How in heaven’s name was she going to meet everyone’s expectations? Mary Rose had never run away from a challenge, and she wasn’t about to start now. She decided she would do whatever was required to please her relatives.
Ann Marie came into the room to help her remove her dress, then turned back the covers on the bed. Mary Rose was really expected to rest, she supposed, when the young servant pulled the drapes closed.
The room was quite spacious and was done in rich gold tones. She found it quite soothing. She stretched out on the bed wearing only her chemise and stacked her hands behind her head. She stared up at the ceiling while she tried to sort out her feelings.
She thought about her father and what a kind man he was. She liked the way he smiled. She liked his voice too. It was soft, yet commanding. When she wrote to her brothers she would tell them Lord Elliott was a very nice man.
Harrison came inside just a few minutes later.
“Your father’s being stubborn,” he told his wife. “He seems to think the money your brothers sent should go right back to them. He called it payment for letting you live with them. He doesn’t understand, of course.”
Mary Rose rolled onto her side so she could look at her husband. “He didn’t like it when I mentioned my brothers. I could tell by the way he looked at me. He seemed . . . disappointed.”
“Give him time to get used to the idea of you having another family,” Harrison suggested.
“Did you know I must have an examination tomorrow by two physicians?”
Harrison took off his jacket, tossed it on a nearby chair, and then sat down on the side of the bed. He bent over to take his shoes and socks off. “Your father mentioned it to me,” he remarked.
“Why must I be examined? I feel fine.”
“The doctors will give your father the assurance he seems to need. It can’t do any harm, can it? I’ll put a stop to it if you really don’t want to be looked over.”
She thought about it for a minute and then decided to appease her father. Her husband was right, she supposed. There couldn’t be any harm in being examined.
“It’s a waste of good money,” she said in a halfhearted attempt to protest. “But I’ll go along with his plans. You haven’t asked me what I think of my father. Aren’t you curious?”
He half turned to smile at her. “I already know what you think. You’re curious about him, of course. I’ve noticed the way you stare at him when he isn’t looking at you. You already like him, and I think you’d like to love him.”
She nodded. Harrison was as observant as ever. “I’m his daughter. I should love him, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Can I trust him?”
He was surprised by the question. “Yes,” he answered. “You can trust him. You can trust me too, you know.”
She didn’t want to talk about that. She tried to change the subject then, but Harrison wouldn’t let her.
“I realize I shouldn’t have demanded you trust me. It was probably a little arrogant of me.”
“Probably?”
“You haven’t figured it all out yet, have you?”
“Figured what out?”
“That love and trust go hand in hand. You couldn’t love me if you didn’t trust me. And you do love me, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer him. The issue of trust was still tender for her to talk about. Harrison had hurt her by deliberately deceiving her. She understood why he’d kept silent about his reason for coming to her ranch . . . in the beginning. Yes, she understood his motives, but after they’d given their pledge of love to one another, he’d continued to keep silent. He’d explained that the duty of telling her about her father belonged to her brothers. She understood that fact as well.
Yet he had deceived her, and, though she was afraid to voice her fear, she didn’t know if he would ever deceive her again.
Trust between them would have to be rebuilt, stone by stone, and Harrison was going to have to be patient with her until she got over her fears.
“I’m not ready to discuss this with you,” she announced. “You’re going to have to give me time to sort it all out, like it or not. Yes, I do love you,” she added when he gave her such a ferocious frown. “And while you’re waiting, you might think about learning how to trust me,” she added.
“You’re making me angry, Mary Rose.”
“But you love me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I love you.”
He didn’t sound happy about the fact. She wasn’t upset by his attitude. Harrison liked to have everything in neat little compartments, and having to wait for anything went against his grain. He’d been logical with her, and he fully expected her to behave and think in the same manner.
“I hope I can remember everyone’s names tonight.”
She was deliberately changing the subject. Harrison went back to the task of removing his pants. “I’ll help you remember. We need to talk about George MacPherson, sweetheart. He’s your father’s personal assistant. He won’t be here tonight ; he still isn’t back from his holiday yet. I don’t want you to tell him how Douglas saw a man and a woman together on the street corner with the basket. Act as if you don’t know anything about that night.”
“Is he the one who took me?”’
“I think so, but I still haven’t proven it. I’ve been poring over the old ledgers. MacPherson couldn’t have saved up thousands of dollars to give to his accomplice, so he had to have taken the money out of one of Elliott’s accounts. I haven’t found the discrepancy yet. I will though.”
“Wasn’t MacPherson investigated at the time of the kidnapping?”
“Yes, he was. I don’t believe the authorities looked at the books as thoroughly as they should have though.”
“Could I help you?”
He started to deny her request, then changed his mind. She was his wife now, and although he was used to working alone, he found he wanted her to be involved. Working together would be a novel experience.
“Yes, you can help.”
“You do realize that if we simply asked Douglas to come to England, he could point MacPherson out as the culprit.”
