Her smile made him wonder how it was possible to mix coquettishness and innocence in the same expression. He also wondered how such a tiny movement of muscles could have such a strong effect on him.
“In the meantime, I’ve got to see about getting supper finished. If Monty’s not fed soon after he’s finished with his bath, he’s liable to throw me in the tub yet.”
Her effort at humor barely eased the tensions inside George. “Thanks for remaining cheerful despite so much opposition. Now I’d better get inside and hurry the twins along, or you’ll be midnight getting out of the kitchen.”
Rose felt a pang of disappointment as she watched George walk to the house. She was certain he was more concerned about not being left alone with her than about the hour he sat down to his dinner. He was prepared to thank her, appreciate her work, support her decisions, but that was as far as he would go.
Forget the notion you’re ever going to be more than a housekeeper to him. He’s told you what he wants.
But hope didn’t die that easily. George’s brothers weren’t anything like the Robinsons, but she felt a kinship with them. They were all lonely souls looking for a place to keep warm. She would love to help if they would only let her.
“This has got to end now,” Monty shouted.
Jeff agreed. “You’ve gone too far this time.”
“I don’t mind stripping the beds and hanging the blankets on the line to air,” Rose informed them, “but I can’t lift the mattresses.”
“Who says they have to be lifted?” Monty demanded.
“They need to be aired out.”
“Then open the windows.”
The clamor of angry voices outside woke George. Realizing that Monty and Jeff had set aside their mutual antagonism long enough to become embroiled in a new argument with Rose, he felt tempted to sneak out the back door, saddle his horse, and head for any army fort west of the Mississippi and north of the Arkansas River. Just once, why couldn’t Monty do what he was asked without kicking up a fuss? And why on earth did Jeff have to join in? What was it about Rose that made him so antagonistic? George couldn’t find a single thing to object to about Rose.
Except that he thought about her too often.
He hadn’t known her four days yet, and it seemed she was on his mind all the time. And he didn’t mean her cooking or her running battle with Monty.
He meant Rose herself. He had dreamed about her. And the things they did in those dreams would probably turn Rose’s cheeks crimson. George had tried to look at her as just a housekeeper, but a few more dreams like last night and he wouldn’t be able to think about her without his body stiffening immediately.
It had happened three times yesterday, twice while he was in the saddle and once at dinner. During the enforced abstinence of the war years, his body had seldom reminded him of its unsatisfied need. Now he was feeling almost as randy as he had in his teens.
If either Jeff or Monty noticed, he’d never hear the end of it. Hen probably wouldn’t say anything; he didn’t know if Tyler would understand. Zac wouldn’t care even if he did understand.
And of course he didn’t want Rose to know. What could she think except that he had lured her out here into the wilds of southern Texas to take advantage of her?
George didn’t intend to take advantage of her, but he didn’t know what he did want to do. At one moment he wanted nothing more than to be alone with her so he could satisfy his hunger for her. At another time he wanted to be far beyond the reach of any woman, especially a woman as domestic as Rose. He could see babies in her eyes. And the last thing on this earth George wanted was to become a father.
“I’m going to ask George.” That was Tyler. The little worm.
“Get up, Hen,” George said to his brother.
“Time to quell another domestic rebellion?” A rare smile lifted Hen’s lips.
“Sounds like it. Unless you want to handle this one.”
“No. I hear Jeff.”
“He is your brother, too. You don’t have to treat him like a leper.”
“You tell him that.”
“I have.”
“Doesn’t seem to do much good.”
“Nothing I’ve done around here seems to have done much good. I might as well have gone straight into the army.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
George had his back to Hen, but he turned back to face his younger brother.
“Zac needs somebody to look up to,” Hen explained. Then, much to George’s surprise, Hen drew on his pants, picked up his mattress, and carried it outside.
“Shut up, Monty, and get your mattress,” Hen said to his twin. “You’re getting to be a regular jaw-me-dead. Where do you want this, ma’am?”