborne."

Her smile was radiant. "I do believe this is the first argument with you I have ever won."

"We weren't having an argument," he replied.

"It seems like one. We need to leave now." She started toward her horse and glanced up at the sky above. "We're really in for a soaking. You do love to dawdle, don't you?"

He lifted her up into the saddle and gave her the reins. She folded her hands on top of the saddle horn. Harrison started to turn away, then changed his mind. He reached up and covered her hands with his.

She looked into his eyes to find out why he suddenly wanted to linger. His smile captured her full attention. Lord, how she loved it when he was happy. His eyes turned as warm and welcoming as sunshine. She felt the heat all the way down in her belly.

"You have a very good heart, Mary Rose."

She felt as if he had just caressed her. She was just about to thank him when he went and ruined it.

"I try to remember that whenever you make me crazy."

He let go of her and turned to go to MacHugh. In one fluid motion he swung up into the saddle. The gracefulness in the action impressed her. She guessed all the time he'd spent climbing back up onto the horses after he'd been pitched to his backside had taught him something useful after all.

"What is that comment supposed to mean?" she asked.

"It means I know what your game is. You're the one who spent entirely too long talking to Corrie, and so you've decided to blame me if we get soaked. I dawdle? I think not."

"You're too clever for me, Harrison." She lifted the reins and turned to lead the way home. "I never said I was perfect, did I?"

"No, you never did," he agreed with a laugh.

"You aren't perfect either. You're extremely argumentative, but of course you must realize that. You're also given to spells, but I doubt you can help that."

"You constantly jump to conclusions based on insufficient information. You do know that, don't you? And I don't have spells, woman."

"Most of the time you're a perfect gentleman, but in the blink of an eye, you can turn into a raging lunatic." What else could she call his affliction? The man had spells, and that was that. She wasn't going to argue about it now. She wanted to discuss something else just as important.

"You refuse to understand that sometimes one must act before one has gathered hundreds of documents to support a possible thesis. If I had waited until I had every bit of information about you before I invited you to come home with me, you'd probably be dead. So would I," she added. "From old age."

"In other words, you leap before you look. Isn't that right?"

"At least I dare to leap."

"That attitude is exactly why so many people die young out here."

"Action is often more effective than words."

"In an uncivilized world, perhaps. Remember, Mary Rose, we are all accountable for our actions."

"We don't live inside a courtroom."

"We should behave as though we did."

"It would kill you to agree with me, wouldn't it, Harrison?"

She laughed after she asked her question. He smiled in response. "Perhaps," he allowed. "I like to win."

"Life isn't about winning. It's about surviving."

"In my line of work, surviving and winning are the same thing."

She had to think about what he had just said for a long while before she gave him her rebuttal. She was obviously enjoying sparring with him. He was having just as much fun. He found her comments invigorating and refreshingly honest, even when she wasn't making a lick of sense.

The hell he had spells.

"I believe you should find another line of work."

He ignored the suggestion. "One really shouldn't get personal when one is debating."

"Is that what we're doing?"

"Debating?"

"Yes. Are we debating?"

"I thought we were. What did you think we were doing?"

"Getting personal."

He laughed.

"Exactly what were we debating?"

He didn't have the faintest idea. He wasn't about to tell her so, however, and so he decided to make up something that sounded reasonable just so he could continue to argue with her.

"We are debating the differences in our philosophies of life."

"We and our? My, but those words do imply getting personal to me."

"Point given, Miss Clayborne."

She gave him a regal nod.

"I can sum up the differences between us in just two words."

"So can I," he assured her.

"Ladies first?"

"Of course."

"Experience and observation. I experience life. You observe it. I'll wager you were going to say the very same thing."

"You'd lose your wager then," he countered. "I would say logical versus illogical, order versus chaos, sanity versus insanity…"

"Lawyers do love to go on and on, don't they?"

"Some do."

"You do realize you just called me illogical, insane, and chaotic?"

"You do realize you just said I only observe life? It isn't true."

"It's raining. I think we should stop."

Lightning lit up the sky. "It's going to get worse," he predicted.

"Probably. There are caves about a quarter of a mile from here. We have to backtrack just a little, and we should hurry now. The trail's going to become too dangerous for MacHugh and Millie."

He didn't want to stop, but darkness was already closing in on them, and it would have been foolish to try to go on. He had hoped to reach the peak above her home before night caught up with them. The trail was much wider there, safer for the horses. They could find their way back to the barn with or without light. Instinct and hunger would guide them.

Spending the night with Mary Rose was just as dangerous for him as treading over slick stones would be for the horses.

He would, of course, behave like the gentleman he had been trained to be. He had given Adam his word, and he meant to keep it. He would have acted honorably regardless of his promise, however. Behaving wasn't the issue. Frustration was going to be the problem, but there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it. He was going to have to suffer through the unnecessary test of endurance, no matter what. He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the miserable night ahead of him.

"Hurry up, Harrison," she called after him. "It's only a fine mist now, but in a few more minutes it's going to become a downpour. I don't want to get soaked if I don't have to."

Harrison thought she was exaggerating. A short time later, when he was soaked through to the bone and freezing, he had to admit she'd been right.

The cave they found was little more than a long, narrow overhang of rocks. There were two reasons they went inside. One, it wasn't occupied, which was a problem to be considered given the nightly habits of some of the animals in the area, and two, the floor was dry. The air was as damp and welcoming as sleet, but not too drafty, and so it would have to do.

MacHugh refused to go to the back with Millie. Harrison stripped the stallion of his gear and let him stand near the mouth of the cave. The horse changed his mind and moved to the back as soon as Mary Rose got a fire going with the twigs and branches Harrison had collected. He'd tried for ten minutes to get the damp wood to ignite. She was more experienced than he was, however, and knew how to stack the wood just right with dried leaves she'd gathered from the floor of the cave.

Harrison dried off the horses as best he could, then caught water in a makeshift bucket he fashioned out of the canvas he'd been intelligent enough to bring along, and gave the water to Millie. When she'd had her fill, he let MacHugh quench his thirst.

