Defiant Rose

by Colleen Quinn

  The hotel dining room was well-furnished and the food excellent. The waiter brought succulent beef, glasses of good rich burgundy, and an assortment of vegetables and potatoes. Famished, Rosemary ate quickly, relishing the good food.

  Michael smiled at her enthusiasm, understanding completely. After days of show food, any home-cooked meal was appreciated, and that of the elegant restaurant doubly so.

  When the meal was finished, the waiter brought delicious coffee and a bowlful of fresh strawberries and after-dinner cordials. Michael dipped a strawberry into the cordial, letting the brandy soak into the delicate fruit.

  “Try this.” After fishing the fruit out of the drink with his fork, he fed her the strawberry dripping with brandy. She leaned forward and took the succulent berry into her mouth, feeling the metallic texture of the fork against her soft lips and the cold burn of the liquor. The fruit, soaked in the cordial, was sweet and wonderful, and his gesture was appealingly sexy.

  Rosemary sighed. God, he knew how to do everything right. The wine made her feel light-headed, and the strawberry was delectable. Emotion swelled up within her as she stared at him. He was so handsome, the black hair curling crisply at his collar, his eyes filled with laughter and an expression she’d never thought she’d see directed at her. All she could think about was touching that hair, touching him…

  “Excuse me, but I thought I recognized you,” a man said in a clipped voice, and Michael glanced up, annoyed. “Michael Wharton, isn’t it? We met at the Locust Club last year. I know your mother very well.”

  “Matthew Baird.” Michael reluctantly rose from the table and extended a hand. “How’s the railroad business?”

  “Booming.” Matthew twitched his waxed mustache and grinned. Balding, with a round belly and an amiable face, he looked like a politician, cheerful and full of false hope. “Stocks are up two hundred percent, and the building just continues. We are seeing the beginning of a new era, East meets West, and man conquers the frontier.” His eyes drifted to Rosemary, and he gave her a curious smile. “May I meet the enchanting lady?”

  “Miss Rosemary Carney, Mr. Matthew Baird,” Michael said, growing more annoyed by the moment. He wanted nothing more than to carry Rosemary upstairs and make slow, exquisite love to her, but he couldn’t just dismiss the man.

  Matthew took Rosemary’s hand and smiled. “Charmed. I saw you at the opera. I must say you caused quite a stir. Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Yes, I thought it was wonderful,” Rosemary said enthusiastically.

  “Yes, it was quite good. But you must hear the Philadelphia orchestra. Speaking of which, your mother was asking about you, Michael. She says she hasn’t heard much from you since you left last spring. I daresay she misses you.”

  “She has Robert,” Michael said shortly.

  Rosemary glanced up, amazed. He’d been with her for months, they enjoyed an intimate relationship, but he’d seldom mentioned his family, and these two people not at all.

  “Your brother is away at school most of the time. You should write her, you know. She sent a note. She asked me to give it to you if I should see you.” He extended an envelope of the very best quality, and Rosemary could see the beautiful scrolling handwriting.

  “Thank you,” Michael said coldly. It was obvious that he didn’t like the idea of anyone meddling in his business, but Rosemary could only feel compassion for his mother, that she would go to such lengths to communicate with her son.

  “I’ll probably see her some time next week,” Matthew said shortly. “When will you be returning? We have the fall cotillion coming up. I’d like you to chair.”

  Rosemary froze, but Michael seemed nonplussed with the question and considered it thoughtfully.

  “I don’t know. Soon. I’ll write.” He put the note inside his jacket, and taking the hint Matthew smiled broadly and nodded.

  “I’ll look forward to it. Good evening. And it was a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

  When they finally finished the meal and went upstairs, Michael seemed moody and distracted. Rosemary stood shyly outside the door to her room, anticipating this moment. So far, most of their dalliances had been in his tent, far from the clowns, in a world where they could be alone without censure. Now everything was different.

