For the Roses

Chapter 17

Harrison arrived in London on a Tuesday afternoon but was forced to wait until the following evening to talk to his employer. Lord Elliott was staying at his country estate, a two-hour ride from the city, and wasn't scheduled to return to the city until Wednesday morning.

Harrison dispatched a messenger announcing his return. He asked for a private meeting, for he had a highly personal matter to discuss with him. He deliberately implied it was a legal matter he'd gotten involved in, so that Elliott wouldn't include his personal assistant, George MacPherson.

Murphy, Elliott's butler for as long as Harrison could remember, opened the front door for him. The faithful servant's eyes sparkled with delight at the sight of Harrison.

"It's so good to have you back home with us, mi'lord," Murphy announced.

"It's good to be back," Harrison replied. "How have you and Lord Elliott been getting along?"

"We've missed all the scandals you get into with your criminal cases, mi'lord. We haven't had a good fight since the day you left. Lord Elliott continues to worry me, I'll admit. He's working too hard, and you know how stubborn and unreasonable he can be. He won't slow down, no matter how much I nag him. I fear he'll continue to run until his heart stops beating. You're bound to cheer him up, however. I must say, he's missed you sorely."

"Is he upstairs?"

"Yes, mi'lord, in the library."

"Is he alone?"

"He is, and impatient to see you again. Why don't you run on up?"

Harrison started up the stairs, then stopped. "Murphy, he's going to need some brandy."

"Is the news you bring bad, then?" the butler inquired with a frown.

Harrison smiled. "Quite the opposite. He'll still need a drink of brandy though. Is there a bottle in the library?"

"Yes, mi'lord, but I shall bring up another one to be on the safe side. The two of you can get sotted together."

Harrison laughed. In all his years living with Elliott, he'd never once seen him even remotely tipsy. He couldn't picture him roaring drunk. Elliott was too well bred to ever consider doing anything that would take away his control or his dignity. Getting drunk would have robbed him of both.

He hurried on up the stairs, rounded the corner, and went into the library. Elliott was standing in front of the fireplace. He spotted Harrison and immediately embraced him.

"So you are home at last," he said in greeting. He hugged Harrison, and pounded him on his back with a great deal of affection.

"You're a sight for these old eyes," he whispered. "Sit down now and tell me all about your adventure in America. I want to hear every detail."

Harrison waited until Elliott had taken his seat before he pulled up a chair and sat down. He noticed how tired Elliott looked and was saddened by his observation. The country air hadn't done the elderly man much good, for his complexion was tinged gray, and there were the ever-present dark half-circles under his eyes. Grief had taken its toll on him.

Elliott had never remarried, but the determined ladies in London society still fought for his attention. Not only was he an extremely wealthy man, he was also considered handsome. He had silver-tipped hair, patrician features, and held himself like the statesman he was. Elliott had been born and raised in an affluent family, and his breeding, education and manners were therefore impeccable. Far more important was the fact that Elliott had a good heart. Like his daughter, Harrison thought to himself. She had perhaps inherited her sense of decency from him, and that noble quality had been nurtured by her brothers.

Elliott was also strong-willed. A lesser man would have been destroyed by the horror of having his only child taken away from him, but Elliott fought his desolation in private and presented a brave front to the rest of the world. While he had retired from active participation in government, he continued to work behind the scenes to bring about change. He was as much a champion of the less fortunate as Harrison was and certainly just as dedicated to the belief that all men were entitled to equal representation and equal rights. He wholeheartedly supported Harrison when he took on unpopular causes, such as defending the common man.

" America seems to have agreed with you. Is it the new fashion not to wear a jacket, son?"

Harrison smiled. "None of my jackets fit. I seem to have grown between my shoulders. I'll have to call in a tailor before I go out in public again."

"You do look bigger to me," Elliott said. "But there's something else that's different about you." Elliott continued to stare at Harrison another minute or two, then shook his head. "I'm very happy to have you back where you belong." He gave the admission in a quiet voice. "Now, give me your promise, Harrison. There will be no more hunts. I'll have your word before we discuss your legal problems."

"No more hunts," Harrison agreed.

