Defiant Rose (26 page)

“Do you like it?” Rose almost giggled when she asked. A warm flood of pleasure washed through her at his approval, particularly when he lifted her face to his, his finger delicately tracing her jawline.

“My God, you are so beautiful. I never knew that just a dress— Who did your hair?” He admired the stunning upswept style that tamed just enough of her red curls, while a few rebellious locks softly framed her face.

“The maid.” Rosemary let out a sigh. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, wanting so badly to look perfect, to be what he would have wanted. “Where are we going to eat?” She slipped her hand through his arm, feeling self-conscious at the gesture. It seemed ludicrous that Carney would need help to walk from one room to the other, but his chivalrous invitation was too compelling to ignore. And it was strangely enjoyable to be cosseted by a man.

“We’re going to the opera first. Then we’ll get a late dinner at the hotel.”

“The opera?” Rosemary tried to sound enthusiastic, but a thick steak and plenty of ale sounded a lot better to her right now than a highbrow play. “Isn’t that where they sing in a different language and jump around on the stage and nobody understands it?”

“Something like that,” he said, amused. “But I’ll explain it to you, and you’ll understand. Actually, I’m glad to be with you. One’s first opera is a powerful experience.”

“I’m sure.” Rosemary tried to sound convinced, but she hoped that the show wouldn’t be dull. She knew she should try to share Michael’s tastes, but what she’d heard of the opera was not encouraging. For a circus performer to sit through someone else’s boring show was a torment, indeed, and she bravely forced a smile, hoping it wouldn’t look too transparent.

Michael hid a grin as the carriage halted before the Tabor Opera House. Rosemary’s eyes widened at the imposing redbrick building constructed by the silver king. Huge oval windows stared out of the building like a woman’s coquettish eyes, while inside the ivory and gold theater boxes glimmered from the stage corners. Signs advertising everything from Dan Desmond’s carbonated sodas to the Sawdust Corner Saloon hung from the stage ceiling, and well-dressed ushers escorted them to the front box.

“My God,” Rosemary breathed, awestruck by the elegant theater and the gorgeous people filling it. Denver’s wealthy poured in, the women beautiful in their gowns, the men sophisticated in black suits and silk cravats. Heads turned as Rose and Michael made their way through the crowd, and people paused to admire the handsome man and the tiny auburn-haired woman before him. Several acquaintances who remembered him from Philadelphia waved to Michael, their curious eyes falling on Rosemary and wondering who his beautiful and vivacious companion was.

Rosemary was unaware of the attention she was receiving and could only stare around her in wonder, pointing out each new item of interest. The chandeliers were imported and blazed from the ceiling. The ceiling itself was decorated with a creamy-white plaster that was molded so artfully it resembled a buttercream cake. Her feet sank into the soft burgundy carpet that covered the floor.

“What do you think?” Michael pulled out the chair for her, and Rosemary slipped into it, her eyes sparkling.

“It’s gorgeous. If the opera is half as nice as this, it will be good.”

“It will be,” Michael said, more amused by the moment. He handed her the program, then leaned over her, explaining the foreign writing.

“It’s Mozart,
The Marriage of Figaro.
This play was banned many years ago because it was considered too risque. But Mozart persuaded the high court to hear it and produce it. It’s actually pretty tame today, considering what they have right down the street.”

“You mean the red-light district,” Rosemary said, unconcerned as several people nearby turned to stare at her. “The clowns all talk about it. Poor Rags lost half his pay there last year.”

A lady beside her coughed delicately while the gentlemen gave her broad smiles. Michael changed the topic quickly, although he, too, was amused. Without any of the trappings of society, Rosemary’s approach to life was much more simple and honest than most women, and she had no inhibitions about saying whatever came into her head.

The lights dimmed, and the program began. The orchestra assembled and began to play the sweetest music Rosemary had ever heard. Entranced, she leaned forward on the box, heedless of the people around her. When the opera began, she sank back into her chair, mesmerized by the beautiful women and the handsome male actors who appeared on the stage. Michael leaned closer and explained the story. In spite of the language difference, Rosemary could feel the characters’ pain, and an overwhelming emotion filled her. Clutching the seat before her, tears spilled down her face, and she wiped them with the back of her hand, moved by the story set to incredible music.