  Michael unlocked the door, then allowed her to enter first. Rosemary stepped into the plush room, once again admiring the crystal lamps, the rosewood furniture, the carpet that was so soft her feet sank into it like the hay on the floor of the tents. Grinning like a child, she spun around, her face alight with happiness.

  “It really is beautiful. I’ve had such a good time tonight. How can I thank you?”

  The expression in his eyes darkened, and he caught her shoulders, holding her closely against him. “You’re what’s beautiful, Rosemary Carney. And I’ll be very happy to show you how to thank me….”

  The kiss was electric, containing all of the tension of any summer storm. Rosemary sighed, giving herself to him completely, loving the feel of this man against her, his mouth possessing hers, his tongue teasing her and making her want him with a passion she couldn’t explain. Her doubts and fears disappeared as his embrace tightened, and he held her so closely that her feet almost left the rug. Take it, Sean Carney had once told her. When you see happiness within your reach, take it, for God knows when you might see it again.

  “My God, Rose, no one kisses like you do.” He lifted his face from hers, amazed at the effect this clown-woman had on him. He saw her delightful blush, then she glanced at him with a peculiar sideways look that was half innocent, half teasing.

  “Is that bad?”

  “No, it’s not bad.” He caressed a lock of her hair, then ran his fingers through the silky texture, enjoying the feel of it. “But it makes me want to take you to that bed right now and love you.”

  Rosemary shivered, her eyes smoky with the picture he painted. “Then do it.”

  He knew he should wait, should court her more gently, especially since this was a treat for them in a good hotel, but Rosemary’s honest and open reaction made his blood pound. Without conscious decision he slipped his hand beneath her legs and swept her into his arms, ignoring her startled laughter. Carrying her to the bed, he chuckled as she clung to him closely, as if afraid he’d drop her. He did when he reached the sumptuous quilts, depositing her into the soft linen, but before she could scramble to her feet, he held her gently and began to undo her dress.

  “Michael, I can—”

  “No,” he began, pressing a kiss to her throat. “I want tonight to be special for you, something you can remember. I want to please you, to love you until you cry out for me and can’t stand another minute. I want to take you to the stars.”

  Rosemary’s mouth parted in surprise, but he kissed her, taking her well past comment, into a white-hot world of sexual desire. Whimpering softly, she felt him slip her dress down, his mouth pressing burning kisses on each part of her soft skin that he exposed until she thought she would go out of her mind. Her body, youthful and uninhibited, responded to this delicious treatment and Rosemary buried her hands in his hair, dissolving in unbelievable pleasure.

  When he finally got the dress off, and her undergarments, he began to slowly caress her, touching every part of her, from her hair down to her toes. Astonished, Rosemary discovered that the small of her back felt wonderful when caressed, the inside of her foot was devilishly sensitive, the underside of her arm was amazingly sensuous. He refused to let her touch him back but instead worshiped her with his mouth and hands, making her feel like a sexy and desirable woman.

  She was past speaking when he finally entered her, chuckling at her frantic response, but he still took his time, holding back, wanting to make this special for her. He lifted up and saw her expression, that of a ravished angel, and he nearly lost control. Her green eyes blazed with passion, her lips, stung red from his kisses, were unearthly and trembling, her hair a satin tumble all around her.
Her eyes fluttered, and she looked at him pleadingly, more aroused than she ever thought possible.

  “Please,” she whispered, driven by need. “Now.”

  He couldn’t resist after that. This woman, this very special woman, had gotten under his skin like no other. Losing all control, he gave into the desire that racked his body, driving into her again and again, hearing her sob of satisfaction as he brought them both to fulfillment and back. It was only when their ragged heartbeats finally slowed that she came back to earth, and then, unbelievably, chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” He raised on one arm to look at her, and she grinned enchantingly.

  “You should have done this when you first came to Carney’s,” Rosemary said. “We’d have had a lot less to fight about.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Still grinning, he rose from the bed, seeing her face turn from laughter to disappointment. “You aren’t staying?”

