Rose_Bride of Colorado

by Margery Scott

  Rose had been in Colorado less than two weeks, and already he was growing to care about her, more than he’d thought he could ever care for one woman.

  He didn’t want to care about her, didn’t like what caring about her was doing to him, but his feelings weren’t something he’d been able to control.

  Not only did her kisses and her body drive him wild with need, but he liked her. Liked her intelligence, her wit, her unceasing optimism.

  And if he could believe what she’d told him more than once, she’d fallen in love with the ranch, the land, the mountains.

  “How’s married life?” George’s voice interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. “You and your new wife getting along?”

  If getting along meant Charlie spent most nights in the barn because being in bed beside Rose made it impossible to sleep, then they were getting along great.

  George eyed him curiously. “You’re not, are you?”

  “Sometimes I wish we weren’t friends,” Charlie grumbled good-naturedly. “You can see right through me.”

  George crossed to the pot-bellied stove in the corner and poured two mugs of coffee. “That I can,” he said, handing one to Charlie. “What’s the problem?”

  “She can’t cook, can’t do laundry, can’t do much of anything except embroider and play the piano.”

  “So she’s a disappointment.”

  Charlie set his mug on the table and began to pace. “No. That’s the trouble. Even though we’re likely to starve to death and the house is a disaster, I like having her around.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  “And she wants to work the ranch,” Charlie went on.

  George’s brows lifted. “She does?”

  “She says she’s not afraid of hard work.”

  “That’s an advantage in a ranch wife.”

  Charlie nodded. “That’s true, but the worst of it is, I want her in my bed.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “She is,” Charlie muttered. “She’s skittish, scared to death when I come near her. Although she does let me kiss her every night now. But if I try to go any further, she pulls away like—”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Damned if I know. Got any ideas?”

  George scratched his chin, the beard he’d been trying to grow still nothing more than a few scraggly hairs. “I’m stumped, but if you like her as a person, there’s worse things than a marriage based on that.”

  “I suppose that’s true. But I want more than that.”

  “Then you’ve got a decision to make.”

  Charlie nodded. He was surprised that he wasn’t willing to end the marriage, since he hadn’t wanted it in the first place. And his reluctance didn’t even have anything to do with his inheritance. Over the past few days, he’d discovered his father’s ultimatum didn’t even matter anymore. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was falling for Rose.

  This was now about him and Rose, and whether they had a future. He was a normal man, with normal needs. He couldn’t imagine living like a monk for the rest of his life, but at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t betray Rose by going to town to take care of those needs.

  He could force the issue, since he did have rights, but as he’d told Rose in the beginning, he’d never forced a woman into his bed, and he never would.

  As he made his way back to the mercantile a few minutes later, he’d made a decision.

  It was time to make this a real marriage.

  * * *

  The bell above the door tinkled as Rose entered the mercantile. Charlie had dropped her off and had gone to do some business at the bank, and then to visit with a friend a few buildings away while Rose mailed her letters and did her shopping.

  “I don’t understand what takes women so long to decide on a spool of thread or a can of fruit,” he’d teased when she’d told him she needed at least a half hour.

  “I’ll try to be quicker,” she promised.

  He laughed. “Take your time,” he said, then rode away.

  She paused just inside the doorway, her gaze taking in the interior of the shop. The building was much smaller than any of the shops Rose had frequented back east, but it was packed to the rafters with everything from canned goods to fabric to nails and medical supplies.

  The silver-haired woman behind the counter sent a smile in her direction and waved. “I’ll be with you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” she called out cheerfully, then leaned forward to help two small boys whose heads barely reached the counter, their expressions serious as they pondered their selection of penny candy and licorice sticks.

  “Sorry to have taken so long,” the woman said as Rose approached the counter once the boys were gone, their excitement noticeable. “Those two come in every week with their penny each to spend, and I like to let them take their time deciding what to spend it on. But listen to me, blathering on. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s quite all right,” Rose replied. “I had a lovely drive into town this morning and I’m in no hurry.”

  “It is a beautiful day, isn’t it? The only thing that’s missing is the heather blooming on the hillsides.”

  Recognizing the unmistakable Scottish brogue in the woman’s voice, Rose’s memory drifted back to her home in Massachusetts, and the housekeeper who had practically raised her, and who she missed dreadfully. A sudden wave of homesickness washed over her. Her throat tightened, and she took in a few deep breaths to quell the tears threatening to spill over.

  “Are you all right?” the woman asked. “You look a bit peely-wally.”

  Rose gave her a wan smile. “I’m fine. You remind me of home, that’s all.”

  “Ah, that happens to me all the time.”

  A female voice calling her name from behind interrupted their conversation. “Why, Mrs. Halstead, I’m surprised to see you again so soon.”

  Rose spun around to see Eugenie approaching her, resplendent in a pale green silk gown and matching feathery hat Rose suspected had been imported from Europe. Her heart triple-timed in her chest, and her fingers began to tremble inside her gloves. She forced a smile to her lips as the woman stopped only a few feet away.

