Coming Up Roses (38 page)

“
Thank God. Thank God.” He cradled her
in his arms, and his heart felt full to overflowing. Since H.L. May
would sooner have people call him Horatio Lambert than admit to
entertaining weepy emotions, he captured her lips with his again
and ravished her mouth.

If she wasn’t stunned and breathless after
that kiss, she was made of stone, and H.L. already knew she wasn’t.
Lowering her to the bed again, he continued his survey of her body
with his hands and his lips and tongue. Rose was soon writhing
underneath him.

“
Good,” he whispered when she whimpered
softly. “I want you to love this, Rose, because we’re going to be
doing it a lot.”

She crammed a fist to her mouth, as if to
stifle a scream. “Oh, my!”

He didn’t want to scare her, but H.L. had a
yen to let her know what she did to him, so he guided her other
hand to his erect sex. She let out a soft cry, and he saw her big
blue eyes open wide. “That’s the effect you have on me, Rose.
Pretty powerful, isn’t it?”

“
I should say so. I’ve never—that is,
I— Oh, dear.”

“
You’ve never seen a man like this
before?”

She shook her head, and her curly hair caught
the lantern light. H.L. was delighted to perceive golden and red
highlights gleaming up at him. “I love your hair,” he whispered.
Then he buried his face in it and had the joy of feeling Rose’s
arms enfold him.

After an exquisite moment, Rose whispered,
“I’ve seen dogs and horses before, but never a man.”

H.L. couldn’t help it: He laughed. Rose
smacked him lightly on his shoulder blade. “It’s not funny,
H.L.”

“
Is, too.” Burrowing his hands under
the hollow of her back, he rolled over onto his own back, taking
her with him so that she was lying on top of him, her exquisite
body pressing against his. He’d never felt anything so good in his
life. He cupped her face in his big hands and drew it down to his.
She kissed him as if her life depended on it. He knew his
did.

He rolled over again, until she was beneath
him. As much as he was enjoying this, he feared he was going to
disgrace himself if they didn’t get down to business soon. He
hadn’t been this excited since his first time. It seemed funny to
him that the most potent aphrodisiac he’d yet discovered was love,
since he used to be so cynical about love.

Not any longer. With a shaking hand, he
reached to cover the dark brown curls between Rose’s thighs with
his hand. He heard her suck in a deep breath, but she didn’t
protest. By the time he found the seat of her pleasure with his
thumb, his whole body was trembling. He felt as if an earthquake
were happening inside him.

“
Oh, my!” she exclaimed softly when he
began gently manipulating his fingers against her. She lifted her
hips in rhythm to his tender caresses. “Oh, H.L.”

“
That’s the way, Rose.” His voice was
low and scratchy with passion. “That’s the way, sweetheart. It’s
supposed to be good, Rose. I want it to be good for you. Does it
feel good, Rose?”

“
Yes. Oh, yes.” She caught her breath
again, her body stiffened, and then, with a cry, she shuddered
beneath him.

H.L. watched, enraptured. He’d never seen
anything so beautiful in his life as Rose achieving pleasure at his
hand. Before she could come back down to this earthly plane, he
knelt over her. “I hope this won’t hurt, Rose.”

Without giving her a chance to react to his
hope, H.L. guided himself to her wet passage and thrust home. With
his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he spared a moment to bless Rose’s
chosen career, because she evidently felt no pain. At least, she
didn’t cry out or mention it.

She felt so good. He didn’t dare to move for
fear he’d spill his seed before he wanted to, so he remained poised
there, action suspended until he was able to trust himself again.
Fearing what he might see, but needing to know how she was reacting
to his intimate invasion, he cricked his eyes open and peered down
at her. She looked stunned. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing
and guessed he’d better ask.

“
Did I hurt you, Rose.” His voice, he
noticed, didn’t sound like it belonged to him.

She shook her head. “N-no. It
feels—funny.”

Great. Here he wanted to give her the
greatest experience of her life, and he was making her feel funny.
He cleared his throat. “Um, is that bad?”

Again she shook her head. “No. It
feels—good.”

