How in heaven's name was she going to meet everyone's expectations? Mary Rose had never run away from a challenge, and she wasn't about to start now. She decided she would do whatever was required to please her relatives.
Ann Marie came into the room to help her remove her dress, then turned back the covers on the bed. Mary Rose was really expected to rest, she supposed, when the young servant pulled the drapes closed.
The room was quite spacious and was done in rich gold tones. She found it quite soothing. She stretched out on the bed wearing only her chemise and stacked her hands behind her head. She stared up at the ceiling while she tried to sort out her feelings.
She thought about her father and what a kind man he was. She liked the way he smiled. She liked his voice too. It was soft, yet commanding. When she wrote to her brothers she would tell them Lord Elliott was a very nice man.
Harrison came inside just a few minutes later.
"Your father's being stubborn," he told his wife. "He seems to think the money your brothers sent should go right back to them. He called it payment for letting you live with them. He doesn't understand, of course."
Mary Rose rolled onto her side so she could look at her husband. "He didn't like it when I mentioned my brothers. I could tell by the way he looked at me. He seemed… disappointed."
"Give him time to get used to the idea of you having another family," Harrison suggested.
"Did you know I must have an examination tomorrow by two physicians?"
Harrison took off his jacket, tossed it on a nearby chair, and then sat down on the side of the bed. He bent over to take his shoes and socks off. "Your father mentioned it to me," he remarked.
"Why must I be examined? I feel fine."
"The doctors will give your father the assurance he seems to need. It can't do any harm, can it? I'll put a stop to it if you really don't want to be looked over."
She thought about it for a minute and then decided to appease her father. Her husband was right, she supposed. There couldn't be any harm in being examined.
"It's a waste of good money," she said in a halfhearted attempt to protest. "But I'll go along with his plans. You haven't asked me what I think of my father. Aren't you curious?"
He half turned to smile at her. "I already know what you think. You're curious about him, of course. I've noticed the way you stare at him when he isn't looking at you. You already like him, and I think you'd like to love him."
She nodded. Harrison was as observant as ever. "I'm his daughter. I should love him, shouldn't I?"
"Yes."
"Can I trust him?"
He was surprised by the question. "Yes," he answered. "You can trust him. You can trust me too, you know."
She didn't want to talk about that. She tried to change the subject then, but Harrison wouldn't let her.
"I realize I shouldn't have demanded you trust me. It was probably a little arrogant of me."
"Probably?"
"You haven't figured it all out yet, have you?"
"Figured what out?"
"That love and trust go hand in hand. You couldn't love me if you didn't trust me. And you do love me, don't you?"
She didn't answer him. The issue of trust was still tender for her to talk about. Harrison had hurt her by deliberately deceiving her. She understood why he'd kept silent about his reason for coming to her ranch… in the beginning. Yes, she understood his motives, but after they'd given their pledge of love to one another, he'd continued to keep silent. He'd explained that the duty of telling her about her father belonged to her brothers. She understood that fact as well.
Yet he had deceived her, and, though she was afraid to voice her fear, she didn't know if he would ever deceive her again.
Trust between them would have to be rebuilt, stone by stone, and Harrison was going to have to be patient with her until she got over her fears.
"I'm not ready to discuss this with you," she announced. "You're going to have to give me time to sort it all out, like it or not. Yes, I do love you," she added when he gave her such a ferocious frown. "And while you're waiting, you might think about learning how to trust me," she added.
"You're making me angry, Mary Rose."
"But you love me, don't you?"
"Yes, I love you."
He didn't sound happy about the fact. She wasn't upset by his attitude. Harrison liked to have everything in neat little compartments, and having to wait for anything went against his grain. He'd been logical with her, and he fully expected her to behave and think in the same manner.
"I hope I can remember everyone's names tonight."
She was deliberately changing the subject. Harrison went back to the task of removing his pants. "I'll help you remember. We need to talk about George MacPherson, sweetheart. He's your father's personal assistant. He won't be here tonight; he still isn't back from his holiday yet. I don't want you to tell him how Douglas saw a man and a woman together on the street corner with the basket. Act as if you don't know anything about that night."
"Is he the one who took me?'"
"I think so, but I still haven't proven it. I've been poring over the old ledgers. MacPherson couldn't have saved up thousands of dollars to give to his accomplice, so he had to have taken the money out of one of Elliott's accounts. I haven't found the discrepancy yet. I will though."
"Wasn't MacPherson investigated at the time of the kidnapping?"
"Yes, he was. I don't believe the authorities looked at the books as thoroughly as they should have though."
"Could I help you?"
He started to deny her request, then changed his mind. She was his wife now, and although he was used to working alone, he found he wanted her to be involved. Working together would be a novel experience.
"Yes, you can help."
"You do realize that if we simply asked Douglas to come to England, he could point MacPherson out as the culprit."
"Memories change over the years and so do appearances," Harrison replied. "The defense would shred Douglas 's recollections. It wouldn't be reliable without supporting evidence."
"Have you told my father about MacPherson?"
"Not yet," Harrison answered. "I don't think he'll be able to work with the man if he knows I plan to tell him everything, of course, just as soon as I find proof. Do you want me to tell him now?"
"Would you if I wanted you to?"
"Yes."
She was pleased that Harrison would do what she wanted. She considered the problem and then decided he was right to wait.
"It would be difficult for him not to show his hand, and then MacPherson could very well become suspicious. Why, he could disappear on us, and we can't have that, can we? No, I think we should wait to tell him. He'll understand."
"The way you understood why I waited to tell you the reason I'd journeyed to Montana?"
"This is different," she argued. "I don't know my father well, but I can't imagine he would have a poker face."
Harrison raised an eyebrow. "A poker face?"
"He'd let his feelings show. A good poker player never lets others know what he's thinking. I'll bet you win lots of games of chance, don't you? You rarely let anyone know what you're thinking. Does everyone rest during the afternoons?"
The switch in subjects didn't faze him. He was getting used to how his wife's mind worked.
"Most women do."
"What about men?"
Harrison stripped out of the rest of his clothes before answering her. "Some men rest, but I'm not going to. I want you too much. You about finished talking, sweetheart?"
She rolled onto her back just as he came down on top of her. She put her arms around his neck and stared up into his eyes. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck. "Do you like my clothes?"