Valentine's Rose

by E. E. Burke

  “We won’t.”

  “Won’t?” Wide eyes searched his.

  “Be together.” For some awful reason he couldn’t speak in more than two-word sentences.

  “Ah. We don’t have much time before everyone comes upstairs, you mean?” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and hunger flared in the green depths. “Do you want to...? Will ye please...?” The last three words came out in a soft whisper. “Kiss me again?”

  Every muscle in his body tightened. Primitive signals raced to nerve endings and the blood in his veins thickened and heated. He stared at her parted lips, mesmerized. Her mouth was only a few inches away, so easy to reach. There ought to be a reason he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t think past the need pounding through him.

  Her eyelids lowered to half-mast. He cradled her head at the same time she looped her arms around his middle. He didn’t have to draw her to him. Their lips met as if magnetized.

  How long they stood there kissing, he didn’t know. It could’ve been a minute or an hour. He’d lost track of time, lost all sense of everything but how sweet she tasted and her supple body. His hands roved freely over womanly curves, and she didn’t lift a finger to stop him. Instead, she leaned into him when his fingers shaped her breasts through the silk bodice.

  Her ripeness and eagerness, combined with a sweet innocence, stoked the fire burning in his loins until it became a roaring blaze. He grew desperate to remove her clothes, layer-by-layer, until he reached smooth skin and breasts with tips as rosy as her cheeks.

  She laid her hand on his jaw, slid her fingers upward over his ear, threading them through his hair, tentative at first, and then with more confidence. Stroking. Her sighs accompanied his guttural moans as pleasure rippled over his scalp and fanned out across his shoulders, chest and back. Desire tightened his groin and squeezed until he gasped.

  Val fought a mindless urge to bear her to bed, toss up her skirts and plunge into her, over and over, until he’d released the inferno.

  “Mama?” A child’s voice penetrated the sensual haze.

  Alarm arrested lust. Good God.

  Val ripped his lips away, at the same time protectively folding his wife against his pounding heart. He swiveled his head in the direction of the voice.

  A young boy peeked around the end of the divider, the same boy who’d escorted Rose. Had he followed them up here?

  Anger boiled up, joining the stew of uncomfortable emotions, including a heavy spoonful of guilt. Val turned his ire on the intruder. “What are you doing in here?”

  “No, don’t scare him...” Rose wriggled out of Val’s embrace and went immediately to the boy. “Danny? Are ye all right, darlin’? Does yer mother know where ye are?”

  The child blinked at her, stupefied. His hair stuck up on one side like he’d been sleeping on it. Val’s conscience tweaked him. He shouldn’t have been so harsh.

  “Got tired.” Danny rubbed his eyes with a fist.

  “I imagine you did, after travelin’ so far, and all this excitement.” Rose ran her fingers through the child’s tufted hair, smoothing it into place in a gesture that seemed as natural to her as breathing. “Is that yer stomach makin’ that noise? I saw some sandwiches downstairs, and there might be a piece of pie left...”

  Danny tugged his coat into place. After throwing a worried look in Val’s direction, he raced out the door.

  Val muttered an oath under his breath. He should’ve thanked the lad, not scolded. If not for the timely intervention, he might’ve had Rose unclothed by now, or worse. That would’ve ended any hope of giving her a respectable annulment. No matter how much he lusted after her, he couldn’t act on his urges, not anymore. He’d sworn to control his spontaneous nature and not ruin another person’s life.

  If he took Rose home with him, his family and those who moved in their circles would shun her. It would be beyond cruel to expose her to that kind of ridicule. Sweet as she was, she could never fit into his life. She’d be better off here, in western America, where people didn’t care about bloodlines.

  His responsibilities awaited him in England. He’d return, possibly win back Anne, if she’d forgive him for jilting her. He still wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He’d wanted her for years. But for the life of him, he couldn’t bring Anne’s image to mind. Not when Rose approached, her face flushed and her lips curved up in a welcoming smile.

