Black Rose

Chapter Fifteen

ROZ PUTMITCHoff for a day, then for two. She wanted her head clear, her temper calm, and it wasn't happening quickly. She needed a meeting with her lawyer, and felt obliged to schedule another with William Rolls at the club.

She hated, absolutely hated, being pulled away from her work, particularly at the very start of high season. She could thank God for Stella, as always for Harper, and for Hayley as well. She could be confident that her business was in the best of hands.

But those hands weren't hers, at least not while she was running around tidying up the mess Bryce had made for her.

With the hateful errands done, she trudged through a soaking rain toward the propagation house. For an hour or two, at least, she could dive into the final prep work for the spring season. And she could take her headache, and her sour mood, into a private spot and let the work do its magic.

When she was done for the day, she told herself, she was going to find Mitch. If he wasn't working in her library, she'd call him. She wanted his company - or hoped she would by that evening.

She wanted conversation, about something other than her problems. And wouldn't it be nice to relax with him, maybe up in her sitting room, by the fire - especially if the rain continued - and bask a little in the way he looked at her?

A woman could get very used to having a man look at her as if she were beautiful and desirable and the only one who mattered.

Get used enough to it, she might start to believe it. She'd like to believe it, Roz realized. What a difference it made, being drawn to a man you felt you could trust.

She opened the door to the propagation house.

And stepped into her own bedroom.

The fire was simmering low, the only light in the room. And it tossed flickers of gold, hints of red into the shadows. She heard them first, the quick breath, the low laughter, the rustle of clothing.

Then she saw them in the firelight, Bryce, her husband, and the woman who was a guest in her home. Embracing. No, more . . . grappling, hurrying to touch, to taste each other. She could feel the excitement from them, the snap of the illicit thrill. And knew, even in those few shocked seconds, this wasn't the first time. Hardly the first time.

She stood, with the sounds of the party dim behind her, and absorbed the betrayal, and the greasy slide of humiliation that was under it.

As she had before, she started to step back, to leave them there, but he turned his head, turned it toward her even as his hands cupped another woman's breasts.

And he smiled, bright and charming and sly. Laughed, low and pleased.

"Stupid bitch, I was never faithful. None of us are."

Even as he spoke, his face changed, light and shadow playing over it as it became Mitch's face.

"Why should we be? Women are meant to be used. Do you really think one of you matters more than another?" That lovely voice dripped derision as he fondled the woman in his arms. "We all lie, because we can."

Those shadows floated and the face became John's. Her husband, her love. The father of her sons. "Do you think I was true to you, you pathetic fool?"

"John." The pain nearly took her to her knees. So young, she thought. So alive. "Oh, God, John."

"Oh, God, John," he mimicked, as his hands made the woman he embraced moan. "Needed sons, didn't I? You were nothing more than a broodmare. If I'd been luckier, I'd have lived and left you. Taken what mattered, taken my sons, and left you."

"That's a lie."

"We all lie."

When he laughed, she had to press her hands over her ears. When he laughed, it was like fists pounding on her body, on her heart, until she did simply sink to her knees.

She heard herself weeping, raw, bitter sobs.

She didn't hear the door open behind her, or the startled exclamation. Arms came around her, hard and tight. And she smelled her son.

"Mama, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Mama."

"No. No." She clung to him, pressing her face into his shoulder and fighting to stop the tears. "I'm all right. Don't worry. I'm just - "

"You're not all right, and don't tell me not to worry. Tell me what it is. Tell me what happened."

"In a minute. Just a minute." She leaned against him, let him rock her there on the ground until his warmth seeped into her own icy bones. "Oh, Harper, when did you get to be so big and strong? My baby."

"You're shaking. You're not sick, you're scared."

"Not scared." She drew a deep breath. "A little traumatized, I guess."

"I'm taking you home. You can tell me about it there."

"I . . . yes, that's best." She drew back a little, wiped at her face. "I don't want to see anybody else just now. I sure as hell don't want anyone to see me. I'm a little bit of a wreck, Harper, and imagine I look like a major one."

"Don't worry. Want me to carry you?"

"Oh." Tears stung her eyes again, but warm ones. "My sweet boy. No, I can walk just fine. Tell me something first. Everything's the same in here, isn't it? Everything's as it should be in here?"

Because there was such tension in her voice, he looked around the greenhouse. "Everything's fine."

"Okay. Okay. Let's go home."

She let him lead her through the rain, around the buildings, and let out her first sigh of relief when she climbed into his car.

"Just relax," he ordered, and leaned over to fasten her seat belt himself. "We'll be home in a minute. You need to get warm."

"You'll make a good daddy."

"What?"

"You've got a nurturing bent - comes from being a gardener, maybe, but you don't just know how to take care, you take it. Christ, these have been a lousy couple of days."

"Did you have a fight with Mitch or something?"

"No." She kept her eyes closed as he drove, but her lips curved a little. "I don't get hysterical over a spat. I hope to God it takes more than that to bring me so low."

"I've never seen you cry like that, not since Daddy died."

"I don't guess I have." She felt the car turn, and opened her eyes so she could watch Harper House come into view. "Did you ever want me to give it up, this place?"

"No." His expression was utter shock as he looked over at her. "Of course not."

"Good. That's good to know for sure. I don't know if I could have, even for you."

"It's ours, and it's always going to be." He parked, and was out of the car and hurrying to her side before she could get out.