Mary Rose worked on drying the damp bedrolls and then made up beds for the night. She placed the blankets side by side.

He wanted his on the opposite side of the fire, but he didn't complain because he knew she was only using good sense. They would need to stay close together to share their warmth during the night.

She took off her boots, moved them away from the fire, then pulled out the gun he hadn't noticed until now tucked into the waistband of her skirt, and put it under the fold in her bedding.

Harrison went to the other side of the fire and stood there, trying to warm himself.

"Have you camped outside much?" he asked.

"No."

"You act like you have."

She knelt down and added a few more twigs to the fire. "I prefer my own bed, but one does what one has to do to stay warm out here. Isn't that right?"

"You aren't at all squeamish."

"Heavens, I hope I'm not squeamish. Did you think I would be?"

He shook his head. She didn't understand the world he had come from, where gently bred women fainted over the slightest suggestion of impropriety. So fragile was society, reputations could be ruined by inconsequential whispers. Queen Victoria set the standards for the day, of course, and she rigidly emphasized prudence in every undertaking, sobriety, and caution. Yet while she also showed the world what an independent thinker she was, the women in England Harrison associated with still didn't educate themselves to emulate her.

He and his best friend, Nicholas, were running with the wrong crowd. The women they associated with depended on others for their every need, including amusement. If any of them became bored, it was someone else's fault.

God, what a miserable, restrictive life he had known. It was too damned bleak to think about.

Mary Rose Clayborne. What a breath of fresh air she was. He hadn't believed she could take care of herself. Now that he had time to think about it, he realized he had made several erroneous conclusions about her, based on his own narrow-minded knowledge of the women from his past.

She certainly proved him wrong. He was impressed with her no-nonsense approach to their situation. He was beginning to think she had more common sense than he had believed.

Then she took her clothes off. His knees almost buckled under him when he realized what she was doing. His opinion changed in the blink of an eye. The naive woman didn't have any sense at all.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" His roar of outrage echoed around the stone walls.

"Undressing. Why?"

"Put your blouse back on."

She ignored his command. She finished removing the garment and then bent down to take off her socks. She stood on her blankets so she wouldn't get her feet dirty.

She straightened up again, her wet socks in her hands, and smiled at him.

He was staring at her. She thought he might be looking at her locket.

"It's a pretty locket, isn't it?"

"What?"

"My locket. I thought you were looking at it."

"I was," he lied. "Where'd you get it?"

"My mother sent it to me. It was a gift for my sixteenth birthday.

The locket doesn't open, but I don't mind. Can you see the engraved rose on the front?"

She started to walk to him so he could get a closer look. He put his hand up.

"I can see it."

"She said she chose the heart-shaped locket because our hearts are entwined. Isn't that sweet? One day I shall pass it down to my daughter."

"It's very nice," he remarked.

She nodded. "When I wear it, I feel closer to her, so of course I wear it all the time," she explained.

She patted the locket, let out a little sigh, and returned to the business of getting warm.

She handed her socks to Harrison across the fire. "Hold these for me please. They're just a little bit damp. Don't let them hang too close to the flames."

He was happy to help her because he thought she wanted her hands free so she could put her blouse back on.

"Don't stand too close, Harrison. Travis will be furious if I ruin them."

"You wear your brother's socks?"

He didn't know whether to laugh or shake his head. She smiled at him while she worked on undoing the ribbon at the back of her neck. He tried to stare at the ledge behind her right ear and not think about the white lacy underthing that was plastered against her skin. Every single time she moved, the swell of her breasts caught his attention. He could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat.

"Only when I can sneak them off the line before he notices."

What in thunder was she talking about? "Sneak what off the line?"

"His socks."

"Why don't you wear your own? Don't you have any?"

"Of course I have socks. I prefer wearing my brothers' though. They're thicker. I don't care what they look like. I only wear them with my boots, so no one ever sees them. Besides, they keep my feet warm. Isn't that all that should matter?"

She was only being practical, but he still didn't want her wearing any man's socks, not even her brothers'. That thought immediately led to another one. He wouldn't mind if she wanted to wear his socks. Fact was, he'd like it.

God help him, his mind had snapped. Happy now? he wanted to ask her. It was all her doing, driving him to distraction with every little movement she made.

"Put your blouse back on," he snapped.

She ignored him again. She spread her hair out behind her shoulders so the curls wouldn't clump together and take forever to dry, dropped the pink ribbon on the blanket, and only then gave him her full attention.

"Why would I want to put my blouse back on? I only just took it off. It's wet," she reminded him. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Quit looking like you want to strangle me. I'm only being practical. Do you want me to catch my death? You'd better get over your embarrassment and take your clothes off too. You'll get consumption, and then I'll have to take care of you. Do you think I want that duty? No, I don't, thank you. You would do nothing but complain the entire time."

Her hands had settled on the tilt of her hips while she argued her case, but once she'd made her position clear, she started fiddling with the back of her waistband.

His mind was simply too befuddled to realize what she was doing. He was occupied trying not to look at the front of her and turned his gaze to the fire a scant second after her skirt dropped to the ground. He should have kept staring at the wall, because the path his gaze took gave him an ample view of her legs. They were incredible. Long, shapely, perfect.

Exactly how much was he supposed to endure before this godawful night was over? Harrison didn't know, but he was certain his situation couldn't get any worse. This hope was all he had, he decided, and so he grasped it with the desperate determination of a drowning man clinging to a rope.

He stomped over to his saddlebag to see if he could find something for her to put on. He muttered obscenities about his lack of discipline all the while he searched.

He tried to get angry so he wouldn't think about anything else. Like her legs… her tiny waist… her creamy skin…

"Embarrassment has nothing to do with the problem of your undressing," he gritted out, just to set the record straight.

He tossed her a dark flannel shirt and barked out the order for her to put it on.

"Won't you need this to keep warm?"

"Put it on."

His tone of voice didn't suggest she argue with him. She put the shirt on. She had to roll the cuffs back twice, and after she'd secured all the buttons, she felt warm again. The shirt was gigantic on her, of course, and covered most of her thighs.