Elliott nodded with satisfaction. He leaned back in his wing chair, folded one leg over the other, and said, "Now you may begin. Tell me everything. Whatever this legal problem is, we'll work it out together."

"Actually, sir, there aren't any legal problems. I just wanted to make certain we had a private talk. I didn't want your assistant to overhear what I had to say to you."

Elliott raised an eyebrow. "You didn't want George here? Why in heaven's name not? You like MacPherson, don't you? Why, he's been with me for years now, almost as long as you have. Tell me what's bothering you."

"He's going to give you good news, mi'lord."

Murphy made the announcement from the doorway and then came inside with a full bottle of brandy. He placed the liquor on the table and turned to his employer.

"Mi'lord says you'll need a stiff drink when you hear what he has to say," Murphy explained. "Shall I pour for the two of you?"

"If Harrison believes I'll need it, go ahead, Murphy."

Harrison was happy for the interruption. He was suddenly feeling tongue-tied. He didn't think it would be a good idea to simply spring the news on Elliott. The shock might give him heart palpitations, but Harrison couldn't come up with a simple way to ease into the announcement.

Murphy left the library a moment later. Elliott took a sip of his drink and turned to Harrison once again.

"I got married."

Elliott almost dropped his glass. "You what?"

"I got married."

Lord above, why had he started out by telling him that? Harrison was almost as surprised as Elliott appeared to be.

"Good heavens," Elliott whispered. "When did you get married?"

"A couple of weeks ago," Harrison answered. "I didn't mean to start out with my announcement. I have other more important news to tell you. You see, I went to…"

Elliott interrupted him. "Nothing could be more important than hearing you're married, son. I can barely take it in. Am I to assume the young lady you married is from America?"

"Yes, sir, but…"

"What is her name?"

"Mary Rose."

"Mary Rose," Elliott repeated. "Is your bride downstairs? I must confess to being disappointed I wasn't in the church for your wedding. I would have liked to stand by your side when you spoke your vows."

"Actually, sir, we weren't married in a church."

"You weren't? Then who married you?"

"Hanging Judge Burns."

Elliott looked like he was having difficulty following the explanation.

Harrison let out a sigh. "I realize it sounds… peculiar."

"A 'hanging judge' married you. Now, why would I think that was peculiar, Harrison?"

Harrison smiled. "You'd like Burns. He's a rough-talking man with strong ideas about what's right and what's wrong. His love of the law is to be admired. I argued a case in his court, and he didn't let me get away with much at all. He's as sharp as they come."

"Did you win for your client?"

"Yes, sir."

Elliott nodded approval. "I didn't expect less from you. Was the marriage forced?"

"Yes, it was. I forced her into marrying me. I really tried to fight the attraction, sir. I didn't feel I had the right to pursue her, but in the end, I couldn't…"

"Well, of course you had the right to pursue her. She's lucky to have you, Harrison. Remember who your father was. Any woman would be proud to marry you. Are you telling me your bride's family didn't think you were worthy enough? What utter nonsense," he ended in a mutter.

"No, sir, that isn't what I was telling you. You see…"

"Where does your bride come from? I can't seem to take this in. I recall hearing you say over and over again that you would never marry, and now it appears I'm about to meet your bride. I thought your broken engagement to Edwina soured you against matrimony. I'm pleased to see it was a false concern. The right woman will change the way a man thinks."

"Sir, Mary Rose isn't with me. She's still in America."

"She didn't come home with you? Why not?"

"There were circumstances preventing her from accompanying me."

"What specific circumstances?"

"Her family."

"And where is her family?"

"She lives with four brothers on a ranch just outside Blue Belle, in Montana Territory."

Elliott smiled. The name of the town caught his fancy. "I've read quite a few books on the rough-and-tumble towns dotting the western section of the United States, but I must confess, I've never heard of a town named after a flower."

"Actually, sir, the town was named after a prostitute. Her name's Belle."

Elliot started to laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, sir. Belle helped Mary Rose get ready for the wedding."

"She did, did she?" Elliot was trying hard not to laugh again. "Then why was the town named Blue Belle instead of simply Belle?"

"Belle doesn't like what she does for a living."

