Page 25 of For the Roses (Claybornes' Brides (Rose Hill) 1)

  Honor kept him from asking for her hand in marriage. He was neither worthy enough nor financially secure enough to give her his name.

  He didn’t want to think about his future. He decided he would appreciate the time he had with Mary Rose so that he could savor the memories on all the cold nights ahead.

  He was thankful when they reached Corrie’s cabin because there wasn’t time to wallow in his misery.

  Mary Rose wouldn’t let him get close to the clearing. In fact, she made him stay a good half mile away. She explained she didn’t want Corrie to become upset, and the first sight of him might very well upset just about anyone. He took immediate insult, of course.

  “Exactly what do you think is wrong about my appearance?”

  “You’ve got a day’s growth on your face and your hair has been in dire need of a trimming for two weeks now.”

  “So?” he demanded.

  “I shall have to be blunt,” she said. “You look menacing and . . . scruffy. I find you appealing. She won’t.”

  He snorted with disbelief, then laughed over the sound he just made. Heaven help him, he was starting to act like her.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve stomped on your tender feelings,” she said.

  “I do not have tender feelings.”

  “Yes, well, as soon as you open your mouth and speak, everyone knows how cultured and refined you are.”

  “Cultured and refined people can also be killers, Mary Rose. You make it sound as though an education ensures decency.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t want to waste any more time arguing with him. The heaviness in the air indicated a storm was closing in on them, and she didn’t want to get soaked until after she had a nice visit with her new friend.

  She wouldn’t even let Harrison carry the supplies into the clearing. She made three trips and finally finished stacking all of her gifts in a pile in the very center of the clearing.

  Mary Rose was thrilled that Corrie let her get much closer to the porch this time. She saw that as real progress in their relationship.

  She didn’t mind at all that the shotgun was pointed at her the entire time she stood there. She was just thankful Harrison wasn’t close enough to notice. He was bound to make a scene if he thought she was in danger.

  He hadn’t stayed where she’d put him, however. Without making a sound, he moved to a spot where he was both concealed by the foliage and yet had a clear view of the front of the cabin.

  When he spotted the barrel of the shotgun protruding from the window, his heart damned near stopped beating. It was aimed at Mary Rose’s middle. His initial reaction was to pull his gun free and shoot the barrel. It took extreme willpower not to interfere. He broke out in a sweat, of course, but after ten, then fifteen minutes passed, he realized the shotgun was all for show. He still wasn’t going to take his gaze off the threat, of course, but he was finally able to breathe normally again.

  Mary Rose’s behavior and her one-sided conversation for the next hour were both bizarre and endearing.

  She would never have gone on and on if she’d known he was listening, of course, and he didn’t plan to ever let her find out.

  After she had placed the last of the jars in her stack, she stood up and mopped her brow with the edge of her sleeve.

  She apologized because she hadn’t been able to keep her word and visit the day before.

  “I always keep my word, Corrie, unless something terrible prevents me from doing so, and after I’ve told you about all the sorry things that happened to me, you’ll understand my tardiness,” she assured the woman. She then gave a full accounting of her time. Harrison noticed she didn’t mention the reason why she had gone after Bickley. He assumed she didn’t want Corrie to worry that the vigilantes might still come up to the ridge to burn her out. Mary Rose said only that she had a difference of opinion and tried to use reason when she conversed with the man. One thing led to another and another, and before she knew what was happening, she was being attacked.

  Her recollection of the events made him smile. She didn’t linger on the injuries or the pain she endured, or on the fact that she damn near got killed. No, she spent the time telling all about the lovely skirt that got ripped and how frightful her hair looked.

  She wasn’t finished telling about her woes. She went into a long explanation about her experience waiting in Catherine Morrison’s parlor. That was when Harrison found out Mary Rose considered him her exclusive property. He didn’t have to guess. Mary Rose told Corrie all about her right to “have” him. She even outlined all the reasons why he belonged to her.

  “I took him home with me before he got himself killed. When I think of what could have happened to the poor thing, well, my heart just aches. Can he help it if he’s inept or awkward? No, of course he can’t. He’s terribly naive too, Corrie. The man wore a gun into town and didn’t even know how to use it. Can you imagine such idiocy. I swear he needs a keeper. God love him, he doesn’t know how incompetent he really is. No one has the heart to tell him, except Cole. Harrison did fight those men after they tore my dress and messed my hair, but they were scrawny little men, so Harrison was able to get in a couple of solid punches. I worried about it for a while, seeing him fight and all, and then I thought about it and realized anger had made him stronger and luck had been on his side. He took me by surprise on the way up here, and then I had to think it through and realized I shouldn’t have been surprised at all. You see, he thought he heard a noise, and he drew his gun lickety-split. He was fast all right, but the fact is he probably couldn’t shoot his way out of a barn. Being quick isn’t worth a sneeze out here if you can’t hit anything, now is it?”

  She paused to let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Harrison could feel his face heating up. He wanted to stomp into the clearing and set the little woman straight. By God, he wasn’t that inept.