  “We didn’t have a chance to get acquainted properly the last time we met, and we were never formally introduced,” Eugenie went on. “I’m Eugenie Apsley.”

  No, they hadn’t been introduced or gotten acquainted, Rose thought, but that was because the woman hadn’t taken the time to do more than send a scathing glance her way before physically attacking Charlie. And now, Rose had no desire to get to know her.

  Still, her upbringing wouldn’t allow her to be rude. “My pleasure,” she muttered, doing her best to hide the contempt she felt.

  “How are you settling in?” Eugenie asked. “The ranch is so isolated I’m sure it seems very quiet to someone like you, coming from a big city. It must be hard to get used to.”

  Rose plastered a smile on her face. “Precisely the opposite. I love the ranch, the house, everything about it. And I’m quite happy to hear birds chirping rather than wagon wheels rattling on cobblestones.”

  “Oh … well … that’s nice …”

  “It most certainly is.”

  “I understand you come from Massachusetts,” Eugenie said. “Boston?”

  “No,” Rose replied. “Princeton.”

  A twinge of something – satisfaction? - crossed Eugenie’s face so quickly Rose barely noticed it, but as soon as she did, she knew she’d said too much.

  Already she’d realized Eugenie wasn’t a woman to make small talk, especially with the woman who’d “stolen” her man. Rose had known other women like Eugenie – cold, calculating, and always with ulterior motives.

  Eugenie slid a glance at the dark green calico dress Rose had put on that morning. Rose followed her gaze, noticing the creases in the skirt from sitting on the buggy seat.

  Her mind slipped back to the days when she would have been mortified to be s
een in public with a wrinkle in her gown. Now it didn’t bother her, at least not much.

  “I’m sure calico would irritate my skin,” Eugenie commented, “but it seems to suit you.”

  Rose was well aware of the veiled insult, and she refused to let Eugenie make her feel inferior. “Actually,” she said as sweetly as she could manage, “I find it quite comfortable, and now that I’m used to it, I find myself wondering how I could have ever worn silk. After all, it does come from worms.”

  Eugenie’s cheeks flushed, and Rose wondered if she recognized the jibe. “Worms?”

  “You didn’t know that?” Rose bit her lip to contain a smile.

  “Why … no, I … worms?”

  Rose nodded. “Well, caterpillars, actually. Originally from China. Now I’d love to chat, but I do have shopping to do, and Charlie will be here soon.”

  As if she’d conjured him up, the door opened and Charlie walked in. Her heart skittered in her chest, and a strange tingling flowed through her when she met his dark gaze and he smiled at her. She’d had that reaction several times over the past few days, and if she had a friend here in Colorado, she might have shared her confusion at the feelings suddenly filling her whenever he was nearby. Instead, she’d had to put her feelings into letters to her old friends from back east and hope they might have some advice for her.

  He nodded briefly in Eugenie’s direction. “Good morning, Eugenie.”

  “Charlie.” Eugenie’s voice was harsh. Turning to Rose, she added, “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon. Goodbye.” Without another word, she spun around, her silk skirt catching against a display of wicker baskets. With a gasp, she tugged at the fabric, dislodging the baskets. They toppled and spilled onto the floor.

  Ignoring the mess, she stormed out the door.

  “Well, I’ll be—” the woman behind the counter huffed out as the door slammed behind Eugenie.

  “Do you need me to carry anything for you?” Charlie asked Rose, pretending he hadn’t seen Eugenie’s departure. “I don’t want you lifting anything too heavy.”

  She chuckled. “I haven’t even started yet. I’ve been talking with Eugenie and …” She turned back to the shopkeeper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Rose Winchester … oh, I mean Rose Halstead.”

  “Moira MacLean.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. MacLean—”

  “Moira,” she interrupted. “I’m happy to meet you, too.”

  “Now, what can I do for you? Looks like Charlie’s got a burr in his backside.”

  Rose laughed, noticing the serious expression on Charlie’s face. “You’re back sooner than I expected.

  Ignoring her comment, he glanced at the door. “I hope Eugenie wasn’t bothering you. I don’t trust her not to cause trouble.”

  Rose considered telling Charlie about their conversation, but finally decided against it. “She can’t do anything to me that I can’t handle,” she told him.

  Considering the look she’d seen in Eugenie’s eyes, she only hoped she was telling the truth.

  Chapter 8

  “Do you think we’ll get back before the rain starts?’ Rose asked Charlie an hour later. They were still a fair distance from the ranch, and dark clouds were scudding across the sky. The temperature had dropped and a chilly wind had whipped up. Rose shivered and drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  “Maybe. Hard to tell.”

  Rose glanced over at Charlie. He’d been quieter than usual since they’d left town, and she couldn’t help wondering what had happened between the time he’d left her at the mercantile to go and visit with his friend and when he’d come back and loaded her packages into the buggy.

  “Is everything all right?” she ventured finally, tired of the silence between them.

  He nodded.

  “You seem preoccupied,” she pressed.

  “Things on my mind.”

  She shifted in her seat to look at him. “What things?”

