For the Roses

Chapter 14

Cole and Eleanor stayed in the hallway kissing and hugging and whispering sweet nonsensical words to each other for a long while. He finally called a halt to the love play when he felt his control slipping. He was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it, but Eleanor wasn't like any of the other women he'd kissed and bedded. There would have to be a commitment given before he slept with her, and damn it all, he wasn't about to carry things that far.

He made up his mind never to kiss her again as he followed her back into the dining room. He held her chair out for her first and then walked around to the other side of the table to take his seat. He didn't seem to notice his brothers were watching him. He was fully occupied mentally listing all the reasons he needed to stay away from the blushing virgin across from him.

"Didn't you forget something?" Douglas asked his brother.

Travis had to nudge Cole to get him to answer.

"Like what?" Cole asked.

"Like your sister. She's still in the kitchen with Harrison."

Cole started to get up, then changed his mind. "Mary Rose is a big girl. She can take care of herself around Harrison. If he wants to give up his freedom, that's his problem, not mine."

"His freedom?" Douglas asked, trying hard not to laugh. He'd noticed Cole had stared at Eleanor when he'd made the comment about Harrison.

"Yes, his freedom," his brother muttered. The set of his jaw indicated he didn't want to continue with the discussion.

"I don't think Harrison looks at it the way you do," Travis interjected.

Eleanor wasn't aware of the change in Cole. She smiled at him and said, "Mary Rose is very capable. All of our teachers at school thought so. She helped me get through a perfectly horrible mathematics class. I would have failed without her."

Travis stared at Cole for another minute, then stood up and went into the kitchen to get Mary Rose. He didn't care how capable his sister was. He knew Harrison and understood exactly what his intentions were. Cole may have adopted a lackadaisical attitude, but he certainly hadn't.

He found his sister sitting at the kitchen table, staring off into space. Her face looked flushed to him.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Something's wrong. You only look flustered when you're sick or angry. Which is it?"

"Neither."

"Where's Harrison?"

"He went to bed."

She wasn't about to give her brother any further details. She therefore didn't mention the fact that Harrison expected her to join him.

Don't make me wait. Hadn't he said those very words to her just minutes after he'd practically shoved her away from him?

"You're angry, aren't you?"

"I'm not angry."

"You don't have to snap your words at me. Tell me what's bothering you. Maybe I can fix it."

She knew Travis wouldn't quit pestering her until she satisfied his curiosity. She had to tell him something, even if it was only a half-truth.

"Arrogant men bother me. Can you fix that?"

Travis's grin was slow and easy. " Harrison made you mad, didn't he?"

"Please leave me alone. I need time to think."

Her brother crossed the kitchen to get the coffeepot. "Is he…"

He didn't quite know how to phrase the delicate question he wanted to ask.

"Is he what?"

He forced a shrug. "Pushing you to do something you don't want to do?"

"He would never push me or force me to do anything I didn't want to do."

Travis nodded. "I didn't think he would, but I still wanted to hear you tell me so. Answer one more question for me, and I promise I'll leave you alone to stew."

"I'm not stewing."

"Do you love him?"

"Oh, yes, I love him."

"You're sure?"

She smiled. "I'm sure. He's rude and bossy and arrogant and stubborn."

"A girl can't ask for more than that in a man."

"He's also kind and gentle and loving."

Tears gathered in her eyes. Travis spotted them right away. "Are you going to cry about it, Mary Rose?"

"No, of course not."

The miracle of his commitment was finally sinking in. He was going to love her until the day he died. Hadn't he said those very words to her when he'd told her what was in his heart?

She let out a long sigh. A tear rolled down her cheek just as Travis turned to look at her.

"I've loved Harrison for a long time, Travis."

Her sister's voice had taken on a dreamy quality. Travis was disgusted.

"Honest to God, you're starting to act just like a woman. Oh, I knew it was coming all right, but I still wasn't ready. I wish you'd stop it, Mary Rose."

"Exactly how does a woman act that offends you so?"

"Angry one minute, smiling the next, pouting and laughing at the same time, pretty much just the way you're acting right now. You never used to be this emotional, little sister. I don't like it."

She wasn't certain if she was supposed to apologize or not. Travis stared at her and suddenly saw her in a completely different light. She wasn't a scabby-kneed little girl any longer. She was a beautiful woman.

"You grew up on me when I had my back turned, didn't you?" he whispered.

She wasn't really paying attention to what her brother was saying to her. She had more matters to think about.

"Do you want to know when I fell in love with him? I know the exact minute when I…"

He hastily interrupted her. "No, I don't want to know," he muttered. "Men don't care about things like that. I'm still your brother, for God's sake. I don't want to hear any particulars about something that might have happened to you."

"Nothing has happened between us I couldn't tell you about."

"Thank God for that. I don't want to hear about it when it does. You got that, Mary Rose?"

When something happens? She leaned back in her chair and stared up at her brother. "You're being rather presumptuous," she said.

"No, I'm not. I'm just being blunt."

"Yes, you are too," she argued. "You're also just as arrogant as Harrison is."

He dismissed the remark, for he didn't believe being arrogant was all that bad, even though his sister made it sound as though it was.