"Thank you."

He ignored her gratitude. He sat down across from her with the fire between them and stared into her eyes. She sat down, folded her legs just the way he had, covered them with her blanket, and then picked up her blouse to hold it close to the fire so it would dry.

"I cannot help but notice you're glaring at me. Your voice was downright surly too. Have I done something to offend you?"

The look he gave her made her toes curl. Scorching didn't adequately describe it.

"I am not one of your brothers."

"I didn't think you were." She thought she sounded reasonable.

He thought she was as dense as a rock. "I'm not going to be able to take much more."

"Much more what? For heaven's sake, haven't you ever had to sleep outside? Haven't you ever been caught in a storm before? I can't help it if you're feeling uncomfortable."

He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and then held it up by the fire.

"I'm extremely comfortable."

"Are you going to take your pants off?"

"Hell, no."

"You don't have to get angry. Aren't they wet?"

"Not wet enough."

"I don't believe it's necessary for me to put up with your bad mood."

"You really don't understand, do you? No, I don't believe that, not for one second. You know damned well I want you, and you're deliberately tempting me. Stop it immediately, and I'll get over my bad mood."

The light was slow to dawn, but once it had, she found she wasn't embarrassed about her stupidity.

He wanted her. And she'd been wearing her brother's socks. Her face turned pink with mortification. Oh, God, she was dressed like a lumber lug. She just bet Catherine Morrison never wore her father's socks. No respectable, eligible woman with marriage on her mind would.

"Are we agreed?" he demanded.

"Yes, we are agreed."

Silence followed the truce. Mary Rose waited several minutes so he would have time to get over his anger.

"I usually wear silk stockings with lace around the tops," she blurted out.

He couldn't imagine why she wanted him to know that. She wasn't quite finished discussing her clothes, however.

"I rarely wear my brother's socks. I certainly wouldn't want you to get the idea I like wearing men's clothing. I don't."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

"Good, because I don't."

"This shirt is never going to dry."

Harrison turned the shirt over and only then looked at her face. Her complexion was as red as the flames.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Move away from the fire. Your face looks like it's getting burned."

The man was an idiot. And thank God for that, she thought to herself. She scooted back from the fire, hoped her blush would eventually fade, and tried to think about something inane to talk about. She wanted him to forget all about socks.

"I'm going to have to do dishes for a week."

"Why?" he asked.

"I didn't use the word of the day."

"What word?"

"The word printed on the chalkboard. I don't even know what it is."

Harrison closed his eyes and pictured the kitchen. Then he smiled.

"Infelicity."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"How did you…"

"Adam took me into the kitchen. I noticed the word then. I still haven't seen the cook, by the way. I don't think he exists."

"I don't know what it means."

"It means I think you made him up."

"The word, Harrison. What does infelicity mean?"

"Unhappiness."

She smiled with pleasure. "I used it."

"But not in front of any of your brothers," he pointed out.

"Of course we have a cook. When he's ready to meet you, he'll show himself. Until then I suggest you give him a wide path. He's somewhat prickly. It's because he's led a life of infelicity."

Harrison laughed. "He's infelicitous, is he?"

"Most assuredly. You will be my witness. Testify on my behalf tomorrow night during supper."

"Your brothers will have tried to kill me by then."

"Why?"

"We're spending the night together."

He couldn't believe he had to remind her of their circumstances. "If I were your brother, I'd become angry enough to kill someone."

"My brothers trust us," she argued. "Adam would never have let you come with me if he believed you were a lecher."

"Wasn't lecher the word last week?"

"Tuesday," she said. "You aren't at all lecherous."

He shook his head. "You have been properly educated." He caught himself before he added the thought that her father was going to be very pleased with the effort her brothers had shown.

He put his shirt flat on his saddle with the hope the air would dry it during the night and sat down on his bedroll. He leaned back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. The stone wasn't comfortable against his shoulders, but he didn't mind enough to move.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, are you?"

"No."

She turned to look at him. "Don't worry about my brothers getting the wrong idea. Cole's the only one who will try to make an issue out of our situation, but he'll have to work at it. He'll probably hit you. That's all."

"No, he won't hit me."

"He won't?"

"I won't let him. Once was enough."

"He might not see it that way."

"It won't matter. I won't let him hit me."

She let out a sigh. "I'm pleased to see you haven't lost any of your confidence," she remarked. "Spending the last week on your backside didn't affect your spirits at all."

"I did not spend the last week on my backside."

"If you say so."

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" he asked.

"Yes," she agreed. "I just want you to know that Cole is actually the easiest of my brothers to roll over for me. He's really a very nice person."

"I didn't say he wasn't nice," he countered. "You've got him wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

"No. He just doesn't like to see me unhappy. If he can take my side, he will."

He thought his interpretation was more accurate. "Was it difficult for you growing up without a father and mother?"

"I have a mother," she replied. "Mama Rose."

"Why doesn't she live with you and your brothers?"

"She can't… not yet. She'll join us as soon as possible."

"Do all of your brothers call her Mama?"

"Yes, they do. Why do you ask?"

"I just wondered. What about your father?"

"I don't have one of those."

"Don't you miss having one?"

"How could I miss what I've never had?"

Mary Rose decided her blouse was dry enough. She folded it and put it behind her, then went to work on her skirt.

Harrison watched her every movement. He thought she was an extremely graceful woman, wonderfully feminine and yet very practical. It was a fascinating combination.

"You're as unspoiled as your paradise."

"I am?"

"Mama Rose is Adam's mother, isn't she?"

"And mine as well."

"But she gave birth to Adam."

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Simple deduction. She lives in the South. You've never seen her, have you?"

"Not deduction, you guessed," she countered. "You don't know where my other brothers came from. They could have lived down south too. No, I haven't ever seen Mama, but I know her very well. She writes to me at least once a week, sometimes more. She never misses, not once since I started writing to her. During the war, when I was too young to read or write, she did miss sending letters a couple of times. I don't remember the time, but my brothers were very worried. She survived, of course, just like we did. When the time is right, she'll join us."

"But the time isn't right yet."