  “Poor Danny. He’s not sat down since we got off the train. I’m surprised he woke up. But he’s gone now...” In other words, she wanted to take up where they’d left off.

  Val reached to straighten his tie. She’d undone the bow. He’d undone more than that. He stared in horror at her gaping bodice. Good God, had he done that? Through the thin camisole, he could see the outline of her breasts, pushed up by a tight corset.

  His mouth grew cotton.

  She glanced down, appeared surprised, and then covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. “Don’t suppose he noticed.”

  Val shook his head, disbelieving. If a beautiful woman had thrust her barely covered breasts in his face when he was seven, he would’ve noticed. “He has eyes.”

  Something in his expression made her smile vanish. She tugged her bodice together and fumbled with the buttons. “I’m sorry. It’s not very ladylike...”

  No, he would not have her chastise herself for his misbehavior. He caught her hands. “Rose, you did nothing wrong. I’m the one who’s to blame for unbuttoning your dress.”

  The distress on her face faded. “You’re me husband, Val. That gives you the right to unbutton anythin’ you want...” A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “As long as I’m the one wearin’ it.”

  His heart gave a hard twist in his chest. He’d be the lowest cad to take advantage of Rose’s sweet vulnerability. He had to extract himself from this marriage before he injured her so badly she would find it impossible to heal. Whatever pain he suffered in the process was no more than he deserved.

  He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Sweet Rose. I have no rights where you’re concerned. We entered into this marriage quickly...too quickly. But I promise, I’ll set things right. As soon as I sell my property, I’ll set up a fund for you. Ensure you can be independent, go anywhere you’d like, marry anyone you want. You’ll have something more valuable than a forced marriage. You’ll have your freedom.”

  Chapter 6

  Rose gaped at him, struck dumb with astonishment, which was followed by a sick pitch of her stomach. With just a few words, Val destroyed her new life. Like the fire that had raged through the apartment building where she’d lived, killing the last two people on earth she most loved and who loved her, leaving her without a family or a place to belong. Val had taken everything away and left her with nothing. Nothing she truly wanted.

  A tremor started in her chest and moved down her arms to her hands. She withdrew them from his grasp before he felt them shaking. He didn’t try to hold on, which just reinforced what he’d told her, that he was ending their marriage, giving her freedom, which sounded more like he was paying her to go away.

  “Rose?” The concern on his face didn’t match the cruel words that had just fallen from his lips. “You look pale. Sit down before you swoon.”

  She shook her head. “Tis no swoon I feel, I’m alamort.”

  “Alamort?”

  He wouldn’t know the slang from the world she’d grown up in. Neither would anyone else, so she’d have to remember to speak regular English.

  “Confounded.”

  She turned and walked past the bed she’d thought they would be sharing, crossed over to the window. The sun blinded her as it fell into the horizon. She felt as if she were falling, too. Falling, her wings on fire, when just a moment ago she’d been soaring. They hadn’t been wed more than two hours and already Val regretted it.

  A fearful thought sent her hands to the bodice of the borrowed dress. She touched the buttons to make sure she’d secured them. Val might’ve been disgusted when she’d paraded her goods in front of
Danny. She wasn’t a loose goose, like he must think. Could be that’s why he decided he didn’t want her.

  The small hairs on her arms and neck prickled, same as what had happened downstairs when he’d come up behind her. Strange, how she’d never been so aware of anyone in her life, and yet he could release her as easy as opening his hand.

  “Rose.” His low, cultured voice vibrated over her. She hugged her arms, desperate to stop her body’s quivering response. How pathetic she must appear, trembling over the sound of her name on his lips.

  “I didn’t mean to...” he started.

  Now he would tell her he’d never wanted her, not even a little bit. Heat scalded her cheeks. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you didn’t mean to kiss me.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” His tone held a hint of annoyance. “I meant to kiss you, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to kiss you again.”