He lifted the coffeepot and turned to go back into the dining room. He stopped suddenly and turned to her again.

"If he ever hurts you, I want to be the first to know about it. You'll tell me, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll tell you."

He nodded with satisfaction. "I love you, brat."

"I love you too. You like Harrison, don't you?"

"It's hard not to like him. I don't like what he came here to do. You won't either after we talk to you."

"Oh, yes, the talk," she whispered.

"He told you about…"

She interrupted him. "He told me you were going to tell me something. He didn't tell me what the topic was. You can tell me now."

He shook his head. "Wait until tomorrow night. Don't frown about it. All right?"

"Travis, no matter what you tell me, I won't hate him. Do you think I will?"

He didn't believe she was capable of hating anyone. She was going to get her heart broken though. Travis was certain of that. Her entire world was going to be turned around on her, and it only seemed reasonable to Travis that she would blame Harrison. Travis certainly did.

"No, you won't hate him," he said. "Grab the cups for me, Mary Rose."

He gave the order in an attempt to take her mind off of the subject of the coming meeting. He wanted her to remain happy and carefree for as long as possible.

He decided to turn her thoughts in another direction and told her about Cole and Eleanor.

"He's beginning to realize he can't mess with her. She's the marrying kind. Cole isn't."

"Yes, he is," she said. "He just doesn't realize it yet. You are too, Travis. When the right woman comes along, you won't think twice about getting married. You're going to make a wonderful husband and father."

"And give up my freedom? Are you out of your mind?"

She laughed. It was just the reaction he wanted.

"You're sounding like Adam. Why do men think marriage ends their freedom?"

"Because it does," he replied.

He started to leave the kitchen again, but she called him back. "Travis?"

"What now."

"It was MacHugh."

"What?"

"That's when I fell in love with Harrison."

He rolled his eyes. "I get it. You fell in love with his horse and figured Harrison was part of the package."

He left the kitchen before she could make him understand. She didn't mind. She was happy to be alone again so she could think about all the wonderful things the love of her life had said to her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She couldn't imagine anything more wonderful.

She stayed at the table for several minutes, until Travis called out to her. She took the cups into the dining room, passed them around, and then excused herself for the night.

She went up to her room and sat down on the side of the bed to think things over. She tried to forget Harrison was waiting for her. She couldn't, of course. A warm knot formed in the pit of her stomach every time she glanced out the window and saw the light glowing in the window of the bunkhouse.

He was waiting for her to come to him. He had made her aware of her own body's demands, given her a glimpse of passion, and now she couldn't pretend it hadn't happened or that she hadn't wanted him to give her more.

She wanted him because she loved him. He was still being horribly arrogant. Mary Rose stood up and began to pace back and forth while she thought about the way he'd given her his command. He hadn't bothered to ask her. No, he'd assumed. Were all men like Harrison? She shook her head, discarding the possibility. No one had ever been this possessive with her or this high-handed. He was stubborn and willful, set in his ways, and sweet and giving and wonderful. No, there wasn't anyone else in the world like Harrison Stanford MacDonald. And that was precisely why she'd fallen in love with him.

He hadn't asked her to marry him. She tried to imagine him down on one knee begging for her hand in marriage and found herself smiling over the picture. He wouldn't ask. He'd tell. He was entirely too presumptuous, of course, but she didn't mind at all.

He was also being practical about their situation. It wasn't possible to officially marry now. Blue Belle didn't even have a church, and preachers were as scarce in the area as canned peaches. Hanging Judge Burns could perform the ceremony, but he was only available three or four times a year, the rest of the time the glut of men needing hanging demanded his full attention.

Harrison had made his commitment tonight with God as his witness. And she had done the same. Now everything was going to change.

She didn't have any idea how long she paced around the bedroom, pondering over her future, but the house was dark and quiet when she finally quit worrying about all the changes in her life she was going to experience. She took her time washing every inch of her body with her rose-scented soap, then put on her white nightgown. She added her pink, lace-trimmed robe Douglas had given her last Christmas, then sorted through her wardrobe in search of her impractical but lovely satin slippers.

She was still nervous and somewhat afraid of what was going to happen, yet she knew fretting about it wouldn't change anything. Loving Harrison didn't frighten her. The act of making love, however, was another matter altogether. Men liked it, she knew, because of the way her brothers ran to Hammond every other week and came home wearing cheap perfume on their clothes and silly grins on their faces. Perhaps the women liked it too. Since she'd never talked to any of them, she couldn't form an opinion. She could only hope she was guessing right. Blue Belle was experienced, but she'd always been like a fussy aunt with Mary Rose and never discussed her professional business with her.

She sat down at her dressing table, picked up her brush, and spent a long while mindlessly working on her hair, for she hoped the ordinary chore could calm her down.

She finally decided she had procrastinated long enough. She put her brush down, tightened the belt on her robe, and went downstairs.

She was trembling from head to toes by the time she reached his doorstep. She didn't know how long she stood there with her hand poised to turn the knob, but it had to have been at least five minutes before she could gather enough courage to go inside.

