The responsibility for his brothers hung over George like a pall. There were times when he was tempted to throw it all over and head for the nearest fort and a commission he knew would be his for the asking. It was there just for the taking, the rank, the command, the career he had always wanted, doubly bad after his father’s last scandal had cost him his appointment to West Point.
The war had given him a second chance. If he joined now, he’d have his choice of commands. If he waited until the boys were settled and Zac old enough to get about on his own, he would probably be too old to work his way up through the ranks.
But he couldn’t leave. The only people he really cared about were here.
Did that include Rose?
He hadn’t meant to say so much to her. More than that, he hadn’t expected so much understanding. He had been able to control his attraction to her only by cutting himself off from her.
But one evening had changed that.
He wished he’d been in the room when she turned the table over. He could just see his brothers’ faces. Jeff was used to weak women who never stood up to a man. Why shouldn’t he be? Their mother never stood up to their father. Monty expected people to listen to him, but he respected anyone who fought back. George didn’t know what Hen thought. He never had.
It would take them a while to get used to Rose’s willingness to stand up for herself.
He remembered her profile as she moved to put away the dishes. He felt a familiar warmth begin to stir in his groin. Odd she should set him off so easily. He had met hundreds of women before and during the war, some of them very beautiful, some of them ready to do just about anything for the son of tall, handsome, infamous William Henry Randolph, and he’d been able to ignore them all.
But he couldn’t ignore Rose.
He remembered the endless trip from Austin, the hours he spent trying to concentrate on the ranch, the numberless times his eyes had sought her out, the struggle to keep the heat flaring inside him out of his voice, his actions, his every thought.
It was like that now. Everything faded until he could see nothing but Rose, think of nothing but Rose, want nothing but Rose. It was like she had bewitched him, made him do things he didn’t want to do.
It would be so easy to reach out and touch her.
And so stupid!
“Does George know you’re out here?”
“I told him.”
“What did he say?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Monty chuckled. “You don’t mind getting into the middle of any kind of fight, do you?”
“I don’t like fights,” Rose answered, surprised he would say such a thing.
Monty laughed again. “You throw a whole dinner on the floor because you don’t like our manners. Then you bring me dinner after George and Jeff have exiled me, and you say you don’t like fights.”
“George didn’t exile you.”
“Yes he did—he and that sanctimonious prig.”
“You must try to be patient with Jeff.”
Monty made a rude noise.
“Losing an arm must be a terribly difficult thing to accept. As for George, he was only trying to see that you treated me properly. He didn’t enjoy sending you from the table.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“You should. He’s the one who told me where to find you.”
“Why would he? He doesn’t care whether I go to bed hungry or not.”
“You’re wrong. He also told me I’d better bring your dinner in a bucket or the dogs would get it before I got halfway here.”
Rose was exhausted, but she couldn’t sleep. She had twisted and turned in her bed until the sheets were in a knot and the thin blanket had fallen to the floor. She listened for any sound, but silence had settled over the house more than an hour ago. She doubted she would have heard the men even if they’d been talking loud. The house didn’t look like much, but it had been very well built.
She had locked the kitchen door below. She wasn’t sure whether she was keeping the men out or herself in, but she needed the security of knowing she was safe from rustlers.
Monty was sleeping out. It seemed one of the boys always spent the night somewhere in the brush. It was a little like standing watch. That made her feel better, but it also worried her. She had never feared attack, not even during the war. Now nothing but Monty stood between them and the dreaded Cortina. And Hen, who shot people when they tried to take their cows.
And George. Rose didn’t imagine that George liked shooting people, but she couldn’t see him allowing anybody to harm his family or take his property. And for the time being she was part of his family. Knowing that made her feel safer than she had felt since her father left for the war.