"No."

The quickness in her reply told him not to press the issue. He let it go.

Several minutes passed in companionable silence. He kept thinking about how pretty she looked wearing his shirt.

She kept thinking about how awful she'd looked wearing her brother's socks.

"What are you thinking about, Harrison?"

"How pretty you look."

She laughed. "You've been away from the city too long if you think I look pretty tonight. My hair's a mess and I'm wearing a man's shirt, for heaven's sake."

You're wearing my shirt, he silently corrected. And that made all the difference in the world to him. Seeing her in his favorite, worn-out shirt made him feel extremely possessive toward her. Everything about her aroused him. He wanted to protect her from harm, comfort her, hold her, love her. And in his heart, he wanted the same from her.

Harrison tried to think about his life back in England. Nothing about his daily routine appealed to him now, however. How cold and empty his life had been. Until he had come to Montana, he hadn't known what it was like to feel alive. He had always felt as though he were standing on the outside of life, looking in. He observed. Hadn't Mary Rose used just that word to describe him? He wondered if she had any idea how accurate her evaluation was.

"Now what are you thinking about? You look worried. Are you?"

"No."

"I was bemoaning the fact that I wore such a heavy skirt. It's taking forever to dry. Now it's your turn to tell me what you were thinking about. I shall only hope your thoughts weren't nearly as boring."

"You were thinking about practical matters. I wasn't. I was thinking about my life back in England."

"Don't you mean to say Scotland?"

"All my work is in England. I have a town house in London. I rarely have enough time to go back to the Highlands."

"Because of all of your work?"

"Yes."

"You miss the Highlands though, don't you?"

"I miss what it represents."

"What is that?"

"Freedom."

He hadn't realized he was going to use that specific word until he said it.

"You've let duty become your chains, haven't you?"

"A man has to repay his debts before all other considerations."

"Do you owe your employer this debt? Is that why you've never had enough time to pursue your own dreams?"

"Yes and no," he answered. "Yes, I owe him a debt. But it's more complicated than that. My dreams have changed. I used to love what I was doing. I don't any longer. I think maybe you're right, Mary Rose. Winning isn't everything."

"I'm pleased to hear you admit it," she said. "You like our paradise, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And you're happy here."

"Yes."

"Then quit making everything so complicated. Stay and be happy. See how simple it is?"

"No, it isn't simple at all."

"I'll only ask you one more question," she promised. "If it were simple, would you stay here?"

"In a heartbeat."

She knew she'd just promised not to ask any more questions, but she couldn't stop herself from asking one more. "Have you made up your mind to leave then?"

She was gripping the edge of her skirt, praying he would tell her what she desperately wanted to hear.

"I haven't made up my mind about anything. I'm not being evasive, just honest. I don't have enough information yet to know what road I should take."

"I don't understand."

Her arms were aching from holding up the skirt to dry. She finally gave up and put it away. Then she moved back, covered her legs, and leaned against the rock wall next to Harrison. She sat so close to him her upper arm pressed against his.

She stared into the fire and let it mesmerize her. She didn't want to think about the possibility of Harrison leaving, not when she was just about to decide to fall in love with him, and so she tried to think about something else.

"I know you must be hungry. I'll be happy to find something to eat."

"Where?" he asked.

"Out there," she answered with a wave of her hand toward the mountain.

"I'm not that hungry. If you are, I could go outside and find something for you to eat."

She smiled but didn't look at him. Harrison had sounded arrogant when he spoke.

"You haven't had to stay out overnight much, have you?"

"Actually, when I was in service, I did," he replied.

"Do you mean the military?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about London. What's it like living there?"

"It's beautiful. The architecture is remarkable. Cole would appreciate the quality and the workmanship. I think you would like living in London," he added. "Once you got accustomed to the differences."

She couldn't imagine living in a city. Paradise was all she needed, or wanted. Why couldn't Harrison understand?

"Have you ever had to stay outside with a woman in the Highlands or in England?"

The question made him want to laugh. "I'd be married now if I had."

"Why?"

"The woman's reputation would have been ruined. Marriage would be the only honorable solution."

"But what if nothing happened? What if the circumstances were as innocent as ours are tonight?"

"It wouldn't make any difference," he answered. "She would still be condemned."

"What about the man? What would happen to him?"

"Not much," he admitted after a moment's reflection. "It isn't all absolute, of course. If she comes from a powerful family, or if an influential friend decides to help, there is a chance she wouldn't be shunned. A remote chance," he added. "But still a chance. Before you judge too harshly, I'll remind you that your society in New York is similar."

"It isn't my society," she argued. "Out here, we don't have time for such nonsense."

A sudden thought made her smile. "If what you say is accurate, then you would have to marry me tomorrow if we were in the wilderness in England. They do have their own paradise, don't they?"

"Yes," he assured her. "They do. There are untouched areas just as breathtakingly beautiful."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"What about my other question? Would you have to many me?"

She turned to look at him. He slowly turned to look at her. She saw the sparkle in his eyes and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Probably not," he told her. "My employer is a very powerful man in England. He would come to your aid."

She looked disgruntled by his answer. Harrison laughed.

She was getting a crick in her neck. She moved again, got up on her knees to face him, then leaned back against her ankles. The side of her thigh touched his.

He tried once again not to think about her closeness or her lack of attire. It helped if he stared at her forehead-not much, of course, but he was a desperate man. He would take what he could.

"Now why are you frowning? Tell me what you're thinking about?"

"Approaching sainthood."

She didn't understand. He wasn't going to enlighten her. "You're a puzzling man, Harrison. One minute you're laughing, and the next you're frowning like a bear."

"Bears don't frown."

"I was being metaphorical."

"Another word on the chalkboard?"

She nodded. "I like the word. It sounds… intelligent."

"You're going to make me go stand outside, aren't you, Mary Rose?"

"Why?"

"You're being provocative."

"I am?" She was pleased with his remark.

"I haven't just given you a compliment. You're deliberately tempting me. Stop it."

She couldn't hide her smile. "Now you're gloating," he muttered.