Harrison had left out a considerable number of details when he'd described to her how she'd looked and felt when he imagined she was in his bed. She had at least a hundred questions she wanted to ask, but she finally settled on just one he would have to answer before she let him touch her.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and opened the door.

When she made up her mind to do something, she did it with a vengeance. The door slammed against the inside wall, then bounced back and almost knocked her over. She shoved it out of her way again, though not quite as forcefully.

Twelve minutes. It had taken her exactly twelve minutes to decide whether or not to open his door. Harrison felt like laughing, but he didn't even crack a smile, because showing any amusement now would probably send her running back to the house. The love of his life looked ready to bolt. He'd heard her outside on his doorstep, muttering every now and then, and quickly realized she still hadn't quite finished working the matter through.

He hadn't gotten out of bed to go and get her. He wanted her to make the decision on her own. He had checked his pocket watch, noted the time, and then happened to glance at it again a second or two before she tried to rip the door off its hinges.

As soon as he saw what she was wearing, he knew her brothers hadn't told her about her father yet. If they had, she still would have come to him, but she would have kept her day clothes on. She would demand he answer her questions. She would look hurt, angry, and confused by his complicity. For a while, she was going to believe he'd deceived and betrayed her, and, honest to God, there wasn't a thing he could do about the hurt she would have to endure. He had tremendous faith in her, however, and he knew she would eventually understand. It was his duty to protect her, and, whether she liked it or not, when she arrived in England, she was going to need him. He fully understood what was going to happen to her, for he knew the Elliott family well. With the best intentions, they would try to tear her identity away from her and make her into one of their own. Harrison couldn't let that happen. He wanted Mary Rose to know in every way possible that he loved who she was, not what she was supposed to be.

And that was exactly why he had made his commitment to her now.

Mary Rose's heart was pounding frantically, her knees were shaking, and she was desperately trying to remember how to breathe.

Staring at Harrison didn't calm her down. He was sitting up in his bed, with his back propped against the bedpost and his long legs stretched out on top of the covers.

He wasn't dressed for sleep. He was bare-chested and barefoot, but he still had his pants on, though only partially. The pants weren't buttoned up. The dark, curly hair covering his chest narrowed down into the opening. The sight of him caused her heartbeat to quicken. She suddenly realized where she was looking and immediately turned her gaze away from his groin.

She noticed the open book in his hands when he closed it. Her eyes widened in reaction. He'd been reading while he waited for her to come to him. Honest to heaven, she didn't know how she felt about that. While she'd been pacing back and forth in her bedroom, agonizing and fretting and quaking with fear, he'd been calmly reading.

Once she got over her astonishment, she thought she just might hit him.

Harrison hadn't moved from the bed. He'd seen the fear in her eyes when she'd walked inside and knew he was going to have to find a way to soothe her before he touched her.

He had meant what he'd said when he told her he wouldn't force her. If she suddenly changed her mind and went back to the house, he wouldn't stop her. It would kill him to watch her walk away from him, but he would willingly die before he interfered with her choice.

He realized he was only being noble now because, in his heart, he already knew she was going to stay. It had taken courage for her to come to him. He hadn't expected less from her.

"You were reading."

Her statement of fact sounded like an accusation. He didn't remark on it. He nodded and continued to stare at her, waiting for her to let him know she was ready to be held. The fear, he noticed, was disappearing. She appeared to be disgruntled now.

He couldn't imagine why. "Do you want to close the door?"

"No."

She didn't shout the denial, and there wasn't a trace of panic in her voice. Harrison put the book down on the table, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and started to stand up. He assumed she wanted him to close the door for her.

She stopped him with a silent command by putting her hand out to indicate she wanted him to stay right where he was.

"I have a question to ask you before you move. Why aren't you wearing your nightclothes? That wasn't the question," she hastily added.

God help her, she sounded like a twit. She forced a shrug. "I was just curious about your attire."

"I don't wear anything when I sleep."

Her knees felt weak again. She couldn't stop herself from picturing him naked. "You probably shouldn't have mentioned… that."

"You're going to find out soon enough. Are you going to stay with me tonight?"

She couldn't believe how reasonable and calm he sounded. "I haven't made up my mind yet." She managed to give the lie without smiling.

She had made her decision in her bedroom, but she wasn't quite ready to let him know.

She was being stubborn and didn't care, for she was still reacting to the fact that he'd been enjoying a book while she'd been dancing through the fires of purgatory.

How each one of them had spent the evening summed up all the wonderful differences between them. She had agonized. He had read.

"You're the most determined and methodical man I've ever met, and pretty much everything else I thought I would detest in a mate. I wanted a sweet, vulnerable man because I believed he would always need me. How in heaven's name did I end up with you?"

The wonder in her voice made him smile. "Because I need you, more than all those other men. You need me too, Mary Rose. It would be nice to hear you admit it."

"Yes, I do need you. I don't like arrogant men though, and I especially dislike being ordered about. I'd keep that in mind if I were you."

"Sweetheart, how long is it going to take you to make up your mind? I have to touch you."

The urgency in his voice soothed her. She watched him stand up, then promptly made him stop again.

"Stay where you are, Harrison. I still have my question to ask you. If I don't like the answer, I'm leaving."

