Defiant Rose

by Colleen Quinn

  Melissa laughed lightly, accepting a cup of tea with a gracious smile. “Michael never changes. His work always came first. It was that way when I knew him, and I don’t imagine that he’s changed much. What do you think?” She looked questioningly at Rosemary, who shrugged.

  “I think he works hard, but that’s part of business. You have to work hard to stay ahead of the competition. Even in the show—”

  “What she means is that Michael may be preoccupied, but he always finds time for what’s important,” Catherine said meaningfully.

  Rosemary glanced from one woman to the other in confusion. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she had the distinct impression that Melissa was trying to give her a subtle put-down, and that Catherine, of all people, was trying to protect her. Curiously she gazed at the young woman, who seemed suddenly less composed.

  “I agree. That is why he is so successful.” Alice Caldwalder sipped her tea, then helped herself to one of the lemon cakes. “I was saying that to the Ladies’ Auxiliary Club just the other day. Michael is a keen man with a mind for business. None of this nonsense about social reform. Michael is a man who knows how to turn a dollar. It is a quality that I’ve always admired. Don’t you, dear?”

  “Not particularly.” Rosemary grinned, aware of Melissa’s shocked glance. “That’s actually how I met him. It wasn’t until after the lion got loose that he—”

  “Rosemary, would you mind pouring me another cup?” Catherine thrust the teacup before her, leaving Rose no choice but to comply.

  However, Melissa smiled, her sharp eyes discerning everything. “Please don’t interrupt. I would really love to hear how you met Michael. Wouldn’t you, Auntie?”

  Alice nodded, sinking back into her chair with a satisfied expression that Rosemary recognized. It was the same look that the clowns got when they were setting someone up for a practical joke. Catherine gave her a pleading glance, then sat still.

  Rosemary sighed, struggling with her own nature. The mischievous side of her would have dearly loved to tell the truth and set these women on edge, but that would upset Catherine. The pride in her rebelled that the truth would create gossip, which, she had already reasoned, was the real motivation behind the visit. She would play right into their hands if she followed her instincts. Rosemary grinned to herself. She’d had to play more complicated parts than this. For Michael’s sake and that of the baby, she’d have to proceed with caution.

  “Michael and I were introduced through a friend of the family. Mr. Atwater, in fact. I believe you know him?”

  Melissa nodded, crestfallen, and Alice hid her disappointment. Catherine looked so relieved that Rosemary felt sorry for her.

  “That’s exactly right. Percy has always taken an interest in the boys, as you both know. Evidently he thought Rosemary and Michael would have…some things in common.”

  “I don’t believe I know your family,” Melissa said, disgruntled. “But you needn’t worry. Since you are Michael’s wife, we will see that you meet all the important people.”

  “Bah!” Clara scowled, turning over another card. The two women’s attention was drawn to the odd figure seated in the corner, then Melissa’s eyes widened as a tarot card fluttered to the floor, depicting a man lying facedown with several knives in his back.

  “My God, are those really…fortune-telling cards?” Melissa blessed herself while Catherine turned white. Not even James could distract the two women with a fresh pot of tea as the old gypsy cackled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CATHERINE LOOKED AS IF SHE WOULD FAINT. Melissa and Alice stood up, gaping at the sight of the colorful cards.

  “They’re tarot, all right,” Clara said gleefully, placing them facedown on the table. “I’m putting them into a Celtic Cross. I wish I had me crystal here, and I’d get a better read.”

  “Can you really…I mean, do those cards tell you everything?” Melissa choked, while Alice huffed indignantly.

  “They most certainly do not! Pagan beliefs and sorcery,” Alice said with a frown. “I would only wonder where your aunt would have learned such things.”

  “I learned from the old country, and I can answer me own questions,” Clara snorted, then turned over a card. “Who is W.P.?”

  Melissa’s mouth parted in shock, then she turned toward her aunt. “Did you…I mean, is there any way she could have known?”

  “Not in the slightest.” Alice frowned while Catherine wrung her hands frantically. After putting aside her teacup, the elderly aunt approached Clara and stared at her quizzically. “What do you see about Wilfred Parker?”

