Black Rose - NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

“Rosalind.” He stopped in front of her, knelt down, rubbed his hands over hers. They felt strong on hers, and warm. They felt solid. “I know how you feel about this house, but—”

“You’re going to say I should move out, temporarily. And there’s some good, solid sense in that, Mitch. But I won’t. You can say it’s because I’m stubborn, because I’m too damn hardheaded.”

“And I will.”

“But,” she said, “besides that, and the fact I won’t be chased away from what’s mine, the problem won’t be solved by moving out. My son lives on this property, as do others I care about very much. My business is on this property. Do I tell everyone to find other accommodations? Do I shut down my business, risk losing everything? Or do I stick it out, and work to find the answers?”

“She’s escalating. Roz, for years she did little more than sing to children, an odd but relatively charming addition to the household. A little mischief now and then, but nothing dangerous. In the past year she’s become increasingly unstable, increasingly violent.”

“Yes, she has.” Her fingers linked with his, held firm. “And you know what that tells me? It tells me we must be getting close to something. That maybe because we are, she’s more impatient, more erratic. Less controlled. What we’re doing matters to her. Just as what I think and feel matters, whether she approves or not.”

“Meaning?”

He probably wouldn’t take it well, she considered. But it had to be said. She’d promised him honesty, and took promises seriously. “I was thinking of you. Of us. When I finished sulking about tonight, and started to relax, I was thinking of the way I feel about you, and the way you feel about me.”

“She tried to kill you because we love each other.” His face stone hard when he pushed to his feet. “I’m the one who needs to leave, to stay away from here, and you, until we finish this.”

“Is that how you deal with bullies? You give them their way?”

He’d started to pace again, but whipped around now, fury ripe in his eyes. “We’re not talking about some asshole trying to steal lunch money on the playground. We’re talking about your safety. Your goddamn life!”

“I won’t give in to her. That’s how I stay alive. That’s how I stay in charge. You think I’m not furious, not frightened? You’re wrong.”

“I notice fury comes first.”

“Because it’s positive—at least I’ve always felt a good, healthy mad’s more constructive than fear. That’s what I saw in her, Mitch, at the end.”

Roz tossed the throw aside and rose to go to him. “She was afraid, shocked and afraid and sorry—pitifully. You said once she didn’t want to hurt me, and I think it’s true.”

“I also said she could, and I’ve been proven right.” He took her face in his hands, then slid them down to her shoulders. “I don’t know how to protect you. But I know I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be less afraid if you’re with me.”

He cocked his head, very nearly smiled. “That’s very tricky.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She wrapped her arms around him, settled in when his came around her. “It also happens to be true. She asked me to forgive her. I don’t know that I can, or will, but I need the answers. I need you to help me find them. And damn it, Mitch, I just need you—and that’s hard for me to say.”

“I hope it gets easier, because I like hearing it. We’ll keep things as they are for now.”

“Thank you. When I got out of there.” She shifted her gaze toward the bathroom. “When I got out and pulled it together enough to think, I was so relieved you were downstairs. That I could tell you. That I wouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“Alone isn’t even an option. Now.” He scooped her off her feet. “You’re getting into bed, bundling up.”

“And you’ll be . . .”

“Taking a closer look at the scene of the crime before I mop it up.”

“I can take care of that, the mopping up.”

“No.” He tucked her in, firmly. “Give a little, get a little, Roz. Do what you’re told, and stay in bed like a good girl. You’ve had a long and interesting day.”

“Haven’t I just?” And it felt wonderful to snuggle in the bed, knowing there was someone to look after some of the details. “I’m not sure what I’ll have to give, but I’m going to ask you for a little something more.”

“You want some soup? Something hot? Tea? Tea’d be better than coffee.”

Look at you, she thought, Dr. Studly, with your black tie loose, and your tux shirt rolled up to the elbows, offering to make me soup. She reached for his hand as he sat on the side of the bed.

“No, but thanks. I’m going to ask you to keep what happened here between us for now.”

“Roz, how does your mind work?” Frustration was so clear in his voice, on his face, she nearly smiled. “You were almost drowned in the tub by our resident ghost, and you don’t want to mention it?”

“It’s not that. We’ll mention it, document it, go into great detail and discussion if need be. I just want to wait until after Stella’s wedding. I just want a little calm. When Harper hears about this . . . Well, he’s not going to take it well.”

“Let me just say a big fat: Duh.”

She laughed. “Everyone’ll be upset, distracted, worried. And what good will it do? It happened, it’s over. There are so many other things to deal with right now. I’m already going to be dealing with the fallout from what happened at the club. I can promise you word will be out, and it’ll be a topic at my breakfast table tomorrow.”

“And that bothers you.”

“Actually, I think I’ll enjoy it. I’m just small enough to bask in it. So let’s leave this between us, until Stella’s had her wedding. After that, we’ll tell everyone, and deal with the fallout. But for the time being, we could use some undiluted happiness around here.”

“Okay. I don’t see that it’ll matter.”

“I appreciate it. I’m not so mad and scared now,” she added, and slid down on the pillow. “I stopped her. I fought her off. I could do it again. That has to count for something.”

Mitch leaned over to press his lips to her cheek. “Counts for a hell of a lot with me.”

NINETEEN

WITH THE BABYon her hip, Hayley bolted into the kitchen the next morning. Her hair was bunched in a short tail at the back of her head, her eyes were huge, and she’d misbuttoned her pajama top.

“I just talked to Lily’s sitter,” she announced to the room at large, “and her aunt belongs to the country club. She says Roz was in a fight last night.”

“I certainly was not.” Life could be heartwarmingly predictable, Roz thought and continued to spread jam thinly on a triangle of toast.

“What kinda fight?” Gavin wanted to know. “A punching fight?”

“I was not in a punching fight.” Roz handed him the toast. “People exaggerate things, little man. It’s the way of the world.”

“Did you kick somebody in the face?”

Roz raised her eyebrows at Luke. “Of course not. You might say, metaphorically, I kicked somebody in the ass.”

“What’s met . . .”

“A metaphor’s a fancy way of saying something’s like something else. I could say I’m a cat full of canary this morning.” She winked at Luke. “And that would mean I’m feeling very satisfied and smug. But I never laid a hand on him.”

“Who?” Stella demanded.

“Bryce Clerk.” The answer came from David as he poured more coffee. “My intelligence network is far-flung and faster than the speed of light. I heard about it last night, before eleven o’clock, Central Standard Time.”