The sparkle in her eyes told him he didn't have to worry. "It's getting damned cold in here. What do you want to ask me?"

She took a step toward him, letting the anticipation grow inside her. She was shivering now with her need to kiss him.

Oh, how she loved him. He looked like a rake to her, with his lock of hair drooped down over his forehead and his devilish smile. He was strong and commanding, arrogant and proud, solid and reliable, and she would spend the rest of her life adoring him.

She couldn't wait another minute to hold him. "When you were telling me what you were thinking and you described me in your bed… and we were making love?"

"Yes?"

"Was I smiling?"

He was laughing when he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. His chin dropped down to rest on top of her head, and he assured her in a tender, loving voice that in all of his erotic fantasies and dreams about her, she had been very happy, extremely happy as a matter of fact, satisfied, content, humbled, appreciative and grateful, and completely overwhelmed by his magnificence and, now that he had time to think about it, really amazing sexual prowess.

"You couldn't find enough ways to thank me," he ended.

She leaned away from him and looked up into his eyes. "I thanked you for making love to me?"

"It was my dream, sweetheart, not yours."

She rucked her head back under his chin, wrapped her arms around his waist, splaying her hands wide against his warm back. "Heaven help me, you're even arrogant when you dream. What am I going to do with you?"

Several suggestions came to mind, but Harrison decided now wasn't the time to share them with her. All of his ideas involved her mouth, her tongue, and her hands.

"Your hands feel like ice," he said instead.

"You left the door open. You should probably close it. It's freezing in here."

Harrison reached behind her, shoved the door closed, and pulled her arms away from him. He took hold of her hand and led her over to the side of his bed.

They stood facing each other about a foot apart and stared into each other's eyes for a long, breathless moment, letting their anticipation and their need grow between them.

She looked like an angel in the soft lamplight, with her hair spilling down her shoulders and her pale, delicate robe swaying about her feet.

The longer he stared into her blue eyes, the more convinced he became that she was indeed the most perfect of creatures.

She moved before he did. She lowered her gaze to his chin and slowly untied the knot in the belt of her robe, and then removed her wrap. Her hands were trembling quite noticeably by the time she finished the task.

She handed the garment to him. He didn't take his gaze away from her when he tossed the robe behind him.

He stopped her from unbuttoning her nightgown. "Let me," he whispered in a voice deep with arousal.

Her hands dropped down to her sides. He felt her shiver when his fingers slipped under the thin fabric along the neckline of her cotton gown and he brushed against her silky skin.

He acted as though he had all the time in the world to undress her so that she wouldn't feel at all rushed, and he had to exert a great deal of self-discipline. He wanted to pull the garment off, but he wasn't about to give in to his impatience. He wanted this night to be as perfect for her as possible.

He slowly worked his way down to her waist, deliberately pausing to caress her skin around each opening, and when he had all the buttons undone, he reached up and spread the gown wide.

The sight of her perfection took his breath away. She was so very beautiful. Her skin was smooth and creamy, her breasts were full, her nipples rosy, and her soft, womanly curves were exquisitely proportioned.

His hands shook with his need to take her into his arms, to feel her pressed up against him, but he resisted the demand for yet another minute and slowly pushed the gown down lower, until the fabric rested on the gentle flair of her hips. The palms of his hands rested against the sides of her narrow waist, and he ever so slowly caressed his way down her thighs. The feel of her skin, so cool and smooth and flawless, made him shudder with desire.

The gown pooled on the floor around her feet. He took a step back and gazed at her.

"You're even more beautiful than I could ever have imagined."

Her embarrassment vanished with his fervently given praise. The look of pleasure in his eyes made her forget all about being shy. He thought she was beautiful, and his love for her made her believe she was.

She couldn't stand still any longer. She stepped out of her slippers and then reached out to him. "Do you want me to undress you?"

"Not yet," he answered. "I want this to last. If I take my pants off now, I'll go too fast. I don't want that to happen. It has to be perfect for you."

"Is going fast wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing we do together will ever be wrong."

He didn't give her time to think about what he'd just said to her, but pulled her into his arms and held her close. Her hands rested against his chest, her fingers surrounded by his crisp hair. It tickled her fingers, and she knew that if she moved her arms, her breasts would feel the same sensation.

She moved before he could make her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaled her scent, and let the pleasure of feeling her soft breasts against him consume him.

Her gasp of pleasure told him she was feeling the same way.

"I knew it would be this good."

She thought it felt better than good, but she couldn't seem to find the right words to describe all the feelings rushing through her now. She noticed his breathing had become ragged and only then realized hers was every bit as uneven. Each time she rubbed against him, the feelings intensified, until every nerve in her body was tingling with heat. It felt wonderful.

He placed wet kisses along the side of her neck, teased her earlobe with his mouth and his tongue, all the while whispering hot promises about all the things he wanted to do to her.

His words were as arousing to her as his touch. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She stroked his chest, his shoulders, and his neck, loving the play of his muscles under her fingertips, and kept moving restlessly against him, trying to get closer to his incredible heat.