  He didn’t want her, but he wanted her. He wasn’t making any sense, or maybe she was too dull-witted to understand. If he wanted to kiss her again, he had only to touch her, anywhere, and she would turn into his arms.

  “What I’m trying to say,” his tone turned soft, regretful. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  He’d given her hope and then ripped it away, and he thought it wouldn’t hurt?

  Misery clogged her throat. She swallowed, so her voice wouldn’t come out wobbly and weak. “What did you think I would feel?”

  For a moment, he went silent. He hadn’t expected the question, or worse, hadn’t even thought about how this might affect her. “There’s no excuse, I know. I should’ve made clear my reasons for entering into marriage.”

  That wasn’t how he’d deceived her. “Oh, your reasons were clear enough. I knew you was marrying me so you could get Mr. Hardt to sign over that property. I just didn’t know you weren’t planning on staying married. That’s why you wouldn’t agree to as long as you both shall live.”

  “I didn’t want to lie.”

  He thought hedging on this detail absolved him? Anger swept in, giving her a brief respite from her misery and the strength to face him. “You lied when you said I do.”

  His lips tightened and his face muscles froze. Now she knew where the phrase “stiff upper lip” came from, these unfeeling Englishmen. Oh, there might be a flicker of regret in those light-as-crystal eyes, but it could be her mind playing tricks, or her foolish, hopeful heart.

  She clenched her fists, wanted to strike him, make him bleed like she was bleeding. Only, she’d seen enough violence—in Five Points and with them boys coming home broken from the war—to know it never solved anything. Venting wouldn’t change his mind, and afterwards, she would only feel worse. If he’d hurt her, wasn’t it mostly her fault anyway? She’d all but proposed, and he’d been pressured into doing something he didn’t want to do.

  Her shoulders sagged. She relaxed her fists. She’d survived after losing her family. She would survive the loss of a husband she’d known only a few hours.

  Sinking onto the side of the bed, she leaned forward and put her head in her hands.

  Val sat beside her. Strange man. Hadn’t he just said he was done with her, and yet here he remained, hovering like a worried uncle?

  She cocked her head and stole a furtive look out of the side of her eye. He’d propped his arms on his knees and stared at the floor. Did he have mixed feelings, or was he just hesitant to go downstairs and admit it had all been a mistake?

  A cool breeze from the open window bathed her heated skin. The sun had turned the sky brilliant shades of red and orange. Were she not so miserable, she would get up and look, having never seen sunsets like these. Soon, it would be evening. People would think they were up here doing what freshly married folks generally do, what her body ached for. He’d awoken something inside her with a kiss and his continued presence tormented her.

  “What are you sitting here for? I thought you said I was a mistake.”

  He sat upright and gripped her by her arm, pulled her around and took hold of her shoulders, pinning her with a hard gaze. “You are not a mistake. That is not how I think of you, not at all. You’re a very lovely, appealing woman. If my situation were different...” He let the statement hang, letting her fill in what he didn’t say, which was, they might’ve had a chance, except for something he hadn’t explained.

  “What situation?”

  He seemed to realize he was still holding her. With a start, he released her shoulders and dropped his hands to his thighs. “The reason I’m here, the only reason I came to America was to make my fortune. So I will be able to...to restore... What I’ve been trying to say is, I’m not staying, Rose. I have to return home.”

  She let his explanation sink in, what he’d said without saying it. A poor Irish girl wasn’t part of his plans. Why should she be? The way he spoke, his manner, his clothing, all indicated an upbringing far above hers. She’d known that the moment he’d opened his mouth. Had they happened to meet in New York, which wouldn’t have been likely, he’d have paid her no notice. A high bloke like him would’ve been far beyond her reach. But out here, where stars twinkled so bright they looked close enough to touch, she had reached for one and caught it. She should’ve known she couldn’t keep him.

  Or could she?

