Julie Garwood - For the Roses

Mary Rose decided she would have to find out how Harrison kissed. She let out another little sigh just thinking about it. She knew she was being shameless. She didn't care.

She gave MacHugh one last pat and then turned around and walked out of the corral. The stallion meekly followed.

Both brothers had noticed their sister gawking at Harrison. He had noticed too and was now trying to understand what had come over her.

Then they all heard her singing.

"What the hell's the matter with her?" Cole asked his brother.

"She's daydreaming," Douglas speculated.

Harrison didn't say anything. He continued to stand in the middle of the corral and watch Mary Rose. She was acting peculiar all right. When she was staring at him, she had a bemused expression on her face. What had she been thinking about? It bothered the hell out of him that he didn't know.

She was beginning to show signs of being unpredictable. Harrison didn't like seeing that trait in anyone.

Knowing what others were thinking was essential in his line of work. Granted, he wasn't a mind reader, but he was a good judge of character and could usually predict reactions.

"Give it up, MacDonald," Cole said before heading for the stables. He had waited long enough for old man Simpson to get off his rump and saddle his horse. He would take care of the chore himself.

"Give what up?" Harrison asked Cole.

Douglas was walking toward his wagon. "Trying to understand her," he called over his shoulder. "You're never going to figure Mary Rose out."

Cole turned around when he reached the back door of the stable. " Harrison, don't you think you'd better catch up with your horse? He's trying to follow my sister home."

Harrison let out an expletive and started running. What in thunder was the matter with him? He hadn't even noticed MacHugh had left.

From the surprised look on Harrison 's face, Cole knew he hadn't noticed. He had a good laugh at Crying-Shame MacDonald's expense, and he didn't particularly mind at all that he was being downright rude.

Cole certainly hadn't been surprised by MacHugh's turnabout in loyalty. The stallion wasn't acting any different from most of the other creatures who roamed the area. They knew a good thing when they spotted it.

Man or beast, it didn't seem to matter. They all followed Mary Rose home.

She lived in the center of paradise. Harrison stopped when he reached the rise above the Clayborne property. He stared down in fascination and wonder at the valley below. Lush spring grass covered the floor of the valley and swept upward into the mountains beyond. The green was so brilliant and intense, it was almost more than the eye could take in, and he found himself instinctively squinting against it. It looked as if the sun had fallen to the earth and turned itself into emeralds. Everywhere he looked, the grass sparkled with leftover dew. Splattered against the glorious carpet were pink and yellow, red and orange, and purple and blue wildflowers, so plentiful in number it wasn't possible for anyone to count them. All the flowers were ablaze with their own rich hues. Their sweet perfume mingled with the clean fresh air of the valley.

Mountains as old as time stood regal and proud on the north and west sides of the valley, and a wide, clear blue stream meandered down the eastern slope.

The land was breathtakingly beautiful and so much like his glen back in the Highlands, he was suddenly melancholy for Scotland and the home he'd been forced to leave.

How could one piece of heaven remind him so much of another? He wouldn't have believed it was possible, yet there it was, spread out before him like one of God's exquisite robes.

The melancholy vanished as quickly as it had come, and he was suddenly feeling tremendous peace and contentment.

Tranquility wrapped around him like a warm, heated blanket. He was comforted and soothed and replenished. His hunger for home abated with each breath he drew.

He could stay here forever.

The realization jarred him. He immediately forced himself to block the traitorous thought. His heart belonged to Scotland, and one day soon, when he was wealthy enough and powerful enough, he would go back and take what belonged to him.

He finally turned his attention to the Clayborne ranch. He had imagined they would live in a log cabin, similar in style to all the others he'd seen on his travels, but the Claybornes lived in a two-story, white clapboard house. It was quite modest in both proportion and design, yet he still found it quite regal.

A veranda, supported by white posts, circled the house on three sides. Everything appeared to have been freshly painted.

There were two large barns behind the house, though still some distance away. The buildings stood about fifty or sixty yards apart and were surrounded by corrals. He counted five in all.

"How many horses do you have?"

"It seems like hundreds at times," she answered. "Our income depends on our horses. We raise them and sell them. We really never have more than sixty or seventy, I suppose, and sometimes as few as thirty. Cole brings in wild mustangs every now and then. We also have cattle, of course, but not nearly the number Travis thinks we should have."

"And Travis is the youngest brother?"

She thought it was terribly sweet of him to try to keep everyone straight in his mind.

"Yes, he's the youngest brother."

"How old was he when you were born?"

She gave him a curious look. "He was nine, going on ten. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I just wondered," he replied. "Does Travis look like Douglas, or does he resemble you and Cole?"

"He looks like… Travis. You ask a lot of questions, Harrison."

"I do?" he replied for lack of anything better to say.

She nodded. "What do you think of my home?"

He turned to look at the landscape once again before answering her. Simply telling her that her valley was beautiful wouldn't adequately describe the feeling the wondrous area gave him. He didn't understand why it was so important for him to find the right words, but it was important somehow, and he was determined to be as exact as possible. Paradise deserved more than a moment's reflection. It demanded recognition.

And so he ended up speaking from his heart. "Your land reminds me of Scotland, and that, Mary Rose, is the highest praise a Highlander can give."

She smiled with pleasure. The look in Harrison 's eyes indicated his sincerity. She suddenly felt like sighing again. Dear heavens, how she liked this gentle man.

She leaned to the side of her saddle so she could get a little closer to him. "Do you know what I think?" she whispered.

He leaned toward her. "No," he whispered back. "What do you think?"

"You and I are very much alike."

He was instantly appalled. She was out of her mind if she believed they were anything alike. Why, they were complete opposites in his estimation. He'd already figured out she was all emotion. He sure as hell wasn't. He rarely let anyone know what he was thinking or feeling. He was also extremely methodical in everything he undertook. He hated surprises; in his line of work they could be deadly, and so he carefully thought out every plan of action before he made any decisions. He demanded order in his life, and from what he'd heard about Mary Rose, he could only conclude that she thrived on chaos. She was also sweet-tempered, terribly naive, and openly hospitable to strangers. And trust-good God Almighty, the woman seemed to trust everyone she met. It hadn't taken her more than five minutes to make the decision to take him home with her. For all she knew, he could have been a cold-blooded killer.

Oh, no, they weren't anything alike. He didn't trust anyone. He was a cynic by nature and by profession.

She couldn't possibly understand how she'd misjudged him, however, because she didn't know anything about him. She had innocently accepted what he had told her, and as long as he continued to pretend to be an unsophisticated city boy who wore a gun only because he thought he was supposed to, then she was going to continue to believe they really were soul mates.