  Mary Rose wasn’t through tearing his pride to shreds, however. “You should have seen him trying to learn how to break in some horses for Douglas. It was a pitiful sight, all right. I hid up in my room and watched from the window so he wouldn’t be more humiliated than he already was. It’s a blessing he didn’t break his neck, Corrie, bless his heart.”

  Harrison gritted his teeth together and started counting to ten. His temper had reached the simmering point.

  “I don’t want you fretting about Harrison,” Mary Rose continued. “I only told you about him because he came with me up to the ridge. He’s supposed to protect me. That’s why I wore my gun, Corrie. I can keep him safe enough. Anyway, he won’t bother you. He’s kind and sweet-natured, and you should know me well enough by now after our last visitation to understand I wouldn’t put up with him if he were mean. Did I tell you about Catherine Morrison throwing herself at him?”

  She guessed she hadn’t told the woman and went into a long, blown-out-of-all-proportion explanation about all the wrongs the woman had done to her over the years. Mary Rose had stored up a lot of complaints about Catherine and she proceeded to tell Corrie about each one, going all the way back to their early childhood. Since Corrie couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her to stop, she became Mary Rose’s dream come true. A trapped listener who couldn’t run away.

  Harrison had started out worried that Corrie would shoot Mary Rose because the woman was as crazy as everyone said she was, but by the time the one-sided conversation was finished, his concern had changed. Now he couldn’t figure out why Corrie didn’t shoot her just to shut her up.

  Mary Rose kept interlacing comments about Harrison. His ego took one hell of a beating, and if she “blessed his heart” just one more time, he swore he was going to have to throttle her.

  Her voice finally gave out. She promised her friend that she would return as soon as she could for another long visit and turned to leave. She suddenly remembered she hadn’t mentioned her newest houseguest yet and promptly stopped in her tracks.

  Both Corrie and Harrison then listened to another long discussion, about Eleanor.

  “She

’s going to settle down real soon,” Mary Rose predicted. “She may even turn out to be a good friend once she gets over feeling sorry for herself. My, how the time has flown. Do get your supplies inside before the rain comes. Bye now, Corrie. God keep you safe.”

  Harrison stayed where he was until Mary Rose left the clearing. The rifle barrel was moved from the window a minute later. He backtracked, making a wide circle around Mary Rose, and was back to the spot where she’d told him to wait before she got there.

  “Did you have a nice visit?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she answered. Her voice sounded hoarse. “She’s a dear woman.”

  He couldn’t imagine how she knew that. “Did she talk to you?” he asked.

  “No, but she’s getting ready to,” Mary Rose assured him. “We should get going, Harrison. It’s late.”

  “How do you know she’s getting ready to talk to you?” he asked, ignoring her suggestion to leave.

  “She let me get much closer to the center of the clearing,” she explained. “We’re obviously friends now.”

  “Because she didn’t shoot you.”

  “Yes,” she said, pleased he understood.

  He thought she was making as much sense as a two-year-old having a tantrum.

  “You’re being completely illogical,” he told her. “You do know that, don’t you, Mary Rose?”

  She shook her head at him. “Is it illogical to look for the good in people? Everyone has feelings, Harrison. ‘No man is an island.’ Remember the passage both you and Adam are so partial to?”

  “Yes, of course, but . . .”

  “We cannot exist without each other. Do the words ‘any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind’ mean the same thing to you that they mean to me? We’re all part of the same family, Harrison. Corrie has needs just like the rest of us. Now do you see?”

  “Point taken, Miss Clayborne.”

  Her smile was radiant. “I do believe this is the first argument with you I have ever won.”

  “We weren’t having an argument,” he replied.

  “It seems like one. We need to leave now.” She started toward her horse and glanced up at the sky above. “We’re really in for a soaking. You do love to dawdle, don’t you?”

  He lifted her up into the saddle and gave her the reins. She folded her hands on top of the saddle horn. Harrison started to turn away, then changed his mind. He reached up and covered her hands with his.

  She looked into his eyes to find out why he suddenly wanted to linger. His smile captured her full attention. Lord, how she loved it when he was happy. His eyes turned as warm and welcoming as sunshine. She felt the heat all the way down in her belly.

  “You have a very good heart, Mary Rose.”

  She felt as if he had just caressed her. She was just about to thank him when he went and ruined it.

  “I try to remember that whenever you make me crazy.”

  He let go of her and turned to go to MacHugh. In one fluid motion he swung up into the saddle. The gracefulness in the action impressed her. She guessed all the time he’d spent climbing back up onto the horses after he’d been pitched to his backside had taught him something useful after all.

  “What is that comment supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “It means I know what your game is. You’re the one who spent entirely too long talking to Corrie, and so you’ve decided to blame me if we get soaked. I dawdle? I think not.”

  “You’re too clever for me, Harrison.” She lifted the reins and turned to lead the way home. “I never said I was perfect, did I?”

  “No. you never did,” he agreed with a laugh.

  “You aren’t perfect either. You’re extremely argumentative, but of course you must realize that. You’re also given to spells, but I doubt you can help that.”