She had to agree. She was gloating. "A woman likes to know she's appealing," she explained. "But I shall stop flirting with you just as soon as I figure out what it is I'm doing."

"You could start by taking your hand off my thigh."

She hadn't realized where her hand was draped. She immediately pulled away.

"What else?"

"Quit looking at me that way."

"What way?"

"Like you want me to kiss you."

"But I do want you to kiss me."

"It isn't going to happen, so stop it," he ordered again.

She tucked the covers around her legs, then folded her hands together in her lap.

"What would happen if we weren't discovered?"

"Where?"

"In England, after spending a night together," she said.

He thought they had finished discussing the subject. She was obviously still curious about the workings of his society, however, and so he answered her.

"We would be discovered. Gossip travels like the plague. Everyone always knows everyone else's business."

"Then do you know what I might do?"

"No, what?"

"I'd give them all something to talk about. The people must be terribly bored, after all, to be concerned about everyone else all the time. I would become indiscreet. If I loved the man I was spending the night with, and if I knew he wanted to marry me and I wanted to marry him, well then I would…"

His hand covered her mouth. "No, you would not. You would have your own honor to protect. You would be true to yourself, to who you are."

It took her a long minute to finally admit he was right. "Yes, I would," she said. "Still, being a fallen woman does hold a certain fascination. I'd probably wear red all the time."

He shook his head. "Look at the cost," he suggested.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Ever the attorney," she whispered. "All right. We'll look at the cost. You're going to tell me all about it, aren't you?"

He nodded. "If you give up parts of who you are, eventually you give up everything."

"Yes, Harrison."

He didn't realize she was agreeing with him. "If you lose yourself, you've lost everything."

"In other words, you aren't going to kiss me."

"You've got that right."

"You have bruises all over your chest. And your neck. I'll bet your backside's black and blue."

"You aren't going to find out."

She reached over and touched a bruise near his left shoulder. Her fingertips were warm against his skin.

He didn't think she had any idea of what she was doing to him. She was frowning with obvious concern over the beating his body had taken.

When she touched the bruise next to his navel, he grabbed hold of her hand.

"You'd better start taking care of yourself," she said. "I don't think you should go with my brothers to get the cattle we purchased."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll probably break your neck."

"You've got a lot of confidence in me, don't you?"

"I believe in you."

Her words came out in a soft whisper, and, oh, how they touched his heart. Her belief in him was humbling.

They stared into each other's eyes for a breathless moment, then each looked away. Neither was willing, nor ready, to take the next step. Harrison knew he loved her but couldn't profess his love for her because they would be empty words indeed without a future together. He would have to declare his intentions to Lord Elliott first and only after he had proven himself financially stable enough to provide for his daughter in the style Elliott would demand.

Mary Rose was afraid to fall in love with Harrison. She was trying to protect her heart from being crushed. He had been very open and honest with her about the possibility of leaving, and who was she to keep him from pursuing his destiny and his dreams?

I am very practical, she decided with a good deal of self-disgust.

She wouldn't allow herself to grasp any possibility until she was assured of the outcome. She desperately wanted to protect herself, yet even now she was close to weeping over a future without Harrison.

"What are you thinking?"

She pulled her hand away from his before she answered. "Here today, gone tomorrow. What were you thinking?"

"That it would take me years to become financially equal to my employer."

They both sounded disheartened.

"If we were living in the city of London, I would probably have complete confidence in your ability to take care of yourself."

He raised an eyebrow. " 'Probably'?"

She smiled. She loved it when he sounded outraged. She knew it was forced, of course, and assumed he was also trying to move back into a safer, more casual conversation.

"No, not 'probably,' " she qualified. "I'm certain you could look after yourself."

"I would hope so."

"I don't think less of you. No, of course I don't. I believe in you, Harrison. It's your experience we're talking about now."

"What's wrong with my experience?"

"You don't have any."

She patted his knee in mock sympathy. "You've never worked with cattle before. I doubt you even know how to use a rope. Therefore, it would be dangerous for you. Have I injured your feelings again?"

"Go to sleep."

She decided not to take offense over the gruff order. "I am tired," she admitted. "Running up and down those stairs got old fast."

"Why were you running up and down the stairs."

"I had errands to complete."

"Eleanor, right?"

She didn't answer him. Harrison shook his head. He understood how difficult the demanding woman was. He'd seen Eleanor in action when she'd taken on Travis. She wanted him to fetch something for her, and by God, after ten minutes of hounding, the brother had given in. He told Harrison he would have done anything to shut her up.

Mary Rose straightened her blankets and then stretched out on her side. She kept her back close to Harrison 's thigh, tucked her hands under the side of her face, and closed her eyes.

"How long are you going to let Eleanor run you around in circles?"

"For heaven's sake, she only just arrived. She hasn't been running me in circles. I'm merely trying to help her get comfortable."

"When the two of you are together and no one else is around, is she pleasant to you then?"

Mary Rose thought about the question a long while before she finally answered.

"No."

"Then why do you put up with her?"

She rolled onto her back and looked up at Harrison. He was scowling down at her. The man became upset over the oddest things.

"Why do you put up with MacHugh?"

"Why? Because he's a sound, reliable horse."

"So is Eleanor. She's sound and reliable."

"You can't know that for certain."

"You couldn't have known for certain your horse was sound and reliable either. You went with your instincts, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. One look at MacHugh and I fully understood why he was being difficult. His scars speak for him."

"So do her scars," she reasoned. "Eleanor carries them inside, and perhaps, because people can't see them, the injuries done to her are even more damaging. She's often misunderstood."

Harrison moved down, stretched out on his back, stacked his hands behind his head, and stared up at the stone ceiling of the cave while he thought about Eleanor.

"Travis is getting ready to toss her out."

"No, he isn't."

"He can't hide in the barn until she leaves, Mary Rose. Douglas, I couldn't help but notice, is doing the same thing. You're asking too much from your brothers. They should have the same rights you have."

"They do have the same rights." She turned toward him, propped her elbow on the blanket, and then rested her chin on the palm of her hand so she would be comfortable while she argued with him.