  “Only that he’s secretly engaged to your niece.” Clara laughed, turning over another card. “Ah, but he had money problems! It is well that you choose to reacquaint yourselves with Mrs. Wharton. You may have need of banking funds someday, if she pursues this course.”

  “How dare you!” Melissa said, outraged. “Does it also say that I was once friends with Mr. Wharton? And that it should have been me—”

  “Melissa!” Alice cut off her niece, sending her a look of censure that made the young woman instantly silent. “What else does it show?”

  Catherine stared at Alice with amazement while Clara turned over more cards. “They show a spirit close to you, that of a young man. He must have died in his early twenties.” Clara held up a card with a knight seated on a horse, and her face grew soft and mystical. “It is a love card, dearie. A man who once loved you.”

  The older woman choked, and Catherine stepped between them, gesturing to Clara. “I think that’s enough parlor tricks for today. We’re upsetting the ladies. Perhaps another time…”

  “No, please.” Alice paused beside the table and picked up the card. “I know who you are referring to. My God, after all this time, can it be?” She gazed from Clara to Rosemary, her eyes misted, then back to the gypsy. “You must come and have a seance at my home. I know all the ladies will want to attend. I’ll begin sending out invitations at once.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Catherine said cautiously. “Rosemary has yet to meet many of these people, and I want her to make a good impression.”

  “She’ll make the best, I promise you.”

  Catherine stared in shock as the normally reserved Alice Caldwalder hugged her exuberantly, then turned to Rose. “Please allow her to come and join us. Why, with the new spiritualism and interest in the occult, I guarantee you will be all the rage. And I must speak to my Thomas…I mean, have a seance, just this once. Please do not deny me.”

  Catherine shrugged. “It’s really up to Clara. I can’t come that day, I’m already engaged….”

  “Would you, please?” Alice turned to Clara. “I will pay you for your time. And I’m sure the other ladies will want engagements. And…” Alice added conspiratorially, “you will be helping to launch your niece. No one will be able to resist the gathering if we are to conduct a real seance. Rosemary will meet all of the right people, under the best of circumstance.”

  Clara nodded. “All right, then. But no coaching from the audience. I work in my own way. And Rose is my assistant. I don’t care to work with some rich lackey.”

  “Fine.” Alice gave in to all the demands while Melissa stood by, horrified. “Friday, then. That will give me time to invite everyone. I am so looking forward to it.” Bending down, she gave Rosemary a fond kiss, then patted her hand. “It has been so good to meet you, my dear. I knew you would bring us luck as soon as I heard your name. Rosemary Carney, I believe?”

  “Wharton,” Catherine answered easily. “Rosemary Wharton.”

  It was late when Michael finally arrived home. Rosemary heard the sound of the carriage wheels, then the quiet hush of the door as he entered the house. He didn’t come upstairs to his room, nor did he ring for the butler. She could hear him moving around downstairs, then a silence as if he had settled into one of the rooms.

  Curious, Rosemary donned a robe, blushing as she covered the yellow silk nightdress that Michael h
ad bought for her from one of the women’s shops downtown. It seemed sinful to wear something so slippery and delightfully sensual against her bare skin, but he had assured her that such luxuries were common. Women’s clothes had some advantages, Rosemary thought with a grin as she moved quietly down the stairs.

  There was light emanating from the parlor. Everything else was dark and quiet, the household obviously asleep. When she peeked inside, Michael was seated before the fire, his papers spread before him, his head bent characteristically, intent on his work.

  For a moment Rosemary watched him, a feeling of pride running through her. He was so handsome, the way he tilted his head to one side as he examined a document, his expression focused and serious. Her heart swelled within her as she thought of the effort he’d made on her behalf to make her feel comfortable here and accepted. She’d put him through so much, fought him every step of the way, but Michael remained undaunted. Even if it was just for the sake of the child, it said something for him, something she would never have believed just a few months ago.