“Memories change over the years and so do appearances,” Harrison replied. “The defense would shred Douglas’s recollections. It wouldn’t be reliable without supporting evidence.”
“Have you told my father about MacPherson?”
“Not yet,” Harrison answered. “I don’t think he’ll be able to work with the man if he knows I plan to tell him everything, of course, just as soon as I find proof. Do you want me to tell him now?”
“Would you if I wanted you to?”
“Yes.”
She was pleased that Harrison would do what she wanted. She considered the problem and then decided he was right to wait.
“It would be difficult for him not to show his hand, and then MacPherson could very well become suspicious. Why, he could disappear on us, and we can’t have that, can we? No, I think we should wait to tell him. He’ll understand.”
“The way you understood why I waited to tell you the reason I’d journeyed to Montana?”
“This is different,” she argued. “I don’t know my father well, but I can’t imagine he would have a poker face.”
Harrison raised an eyebrow. “A poker face?”
“He’d let his feelings show. A good poker player never lets others know what he’s thinking. I’ll bet you win lots of games of chance, don’t you? You rarely let anyone know what you’re thinking. Does everyone rest during the afternoons?”
The switch in subjects didn’t faze him. He was getting used to how his wife’s mind worked.
“Most women do.”
“What about men?”
Harrison stripped out of the rest of his clothes before answering her. “Some men rest, but I’m not going to. I want you too much. You about finished talking, sweetheart?”
She rolled onto her back just as he came down on top of her. She put her arms aro
und his neck and stared up into his eyes. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck. “Do you like my clothes?”
“Hell, no. I hate your clothes. I like you naked.”
He wasn’t giving her the assurance she needed. She decided not to worry any longer about anything as foolish as her wardrobe. She had something far more important to do now. She was going to make love to her husband, and she was determined to drive him completely out of his mind first.
“How long are we allowed to stay in our room and rest?”
He nibbled on the side of her neck while he answered her. “A couple of hours. Why?”
“That should be long enough. Please get off me.”
His head snapped up. “You don’t want me to ...”
“Oh, yes,” she answered breathlessly. “I want you to, but I want to first.”
“I don’t have a prayer of ever figuring out what you just said, do I?”
“Do you want me to explain or would you rather I showed you?”
He immediately rolled onto his back. “Show me.”
She was blushing like a virgin but behaving like a temptress. Harrison stacked his hands behind his head and waited to see what she would do.
Mary Rose sat up and then leaned forward on her knees. The look in her husband’s eyes helped her get past her shyness. She slowly untied the. satin ribbon holding her undergarment together over her breasts, and then pushed the straps down.
She took her time disrobing, and she was pleased to notice Harrison’s breathing had become uneven.
Once she’d completely removed the chemise, she leaned forward and let her breasts rub against his chest. Her hair spilled down across his shoulders.
“Are you ticklish?” she whispered the question as she trailed her fingertips down his hard, flat middle.
He inhaled sharply. “No.”
She moved down his body then, and he fully expected her to find out for herself if he was telling the truth by kissing his stomach.
She kissed his arousal instead. He almost came off the bed. He clenched his jaw tight and closed his eyes. She caressed him with her fingertips and with her mouth, and, dear God, he couldn’t stand the torment long. When she took him fully into her mouth and began to suckle him, he let out a loud raw shout and forced her to move away from him.
He wasn’t gentle with her. He was close to gaining his release, and he was determined to give her pleasure first. He lifted her up, roughly parted her thighs, and forced her to straddle him.
“Take me inside you,” he ordered in a voice that sounded as though he were in acute pain.
She shook her head. “Not yet,” she whispered. She leaned forward and put the flat of her hand on his shoulder. And then she began to torment him with sweet kisses. The tip of her tongue rubbed across his lips. Harrison cupped the back of her neck and leaned up, forcing her to deepen the kiss. Her tongue moved inside then to stroke the roof of his mouth.
Harrison couldn’t stand being passive any longer. His hands moved to fondle her breasts. She moved restlessly against him, letting him know how much she liked the way he touched her.
He stroked her stomach, and then his hand moved down between her thighs, and he began to ready her with his fingers. When he felt her wet heat, his hands moved to her hips. He lifted her up until the tip of his erection penetrated her and slowly forced her to take him deep inside her.
She wasn’t certain what she was supposed to do now, but the urge to move made her begin to rotate her hips.
He let out a low groan and clasped her hips tight. It was all the encouragement she needed. She focused all of her concentration on pleasuring him and gaining her own satisfaction. Her movements were instinctive now, though certainly awkward, but Harrison didn’t seem to mind.
She stayed in control until he reached down and began to caress her into gaining her own orgasm, and when he couldn’t hold out any longer and he thrust up hard inside her and spilled his seed, the silky walls surrounding him began to spasm and tighten. She cried out his name in a near shout as she found her own fulfillment.
Moments later she collapsed on top of him. The side of her face rested against his chest. His heartbeat thundered in her ears and seemed to be as erratic and loud as her own.