Elliott couldn't control his amusement. He laughed until tears came into his eyes. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the corners of his eyes while he tried to regain his composure.

"What have you gotten yourself into, son. This isn't like you at all. You've certainly given me quite a lot to digest," he added. "I can't wait to meet your bride."

"You think I've lost my mind, don't you, sir?"

Elliott smiled. "I think you've changed," he admitted. "I knew there was something different about you, but I never would have guessed you'd marry a girl from the country. I also thought that if you did marry, you'd choose someone more… refined."

"Mary Rose is very refined," Harrison said. "She's everything I could ever want."

"I didn't mean to suggest she was lacking, son. If you'll remember, I also married a country girl. My Agatha was from your Highlands. I've always believed growing up on a farm was the primary reason she was so unspoiled. Of course, she had good parents," he added with a nod.

"Sir, I went to Montana in search of your daughter. I didn't fail this time."

"No, of course you didn't. Granted, it was another false lead, but one with a happy ending, because you met and married your Mary Rose. What a pretty name your bride has. You do love her, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I love her very much. You'll love her too."

"Yes, of course I will."

Harrison leaned forward in his chair. "As I said before, it wasn't a false lead this time. There's one more important thing you need to know."

"Yes?"

"I married your daughter."

Mary Rose and Eleanor arrived in England on the twenty-first day of July. It was hot, humid, and threatening to rain.

Harrison had used up every bit of his patience waiting for his bride to get over her anger and come to him, and he'd only just made up his mind to book passage back to the States when a telegram arrived from a gentleman named John Cohen, giving him the pertinent information about Mary Rose's departure from Boston and her expected arrival date.

Harrison spotted her golden crown the second she stepped off the steam tender from the ship. He shoved his way through the crowd, grabbed hold of his wife, and pulled her into his arms. As soon as he touched her, he felt an immediate sense of acute relief. Mary Rose was finally where she belonged.

His greeting wasn't very flowery. "What the hell took you so long?"

She couldn't answer him. Harrison didn't even give her time to frown. He leaned down and captured her mouth in a ravenous kiss.

She didn't resist him. She put her arms around his neck, lifted up on her tiptoes, and kissed him back just as passionately.

"For heaven's sake, Mary Rose. People are gawking at us. Do stop that. You're attracting a crowd."

Eleanor whispered her protest from behind Mary Rose. She poked her friend and then took a step away. If the two of them didn't stop mauling each other, she would simply pretend she wasn't with them. Honestly, what had happened to her friend's sense of propriety?

Harrison, she decided, was a lost cause. It wouldn't do her any good to try to reason with him. She'd seen the look of blatant love and hunger in his eyes when he reached for Mary Rose. No, there wouldn't be any reasoning with him.

Eleanor suddenly smiled. Harrison had certainly missed his wife. One day, Eleanor was determined to find a man who felt just as much love for her.

Harrison finally ended the kiss. He was pleased to see Mary Rose appeared to be as shaken by the kiss as he was.

"I missed you, sweetheart," he whispered.

"I missed you too," she whispered back. "You and I are going to have to have a long talk though, as soon as possible. Things are going to be different between us. We're going to have to start over. I'm going to try to get past this, but it's difficult."

He didn't want to talk just yet. "We'll discuss your worries later," he promised a scant second before his mouth covered hers again.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

Eleanor's muttering finally caught Harrison 's attention. He couldn't make himself let go of his wife after he ended the kiss, however, and so he hugged her tight against him while he greeted her disgruntled-looking friend.

"How was your voyage, Eleanor?"

"Just fine, thank you. Mary Rose can't possibly breathe, Harrison, because of the way you've got her face pressed into your jacket. Do let go of her so we can get on our way. It's about to rain, for heaven's sake. We're both quite weary from our trip, and we want to get settled in before night falls. Are we going directly to her father's house?"

Mary Rose pushed away from Harrison. "I would rather wait until tomorrow to meet him. Does he expect to see me tonight? It's almost dark now, and I would like to have a little more time to prepare myself."

"You've had two long months to prepare, Mary Rose," Harrison said.

"I need one more night," she insisted.