  “You constantly jump to conclusions based on insufficient information. You do know that, don’t you? And I don’t have spells, woman.”

  “Most of the time you’re a perfect gentleman, but in the blink of an eye, you can turn into a raging lunatic.” What else could she call his affliction? The man had spells, and that was that. She wasn’t going to argue about it now. She wanted to discuss something else just as important.

  “You refuse to understand that sometimes one must act before one has gathered hundreds of documents to support a possible thesis. If I had waited until I had every bit of information about you before I invited you to come home with me, you’d probably be dead. So would I,” she added. “From old age.”

  “In other words, you leap before you look. Isn’t that right?”

  “At least I dare to leap.”

  “That attitude is exactly why so many people die young out here.”

  “Action is often more effective than words.”

  “In an uncivilized world, perhaps. Remember, Mary Rose, we are all accountable for our actions.”

  “We don’t live inside a courtroom.”

  “We should behave as though we did.”

  “It would kill you to agree with me, wouldn’t it, Harrison?”

  She laughed after she asked her question. He smiled in response. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “I like to win.”

  “Life isn’t about winning. It’s about surviving.”

  “In my line of work, surviving and winning are the same thing.”

  She had to think about what he had just said for a long while before she gave him her rebuttal. She was obviously enjoying sparring with him. He was having just as much fun. He found her comments invigorating and refreshingly honest, even when she wasn’t making a lick of sense.

  The hell he had spells.

  “I believe you should find another line of work.”

  He ignored the suggestion. “One really shouldn’t get personal when one is debating.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?”

  “Debating?”

  “Yes. Are we debating?”

  “I thought we were. What did you think we were doing?”

  “Getting personal.”

  He laughed.

  “Exactly what were we debating?”

  He didn’t have the faintest idea. He wasn’t about to tell her so, however, and so he decided to make up something that sounded reasonable just so he could continue to argue with her.

  “We are debating the differences in our philosophies of life.”

  “We and our? My, but those words do imply getting personal to me.”

  “Point given, Miss Clayborne.”

  She gave him a regal nod.

  “I can sum up the differences between us in just two words.”

  “So can I,” he assured her.

  “Ladies first?”

  “Of course.”

  “Experience and observation. I experience life. You observe it. I’ll wager you were going to say the very same thing.”

  “You’d lose your wager then,” he countered. “I would say logical versus illogical, order versus chaos, sanity versus insanity . . .”

  “Lawyers do love to go on and on, don’t they?”

  “Some do.”

  “You do realize you just called me illogical, insane, and chaotic?”

  “You do realize you just said I only observe life? It isn’t true.”

  “It’s raining. I think we should stop.”

  Lightning lit up the sky. “It’s going to get worse,” he predicted.

  “Probably. There are caves about a quarter of a mile from here. We have to backtrack just a little, and we should hurry now. The trail’s going to become too dangerous for MacHugh and Millie.”

  He didn’t want to stop, but darkness was already closing in on them, and it would have been foolish to try to go on. He had hoped to reach the peak above her home before night caught up with them. The trail was much wider there, safer for the horses. They could find their way back to the barn with or without light. Instinct and hunger would guide them.

  Spending the night with Mary Rose was just as dange

rous for him as treading over slick stones would be for the horses.

  He would, of course, behave like the gentleman he had been trained to be. He had given Adam his word, and he meant to keep it. He would have acted honorably regardless of his promise, however. Behaving wasn’t the issue. Frustration was going to be the problem, but there didn’t seem to be any way to avoid it. He was going to have to suffer through the unnecessary test of endurance, no matter what. He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the miserable night ahead of him.

  “Hurry up, Harrison,” she called after him. “It’s only a fine mist now, but in a few more minutes it’s going to become a downpour. I don’t want to get soaked if I don’t have to.”

  Harrison thought she was exaggerating. A short time later, when he was soaked through to the bone and freezing, he had to admit she’d been right.

  The cave they found was little more than a long, narrow overhang of rocks. There were two reasons they went inside. One, it wasn’t occupied, which was a problem to be considered given the nightly habits of some of the animals in the area, and two, the floor was dry. The air was as damp and welcoming as sleet, but not too drafty, and so it would have to do.

  MacHugh refused to go to the back with Millie. Harrison stripped the stallion of his gear and let him stand near the mouth of the cave. The horse changed his mind and moved to the back as soon as Mary Rose got a fire going with the twigs and branches Harrison had collected. He’d tried for ten minutes to get the damp wood to ignite. She was more experienced than he was, however, and knew how to stack the wood just right with dried leaves she’d gathered from the floor of the cave.

  Harrison dried off the horses as best he could, then caught water in a makeshift bucket he fashioned out of the canvas he’d been intelligent enough to bring along, and gave the water to Millie. When she’d had her fill, he let MacHugh quench his thirst.

  Mary Rose worked on drying the damp bedrolls and then made up beds for the night. She placed the blankets side by side.

  He wanted his on the opposite side of the fire, but he didn’t complain because he knew she was only using good sense. They would need to stay close together to share their warmth during the night.