The uninhibited way she responded to him intoxicated him. Everything about her aroused the fever of passion inside him. He loved the feel of her hair slipping through his fingers, like threads of silk, and the little erotic sounds she made in the back of her throat when he touched her a certain way and she couldn't contain her pleasure, and, oh, how he loved having her body rubbing against him.

He held her with one arm around her waist and leaned down to kiss her. His mouth was ravenous now, for the pressure building inside him was making him wild with his need to please her. His tongue moved inside, then withdrew, only to thrust back inside again and again in the erotic mating ritual. He stroked her neck and trailed his fingers down between her breasts, and finally, when she was certain she would die if he continued his sweet torment, he cupped one breast in his hand and began to tease her even more. His thumb lightly brushed across her nipple. She instinctively arched up against him to let him know how much she liked the thrilling sensation, and when he repeated the caress, she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a moan of pleasure.

"You're driving me out of my mind," she whispered against his ear.

"There's more," he promised.

She didn't believe she had the stamina to feel more. The pressure building inside her was becoming more intense, like liquid heat it slowly spread through her middle.

His mouth slanted over hers just as his hand moved down between her thighs, and he began to make love to her with his fingers. His tongue moved inside her mouth to imitate the mock love play.

She thought she would die from the raw ecstasy his touch evoked. Her hips began to move against his hand, until the feeling became too intense for her to bear. She tried to move his hand away from her then.

Harrison was shaking with his need. The damp heat surrounding his fingers took the last of his control away. He kissed her again, a long, hot, wet kiss, and when he finally pulled back, he realized her hand was wrapped around his wrist and she was trying to get him to move away from the heat he most wanted to possess.

He lifted her into his arms, pulled the covers back, and placed her on the bed. And then he took his pants off. He was desperately trying to pretend he hadn't run out of endurance. He was overwhelmed by his need to thrust inside her and let her tight walls surround him, squeeze him, love him, but he knew he was going to have to gain her cooperation first. She was beginning to have second thoughts now. He knew what had caused the change in her. He also knew exactly what she was thinking.

The love of his life was staring at his erection.

"It's going to be all right," he promised, his voice harsh with passion. "We were made to fit each other, baby."

She shook her head and started to get up. Her breathing was choppy with her passion, but her fear was making her panic.

He didn't give her any more time to feed her fear. He trapped her in bed by stretching out beside her and anchoring her down with his thigh. He took hold of her hands, forced them around his neck so that she would stop trying to get him to move away from her and then leaned down to kiss her.

He had to chase after her mouth. She turned her head away from him into the pillow, but his soothing words of love finally calmed her enough to look at him again.

Her eyes were still hazy with passion, and he knew it wouldn't take him long to rekindle the fire inside her.

"Will you trust me, love? Let me kiss you once more. If you still want to stop, I promise we will."

He didn't add the fact that he wasn't going to stop until he was fully imbedded inside her, unless she started to struggle against him. God help him, he would stop then, even if it killed him, and he found himself praying he wouldn't have to.

She had to think about his offer before she finally agreed. If he hadn't been in such pain, he would have thought the disgruntled expressions humorous. He was throbbing with his need now, however, and all he could think about was sinking deep inside her.

"One kiss," she whispered.

"One kiss," he promised again.

"You're going to like this, sweetheart. Honest to God you are."

She didn't look like she believed him. He wasn't at all deterred by her attitude. "Open your mouth for me, baby," he whispered in a growl just a second before he took absolute possession. She tightened her hold around his neck and pulled him closer to her, and when she began to kiss him back with just as much passion, he knew she was forgetting all about being afraid.

He wooed her for long minutes with his mouth and his hands, until she was once again moving against him restlessly, and he could feel the tension growing inside her.

His hand moved down between her thighs to help her get ready for him. He shuddered with a surge of pleasure when he felt the wetness there on his fingertips. He caressed her silky folds, then slowly pressed up inside. He knew exactly where to touch her to get her to come apart in his arms.

She couldn't fight the splendor he forced on her. She began to writhe against him, but still he continued with the sweet torment. Her nails scored his shoulders and she whimpered low in her throat.

He couldn't wait any longer. He kept his mouth firmly on top of hers while he nudged her legs apart and moved between her thighs. He lifted her hips and slowly moved inside her. He stopped when he felt the thin layer of her resistance, closed his eyes in blissful surrender, and then thrust deep.

He felt as though he'd just died and gone to heaven.

She felt as though he'd just torn her apart. Searing pain shot through her. She cried out against the invasion and tried to get away from him. He wouldn't budge. He deliberately kept her pinned down with his weight.

"Try not to move, sweetheart. Just hold on to me until the pain leaves. Soon, baby, soon. It's going to feel better. I love you, Mary Rose. Oh, God, baby, don't cry."

He sounded devastated because he'd hurt her, and that realization actually helped to ease her pain. It wasn't completely unbearable now, but she still didn't much like the dull throbbing sensation.

Passion warred with her discomfort. She couldn't seem to make sense out of anything right now. Was she actually supposed to like this?