"Your father doesn't expect to see you until tomorrow, so you can calm down. He knew you'd be tired from your trip. Both you and Eleanor will stay with me tonight."

"I'm quite calm. Why would you think I wasn't?"

"You were shouting," Eleanor told her.

"I was simply trying to make my opinion heard."

"I hope you have spacious quarters, Harrison," Eleanor said. "Mary Rose told me she's going to insist on a room of her own. I believe she's still upset with you."

"Honestly, Eleanor, I can speak for myself," Mary Rose said. She turned to Harrison again. "I am upset with you, and as I said before, things are going to be different now. We're going to have to start over."

Harrison gave his wife a hard look, then took hold of her arm and started walking toward the main thoroughfare where the carriages were lined up.

"You're sleeping with me, in my bed," he told her in a rough whisper. "I've waited two long months, damn it. I'm not waiting any longer."

"What about our luggage?" Eleanor pestered.

"It's being taken care of," Harrison answered. "Quit shaking your head at me, Mary Rose. I meant what I said."

She wasn't going to argue with him in public. She would wait until they were alone to tell him about the decisions she'd made. Harrison was an intelligent man. He would understand how she felt.

"It hasn't been two months," Eleanor announced. She was determined to set Harrison straight. "You two have only been apart five short weeks. Mary Rose wanted to wait until the end of September to make the trip, but Adam wouldn't let her procrastinate that long."

Harrison came to an abrupt stop. "You wanted to wait until the end of September?"

"Now look what you've done, Eleanor. You've gotten him upset. Honestly, Harrison, we'll all get soaked if we don't hurry. We'll talk about this when we reach your home."

Neither Mary Rose nor Harrison said another word for a long, long while. The rain caught them at the corner, and by the time they were settled inside the carriage, they were all drenched.

They reached Harrison 's town house thirty minutes later. It was an impressive two-story home with red brick facade.

The door was opened by a young man dressed in a black coat and trousers. His name was Edward, and he was currently on loan from Lord Elliott to act as Harrison 's butler.

Eleanor was thrilled to have a servant attending her. She hurried inside the foyer first. Edward smiled in greeting, but when he turned around to say his hello to Mary Rose, his expression turned to a look of startled surprise.

"She looks like her mother's painting," he whispered to Harrison. "Mi'lord Elliott will have to believe as soon as he sees her. She's the image of Lady Agatha."

Mary Rose overheard Edward's comment. "Lord Elliott doesn't believe I'm his daughter?"

Edward looked embarrassed. "He wants to believe, mi'lady, but there have been so many disappointments in his life, he's afraid to have hope you are truly his Victoria."

Harrison took off his wet jacket and handed it to the young man. He didn't have anything to add to Edward's remarks.

"I simply must have a hot bath," Eleanor insisted. "Edward, be a dear and show me to my bedroom. I'm going to catch a chill if I don't get out of my wet dress."

"You can't catch a cold in July," Mary Rose told her friend. "It's too hot."

"Haven't you ever heard of a summer cold?" Eleanor argued. She then began to list her other aches and pains on her way up the stairs. Mary Rose was happy for the diversion. Each time she looked at Harrison, her heart felt like it was fluttering inside her chest. She wanted to shout at him because he'd hurt her so and kiss him because she'd missed him so much.

Edward hurried on up the stairs to see to Eleanor's comfort. Harrison took hold of Mary Rose's hand and led her down the opposite hallway to his bedroom.

It was gigantic in proportion. The colors were warm, earthy tones of brown and gold and rust. They were the hues of Montana in the autumn months, she thought to herself.

It was impossible for her not to notice the bed. It was quite regal-looking, with four posts, and it was big enough to sleep four people comfortably. She didn't believe she'd ever seen anything so grand.

Her stomach did a flip-flop. She couldn't block the thoughts of Harrison sleeping in the bed, and since he never wore anything when he slept, the images were very provocative.

She could feel herself blushing. She knew she was going to have to talk to Harrison now, before she lost her nerve. Looking at the bed was already making her weak-kneed and weak-willed.

" Harrison, we must have a talk. Now, please."

