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Rose(43)

By:Leigh Greenwood


“I promise we won’t crack a smile.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Monty. “I can’t wait to pounce on her.”

Monty was obviously trying to be provocative, but Rose couldn’t take him seriously. How could any woman be interested in a seventeen-year-old boy, no matter how well-grown and handsome, when he had a twenty-four-year-old brother like George sitting in the same room? George’s shoulders would make two of Monty. And all Monty’s youthful enthusiasm paled before George’s masterful calm. Monty was as transparent as still water. George was a tangle of dark secrets, suppressed passions, and barely restrained tensions, an irresistible challenge to any woman.

Rose ignored the others and looked straight at Zac. “A man has to like a woman so much he doesn’t want her to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave. Can I marry you?”

Rose had to turn away to hide her watery eyes. “Thank you, Zac, but there are rules against little boys getting married.”

“There’s rules against everything I want to do,” he said, disgusted. “You’ll have to marry Hen. He’ll shoot those fellas.”

Rose got up from the table. “I’m sure he would, but he’s too young, too.”

“Is George old enough?”

“Yes.”

“Then why—”

“I think you’ve asked enough questions for tonight,” Rose said. “It’s time to get ready for bed.”





Chapter Eight


“Wonder why she isn’t married,” Monty said later when they were settling into bed.

“I guess nobody asked her,” George said.

“With that face and body! If they had any notion how she can cook, there’d be a line from here to Austin. I’m tempted to ask her myself.”

“You!” George could hardly credit how much the idea of Monty’s marrying Rose upset him.

“You needn’t say it that way. I’m not bad looking, and she likes me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s nice to me.”

“She’s paid to be nice to you.”

“I know, but there’s a difference.”

George didn’t want to own up to the rising tide of irritation within himself.

“I’m not going to dignify that remark by asking what you mean. Besides, she’s older than you.”

“No law against a man marrying an older woman. Seems like a good idea in Rose’s case.”

George wished he could enlist Hen’s aid in making his twin talk sense, but it was Hen’s night to sleep out.

“I agree it’s unusual for such a nice-looking girl to be unmarried, but I can’t see why that should make you want to marry her.”

“Nice-looking!” Monty exclaimed. “Girl! That woman is beautiful, and you know it. I don’t know what tale you told her to get her out here, but if you weren’t such a cold-hearted bastard, I’d be sure you were after her yourself.”

“I’m not planning to get married. I didn’t know you were either.”

“I was just joking,” Monty confessed, “but it’s not a bad idea. Then she could go on cooking for us forever.”

“Go to sleep, Monty. And for God’s sake don’t let her guess you thought of marrying her just so she could cook for you.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“You’ll know one of these days, and then you’ll squirm every time you remember what you said.”

“I can’t go to sleep with you talking,” Zac complained.

“We’re done,” George said.

But George couldn’t sleep either. The feelings hurtling around inside him were too numerous, strong, and unexpected to allow him to rest. The thought of anybody marrying Rose had thoroughly upset him.

But why? What business was it of his who she married? Besides, marrying Monty would solve just about all his problems.

But it was a solution he would hate.

He was jealous. Monty had said Rose liked him. That implied a very special kind of liking, and George realized he wanted Rose to like him more than anyone else.

No. He wanted her to like him and no one else.





George was suspicious when Monty held Rose’s chair at breakfast. He became irritated when he kept telling her how good everything tasted. He grew furious when he told her how pretty she was.

“For God’s sake, Monty, shut up. How can you expect Rose to swallow your overblown compliments with her breakfast?”

“It’s not hard for a woman to accept compliments any time of the day,” Rose informed him. “I haven’t gotten all that many.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Monty said. “You’re certainly the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”