Julie Garwood - For the Roses

"Tell me why you stopped," he ordered once again. "Then I'll stop reminding you."

She closed her eyes. It was the only thing she could think to do to get away from him.

"For a lawyer, you're really dense. It wouldn't ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe I stopped because of your honor, not mine."

"My honor?"

She knew he didn't believe her. She told herself she didn't care. Were all men as arrogant as Harrison and her brothers were? Heavens, she sincerely hoped not.

"Yes, Harrison, your integrity," she said again.

"You are serious, aren't you… My honor." The words came out in a whisper.

Well, hell, he still didn't know if he believed her or not. Yet when she opened her eyes and looked at him again, he could see the sincerity. He was thunderstruck and humbled.

"Your honor," she whispered back. Then she rolled her eyes heavenward and turned away from him.

She was obviously disgusted with him now. He didn't have time to think about that. He was fully occupied trying to figure out how he felt about her protecting him.

"You've got more discipline than I do."

It almost killed him to admit it. She thought he sounded offended by the possibility.

"How like a man to think he's the only one to ever consider such noble things as honor and integrity. Believe it or not, women can be protective too. It isn't a novel concept. It's plain reality. Haven't you ever heard of Joan of Arc? She gave her life for France 's honor, and for her own."

"Joan of Arc?" He would have laughed over the comparison, but he didn't want to get killed. "I don't believe she ever did what we just did, Mary Rose."

"Of course she didn't. The woman was a saint, for heaven's sake. I'm not. I wasn't comparing myself to her. I was simply saying that I knew you couldn't have lived with yourself if you had been intimate with me."

"I was intimate with you. Remember where my fingers were?"

"Oh, go to sleep."

She moved over to the edge of her blankets so she could get as far away from him as possible. She pulled the covers up, closed her eyes, and tried to get some rest.

He knew he should have stopped tormenting her, but her reaction was so incredibly pleasing to him he couldn't resist. The prettiest blush came over her cheeks when she got flustered.

He was also thankful she was irritated with him. He'd tried to make her angry on purpose, and knew that if they had continued to argue with each other, he would have succeeded. He wasn't being a cad. No, he was being noble, or at least he believed he was. If she was angry, she'd stay away from him. No woman wanted to kiss a man she was thinking about killing. It all made perfectly good sense to him.

Hell, who was he kidding? He was really trying to protect himself. She had already proven she had more discipline than he had. It wouldn't take much to make him forget all about his good intentions. All she had to do was crook her finger in his direction, and he'd be all over her again. He had gotten a taste of heaven, and he had to try to pretend he hadn't loved it.

He didn't sleep much during the night. He kept his gun in his hand near his side and listened for every little sound. He drifted off twice. The first time, the soft flutter of wind awakened him. Someone or something was inside the cave with them. Harrison stayed perfectly still. He opened his eyes only a sliver and saw the woman then. His reaction was immediate. His hand tightened on the gun tucked under the cover. It took all he had not to shoot her, and he thanked God she wasn't looking at him now. She had a quilt in her arms and was standing over Mary Rose, looking down at her.

Crazy Corrie. One look at her and Harrison couldn't imagine why she hadn't gone insane. She was so grossly disfigured, he wanted to turn away from her. He didn't, of course. He didn't move at all. He simply waited to see what she would do.

The woman had finally taken her fill of watching. Without making a sound, she covered Mary Rose with the quilt. She left as silently as she had entered.

He wanted to call after her, to say thank you at the very least, but he didn't make a sound. If the woman had wanted to be seen, she would have done something to make certain they'd awakened. She obviously wasn't ready, and he would respect her wishes.

He felt tremendous guilt over his initial repulsion at the sight of her. And then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep once again. Mary Rose had moved closer to his side, but he was still feeling safe in the knowledge he wouldn't have to worry about temptation and his own appalling lack of control.

He woke up with her face in his groin. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven, but as soon as the mist of sleep wore off, he knew he'd gone straight to purgatory instead. Mary Rose wasn't seducing him. She was sound asleep. Her feet were tucked under his chin. She was simply trying in her sleep to get warm.

It took him forever to move her away from him without waking her up. Then he got up as quietly as he could. He walked barefoot outside and stood in the rain.

It didn't help one damned bit.

July 11, 1865

Dear Mama Rose,

Today is my birthday. I wish you were here to celebrate the day with me.

Now that the war is over, you'll be able to come to your family, and that will be the best present a son could have.

We pray for Lincoln's soul every night. I try not to get angry anymore about his senseless death, and I'm consoled by the words from his last inaugural address. Here's the part I like the most:

"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

Love you,

Travis

Some son-of-a-bitch took a shot at them on their way home. Harrison was paying attention. He rode by Mary Rose's side, and the second he spotted the glint of metal through the pines directly ahead of them just where the crook in the trail began to turn, he shoved Mary Rose off her horse, drew his six-shooter, and fired a scant second too late.