"He's left the chamber, mi'lady. Shall I have Caroline draw your bath for you?"

She whirled around and found Edward standing in the doorway.

"Where did Harrison go?"

"Back downstairs. Did you wish me to go and get him for you?" She shook her head. "I would like a bath, thank you. Why do you keep calling me mi'lady?"

"Because you're Lady Victoria. It's the proper form of address, mi'lady."

She didn't argue with him. Edward asked her if she also wanted cook to prepare a tray for her. He explained that Eleanor had requested a light meal to be served in her bedroom after she'd had her bath.

Mary Rose declined the food. She was too nervous to even think about eating.

For the next hour she was pampered by her lady's maid. The young woman's deference toward her embarrassed her. She felt as though she were a pretender to the throne each time Caroline called her mi'lady, and though she probably should have enjoyed her pampering, she found the maid only made her more nervous.

The hot bath helped, and taking the confining pins out of her hair made her feel much, much better. She soaked in the porcelain tub a long while, until the water turned too cold for comfort, and then wrapped herself in her robe and returned to Harrison 's bedroom.

Caroline spoke very little English. She used gestures and incoherent phrases to explain she wanted to brush Mary Rose's hair for her. The dark-haired woman appeared to be just as nervous as Mary Rose was, for her hands shook and her gestures were awkward as she tried to make herself understood.

Her French accent was quite apparent, and so Mary Rose spoke French to her when she explained she would brush her own hair. Caroline wouldn't let her mistress decline her assistance, however. She was even more determined than Mary Rose.

The maid kept up a constant chatter while she ushered Mary Rose to a straight-back chair. Mary Rose took her seat and clutched her robe tight over her collarbone while Caroline tended to her hair.

The last time anyone had ever brushed her hair for her was when she was a little girl, and she'd gotten peppermint candy chips stuck in her curls. Cole had had to work the sticky mess out of her hair. Mary Rose had learned a few new curses that day.

No one had ever had to brush her hair for her again. She felt so foolish sitting there like a princess while another woman took care of such a private chore.

The chair faced the bed. Mary Rose noticed one of her nightgowns had been spread out on the sheets. The covers had already been turned back, and there was a single, long-stemmed red rose on one of the pillows.

"Why is there a rose on the bed?" she asked Caroline.

"Your husband ordered it placed there, mi'lady. Wasn't that sweet of him?"

It was sweet, and therefore quite surprising in Mary Rose's estimation. It was such a romantic gesture. It wasn't like Harrison to be so attentive or thoughtful. He really wasn't the romantic sort. When he wanted something, he went after it with a vengeance. He was very like her brothers in that respect. Harrison didn't seem the type to add such an elegant touch, but then, she really didn't know him, now did she?

"Do you know what your husband told Edward when he ordered the rose? He said it was to remind you."

"Remind me of what?"

Caroline laughed. "That he loves you," she suggested. "What else could the flower mean, mi'lady?"

Mary Rose shrugged. She reached up and took hold of the brush. She had had quite enough pampering.

She thanked the maid for her assistance and dismissed her for the night. Caroline made a perfect little curtsy and bowed her head before she left the room. Mary Rose didn't know what to make of that.

She started toward the bed to get her nightgown but stopped when she heard the door open behind her. She turned around just as Harrison walked inside.

Her husband had also had a bath. His hair was still damp. He was barefoot and wore only a pair of dark trousers.

She wondered if he even owned a proper robe. He did like to walk around half-naked, and while that had been perfectly all right in Montana, it wasn't all right in London. There were maids running about, and Mary Rose didn't like the idea of any of those women seeing her husband's bare chest.

She thought about saying something to him about his lack of attire, then changed her mind. She would take on that issue later. Now she had a more important matter to address.

Harrison shut the door behind him, turned the bolt to lock it, and went to his wife.

He had a determined look on his face. She started backing away. "You and I must have a talk," she began. She put her hand up to ward him off. "I mean it, Harrison. Stop right where you are."

He ignored her command. Mary Rose continued to back up until the side of the bed prevented her from going any farther.

"All right," he agreed. He reached for the belt holding her robe together and began to untie it. "Talk."