At the end she stood up and applauded loudly, heedless of the men beside her who, enchanted by her beauty and artless enthusiasm, tried to get her attention. But Rosemary turned to Michael and hugged him openly, filled with a kind of joy that defied explanation.

“Did you like it?” he asked, smiling as he looked down into her still-wet eyes.

Rosemary grinned. “You know I did. How can I say thank you? It seems so…trite for something like that. I would never have seen it if it wasn’t for you.”

She was looking at him with such open adoration that the men around her glanced at their own companions, wondering if there was ever a time when a woman had looked at them like that. Michael smiled uneasily, then took her by the hand.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Are you hungry?”

“Yes. It must be the mountain air, but lately I feel like I could eat one of the elephants.”

“Will the hotel dining room do?” Michael asked, chuckling. Rosemary nodded, then clung to his arm as he led her through the crowd into the soft autumn night.

The mountains gleamed in the distance, and the lights twinkled from the saloons and restaurants. Rosemary sighed in contentment as they drove in a cab back to the hotel, and Michael put his arm around her, encouraging her to snuggle closer to him. It was an enchanted evening, perfect in every respect.

The hotel dining room was well-furnished and the food excellent. The waiter brought succulent beef, glasses of good rich burgundy, and an assortment of vegetables and potatoes. Famished, Rosemary ate quickly, relishing the good food.

Michael smiled at her enthusiasm, understanding completely. After days of show food, any home-cooked meal was appreciated, and that of the elegant restaurant doubly so.

When the meal was finished, the waiter brought delicious coffee and a bowlful of fresh strawberries and after-dinner cordials. Michael dipped a strawberry into the cordial, letting the brandy soak into the delicate fruit.

“Try this.” After fishing the fruit out of the drink with his fork, he fed her the strawberry dripping with brandy. She leaned forward and took the succulent berry into her mouth, feeling the metallic texture of the fork against her soft lips and the cold burn of the liquor. The fruit, soaked in the cordial, was sweet and wonderful, and his gesture was appealingly sexy.

Rosemary sighed. God, he knew how to do everything right. The wine made her feel light-headed, and the strawberry was delectable. Emotion swelled up within her as she stared at him. He was so handsome, the black hair curling crisply at his collar, his eyes filled with laughter and an expression she’d never thought she’d see directed at her. All she could think about was touching that hair, touching him…

“Excuse me, but I thought I recognized you,” a man said in a clipped voice, and Michael glanced up, annoyed. “Michael Wharton, isn’t it? We met at the Locust Club last year. I know your mother very well.”

“Matthew Baird.” Michael reluctantly rose from the table and extended a hand. “How’s the railroad business?”

“Booming.” Matthew twitched his waxed mustache and grinned. Balding, with a round belly and an amiable face, he looked like a politician, cheerful and full of false hope. “Stocks are up two hundred percent, and the building just continues. We are seeing the beginning of a new era, East meets West, and man conquers the frontier.” His eyes drifted to Rosemary, and he gave her a curious smile. “May I meet the enchanting lady?”

“Miss Rosemary Carney, Mr. Matthew Baird,” Michael said, growing more annoyed by the moment. He wanted nothing more than to carry Rosemary upstairs and make slow, exquisite love to her, but he couldn’t just dismiss the man.

Matthew took Rosemary’s hand and smiled. “Charmed. I saw you at the opera. I must say you caused quite a stir. Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes, I thought it was wonderful,” Rosemary said enthusiastically.

“Yes, it was quite good. But you must hear the Philadelphia orchestra. Speaking of which, your mother was asking about you, Michael. She says she hasn’t heard much from you since you left last spring. I daresay she misses you.”

“She has Robert,” Michael said shortly.