He didn't understand the torment she was going through. He was desperately trying to give her time to accept him, but his own consuming need to move inside her was becoming unbearable. Holding back was agonizing. He could feel her tight walls surrounding him, squeezing him. It was the most excruciatingly wonderful feeling, and God help him, if he didn't move soon, it would be too late. He would pour his seed into her with a primitive shout of surrender.

He rebelled against the glorious self-gratification. She was going to experience the same fulfillment, no matter how long it took.

His brow was covered with a sheen of perspiration, his jaw was clenched tight, and his heart was slamming inside his chest. He buried his face in her neck and began to nibble on her earlobe. "Is it starting to feel better, sweetheart?"

She could hear the worry in his voice. She instinctively wanted to comfort him, to tell him he hadn't killed her, that it would be all right.

"I'm feeling fine now," she whispered in a voice that mocked the lie she gave.

To show him she meant what she said, she put her arms around him again and began to stroke his back. He shuddered against her and let out a low groan. And so she caressed him again. She could feel the tension in him and knew it was taking a tremendous amount of self-control for him to stay still inside her. The consideration he was showing her made her pain and discomfort insignificant. "I don't want to disappoint you."

He braced his weight on his arms and lifted up to look at her. "You could never disappoint me. I love you, sweetheart."

She was overwhelmed by the tenderness. "It's much better now. I can endure it. You don't have to wait any longer."

He surprised her with his smile. "Endure?" he asked. "We'll see about that, love."

She pulled him down to kiss her, and when he lifted his head again, he was damned thankful to see the passion was back in her gaze.

He knew that very little time had actually passed since he'd planted himself deep inside her, but the raging demand in his body made him feel as if it had been an eternity.

The intensity in his expression aroused the passion simmering inside her.

"Tell me what to do. I want to please you."

"You do please me. Bring your legs up real slow, baby, so I can…" His groan made speech impossible for him. The pleasure he'd received when she began to move made his control snap.

She'd expected pain, but when she drew her legs up, she felt an altogether different sensation.

The intensity of the feeling made her want more. She moved again, felt another burst of pleasure, and tightened her arms around him. It really did feel better.

"It feels good, doesn't it? And this time, tell me the truth."

He sounded as though he were in agony. "Yes," she whispered. "I still don't feel like thanking you though."

God, how he loved her.

He told her to wrap her legs around him, then shifted his position and sank deeper inside.

Neither one of them could speak again. He pulled back, then surged deep once again. He wanted to take it slow and easy, to drive her completely out of her mind with pleasure, but she was so incredibly tight and hot, and it felt so damned good to be inside her, his need to quicken the pace took control of his actions now, and it was impossible for him to think about going slow or trying to be gentle. Hell, he couldn't think at all. He could only feel.

Her whispered pleas and moans urged him on. Each time he partially withdrew from her, she lifted her hips to bring him back. Her nails scored his back as her own control vanished. She became more demanding with her caresses, her cries. The pressure inside her built until she thought she would die from the sweet agony. She didn't know what she wanted. She only knew she wanted it now.

Passion raged between them, and it wasn't long before she couldn't bear the intensity of the mating another second. She found release then, surrendered to the bliss, and cried out his name as wave after wave of splendor washed over her. She squeezed him tight inside, and when he felt the tremors of her climax, he allowed his own surrender. He poured his seed into her with a low growl of raw satisfaction.

It was the most incredible release he had ever experienced.

And all because he loved her.

He collapsed on top of her. She had taken all of his strength, and it was going to be a while before he recovered. He wanted to sleep with her in his arms, and when he awakened, he wanted to lose himself in her love once again.

It took her long minutes to recover. She was overwhelmed by what had just happened to her. She felt as though her heart, her mind, and her very soul had all merged with his in that blissful moment of surrender and she was being surrounded by the warmth of his love. Mating with Harrison had been the most wonderful and glorious experience in her life.

He made everything wonderful. From the minute she had given her heart to him, her entire world had changed. Ordinary days were magical because she shared them with him. She couldn't imagine life without him. He was loving and gentle and kind and compassionate. He was erotic and sensual and bold and arrogant.

He was just about perfect. And all because she loved him.

"Are you all right, Mary Rose?"

He lifted himself above her so he could see for himself and looked into her eyes. They were still misty from the passion she'd experienced. Her mouth was swollen. There were a couple of his whisker burns on her face as well. Seeing his marks on her gave him a great deal of satisfaction. She belonged to him, and damn but he liked seeing her like this.

"I hurt you, didn't I?"

The question sounded sincere, but the slow smile that came over his expression confused her.

"Yes, you did hurt me, but the pain didn't last long. I only cried for a second."

"The first time," he agreed.

"Why are you smiling? Don't you care you hurt me?"

"Of course I care. I love you, Mary Rose. I'm smiling because of the way you look."

His voice had taken on that gruff, sensual edge she liked so much.

"How do I look?" She sounded breathless.

"Like I've just been inside you and loved you and satisfied you. I'm feeling real possessive right now."

She was feeling incredibly warm and safe and loved.

"You've always been possessive."

"It's different now, sweetheart. I've wanted you in my bed a long time."

She reached up and stroked the side of his face. "And now that I'm here?"

The smile faded from his face. "You're mine."