The enemy's bullet passed through his right side. Harrison barely reacted to the sting of pain. He was leaning close to Mary Rose's saddle now, his gaze fully directed on the forest ahead. Had she been riding her mount, the bullet he caught most certainly would have killed her.

And that realization sent him right over the edge.

"Stay down," he ordered.

He didn't take time to find out where she'd landed. He goaded MacHugh into a full gallop. Harrison 's only determination was to find the bastard and destroy him with his bare hands.

He got a good look at the coward's face, but when he reached the next bend in the trail, the culprit was gone. Harrison followed the tracks and was disappointed to see they ended near the cliff above the river. The coward had obviously jumped. Harrison only hoped he drowned.

He backtracked and found Mary Rose sitting on a rock with her gun in her hand. She didn't seem to be the least upset by what had just happened.

"Are you all right?" His voice was gruff, angry. "Yes, thank you." Her voice was as bland as a drink of water. "Would you please fetch Millie for me?"

Harrison nodded, then went after the mare. When he returned, Mary Rose was standing in the center of the trail. She'd put her gun away and was trying to smooth down her hair.

He gave her the reins, then started to dismount so that he could help her, but she was quicker than he was. She got settled in the saddle, smiled at Harrison, and then nudged Millie into moving.

Honest to God, she looked as if the ambush had been an everyday occurrence.

"Are you really all right?" he asked again. "Yes. My backside's going to be as black and blue as yours though. I landed hard. You did throw me into the bushes, Harrison. Next time I would suggest you merely tell me to duck."

Harrison let her ride ahead of him. He didn't want her to notice he was looking over his injury. He could feel the wetness under his shirt, and when he glanced down, the stain of blood was oozing downward.

It didn't feel like much of an injury to him though. Blood wasn't gushing out, and he took that as a good sign. He was thankful the bullet had gone through.

He took the time to get his leather vest out of his saddlebag. He put it on as quickly as he could. He grimaced over the pain that shot up his side when he moved his arm, then forced a smile because Mary Rose turned in her saddle to look at him. He nudged MacHugh so he could catch up with her now and ride by her side. "Are you cold? You could use Corrie's quilt if you are," she suggested.

"I'm all right," he answered. "Aren't you cold?"

"No, my clothes dried out. They're wrinkled but warm. Did you catch whoever was trying to kill us?"

"No." He gave her a hard look. He couldn't help but remark on her composure. "You act as though this sort of thing happens all the time. Does it?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why are you acting so calm?"

She waited for him to catch up with her before she answered. "Because you aren't."

"I'm not what?"

"Calm."

He thought he looked and sounded perfectly calm. He guessed he didn't.

"The expression in your eyes makes a mockery of your tone of voice."

"What's wrong with the look in my eyes?"

"Cold… angry… you're furious you didn't catch the man, aren't you?"

"He jumped over the cliff. I hope he drowned."

"He probably did."

"Weren't you afraid at all?"

"Yes, I was."

"I applaud you then. You hide your feelings better than I do. I thought I was the master of that game. I guess I'm not."

"Is it important to be a master?"

"In a courtroom it is."

She smiled and reached over to pat his knee. "I'm certain you do very well in a courtroom."

"You're something else, Mary Rose. Honest to God, you are."

She didn't know if he'd just given her praise or not. He was smiling though, and so she decided to take his remark as praise.

"Living with Cole has taught all of us to be prepared for surprises. It's all part of our lives out here."

"Your brothers will be home by now."

"Probably. We'll reach the ranch in another half hour or so."

"What do you think he wanted?"

"Who?"

"The coward who tried to kill us."

"Our horses or our money. He might be hoping for both."

"Hell."

"Quit fretting about him. He's gone now. Let's talk about something else. I still can't get over Corrie's thoughtfulness. She had to walk a fair distance to bring us the quilt. It took courage, don't you think?"

"She wanted you to have the quilt. Not me," he corrected.

"You can't know that for certain," she argued.

Harrison smiled. He did know Corrie had covered Mary Rose up, but he hadn't admitted he'd seen the woman. His reason was probably foolish. Corrie belonged to Mary Rose. He wanted her to be the first to see her friend… if and when Corrie was ever ready to present herself.

"You still look angry, Harrison."

He couldn't help that. "Damn it, Mary Rose, you could have been killed. I've got a right to be angry. If anything ever happened to you…"

She turned to look at him. "Yes?"

He let out a sigh. "Your brothers would kill me."

"Would it kill you to admit you'd miss me?"

"No, it wouldn't kill me. Of course I'd miss you."

She was extremely pleased. She changed the subject once again. "I've considered what you said about Travis, and I've decided I will have a talk with him. I don't want him to become overly upset about Eleanor. I'll have a firm talk with her too. She can't boss my brothers around. Travis will listen to me. Eleanor probably won't. Still, I'll try. Travis's birthday is coming up soon. He'll be on his best behavior so I'll give him a nice present."

"When is his birthday?"

"July eleventh," she answered. "I've almost finished knitting a sweater for him. I think he'll love it. The color complements his eyes. He won't care about that, of course. He'll love it because it will keep him warm. When is your birthday?"