Authors: Colleen Quinn
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.
S
HE 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.
“Rosemary.” He smiled involuntarily, his voice filled with a warmth that he belatedly checked. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back into place. He seemed preoccupied and distracted, as if he had a lot on his mind. “What is it?”
Rosemary grinned, her green eyes dancing. She would put the smile back on his face, whatever was troubling him.
“Michael, I…” She glanced over the canvas and saw Griggs watching her closely. Just beyond him were Biddle and Zachery, Clara cackling at the men, Leonardo grumbling, and William walking into tents. Her cheeks reddened, and she gestured to him and indicated a more secluded cluster of trees. Although she was bursting with the news, she just couldn’t tell him like this.
He straightened, then called out to Griggs, “Finish this up, and I’ll be back to help with the rest.” He didn’t notice that Griggs gestured to Biddle, or that Biddle said something to Zachery that made him stop working. He followed Rosemary into the trees.
“Michael, I have to tell you something…something wonderful….” She looked exultant, full of honest, youthful adoration. Her eyes were shining, open and proud, and she seemed bursting with some wonderful secret.
“Rosemary, don’t.” Michael couldn’t bear it. He had no doubt that she was going to confess her love, and he knew how much harder it would be on her if he let her. He took a deep breath and reached for her, holding her hands in his own.
“Rosemary, I know what you’re going to say, and you’re wrong. What you’re feeling—it’s not what you think.”
She stared at him, her nose wrinkling in confusion. What did he mean? Did he know? Did he know something she didn’t? His beautiful gray eyes looked frozen, and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Her eyes went trustingly to his, and she waited.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for some time, and it was only my selfish pleasure that kept me from doing it sooner. That was wrong, I realize that now, and I’ve hurt you in a way I never intended. I’m sorry, Rose. Maybe someday you’ll forgive me.”
“Forgive you? Michael, what are you talking about?”
He smiled, but the expression brought no warmth to his face. “I have to go home now. I’m needed there. I knew this day would come, and I kept putting it off, but now it’s here. Remember that man who stopped by our table last night and gave me a letter? It was from my mother. She needs me. She’s not like you, Rose, so self-reliant and independent. It’s time.”
“But…I don’t understand—”
“I know.” His hands caressed hers, and she felt the roughness of his rope-scraped palms. “My mission for coming out here is almost finished. I was collecting on some of my father’s debts. You know that—I’ve tried never to lie to you. The circus season is almost over. You and the troupe will then settle in for the winter and plan for next year, but I can’t. I’ve neglected all of my other business affairs and my duties to my family. I can’t go on like this any longer.”
He meant it. He was leaving. The irony of that struck her, and she fought the tears that threatened to spill forth.