  She studied his profile, lingering on his firm lips. He’d said he wanted her, the way he kissed her confirmed it, and he’d called her lovely and appealing. That didn’t sound like a man who wanted to get rid of her. If she learned to be a lady, he might reconsider.

  Without education, with limited resources, how could she learn enough to be the kind of wife he’d be proud to have by his side?

  Susannah could help. She displayed a well-bred upbringing, perhaps not as lofty as Val’s, but good enough she’d know the finer points of being a lady. In return, Rose could offer to watch Danny while Susannah held court to find a proper suitor.

  Rose relaxed her fingers from their tight grip. Her tension eased somewhat, now that she had a chance—if there remained enough time. “When will you leave for England?”

  He cocked his eyebrow at her. Was he surprised she hadn’t fallen into weeping or begging? She was stronger than that. Maybe fine ladies blubbered and carried on? She’d have to ask Susannah.

  “Are you ready to be rid of me? I wouldn’t blame you.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “Oh no, you can’t leave until you get your fortune.”

  Val’s lips formed a wry smile. “We’ll have to wait to see if it can be called that. First, I have to take a look at the property, do some drilling to see if the rumor is true about coal deposits. Then I’ll need to do a survey.”

  Rose breathed easier. “That’ll take some time. We better stay married until you get it sorted out so nobody can challenge your claim.”

  His brow furrowed. “You’d be willing to do that? You’d remain my wife even though you know it can’t be...it won’t be for very long?”

  He sounded very certain, as if nothing would change his mind.

  Her confidence wavered. It would take a miracle. Then again, it had been a miracle when he was the first man to walk through the door of the hotel. She’d taken it as a sign, and she would hold tight to that belief.

  Rose twisted to face him so she could converse more easily. Really she just wanted to be able to look at him, he was so pleasing to the eye. She had to come up with a good reason for doing this and get him to agree. “You said you want to help me. So it’s only fair I help you. I don’t think you should say anything to anybody about leaving just yet. We’ll go on like everything’s fine, and then when the time comes, you just leave. Make up a story about somebody dying, and then just don’t come back.”

  The astonishment on his face would’ve been amusing, if she’d felt like laughing.

  If things went the way she hoped, he’d be taking her with him. Not that she had much interest in moving to England. She’d prefer to stay here and make a home somewhere she felt she
could easily fit in. But he wasn’t having it, and she wasn’t willing to let him go and look for another husband. This one suited her better than any man she’d ever met.

  “Are you certain? You’re willing to pretend we’re happily married for the time it takes to get this thing settled?”

  “I am. As long you’re willing to pretend along with me.”

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Val escorted Rose to breakfast in the dining room. They sat with her friends and Rose put on a perfect act, playing the part of the blushing bride on the day after her wedding. No one would guess her husband had slept on the floor.

  Sleep was too generous a word. He’d spent the night wide-awake thinking about his wife, who lay just a few feet away. For some reason, knowing they were wed stimulated his lust like nothing else. After he’d told her of his plans, Rose had done nothing to beguile him, other than being beautiful and sweet. He didn’t know how he’d manage another night without touching her.

  Not only had erotic thoughts robbed him of sleep, guilt had done its part as well. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the look on Rose’s face when he’d told her they wouldn’t remain married. She’d been devastated. He hadn’t thought it possible to hate himself more than he already did, but he was wrong.

  Her response, though, flummoxed him. No tears, no recriminations, which he’d expected. Instead, she suggested they act as if nothing were amiss because it would make things go smoother. Perhaps she’d decided he wasn’t worth as much as the money she stood to gain from the sale of the property...an unflattering thought, yet no more than he deserved.

  Val finished the fluffy American biscuit and drank down a cup of coffee laced with sugar and cream, trying to eat fast without appearing to rush. The sooner he got this claim settled, the sooner he could depart, and that would be the best thing for both of them.

  After laying his napkin on the table, he stood and sketched a slight bow. “I’ll leave you ladies to enjoy the morning.”