It took him a long while to come back to reality. He held her in his arms and couldn’t seem to stop stroking her while he slowly regained his strength and his wits.
When he was finally able to speak again, he said, “What was that all about?”
She suddenly felt embarrassed by what she’d done to him. “You didn’t like it?” she whispered.
He heard the worry in her voice and started to laugh. Not like it? Just thinking about her sweet wet mouth coming down on top of him made him want to make love to her again. Hell, he was already beginning to feel the first stirrings of arousal.
He twisted her hair in his hand, forced her to lift up her head and look at him, and then grinned at her. “Yeah, I liked it. Couldn’t you tell?”
She smiled with pleasure. “I thought you did. I like the way you taste.”
He let out a low groan. Then he pulled her down for a long kiss. One wasn’t enough, and so he kissed her again and again, and it wasn’t long at all before they were both restless for more.
They made love a second time, though the pace was much slower. Harrison wouldn’t let her have much control. He was determined to torment her in just the same way she’d tormented him. They were both thoroughly undone and satisfied.
When at last it was time to get dressed, Mary Rose was yawning. Harrison looked just as tired, she was happy to notice.
Ann Marie insisted on putting her hair up in a cluster of curls behind her head. Mary Rose gave in once the servant explained she was following Lady Lillian’s instructions.
Harrison told her she looked beautiful. After three hours of being gawked at and questioned by a horde of well-meaning relatives, she wasn’t so certain how she looked. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about the way she walked and talked. The evening was a strain on her, for she wasn’t used to being the center of attention, but she held on to her smile and tried to be understanding about their curiosity.
Her Aunt Barbara was a force to be reckoned with. The woman was tall and very well endowed. She accepted Mary Rose as her niece the moment she saw her. She took her into her arms, smashed her face into her bosoms, and began to pound her on her back as though she were a crying infant in need of calming.
“You poor, poor child,” she repeated over and over. “It’s all right now. You’re home with your family. Everything’s going to be fine. We’re all here to love you and take care of you.”
Aunt Barbara wouldn’t let go of her. Uncle Robert finally came to her rescue. “You’re smothering her, Barbara,” he announced a scant second before he pulled Mary Rose into his arms and hugged the breath right out of her.
She looked at Harrison while she was being embraced and saw his amusement. He stood across the drawing room with her father, watching her being pulled in three directions at once.
She smiled at him and then turned her attention back to her extremely affectionate aunt and uncle. Their acceptance of her was humbling, though several of their comments were most bewildering. Her Aunt Barbara seemed to think Mary Rose had suffered some deplorable injustice over the past years. She wasn’t a victim, for heaven’s sake, but by the end of the evening, she realized all of her relatives thought she was.
She tried not to become angry with them. They didn’t understand what a rich and full life she had with her brothers, she reasoned, and that was why they all thought she’d been deprived.
She was introduced to her cousins and found them all perfectly delightful. The oldest was just fourteen and getting ready for her introduction to society. Her five younger sisters were like stair steps in age and appearance. The youngest was a boy, named Robert after his father. He was seven years old and didn’t want to be bothered meeting his cousin. The moment he’d run into the drawing room, he�
��d spotted Harrison and hadn’t left his side since. The child obviously adored Mary Rose’s husband.
The children weren’t allowed to dine with the adults and were sent upstairs when supper was announced.
Mary Rose thought it was odd to exclude the children, but she didn’t make her opinion known, for her Aunt Lillian had already cautioned her to guard what she said.
She was seated between her Aunt Barbara and her Aunt Lillian. Harrison was at the opposite end of the table.
Dining, she soon realized, was a solemn affair. No one spoke above a whisper, and waiters hovered about while they served the food from beautiful silver platters.
Mary Rose made her first error before she’d even begun to eat. She asked her aunt if they were going to say grace. Her father heard the question and suggested she lead them in a prayer of thanksgiving.
She did just that, but didn’t finish her prayer. No one would have heard her anyway, given the fact that her aunt Lillian was screeching like an attacking Indian.
“Dear God, William, they raised her Catholic. What are we to do?”
“You poor child,” Barbara interjected. “You poor, poor child.”
“I’m not Catholic yet,” Mary Rose said. “I haven’t made up my mind which religion I shall embrace.”
“You haven’t made up your mind? Victoria, the Elliott family have been faithful members of the Church of England for years and years. You’re an Elliott, my dear,” Lillian explained.
“Can’t I be an Elliott and a Catholic at the same time? Or Jewish or ...”
Lillian’s loud gasp of disapproval made Mary Rose stop. She guessed she’d rattled her aunt with her opinions, she concluded, when the dear woman knocked over her water glass.
“I didn’t wish to upset you,” Mary Rose said. “My brothers and I decided to study all the different religions before we made up our minds.”
“We have our work cut out for us, Lillian,” Barbara announced.
Lillian nodded agreement. “It’s difficult to know where to begin. There’s so much to change.”
For the Roses Page 50