She tried to push his hands away. He wouldn't be deterred, however. He had her belt undone before she could draw a proper breath.

"I'm trying real hard not to become angry with you, Mary Rose."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What do you have to be angry about?"

"September," he answered in a near shout. "Were you really going to wait until the end of September to come to England?"

She refused to be put on the defensive. "You deliberately lied to me. Leave my robe alone, damn it."

"Then take it off, damn it."

"Do you expect me to sleep with you?"

"I don't expect you to sleep much at all. I'm going to keep you up all night making love to you. I want you, and I know damned good and well you want me."

Tears came into her eyes. "I don't trust you."

"Yes, you do."

She suddenly felt like throwing her hands up in despair. He was making it impossible for her to argue with him. He was deliberately refusing to be logical. She couldn't present a valid argument to a man who was in the process of taking his pants off.

"I've had a long time to think about our situation," she began. "We are married, and because I made a commitment to you, I don't feel it would be right for me to walk away. We're going to have to start all over, Harrison."

"And how to do you propose we do that?"

"You could court me, and in time I'm hopeful I'll eventually learn to trust you again. I don't feel I know you at all, Harrison. The man I loved broke my heart."

Lord, but she was given to dramatics. He heard most of what she said to him. He paid attention too, until she got to the part about courting her. The hell with that, he thought to himself. They had gone way beyond courting days.

He was hard and aching with his need by the time he kicked his trousers aside and reached for her.

"Am I supposed to forget what it felt like to move inside you? I've had you, remember? I've felt you come in my arms, Mary Rose. I've heard you scream my name, felt you squeeze me tight, and if you really believe I can put those memories aside and start all over again, you've got to be out of your ever-loving mind."

She could barely stand up straight by the time he finished reminding her what loving him had been like. The roughness in his voice made her shiver with desire to feel his touch once again.

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Come here and I'll show you."

She shook her head. She knew exactly what would happen if she moved into his arms. She wanted to reach some sort of understanding before she gave in to her own needs.

She kept her gaze directed on his face. "Tell me first." He grabbed hold of her shoulders. "No, you tell me something first. Do you still love me?"

She lowered her gaze to his chest. She didn't want to start lying to him, even though she knew full well the truth would mean she would lose the argument.

"You broke my heart," she told him once again. "I warned you, remember?"

"You should have told me about my father."

"No, the duty belonged to your brothers. It would have been wrong for me to tell you."

"Then why weren't you with them when they told me? It would have made it easier for me."

"I was in Hammond defending a man in court when your brothers finally got around to telling you, and when I came back to the ranch, you'd disappeared. Damn it, Mary Rose, you shouldn't have run away from me. I'm your husband."

Considering the fact that she'd thought about killing him, she believed running away was a minor infraction in the rules governing marriage.

"I was extremely angry with you."

He shrugged. It wasn't the reaction she'd hoped to gain. "Where did you go?" he asked.

" Douglas took me to the Cohens' house. I stayed with the family for two weeks. Are you sorry you hurt me?"

She was hoping for an apology. She didn't know if it would help her get over her heartache, but she believed it might.

"I did what was necessary under the circumstances. In time you'll realize that."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, I love you."

He pulled her up tight against him. "Can we please hold each other now?"

He put his arms around her and leaned down. He kissed her brow, the bridge of her nose, whispering all the while how much he'd missed her.

He pulled back, removed her robe, and then lifted her into his arms and fell onto the bed.

He was careful not to crush her with his weight, and once his body completely covered hers, he braced himself on his arms so he could look down into her eyes.

There were tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do you want me to leave you, Mary Rose?"

She shook her head, and he began to breathe again. And then she leaned up and kissed him.

His mouth settled firmly on top of hers, but her tongue moved inside to explore the interior of his mouth first. The bold action aroused him as much as the feel of her silky body against him. She stroked his back and his shoulders, and made him shake with his own need in the space of a heartbeat.

He wanted to slow their lovemaking, to pleasure her completely before he gave in to his own fulfillment, but her touch soon drove him beyond reason. She was so wonderfully responsive and giving, and, dear God, how he loved her.