  “Not now. This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because … it just isn’t …”

  Reaching over, Rose grabbed the reins and drew back. The horses slowed to a stop.

  Charlie looked at her as if she was addle-brained. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to know what’s on your mind,” she said, her voice softening as she rested her fingers on his forearm.

  “Nothing for you to be worried about,” he insisted.

  “Charlie—”

  “Hell, Rose,” he sputtered out, “if you have to know, it’s you. You. You’re driving me crazy.”

  “I’m sorry … I’m trying to learn …”

  He let out a laugh. “No, it’s not that. I’d like it fine if you learned how to cook better and take care of the house, but that’s not my problem.”

  “Then what—?”

  “I know I promised to give you time, and I will. I’ll give you as much time as you need, but you need to know I want us to be married in every way. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  Rose’s heartbeat tripled, and her breath caught in her throat. “I do …”

  He wrapped the reins around the brake and turned to face her. His knees touched hers, and his voice grew strained and gruff. “You’re on my mind. Every minute of every day. I want to make love to you. I want to have a family some day, but that’s never going to happen if you won’t let me do more than kiss you.”

  “I …”

  “I really thought you’d be ready by now,” he said, “but at least now that spring is here, it’s a bit warmer in the barn now than it used to be.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. “What does the barn have to do with anything?”

  “The barn is where I’ve been sleeping every night. You didn’t even know that, did you?”

  “No … that’s not possible … you come to bed with me …”

  “And as soon as you fall asleep, I leave. I can’t stand lying next to you, wanting to touch you, to love you, knowing you don’t want me in the same way.”

  “It’s not that …” Heaven knew it wasn’t that she didn’t want to try, to be his wife properly. If his kisses could make her feel the way they did, she couldn’t imagine what doing …the other … with him could do to her. And she really did want to find out.

  Only … She was so afraid of disappointing him that it was easier to pretend she wasn’t interested. “I’m sorry …”

  “So when you’re ready, let me know. I just hope it’s soon because that barn floor isn’t the most comfortable. Now, can we go home? I still have chores to do.”

  She nodded, just as the first raindrop plopped onto her nose.

  * * *

  Rose ran her index finger along the line of instructions in the cookbook, then added the strawberry mixture to the pastry in the pie plate. This was her first time trying to make anything other than apple cobbler for dessert, and since Charlie had been so patient with her other cooking mishaps – and he’d eaten most of it even though they both knew it was awful – she wanted to make something sweet for him.

  He’d mentioned once that one of his favorites was strawberry pie. He’d pointed out a patch of wild berries on their way home from town a few days before and commented that they’d ripened early. So after he’d left to work with his father the day before, she’d put on her hat and taken a basket to where she’d seen the wild strawberries growing beside the trail.

  The stew she’d prepared earlier was ready, and for the first time she’d even managed to make biscuits without burning the bottoms. By the time Charlie came home, the pie would be baked.

  A sense of completeness overcame her and she laughed out loud, the sound filling the empty house. She couldn’t remember ever being happier, and she was sure a big part of the joy she woke with every day was because of Charlie.

  Not only was he handsome to look at, but he was kind and more patient than any man she’d ever known. He ate whatever she cooked
without complaint, even though she saw him struggle to swallow some of her offerings. If she asked for help, he didn’t hesitate. And for the past few days, he’d gone out of his way to be even more considerate than he usually was. If they weren’t already married, she’d have thought he was trying to court her.

  As she put the pie into the oven, she heard the door close behind her. She expected Charlie to call out a greeting, but when she didn’t hear any movement or his voice, she straightened and spun around.

  He stormed across the room, his expression dark, his jaw tense.

  “What’s wrong?” Her voice quivered and she clasped her hands tightly together to prevent him seeing her trembling. Did he know?

  “I let Wally go this morning.” He raked his fingers through his hair and massaged the back of his neck. “I hated to do it, but I had no choice. I’ll put up with a lot, but I can’t abide lies.”

  Rose’s heart tripped. Not that he hadn’t told her that, but now …

  Surely whatever Wally did must have been more serious than just a lie. Something unforgivable. “What happened?”

  “He was supposed to be checking fence lines yesterday afternoon. When I asked him, he lied, told me he had. I found out this morning that he lied, that he went into town instead.”

  “What did he say when you confronted him?”

  “Not much. He eventually confessed, and said it wouldn’t happen again. I told him I knew that because he wouldn’t be working here after today.”

  Rose’s heart thundered in her chest. He’d told her in the beginning how he felt about honesty. Now he was showing he meant it. From what she’d heard, Wally had worked on the ranch since Charlie was a boy. Yet he’d fired him because of one lie.

  “Has he done anything like this before?” she asked, hoping the lie was just the latest in a series of issues he’d had with the man.

  Charlie shook his head. “I’ve known him practically my whole life. I trusted him,” he said, sadness creeping into his voice.

  “If this is the first time—”

  “How many times should I let him lie to me?” He lifted his head and stared into Rose’s eyes. “How can I ever trust him again?”