She wasn't going to dispute the truth. "Yes, I'm yours."

He nodded with satisfaction. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

She rubbed her toes against his legs and sighed into his mouth when his tongue began to tease hers.

He felt the stirrings of arousal and knew he needed to stop before passion made him forget her tender condition. She needed time to recover before he took her again.

He pulled away, rolled onto his back, and then drew her up against his side.

"We have to talk, Mary Rose."

The seriousness in his tone of voice worried her. She knew better than to try to second-guess him, but her own vulnerability made her think he was about to say something she didn't want to hear. She even believed she knew exactly what it was.

Several minutes passed in silence. He stared at the ceiling while he considered various ways to discuss their future.

She spent the time fretting.

She couldn't stand the silence any longer. "I'll make it easy for you, Harrison. I'll say it for you. You're…"

He didn't let her finish.

He tightened his hold around her waist and said, "You can't possibly know what I'm going to say. You aren't a mind reader, sweetheart."

"No, I can't read your mind," she agreed. "I can draw certain conclusions though. From the seriousness in your tone of voice, I concluded the importance of what you want to say. Your hesitancy told me you were having trouble finding the right words. Am I right so far?"

"Yes," he answered. "What I have to say to you is serious, and yes, I want to find just the right words."

"Because you're an attorney."

"No, because I want to make certain you understand. I want to prepare you."

" Harrison, I could save you a lot of time."

She began to caress his chest with her fingers, barely aware she was distracting the hell out of him. He suddenly wanted to make love to her again.

He was going to talk to her first, however. He grabbed hold of her hand and held tight.

She promptly leaned up and kissed the base of his neck.

"Quit tempting me." The command was given in a rough, no-nonsense tone of voice.

She ignored it and deliberately kissed him again.

"I'm not tempting you. I'm consoling you. There's a difference."

"You're naked in my arms, Mary Rose. Therefore…"

"I'm tempting you."

"Yes."

She let out a sigh and rested the side of her face against his warm skin.

"I understand what's happening to you. You're having regrets now. I understand, Harrison, and that is why I was trying to console you. You don't have to feel guilty any longer."

He went completely still. "Exactly what am I supposed to be regretting?"

"Our… indiscretion."

"Our what?"

The calmness in his voice masked his anger. He refused to believe what he had just heard. She was going to have to say it again, just to convince him.

"Our indiscretion."

She felt his long, indrawn breath. The reaction should have been a warning of the fury coming. He also tightened his arm around her waist.

She still wasn't prepared.

"How in God's name does that mind of yours work? I know you're as intelligent as everyone else. Hell, you're smarter than everyone else. Does everything shut down inside your head? How could you possibly believe tonight was an indiscretion? Answer me."

He didn't give her time to say a word, however. "We made a commitment to each other. Got that?"

Mary Rose was astonished by his anger. She wasn't at all frightened by it though. The realization made her smile. Harrison was roaring like a wounded bear, and she was feeling just as safe as always.

She didn't understand his reaction, however. He acted as though she had just grossly insulted him. And his mother. And even his dog, if he happened to have one.

She tried to keep the smile out of her voice when he finally let her speak.

"I didn't say I believed we had been indiscreet. I thought you…"

He interrupted her again. "Listen to me. I really don't think you quite get it yet."

"Get it? What does that mean?"

"It means you obviously didn't understand me when I said you were mine now. I didn't imply you were mine for the night. I meant forever."

"I wish you'd be logical about this. If…"

"You want me to be logical?"

She thought that perhaps it hadn't been the right thing to say to him. She was thankful she couldn't see his face now, because she knew the muscle in the side of his cheek was probably going crazy. It flexed whenever he clenched his jaw, and he always did that when he was angry. It was a dead giveaway that a storm was coming.

"It appears I can't say the right thing to appease you." He started to tell her what he thought about her remark, then decided against it. He knew if he continued on, he would become furious all over again. Indiscretion? He still couldn't believe she'd used that word to describe what had happened tonight. It was going to take him a good week to get over it.

His silence indicated to her that he was ready to listen to reason. "I'm new at this. You could be a little more patient with me. It wouldn't kill you, so quit breathing like that. I've never been intimate before. I can't help but feel vulnerable."

She was certain her explanation would gain his sympathy and his understanding. She was wrong with both expectations.

"It's ridiculous for you to feel the least bit vulnerable. It's also damned insulting to me, woman."

She was beginning to lose her patience. He was taking exception to every word she said. He really was as temperamental as his horse. She considered telling him so, then changed her mind. The comparison would probably set his temper off again.

"You didn't use to be this moody."

"I didn't used to be in love with you."

She drummed her fingers against his chest. "Cole always becomes moody when he feels guilty about something."

"I don't feel guilty about a damned thing. Do you feel guilty?"

He grabbed hold of her hand and started squeezing. He was telling her without words her answer better be the one he wanted to hear.

"No, I don't feel guilty. Happy now?"

He didn't answer her. He relaxed his hold on her hand, though, and so she assumed she'd given him the right response.

"I believe we should end this discussion. If we continue, we'll get into a full-blown argument. Then you'll have to apologize to me. Do you really want to waste all that time begging my forgiveness when we could be doing much more enjoyable things?"