"My brothers aren't very patient men," she began. "Still, they know they can't toss her out. It wouldn't be a decent thing to do. They're all honorable men, every one of them."

"There is an easy way to get Eleanor to behave," Harrison said. He turned his attention from the ceiling to her eyes and allowed himself to be mesmerized by their intense, bewitching color.

She scooted closer to him and leaned up. "How?" she asked.

"If something no longer works, you try something else, right?"

"Right," she agreed.

"Does Eleanor expect breakfast to be served to her in bed every morning?"

"She said she did."

"What would happen if no one carried a tray up?"

"She'd be furious."

"And hungry," he predicted. "She would have to come downstairs."

"I wouldn't want to be around when she did. Her anger is often quite worrisome."

"Bluster."

"Bluster?"

"In other words, it's all for show. Ignore her anger. Simply state your position, give her the rules of the household, and…"

"What rules?"

"When you eat, when you don't," he said. "That sort of thing."

"I see. And then what should I do?"

His grin was devilish. "Run like hell. You might try hiding in the barn with your brothers."

She laughed. "Everyone's going to love Eleanor once they understand her."

"She should have responsibilities to take care of for as long as she is here, assuming, of course, Eleanor plans to stay for a long while."

Mary Rose sat up and leaned over him. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Travis or Douglas or Cole?"

"What about Adam?"

"He already knows."

She put her hand flat against his chest. His heart felt as if it had just flipped over. He couldn't stop himself from touching her and put his hand on top of hers.

"What don't you want your other brothers to find out?"

"Eleanor won't be leaving."

"Do you mean to say she won't be leaving soon?"

"I mean to say, not ever."

"Oh, Lord."

"Exactly," she whispered. "She doesn't have any other place to go. Now do you understand? She doesn't have any family. Her father ran away from her and from the authorities. He's done terrible things to other people, and the law finally caught up with him."

"What terrible things?"

"He took their money. He pretended to be an investor. He wasn't."

"He took their savings."

"Yes."

"What about Eleanor's mother?"

"She died a long time ago. Eleanor's an only child, the poor thing."

"Aren't there any aunts or uncles she could turn to?"

"No," she answered. "Most of the people in her town turned against her. She didn't have any friends to speak of."

"I'm not surprised."

"Show some compassion."

"Why? You have enough for both of us, sweetheart."

Her eyes widened. "You called me sweetheart."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I liked it. Say it again."

"No. We were talking about Eleanor," he reminded her.

"We shouldn't talk about anyone. It isn't polite."

"I just wanted you to be aware of Travis's current frame of mind. He really is getting ready to call for a vote and toss your houseguest out. You'd better talk to him."

She pulled her hand away from his and then reached up to stroke the side of his face. She felt the day's growth of whiskers under her fingertips and smiled over the pleasure the tickling sensation gave her.

He didn't stop her caress. He liked it too much. His hand cupped the back of her neck. His fingers threaded through her silky hair.

And then he pulled her down on top of him. He kissed her long and hard. He forced her mouth open by applying pressure on her chin. He was deliberate in his seduction, for the lure of tasting her once again overrode all thoughts of caution. There wasn't any harm in kissing her good night, or so he reasoned, and he was certainly experienced enough to know when to stop.

She opened her mouth for him as soon as she realized what he wanted. His tongue moved inside hers to take complete possession. She seemed to melt against him then. His mouth trapped her whispered sigh. And only then did he deepen the kiss. His mouth slanted over hers again. He was hard and hot against her, his tongue hungry to give her the taste of him inside her.

They mated with their mouths, their tongues, until she was overwhelmed by passion. Desire such as she had never known before swept through her body. Each time his tongue slid in and out of her mouth, she silently begged for more. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, and her body rubbed against his, telling him without words how much she wanted him.

The sound she made in the back of her throat made him hungry to give her more.

A single kiss and yet, when he finally called a stop, they were both shaking with raw desire.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and tried to regain his senses. He took a deep, shuddering breath, inhaled her wonderful light fragrance, and became more intoxicated by her. God, she was perfect. She felt so good, so right in his arms.

" Harrison, I can't breathe very well. You'll have to move a little."

He was on top of her. How in God's name had that happened? His arms were wrapped around her waist. He hadn't remembered putting them there. He had to take her with him when he rolled to his side so he could pull his hands free.

His lack of control appalled him. And yet he still held on to her. His knee was wedged between her thighs. He couldn't feel her skin through the fabric of his pants, but he knew she was silky everywhere. It made him even harder thinking about it.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck. Her fingers were driving him to distraction because she was still stroking him.

She leaned up and kissed his chin. She tried to let go of him. It was the decent thing to do, given their circumstances. She couldn't make herself behave, though. He felt too wonderful against her.

She tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes. "Could we please sleep like this? We'll stay warm," she promised. "Just for a little while?"

He kissed the top of her forehead. "Just for a little while," he agreed.

She leaned back so she could look at him when she whispered her goodnight. She stared into his eyes, saw the tenderness there, and felt her heartbeat quicken in reaction. "Your eyes have turned as dark as night. You're a very handsome man."

His hands moved to cup the sides of her face. "And you're a very beautiful woman."

His thumb rubbed across her lips. They were rosy and swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were still misty with passion, and, God help him, he couldn't stop himself from kissing her again.

"You are so amazingly soft," he whispered a scant second before his mouth settled on top of hers. It was hard, demanding, incredibly arousing. Passion ignited within each of them. She was every bit as wild as he was in her bid to explore the taste and texture of him.

His hands caressed her neck, her shoulders, then moved lower until he was cupping her sweet backside. She moved restlessly against him. Her pelvis pressed against his knee. A surge of pleasure poured over her. He angled his head to the side and kissed her again, then shifted his position. He moved his knee away and gently forced her to straddle him. He pressed his groin against the junction of her thighs, caught her gasp with his mouth, and growled with his pleasure. He was mindless now to everything but pleasing her.