  Yet she noticed the tiredness around his eyes, the drawn tightness of his mouth. He seemed paler than usual, and he stifled a yawn, drawing out another ream of papers, which apparently had to be finished by morning. His shoulders slumped from fatigue, and he turned up the light, preparing to work.

  What was happening to them? In spite of her achievement in winning Catherine over, Rosemary was not happy here, yet she was determined not to show it. Surely she would learn to derive pleasure from the same things that these women took for granted. It would just take some time. Yet she hadn’t expected the change in Michael to be so profound, once back in his own surroundings. By no means was he returning to his miserly ways, but he was far from the carefree circus manager she had known.

  Forcing a smile, she entered the room, gratified to see his look of surprise change to pleasure as he saw her. Putting aside the papers, he indicated a space on the sofa beside him.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I? I came in the back way.”

  Rosemary shook her head, then sat next to him on the sofa. Gesturing to the papers, she frowned. “What’s all this?”

  “Work.” Running a hand through his hair, Michael shrugged in resignation. “I’ve got a lot to do. Most of my responsibilities were not kept current while I was away. It’s one of the pitfalls of this business.”

  Rosemary picked up the data sheets, then looked at the long scrolling columns of figures. “Is it always like this, or is it just because you were away?”

  “Truthfully, it was always overwhelming,” Michael confided as he undid his cravat and opened the top of his shirt. Reaching for a glass of brandy, he smiled, but even that seemed an effort. “I never really noticed it before, but there’s always been too much to do and not enough time. You get lulled into thinking you’ve made some progress, then something else happens. I think it’s one of the things you just accept about the career.”

  “It doesn’t sound like much of a life, Michael Wharton.” Rosemary smiled, slipping her hands onto his shoulders and massaging the tension from his back. “I think you were better off chasing lions.”

  Michael laughed, pulling her closer to him. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted, gathering her into his arms. “And you look beautiful. Be patient with me for a while. I promise I’ll have this under control by the time the baby’s born.”

  Rosemary smiled, wanting to believe him, but knowing better. It would never change. It had only taken a few days back in the city for the business to take hold of him. And from what she’d heard from Catherine, this was far from uncommon. There would always be another deal, another problem, another panic or financial windfall. The ache inside of her deepened. If this was what Michael really wanted, would she stop him? Could she?

  She reached out to him, touching the lines of tension on his face, smoothing them away with her fingers. She saw his surprise, then a shudder passed through him as her hands did their magic, slowly taking the tightness from his muscles. Her fingers were strong, callused, and work-roughened, but they were Rosemary’s hands, and nothing had ever felt so good.

  Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer, looking into those magical green eyes that for once were not laughing. Instead, they looked enchanting, filled with a love light that made her seem angelic, passionate, and real. There was nothing of a clown about her as she lifted her chin and gazed at him with all the heartfelt love she’d buried deep within her. Thunder seemed to echo in his ears, and his blood rushed through his veins.

  “Rose?” It was a question, one he didn’t dare pose. Yet she didn’t pull away from him, nor did she fight him or giggle mischievously. Instead, she let her fingers slide to his neck, massaging his shoulders, her mouth curving into a soft, sweet smile.

  “You wanted me to try, Michael. I’m going to, if the offer is still good. I can’t sew needlepoint to save my life, I can’t make scrapbooks, I don’t want to learn piano, but if you really think you can stand a clown for a wife, then I will try.”

  “Rosemary…” Michael buried his hands in her hair, pulling her mouth closer to his. “Do you mean I’ve won? I’ve really got you back?”

  She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. “It isn’t the love potion, Michael. I looked it up in Clara’s book, and she made the wrong one. I should have iron-rich blood as a result, but not love. You did that. You made me love you.”

  “God help you if you don’t mean it,” he said fiercely, his lips touching her throat, her mouth, her face. “Because I’ll never let you go, never. Rosemary, you’ve brought something to my life, something I can’t do without. I know you’re not happy here, but please—”

  “Don’t.” She placed a finger to his lips. “I’ll stay as long as I make you happy. But you know, Michael, I have a good deal of experience in that area. As a clown, I know how to make people happy. If I can just do it for you—”

  “Always.” He took her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss that said it all. Books forgotten, ledgers shoved to the floor, quills aside, they tumbled onto the sofa like two children, newly discovering their love. Michael laughed, overwhelmed with joy, and Rosemary giggled like a little girl. Clothing became a barrier, and they removed it in a frenzied need, wanting to touch, to be touched, to reach out to each other with the uninhibited emotions that at last could not be denied.