He smiled in spite of his irritation. "What makes you think I'll apologize?"

"Because I can wait longer than you can. You'll give in before I will."

"In other words, you hold a grudge. Your brothers mentioned that flaw to me."

"Sometimes I do."

He started to laugh. "Mary Rose, you make me want to shake you and kiss you at the same time. Honest to God, you're going to drive me out of my mind one of these days."

She started stroking his chest again. She loved the feel of his hair curling around her fingers. She wished he'd kiss her again. Just thinking about it made her restless. She let out a little sigh and draped her thigh across him.

He let out a grunt. She realized where her thigh was then, but the heat radiating from his groin felt too good against her skin for her to move away.

If he hadn't liked it, he would have pushed her away. He didn't though. He put his hand on her knee and began to caress her.

" Harrison?"

"Yes?"

"Was tonight as nice as your dream was?"

"It was much, much better. My dreams weren't ever nice. They made me hot. Tonight, you made me burn. Understand?"

"You were satisfied?"

He could hear the amusement in her voice and knew she was up to something. He smiled in anticipation. God only knew what she was going to say.

"Yes, I was satisfied."

"Now you sound appreciative, grateful. Are you?"

Her fingertips were making circles around his nipple. It was driving him to distraction.

"Yes," he answered gruffly.

"I guess I made you happy."

"Yes. You made me very happy."

She smiled against his chest. He was mildly surprised she needed this much assurance. The way he had responded to her while they were making love should have told her how good she'd been. Maybe she really was feeling vulnerable because it had been a new experience for her.

Lord, was she beginning to make sense?

"And you can't thank me enough."

Her whispered words finally registered in his mind. She was tossing his words back at him. Harrison laughed again. "I guess you didn't much like hearing that part of my dream, did you, sweetheart?"

She was too content to answer him. A sudden thought turned her attention. "What did you mean when you said I only cried for a second the first time? Did I cry again?"

"Yes. It lasted longer."

"When?"

"When you came apart."

The memory made her blush. She really had come apart during her climax. She didn't remember crying though. Finding fulfillment had required her full attention.

"Now will you listen to what I have to say?"

"If you're going to tell me I'll hate you, then no, I won't listen."

"I want to talk about our future."

"All right."

"The next six months are going to be difficult for you."

"Do you plan to be difficult?"

"No, that isn't what I meant."

"I love you, Harrison."

"I love you too. I have to go back to England, sweetheart. I want you to join me there."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Why do you have to go back?"

"I have to finish something I started."

"Will you want to stay there for a long time?"

"That depends on you."

She didn't understand. "Do you still long for the Highlands?"

"I long to be with you. Where I live isn't important."

"It used to be important."

He smiled. She was right about that. Returning to the Highlands had been an obsession. His plans had all changed, of course, because of Mary Rose. He could be happy anywhere in the world as long as he had her by his side.

"When do you want to leave?"

"I had thought to leave the day after tomorrow. I want you to come to me as soon as possible."

He had just overwhelmed her with all the changes he wanted to make. How could she possibly leave her brothers? England was an ocean away. Oh, God, why did it have to be so far?

Would they live in the city? How could she live like that? She wouldn't be able to breathe. The crowds would drive her wild. Would she look out her window and see pavement and buildings? How could she leave her paradise?

And how could she ever let Harrison leave her behind? Life without him would be unbearable.

Her mind reeled with questions.

"I know you need time to think about it, sweetheart."

"Yes," she answered. "I wish… Harrison, would you ever consider living here?"

"If it were possible."

"Is it?"

"I don't know yet," he replied.

"What if I couldn't join you?"

"I would come back to get you."

"I don't want to think about the future now. Tomorrow we'll worry about plans and decisions. Please kiss me again. I want you to make love to me now."

She lifted up on her elbows and stared down into his eyes.

"I want to feel you inside me again," she whispered.

"We can't," he whispered. "It's too soon, sweetheart. It would hurt."

She leaned down and kissed him. She didn't care if it hurt or not. She needed him.

"Please," she whispered. Her lips brushed over his again. "One kiss, my love. Let me kiss you once and if you want me to stop then, I promise you I will."

"I love the way you throw my words back at me," he said. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up until she was stretched out on top of him.

"Are you planning to keep on kissing me until you've got me inside you?"

"Oh, yes."

They were the last coherent words either one of them could speak for a long, long time.

They fell asleep wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs. And love.

April 5, 1868

Dear Mama Rose,

Adam got in a fight yesterday. It was all my fault, because the Indians like my pretty hair. I am putting some of it in the envelope so you can see how pretty it is. But it's yellow, Mama, and the Indians liked it so much they tried to take it all off my head. Then one of them says to take me with my hair and that's when Adam got mad. Cole and Douglas were gone, and by the time Travis came out of the barn, Adam had punched them good and hard. Your son got a bloody nose, but the Indians he got mad at were all sleeping in our garden by the time he got done with them.

Fighting isn't good, Mama. Even Adam said so, but now he thinks the Indians will leave my hair alone.

I sure hope so.

Your daughter Mary Rose