Passion flowed between them with an intensity of white-hot lightning. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. His hand slipped beneath the flannel shirt to caress her more intimately. He pushed the light fabric of her chemise out of his way and boldly took one full breast into his hand. His thumb rubbed across her nipple again and again, until it had become a hard nub ready for his mouth to devour.

She loved the way he caressed her. She moaned and arched up against his hand, silently pleading for more.

She never wanted to let go of him. She craved his closeness, the tenderness in the way he held her. She could feel his strength in the corded muscles under her fingertips and glorified in the knowledge that with each of her own gentle caresses, she gave him as much pleasure as he gave her. His nonsensical, sweet, loving words against her ear told her so.

She was overwhelmed by him. She knew he had enough strength to crush her, yet also knew he would give up his life to keep her safe. She tasted the saltiness in his skin as she placed wet kisses along the column of his neck, inhaled his male scent, entwined now with her own, and heard his heart beating wildly and in perfect harmony with her own racing heartbeat.

His caresses became more demanding, for her soft whispers of pleasure drove him now. He became desperate to get closer to her heat, to touch and stroke what he most wanted to possess. His hand moved down between her thighs, and he shuddered with yet another burst of uncontrollable passion. Her skin was as silky and sweet as he knew it would be. His fingers slipped underneath her clothing and found her at last. When he touched her and felt the warm dampness in her soft curls, he forgot all about holding on to his discipline. He stroked the fire inside her and burned with his own. His fingers brushed across the very spot he knew would drive her wild. He nearly came undone when she arched up against him and let out a soft cry of ecstasy.

He wasn't going to stop. He started to undo the buttons of his pants. His hands were shaking so much he could barely get the top one unhooked.

She felt his hard arousal pressed against her, and yet she didn't become afraid or worried. In her heart she knew he would stop touching her the minute she asked him to.

Her trust in Harrison was absolute. He was an honorable man. He would do whatever she asked of him, as long as it was honorable.

Dear God, what was she asking of him now? Wasn't he going to sacrifice his honor to please her?

She was sickened with shame. She didn't know if she had the power to destroy him, but she cared about him too much to risk the possibility.

She went completely still and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn't be able to cry.

"We have to stop now."

Her voice was a ragged whisper against the side of his neck. The words registered in his mind almost immediately. It took him a little longer to react.

And then he let out a loud, shaky breath, clenched his jaw tight, and forced himself to move away from her. It almost killed him.

The physical agony of his own frustration, and his stupidity, made him furious. What in God's name had he been thinking? Lust had driven him beyond any semblance of control. He hadn't been thinking at all. No woman had ever been able to get to him the way Mary Rose did. She was different all right, and dangerous.

She was having trouble catching her breath. The second Harrison had rolled away from her, she felt abandoned, alone. She shook with cold and with regret. Her shameful conduct humiliated her. No man had ever touched her so intimately. He had stroked her breasts, her belly, her backside, her… Oh, God, she was out of her mind. She couldn't stop the tears from forming in her eyes.

What if she hadn't asked him to stop? She knew the answer. He would marry her.

The thought didn't please her. No, it horrified her. Because of his integrity he would do the right thing. God only knew, he was used to the weight of responsibility. His shoulders should be stooped by now, for she knew he'd been carrying obligations from the time he'd been just a little boy. Responsibility had robbed him of his childhood.

She wasn't about to take anything more from him. She felt sick to her stomach and almost doubled over with her guilt. Trapping a man into marriage with lust was beyond shameful. It was unforgivable.

She sat up with her back toward Harrison and stared at the wall while she straightened her blankets. Her hair was hanging down over her face. She impatiently brushed it back and only then realized her hands were still shaking.

She knew she had to say something to him, offer him some sort of apology or explanation for her behavior, but she couldn't seem to find the right words to convey to him her feelings. Nothing she came up with seemed to be even barely adequate.

Harrison couldn't get comfortable. He sat up, moved back, and then leaned against the stone wall. He let the frigid rock cool his shoulders.

He still burned for her. He could taste her in his mouth and tried not to think about how good she'd been, how sweet and hot, and wet and…

"Hell." The word came out in a low groan.

She turned to look at him. He was staring at her. The coldness in his eyes shamed her even more than her own guilt.

He continued to stare at her for a long minute, until he realized she was making him hard again. Her eyes were still misty with passion, and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He'd scratched her face with his whiskers. He found the marks aroused him too. He knew that if he pulled her back into his arms, he would inhale his own scent.

Hell, he'd been all over her. He turned his gaze to the ceiling and tried to burn a hole through the rock.

"Do you understand what almost happened?"

She flinched over the anger in his voice. "Yes," she answered. "I understand. I suggest we don't ever let ourselves become… involved again. It's too dangerous."

"Damned right it's dangerous."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He didn't have anything to say about that. She turned to look at him again. Another clump of her hair fell over her left eye. She impatiently brushed it away.

His hair was as tousled as hers was. He looked as though he'd just awakened. She thought he was the most handsome man on earth.

She turned away from him. The silence was making her nervous. She looked at the fire, realized it was nearly out, and immediately added more twigs to the flames.

"Are you going to stay angry for long?"

"Go to sleep, Mary Rose, before I forget all about protecting your honor."

She whirled around to look at him. "Is that why you stopped?"

"No," he answered. "I stopped because you asked me to."

He looked at her again and immediately lost some of his anger. There were tears in her eyes. It finally hit him that he hadn't been thinking about her tender feelings at all. He was too busy being self-centered. God, he was a cad. She had never experienced raw passion before, the way she'd responded to him was proof of that truth, and the burning need inside her must have scared the hell out of her.

"Then what does my honor have to do with anything? You said you stopped because I asked you to stop."

He let out a sigh. He couldn't believe he had to tell her. "Sweetheart, I damned near took your virginity and your honor. A couple of minutes more and I would have."

It wasn't what he said but how he said the words that soothed her. His tone was softer, more civilized. And almost loving. She instinctively relaxed her shoulders and stopped gripping her hands together.

"So that is why you became angry?"

"Yes."

She took a deep breath. "I beg to differ with you."

"You do?" The sudden outrage in her voice made him smile. It wasn't the reaction she was looking for. "You're being very smug and male about this, aren't you?"