  It was tender, passionate, funny, and fierce. The odd Victorian furniture did not make the most comfortable place for love-making, but nothing could stop them now. Rosemary’s eyes misted with tears as he slid his hand down the silk of her breasts, touching the soft coral tips and watching them spring into life, then to her belly, warming the child within.

  “Do you know how wonderful you are? Rosemary, don’t ever leave me.”

  She smiled through her tears and pulled his face to hers, this proud, passionate man who would never have revealed such a desire just a few short months ago. “Never.” With all the womanly emotion she possessed, Rosemary kissed him back, letting her tongue softly touch his, shyly at first, then with deepening desire. She shuddered at his powerful response, for he kissed fiercely, longingly, freeing every restraint and every misgiving that he’d ever possessed. It seemed the most natural thing in the world when he began to caress her, refusing her shyness, and delighting in the beauty of her naked body and her innocent response.

  “The door,” Rosemary whispered. “Someone might come in.”

  “I’d kill anyone who did,” Michael responded, kissing her again, but in deference to her feelings he rose and locked the parlor door, then returned to her quickly. Wrapping her shivering body in his embrace, he made her feel safe and secure, aroused and happy, passionate and brimming with love.

  She began to return his caresses with a growing fever, but he stopped her, lowering her to the couch. “No, let me love you tonight. I want to know that I really have you, that you’re all mine.” His mouth left hers, trailing burning kisses down to her breast, taking a nipple i
nto his mouth.

  The sound of his sucking was powerfully erotic and even more exciting in the sedate setting. Rosemary sighed, knowing she should stop this, that they should retire upstairs, but she was too far along to do anything of the sort. The horsehair fabric chafed her back, igniting nerve endings that were already overly sensitive. Then he was lifting her, his mouth trailing lower, to the surprising roundness of her belly. He kissed her there, lovingly, almost as if kissing their child, and she shuddered in pure emotion, letting it overwhelm her like a cup filled with rainwater.

  Seated on the floor beside her, he pulled her to the edge of the sofa, his mouth teasing the silken firmness of her thighs, the softness of her calves, the muscular surety of her knees. Rosemary gasped and cried out softly as he began tracing ardent kisses down and then up, to the inside of her thighs, then higher.

  My God, she’d never thought it could be like this, not with her prim and proper banker. But in the privacy of his parlor, he nuzzled the most feminine part of her with his mouth, then buried his tongue deep within her, making her cry out in pure, uninhibited pleasure.

  Rosemary sobbed, holding onto his head, wanting everything he could give her. Raised without any ladylike notions of propriety, she openly enjoyed the unbelievable pleasure he was giving her. Her body, young and responsive, opened to his eager lips and she held him even more tightly as she reached her climax. Wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure flooded through her and she clung to him gratefully, suffused with emotion, filled with a love and longing that only this man could ever fill.

  She couldn’t have left him if she tried. When he rose from the floor, his mouth seeking hers, she gave herself to him with all the passion her body could hold. Her face lifted from his, and she looked at him innocently, her eyes filled with wonder and joy, then like a child asking for another sweet, she whispered softly,

  “I want you inside me now. Do you mind?”

  Michael grinned, pulling her down on top of him, wanting this very special woman with an urgency that was at once exciting as it was embarrassing. She made him feel sixteen years old again. Much as he wanted to go slowly, both for her sake and that of the child, her uninhibited question drove any such thought from his mind. Together they reached a plateau that spoke of all of the emotion that they’d kept hidden all this time. The months of longing, of waiting, of fear and laughter all culminated into this single moment of real expression. It wasn’t until he was finally drained that Rosemary clung to him, knowing what it was to be a woman at last.