Ah. That’s what he’d been hoping for. With a
sigh, H.L. decided he’d probably survive. “Good. I’m glad.”

Very carefully, taking exquisite care so as
not to frighten Rose, he began to move inside her. He watched her
closely, trying to gauge her reaction.

She appeared confused for only a moment
before she started tentatively meeting his thrusts with lifts of
her hips. H.L. blessed her and decided he could stop being so
careful and resume enjoying himself.

It didn’t take him long. He’d been wanting
this for so long, and he and Rose had been through so much together
in the short time they’d known each other, and both H.L. and his
body needed this affirmation of his love. After only a few deep
thrusts, his release came, shudderingly and magnificently, and with
a hoarse cry that seemed ripped from deep inside him.

Rose held on for dear life, although he
didn’t know it until his last shuddering spasm had been spent and
he barely stopped himself from collapsing on her and crushing her.
With great care, he let himself down at her side. He was still
buried inside her; he wanted to stay there forever.

A deep, deep silence prevailed in the tent.
To H.L., it was as if they’d been transported to another world, one
in which there was nothing but Rose and himself, floating in
blissful fulfillment.

Being a cynical and world-weary reporter, he
knew he was out of his mind even to think such a thing for a
second. Therefore, with a gut-wrenching sigh, he opened his
eyes.

Nope. No other world. Rose’s tent. He glanced
at Rose. Her eyes were closed, and she looked as if she weren’t
quite sure what had happened to her. Or him, for that matter.

“
Rose?” He spoke her name softly,
hoping she was still willing to speak to him. Truth to tell, he
hoped she still loved him. He loved her; no mistake. If he were
another sort of man, he’d pick her up and carry her right off to a
justice of the peace and demand he unite them in holy matrimony.
Such a notion was alien to H.L. May’s nature, however, and it no
sooner entered his head than he thrust it aside again.

He was glad when her eyelids fluttered open.
She turned her head and looked at him. “H.L.?”

“
Are you all right, Rose?”

She didn’t answer immediately, but seemed to
be taking stock before answering. After a minute, she said, “Um, I
think so.”

“
Good.” He realized he was more than
all right. He was absolutely splendid. He couldn’t recall the last
time he’d felt this well, actually, which was odd since he’d
recently sustained a powerful injury. His grin sneaked up on him.
“I think you cured me, Rose.”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Aw, hell, he felt so good, he couldn’t stand
it. With a whoop that made Rose cringe, he grabbed her around the
waist, rolled over so that she was lying on top of him, and said,
“I feel wonderful! You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to
me, Rose Gilhooley. You cured me right up. My head doesn’t hurt at
all anymore.”

“
No?” She didn’t smile back at
him.

“
No.” He hugged her hard and for so
long that she gasped for breath.

He released her, but still grinned at her.
“Sorry. But I feel really swell, Rose.”

“
Um, I’m glad.”

“
You ought to be, since it’s all your
fault.”

While she didn’t seem to want to grin at him,
she found no trouble frowning. “What’s my fault?”

He cranked his own grin up a notch. “The fact
that I feel so good is your fault. You cured me. You fixed my head,
and made love with me, and I feel good. Great. Wonderful!”

At long last, she offered him a shy smile.
“It felt good to me, too, H.L.”

That’s what he’d been waiting for. He hugged
her again, hard. She gasped again. “Don’t squish me!” she
begged.

He rolled over so that they were lying on
their sides, facing each other. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to
squish you. You’re really something, Rose. Really, really
something.”

“
So are you, H.L.” She looked
embarrassed.

H.L. didn’t want her to be embarrassed. He
wanted her to be madly in love with him. So, knowing that women
needed to hear certain things, he kissed her and whispered, “I love
you, Rose.”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought she blushed.
“I love you, too, H.L.”

Good. That was out of the way. The fact that
it was the truth in this instance, and that H.L. had never said
such a thing to another woman, made him feel good. He hadn’t ever
really considered himself and love in the same sentence until Rose.
It made him feel akin to his fellow men that he, H.L. May, could
actually fall in love. It was sort of nice, really.