  “I can’t.” He shrugged, putting on his trousers. “There are rules at good hotels, and it might create a problem.” He leaned over and ruffled her hair. “Besides, haven’t you had enough loving for one night?”

  Rose grinned. “No.”

  Michael looked down at her whimsical face, her soft, moist mouth, her emerald eyes that sparkled and shone. He stepped closer and pressed a chaste kiss on her lips, wanting to plunder them fully and take everything she was offering. He eased away from her and turned to unlock the door, grateful for something concrete to do. “Here. Lock the door after me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Rosemary took the key, feeling the cold metal in her hand. “Good night, Michael.”

  Stepping inside, she heard him close the door, hesitate a few minutes, then return to his own room. Grinning, she rose from the bed, feeling like a contented kitten. My God, it was so good with him. She wondered if all women felt this way about love-making, and instinctively knew that what she and Michael shared was special. She reached for a light nightgown, remembering that hotels had maids who were wont to enter at inappropriate times. The full-length mirror caught her reflection, and she playfully whirled around the room, remembering the beautiful opera. When she stopped to put on the gown, she was standing directly in front of the mirror, her slender body clearly visible in the gilt-framed glass.

  Something was different. She stopped the gown midway and pulled it back up, looking at her naked body. Her breasts were fuller, her face pale. Perhaps she was getting ill…

  Yet even as she came up with this answer, Rosemary knew that she felt fine. Slipping into her nightgown, she stared into the mirror, and a slow realization occurred.

  Her time was late by over a week. Normally, that wouldn’t have concerned her—Rosemary lived an active life. Clara had told her long ago not to worry about such occurrences, unless—

  Unless she had taken a lover.

  A small smile crept across her face, and she nearly giggled at the thought. A baby! She was going to have a baby! Excited, she wanted to run out and tell everyone, but decided that prudence was best.

  Her father would have been so happy. Brushing a tear from her face, she wished she was in her own tent so she could see his picture and tell him about it. Sean had loved children, his own most of all. And Griggs and Rags and Clara, well, they would be so thrilled. It was a long time since Carney’s had had a little tent squirrel. She remembered how they all fussed over her, and how much they would enjoy another circus baby to continue the tradition.

  And Michael. Rosemary grinned as she imagined his expression when she told him. God, he would be so happy. Months ago it would have been different, but now…he would be such a good father. And he would make it all right, she just knew it. Surely he loved her. He had to. She climbed into bed, feeling as if it were Christmas Eve, and morning seemed as if it would never come.

  …I am so disappointed that I haven’t heard from you. Why don’t you write? I know you were bitter after your father’s death, but darling, that was so long ago. Please come home.

  Your brother is doing well at school and making good grades. I thank you for that. I would have never managed to pay his tuition without your financial management. Your investments continue to prosper, as always, and your banking firm is sound. I miss you.

  Percy came by today and asked about you. He seems amused, like he has some hidden knowledge of your fate. I never liked him, and I don’t now. He only told me the same thing you did, that you were cleaning up an old debt, and that surely you would accomplish your business soon and come home…

  Michael stared at the note, feeling the weight of his own guilt. He hadn’t wanted to face this and didn’t want to be reminded of what he was and should be doing.

  My God, what’s happened to me? He stared at himself in the mirror. He was wearing the same kind of suit he always wore, but the shirt still bore signs of Rosemary’s rubbing in the dirt when they’d gone to visit the miners. The hotel cleaning staff couldn’t get it all out, and to all but the most discerning eye, it was spotless. Yet he could see it.

  No, outwardly he was pretty much the same, but inwardly he had changed, and he knew it. The sharp financial genius of Rittenhouse Square had become a circus roustabout, for all practical purposes. He’d neglected his firm, his investments, his family, everything. For her.