"I'm just a little shaky, Harper, not mortally wounded."

"You're going straight up, getting into some dry clothes. I'll bring you up some brandy."

"Harper, this is going to sound stupid, but I'm not quite ready to go upstairs."

"I'll get you some dry clothes. You can change in David's room."

"Thanks." He didn't even ask why, she thought. Didn't hesitate. What a man she'd raised.

"Go on back to David," he ordered. "Tell him I said you're to have some brandy, and some hot tea."

"Yes, sir."

Before she could move toward the stairs, Mitch came out of the library and started down the hall.

"I thought I heard the door - I've been keeping an ear . . ." He trailed off as he got closer, then lengthened his stride to reach her. "What is it? Are you sick, hurt?"

"No. Do I look sick?"

"You look pale as a sheet, and you've been crying. What is it?" He looked over her head into Harper's eyes. "What happened?"

"She doesn't really want to see anyone right now," Harper began.

"It's all right." She squeezed Harper's hand. "I did say that," she told Mitch, "but after I pull myself together a little more, I'd just as soon tell you both - all three of you, since I imagine David's in the kitchen - at once."

"She needs dry clothes," Harper stated. "If you'd take her back to David, get some brandy into her, I'll go fetch her some."

"For heaven's sake, this is what comes from being the little woman in a house full of big, strapping males. I don't have to be taken anywhere, and I can get brandy into myself."

"She's coming back." Harper nodded at Mitch. "You'll take care of her. I'll just be a minute."

"I've worried him now," Roz stated as Harper bounded up the steps. "I hate worrying him."

"Well, you're worrying me, too."

"I suppose it can't be helped. I wouldn't mind that brandy, though."

The minute they stepped into the kitchen, David rushed forward, concern tightening his face. Roz simply threw up a hand.

"I'm not hurt, I'm not sick, and there's no need to fuss. What I want is a shot of brandy, and the dry clothes Harper's bringing down. Mind if I change in your room?"

"No. Sit down." As he strode to a cabinet, he whipped the dishrag tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and used it to brush flour from his hands. "Who made her cry?"

Because the question was more of an accusation, tossed straight at Mitch, Mitch held up his hands for peace. "I've been here, remember? Harper just brought her in like this."

"I must point out, I'm sitting right here. And as I am, I can speak for myself. Thanks, baby." She lifted the snifter of brandy and took a quick, deep swallow. "Always hated this stuff, but it shoots straight to the spot."

She managed a smile as Harper came in with a sweatshirt, jeans, and thick socks. "My hero. Just give me a couple of minutes, and I'll try to explain what happened."

Harper waited until she'd gone into David's quarters, and the doors were closed.

"I found her sitting on the floor of the propagation house, crying. Just . . . sobbing. She hardly ever cries. Gets a little wet when something makes her really happy, or sentimental, but when she's sad or hurt - she doesn't let you see it."

"What's been going on the past few days?" Mitch demanded, and saw David and Harper exchange a look. "I knew there was something. She's been avoiding me."

"It's best if she tells you herself. David, she ought to have some tea, don't you think?"

"I'll put it on. Get that box of Nirvana caramels out of the fridge. Some chocolate will make her feel better. Mitch, why don't you light the fire there? I didn't bother with it today."

When Roz stepped back in, David was brewing tea, Harper was setting out fancy chocolates, and Mitch was babying a fire in the kitchen hearth.

"Makes me wonder why I haven't had some sort of jag long before this, if I get three good-looking men bustling around ready to wait on me. Before we sit down, Mitch, I should've told you before. I think you'll want your tape recorder."

"I'll get it."

It gave her a little more time, calming herself toward cool by the time they all sat together. She told them, was able to relay it matter-of-factly now. Though her hands went cold again, she simply warmed them on her teacup and finished describing her experience in the greenhouse.

"I always had a soft spot for the Bride," David began, "but now, I think she's just a stone bitch."

"Hard to argue." Roz picked up a piece of chocolate. "But it seems to me that she believes all this sincerely. Men are liars and cheats and no-good bastards. She wants me to believe it so I'm not used and hurt again."

"Mama." Harper stared hard into his own tea. "Do you believe Daddy wasn't faithful to you?"

"I don't believe anything of the kind. More than that, honey, I know he was faithful. Without a single doubt."

"She made you see him that way."

"She made me see him," Roz repeated. "And it broke my heart. To see him, just as he'd been. So young and vibrant and real. Just out of my reach. Out of my reach, when everything I felt for him came alive inside me again, just as vibrant and real. I knew it was a lie, even as it happened. And the cruel things she put into his mouth were never his. He was never cruel."

"She used your experience with Bryce, a painful incident," Mitch began. "And transferred that experience to the man who came before him. John. The man who came after him. Me. She'd rather hurt you, is compelled to hurt you, to save you from becoming involved with me."

"A bit late for that."

"Is it?"

"Do you think I'm so weak-minded, so spineless that I'd let her tricks influence me?"

"I think you're strong-minded, perilously close to a fault. I'm just not sure how much you disagree with her."

"I see. Well, well, well. I think I've told y'all what I can. I'm going to go on up, do some paperwork. Harper, it'd set my mind at ease if you'd go back to the nursery, just make sure everything's under control. David, the tea was just right, thanks."

She rose, strode out of the room without a second glance.