"I don't believe I am."

"Then I shall enlighten you. You didn't almost take anything. I could have given you my virginity and my honor. I chose not to. I'm the one who asked you to stop. You were busy unbuttoning your pants. Remember?"

He was astonished by the vehemence in her voice. He could feel himself getting angry again, and all because she reminded him of his own lack of discipline. "Tell me why you stopped."

She shook her head. 'You're a lawyer. You figure it out."

"You were afraid."

"No."

"Look, I know you wanted me. You were as hot as I was. I can still feel the marks your nails made on my shoulders. You do remember where your hands were, don't you?"

She could feel herself blushing over his reminder of how she'd behaved. She watched him draw one leg up and drape his arm over his knee. Every movement he made seemed to arouse her. God, she was despicable. She wasn't any better than a rabbit in heat.

"Of course I remember. I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I."

The emotion in his admission made her shiver and feel warm at the same time. Her reaction to him didn't make any sense to her.

She decided it was his fault. The man was deliberately making her crazy.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You know."

He did know. He turned to look at the fire. "You still haven't told me why you asked me to stop."

"And you aren't going to let up until I do. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," he agreed. "If you weren't afraid, what was it? You liked the way I touched you. Don't pretend you didn't. I remember how your body reacted. You were hot and wet for me."

Her gaze flew to his. He was staring at her again, and the look in his eyes made her want to melt. "Stop talking like that," she ordered in a voice that sounded horribly weak to her.

"Tell me why you stopped," he ordered once again. "Then I'll stop reminding you."

She closed her eyes. It was the only thing she could think to do to get away from him.

"For a lawyer, you're really dense. It wouldn't ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe I stopped because of your honor, not mine."

"My honor?"

She knew he didn't believe her. She told herself she didn't care. Were all men as arrogant as Harrison and her brothers were? Heavens, she sincerely hoped not.

"Yes, Harrison, your integrity," she said again.

"You are serious, aren't you… My honor." The words came out in a whisper.

Well, hell, he still didn't know if he believed her or not. Yet when she opened her eyes and looked at him again, he could see the sincerity. He was thunderstruck and humbled.

"Your honor," she whispered back. Then she rolled her eyes heavenward and turned away from him.

She was obviously disgusted with him now. He didn't have time to think about that. He was fully occupied trying to figure out how he felt about her protecting him.

"You've got more discipline than I do."

It almost killed him to admit it. She thought he sounded offended by the possibility.

"How like a man to think he's the only one to ever consider such noble things as honor and integrity. Believe it or not, women can be protective too. It isn't a novel concept. It's plain reality. Haven't you ever heard of Joan of Arc? She gave her life for France 's honor, and for her own."

"Joan of Arc?" He would have laughed over the comparison, but he didn't want to get killed. "I don't believe she ever did what we just did, Mary Rose."

"Of course she didn't. The woman was a saint, for heaven's sake. I'm not. I wasn't comparing myself to her. I was simply saying that I knew you couldn't have lived with yourself if you had been intimate with me."

"I was intimate with you. Remember where my fingers were?"

"Oh, go to sleep."

She moved over to the edge of her blankets so she could get as far away from him as possible. She pulled the covers up, closed her eyes, and tried to get some rest.

He knew he should have stopped tormenting her, but her reaction was so incredibly pleasing to him he couldn't resist. The prettiest blush came over her cheeks when she got flustered.

He was also thankful she was irritated with him. He'd tried to make her angry on purpose, and knew that if they had continued to argue with each other, he would have succeeded. He wasn't being a cad. No, he was being noble, or at least he believed he was. If she was angry, she'd stay away from him. No woman wanted to kiss a man she was thinking about killing. It all made perfectly good sense to him.

Hell, who was he kidding? He was really trying to protect himself. She had already proven she had more discipline than he had. It wouldn't take much to make him forget all about his good intentions. All she had to do was crook her finger in his direction, and he'd be all over her again. He had gotten a taste of heaven, and he had to try to pretend he hadn't loved it.

He didn't sleep much during the night. He kept his gun in his hand near his side and listened for every little sound. He drifted off twice. The first time, the soft flutter of wind awakened him. Someone or something was inside the cave with them. Harrison stayed perfectly still. He opened his eyes only a sliver and saw the woman then. His reaction was immediate. His hand tightened on the gun tucked under the cover. It took all he had not to shoot her, and he thanked God she wasn't looking at him now. She had a quilt in her arms and was standing over Mary Rose, looking down at her.

Crazy Corrie. One look at her and Harrison couldn't imagine why she hadn't gone insane. She was so grossly disfigured, he wanted to turn away from her. He didn't, of course. He didn't move at all. He simply waited to see what she would do.

The woman had finally taken her fill of watching. Without making a sound, she covered Mary Rose with the quilt. She left as silently as she had entered.

He wanted to call after her, to say thank you at the very least, but he didn't make a sound. If the woman had wanted to be seen, she would have done something to make certain they'd awakened. She obviously wasn't ready, and he would respect her wishes.

He felt tremendous guilt over his initial repulsion at the sight of her. And then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep once again. Mary Rose had moved closer to his side, but he was still feeling safe in the knowledge he wouldn't have to worry about temptation and his own appalling lack of control.

He woke up with her face in his groin. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven, but as soon as the mist of sleep wore off, he knew he'd gone straight to purgatory instead. Mary Rose wasn't seducing him. She was sound asleep. Her feet were tucked under his chin. She was simply trying in her sleep to get warm.

It took him forever to move her away from him without waking her up. Then he got up as quietly as he could. He walked barefoot outside and stood in the rain.

It didn't help one damned bit.

July 11, 1865

Dear Mama Rose,

Today is my birthday. I wish you were here to celebrate the day with me.

Now that the war is over, you'll be able to come to your family, and that will be the best present a son could have.

We pray for Lincoln's soul every night. I try not to get angry anymore about his senseless death, and I'm consoled by the words from his last inaugural address. Here's the part I like the most:

"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

Love you,

Travis