“
Um,” Rose said, sounding tentative and
as if she wasn’t sure she should be speaking, “may I ask you
something?”

“
Certainly!” H.L. felt expansive. At
the moment, he not only loved Rose, but he loved the whole world.
He felt like singing. Maybe even dancing. It occurred to him that
it would be nice to dance with Rose. He’d have to set about taking
her to some of Chicago’s night spots. He’d bet she was a good
dancer. “Ask me anything you want, Rose.” He loved life. He loved
everything.

“
Um, does this mean you want to marry
me?”

H.L.’s expansive mood collapsed like a bombed
building. In a heartbeat, his ecstasy plummeted into a whirlpool of
sheer terror.

Chapter Nineteen

“
Don’t you say another word, H.L. May.
I don’t want to hear you or your phony excuses.” Rose was buttoning
up her nightgown, although her fingers fumbled with the buttons.
She was so mad she would have spit, except that she was trying so
hard not to cry that her spit wouldn’t come.

“
Rose. Rose, don’t!” H.L. was buttoning
his own clothes. He looked truly awful, with his face all over
bruises and an expression of anguish in his eyes.

She didn’t care. “Just get out of here, H.L.
I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“
Rose! That’s not true, and you know
it! You love me. You said so.”

“
I don’t care what I said.” Rose picked
up one of his shoes and hurled it at him. He caught it as it struck
him in the stomach, and she had the satisfaction of hearing him
utter an “Umph!” and seeing him shake out the fingers of his right
hand. Good. She hoped she’d broken a few of them.

“
And I love you, too! Just because I
hadn’t considered marriage before you brought it up is no reason
to—”

“
Hush up!” Rose threw his other shoe at
him. She was sorry he caught it before it hit. “Just hush up! I
don’t want to hear another word from you. Get out of
here!”

“
But, Rose!”

“
No!” She couldn’t remember ever being
so enraged. Or so hurt.

“
Listen, Rose . . .”

“
Get out of here, H.L. May.” Her voice
held a truly gratifying degree of menace. Rose looked around her
tent, trying to remember where she’d put her Colt revolver. As
angry as she was, she wouldn’t shoot the bounder, but she might be
able to put the fear of God into him.

“
Rose—”

“
Get
out
.”

As he finished dressing, Rose began searching
through trunks and boxes. If she could find that gun, maybe she
could at least whack him with it. A good, solid revolver would
produce a much more satisfying thwack than a shoe.

“
Listen, Rose, we need to
talk.”

Giving up her search for the Colt, she
straightened and stared at him, trying to discern the evil she
hadn’t noticed before. She didn’t notice it now, either, blast it.
He still looked like the man she loved. He shouldn’t. He ought, if
life were fair, to look like the devil.

“
You’re a cad, H.L. May. You’re a
coldhearted, black-hearted scoundrel. You’re—”

“
I’m not, either!” he cried, obviously
offended.

“
Ha!” If he was offended, Rose was
outraged. Not to mention completely, totally, absolutely
crushed.

Annie had been right about H.L. all
along. Rose should have listened to her. Well . . . She
had
listened to her. The problem had
been that Rose hadn’t wanted to believe Annie was right about H.L.
Rose had wanted to believe that H.L. wasn’t a beast, like all the
other men in the world. She’d wanted to believe that H.L. May was
special.

She was a fool. A naive, ignorant,
stupid fool. She’d willfully disregarded Annie’s wiser counsel, and
look what had happened. She’d allowed H.L. May to take advantage of
her. And she’d had the unmitigated idiocy to think he wanted
to
marry
her. As if a man
like him would ever want to marry an uneducated bumpkin like Rose
Ellen Gilhooley.

Ha! He probably considered Rose no more than
an interesting sidelight to a nefarious career as a woman-chaser.
An excursion into the untried frontiers of country life.

He’d managed to get both shoes on and tied,
and was looking around for his hat. Rose saw it first. She marched
over to it and swept it up. She thrust it at him as if she were
thrusting a lance. “Here. Get out.”