  And he didn’t regret it for a minute. The time he’d spent with Rosemary was like a diamond: sparkling and full of life, something to be treasured always. Yet, reluctantly he admitted he had to put a stop to it. His chest tightened. For her sake as well as his own.

  He thought of those glances she’d been giving him and realized that she thought she was in love. Michael knew better. Cynical by nature and wise by experience, he knew that the infatuation would one day wear off, and she would see things for what they really were. But that could take years. He was her first lover, and for women, that held a certain importance. His fist tightened as he thought of what he must do, but Rosemary’s full green eyes kept coming back to him, filled with adoration….

  “Don’t hurt her,” Biddle had warned him. And like a fool he’d gone into it with his eyes closed, thinking he could handle it. He hadn’t thought of her, of what this would mean to someone like Rose, who wore her heart on her sleeve. God, the longer he continued leading her on, the worse it would be.

  He hated himself in that moment, but it was a realization. He couldn’t continue this. He had to set her free before it was too late and the damage irreconcilable.

  He had to go home.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHE HAD NEVER FELT SO MUCH AT PEACE as she did now. Rosemary reached for one of her new dresses and paused again in front of the mirror to ascertain what her mind already knew.

  A baby. She and Michael, through that marvelous act of love-making, were going to have a baby. A rush of excitement coursed through her, and she celebrated this very special feminine achievement. Her body, taken for granted all these years, suddenly was capable of a magic far greater than any mystic fortune-teller’s. She felt bound to women of all ages, women who had stood in front of a mirror and giggled at the secret knowledge of what was happening inside of them.

  Did her own mother feel this? For a blinding second Rosemary wished that she had known her. Realizing how she felt at this moment, she wondered how her mother could have left her, a child made of her own body. Her father used to brush aside such questions, obviously uncomfortable, but now Rosemary wanted to know. For the first time ever she felt part of a sisterhood that shared in one of life’s most dramatic events—the creation of a new being.

  Buttoning the dress, she smiled as she thought of Michael’s reaction. All men liked babies—at least, all of the men she knew. Sure, Rags grumbled that they were urchins, and Griggs teased them unmercifully, but a love of children was necessarily buried deep within every clown’s heart. The trapeze acts, the lion tamer, the knife thrower might play to the grown-ups, but the clowns played to the children, and everyone knew it.

  But what if he didn’t feel the
same way? What if he— Rosemary’s eyes closed, and she fought the uneasiness that welled up inside her. She had really enjoyed his company in the last few weeks, and he approached his job with sympathy for the troupe and a better understanding of the people they played to. He’d stopped grumbling about the poor farm towns they entered and had finally come to see what Rosemary and the clowns already knew. The circus brought joy, and there was no way you could put a price on that.

  Meeting the miners had made a lasting impression on him. Immigrants, displaced from their eastern shanty towns, they had come West hoping to raise their children in a better environment. When he realized how bleak their alternative had to have been to choose such an existence, he was forced to review all of his previous misconceptions. The result was a kinder, much more thoughtful man.

  Yes, he had changed, and she wasn’t going to be afraid to tell him. They’d been given a gift, a precious gift from God. It was a gift that was meant to be shared.

  “Tighten the ropes, Griggs. I can’t get this stake in.” Michael pounded the worn wooden stake into the earth while Griggs pulled on the slack line. Inch by inch the tent corner rose back to its former glory, until the canvas was taut and lean, so that it would repel water and provide them with shelter.

  He was so handsome, Rosemary thought with a proud smile. He had rolled up his sleeves, and his muscles strained with his effort, while his hands, which three months ago had never performed manual work, deftly handled the rope. His dark hair fell appealingly across his face, glinting in the morning sunlight. He looked very masculine and obviously at home with the canvas as well as his ledgers.

  “Got it.” He tied the rope neatly while Griggs lashed the opposite side. It didn’t escape Rose how totally the men worked with him now. He hadn’t usurped her power but had joined her in running the show, and she had to admit, Carney’s was the better for it.