He ended the kiss and lowered his head over her breasts. He began to stroke and tease her nipples with his tongue. She let out a ragged sigh of pleasure, urging him now, and when he took one nipple into his mouth and began to suckle, her sighs turned to moans. She arched up against him, moved her toes restlessly against his legs, and tried to get even closer to him.

His touch became rougher, less controlled. His hand caressed a path down her belly and lower still, until he found what he most wanted to possess. He felt the damp heat between her thighs and completely lost his discipline then. His fingers moved up inside her.

Mary Rose raked her nails across his shoulders, demanding now that he stop his torment and mate with her completely.

He didn't move quickly enough to suit her. She reached down and took hold of his arousal, and with her fingers closed around him, he let out a low growl of pleasure.

There could be no more waiting. He grabbed hold of her hands and roughly put them around his back as he moved to position himself. And then he entered her with one smooth thrust.

His jaw was clenched tight, for the rush of ecstasy was almost too much for him to bear.

"God, you feel good," he whispered. "Don't move like that, not yet. Let me, ah, sweetheart, you're making me want to…"

He couldn't go on. She had robbed him of the ability to talk at all. He was beyond thinking now, could only feel the incredible bliss of her hips moving against him. She drew her legs up to take him more completely inside her and wrapped her arms around his neck. She craved fulfillment now, for each time he thrust deep inside her, she felt a burst of splendor rush through her. His slow penetrating movements made her demand more and more until she was mindless of everything but the feel of him delving inside her. She pulled on his hair and scored the back of his neck with her nails. Her whimpers became more insistent and drove him over the edge. His thrusts became harder, deeper, and when he felt the first spasms of her orgasm, when she arched up against him and squeezed him tight inside her, he allowed his own release. He shouted her name as wave after wave of excruciating pleasure washed over him.

She felt the splendor explode inside her. There was only a second or two of fear before she gave in to the feeling and allowed it to consume her. She clung to her husband, knowing in her heart that he would keep her safe.

It took her long minutes to return to reality. Harrison held her close and stroked her. He whispered loving, nonsensical words against her ear that she thought were perfectly logical, for he was letting her know without any doubt how much he had missed her.

She fell asleep with her husband nibbling on her earlobe but was awakened an hour later by his caresses. They made love once again during the dark hours of the night, and then yet again as the sun was beginning its ritualistic climb into the sky.

Each time she gave herself willingly to him, and when she began to come apart in his arms, she was filled with a sense of wonder because she felt so completely safe with him.

She loved Harrison with all her heart. She would be an understanding wife and learn to forgive him for deceiving her. In time she would be able to trust him again.

She fell asleep praying that was true.

February 24, 1871

Dear Mama:

Today I found out all about how babies get made. Adam told me exactly what happens between a man and a lady. He said I shouldn't scrunch up my face and look so disgusted, but it's hard not to feel sick inside, Mama. It makes me want to puke when I think about a man trying to climb up on top of me.

Travis and Douglas think making babies is disgusting too. They didn't say so, but they couldn't look at me when they tried to explain how it happens. They both got red faces too. I don't think they will ever want to climb up on any ladies. I don't know what Cole thinks about it though. He got mad at me for asking him to explain and then he sent me to Adam.

Your son told me that mating between a man and a woman was beautiful. I think he was just teasing me. What do you think about making babies, Mama? You had Adam, so I know you had to have his papa on top of you once. Was it sickening?

Cole's putting the finishing touches on the ceiling of the library of our fine home. He's so particular about his cut work on the mouldings. He works almost every night, and I know he wishes he could work on the house during the days too, but he can't because Douglas needs his help breaking in the horses.

I had to give another swatch of my hair to the Indians again. They're very nice to me now and don't try to steal me away from Adam. They're still scared of him. Adam gives them food and tries to be polite, but I don't think he trusts them. He still hasn't forgotten what almost happened when those renegades tried to take me.

The Indians think I bring them good fortune. Isn't that silly, Mama?

Why don't you hate Livonia? Sometimes I think you should. I know she's afraid and she depends on you, but I was thinking, maybe if you're mean to her, she'll let you go.

I miss you sorely,

Mary Rose