Rosemary glanced up, amazed. He’d been with her for months, they enjoyed an intimate relationship, but he’d seldom mentioned his family, and these two people not at all.

“Your brother is away at school most of the time. You should write her, you know. She sent a note. She asked me to give it to you if I should see you.” He extended an envelope of the very best quality, and Rosemary could see the beautiful scrolling handwriting.

“Thank you,” Michael said coldly. It was obvious that he didn’t like the idea of anyone meddling in his business, but Rosemary could only feel compassion for his mother, that she would go to such lengths to communicate with her son.

“I’ll probably see her some time next week,” Matthew said shortly. “When will you be returning? We have the fall cotillion coming up. I’d like you to chair.”

Rosemary froze, but Michael seemed nonplussed with the question and considered it thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. Soon. I’ll write.” He put the note inside his jacket, and taking the hint Matthew smiled broadly and nodded.

“I’ll look forward to it. Good evening. And it was a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

When they finally finished the meal and went upstairs, Michael seemed moody and distracted. Rosemary stood shyly outside the door to her room, anticipating this moment. So far, most of their dalliances had been in his tent, far from the clowns, in a world where they could be alone without censure. Now everything was different.

Michael unlocked the door, then allowed her to enter first. Rosemary stepped into the plush room, once again admiring the crystal lamps, the rosewood furniture, the carpet that was so soft her feet sank into it like the hay on the floor of the tents. Grinning like a child, she spun around, her face alight with happiness.

“It really is beautiful. I’ve had such a good time tonight. How can I thank you?”

The expression in his eyes darkened, and he caught her shoulders, holding her closely against him. “You’re what’s beautiful, Rosemary Carney. And I’ll be very happy to show you how to thank me….”

The kiss was electric, containing all of the tension of any summer storm. Rosemary sighed, giving herself to him completely, loving the feel of this man against her, his mouth possessing hers, his tongue teasing her and making her want him with a passion she couldn’t explain. Her doubts and fears disappeared as his embrace tightened, and he held her so closely that her feet almost left the rug. Take it, Sean Carney had once told her. When you see happiness within your reach, take it, for God knows when you might see it again.

“My God, Rose, no one kisses like you do.” He lifted his face from hers, amazed at the effect this clown-woman had on him. He saw her delightful blush, then she glanced at him with a peculiar sideways look that was half innocent, half teasing.

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s not bad.” He caressed a lock of her hair, then ran his fingers through the silky texture, enjoying the feel of it. “But it makes me want to take you to that bed right now and love you.”

Rosemary shivered, her eyes smoky with the picture he painted. “Then do it.”

He knew he should wait, should court her more gently, especially since this was a treat for them in a good hotel, but Rosemary’s honest and open reaction made his blood pound. Without conscious decision he slipped his hand beneath her legs and swept her into his arms, ignoring her startled laughter. Carrying her to the bed, he chuckled as she clung to him closely, as if afraid he’d drop her. He did when he reached the sumptuous quilts, depositing her into the soft linen, but before she could scramble to her feet, he held her gently and began to undo her dress.

“Michael, I can—”

“No,” he began, pressing a kiss to her throat. “I want tonight to be special for you, something you can remember. I want to please you, to love you until you cry out for me and can’t stand another minute. I want to take you to the stars.”

Rosemary’s mouth parted in surprise, but he kissed her, taking her well past comment, into a white-hot world of sexual desire. Whimpering softly, she felt him slip her dress down, his mouth pressing burning kisses on each part of her soft skin that he exposed until she thought she would go out of her mind. Her body, youthful and uninhibited, responded to this delicious treatment and Rosemary buried her hands in his hair, dissolving in unbelievable pleasure.

When he finally got the dress off, and her undergarments, he began to slowly caress her, touching every part of her, from her hair down to her toes. Astonished, Rosemary discovered that the small of her back felt wonderful when caressed, the inside of her foot was devilishly sensitive, the underside of her arm was amazingly sensuous. He refused to let her touch him back but instead worshiped her with his mouth and hands, making her feel like a sexy and desirable woman.