NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

 As she had before, she started to step back, to leave them there, but he turned his head, turned it toward her even as his hands cupped another woman’s breasts.

 And he smiled, bright and charming and sly. Laughed, low and pleased.

 “Stupid bitch, I was never faithful. None of us are.”

 Even as he spoke, his face changed, light and shadow playing over it as it became Mitch’s face.

 “Why should we be? Women are meant to be used. Do you really think one of you matters more than another?” That lovely voice dripped derision as he fondled the woman in his arms. “We all lie, because we can.”

 Those shadows floated and the face became John’s. Her husband, her love. The father of her sons. “Do you think I was true to you, you pathetic fool?”

 “John.” The pain nearly took her to her knees. So young, she thought. So alive. “Oh, God, John.”

 “Oh, God, John,” he mimicked, as his hands made the woman he embraced moan. “Needed sons, didn’t I? You were nothing more than a broodmare. If I’d been luckier, I’d have lived and left you. Taken what mattered, taken my sons, and left you.”

 “That’s a lie.”

 “We all lie.”

 When he laughed, she had to press her hands over her ears. When he laughed, it was like fists pounding on her body, on her heart, until she did simply sink to her knees.

 She heard herself weeping, raw, bitter sobs.

 She didn’t hear the door open behind her, or the startled exclamation. Arms came around her, hard and tight. And she smelled her son.

 “Mama, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Mama.”

 “No. No.” She clung to him, pressing her face into his shoulder and fighting to stop the tears. “I’m all right. Don’t worry. I’m just—”

 “You’re not all right, and don’t tell me not to worry. Tell me what it is. Tell me what happened.”

 “In a minute. Just a minute.” She leaned against him, let him rock her there on the ground until his warmth seeped into her own icy bones. “Oh, Harper, when did you get to be so big and strong? My baby.”

 “You’re shaking. You’re not sick, you’re scared.”

 “Not scared.” She drew a deep breath. “A little traumatized, I guess.”

 “I’m taking you home. You can tell me about it there.”

 “I . . . yes, that’s best.” She drew back a little, wiped at her face. “I don’t want to see anybody else just now. I sure as hell don’t want anyone to see me. I’m a little bit of a wreck, Harper, and imagine I look like a major one.”

 “Don’t worry. Want me to carry you?”

 “Oh.” Tears stung her eyes again, but warm ones. “My sweet boy. No, I can walk just fine. Tell me something first. Everything’s the same in here, isn’t it? Everything’s as it should be in here?”

 Because there was such tension in her voice, he looked around the greenhouse. “Everything’s fine.”

 “Okay. Okay. Let’s go home.”

 She let him lead her through the rain, around the buildings, and let out her first sigh of relief when she climbed into his car.

 “Just relax,” he ordered, and leaned over to fasten her seat belt himself. “We’ll be home in a minute. You need to get warm.”

 “You’ll make a good daddy.”

 “What?”

 “You’ve got a nurturing bent—comes from being a gardener, maybe, but you don’t just know how to take care, you take it. Christ, these have been a lousy couple of days.”

 “Did you have a fight with Mitch or something?”

 “No.” She kept her eyes closed as he drove, but her lips curved a little. “I don’t get hysterical over a spat. I hope to God it takes more than that to bring me so low.”

 “I’ve never seen you cry like that, not since Daddy died.”

 “I don’t guess I have.” She felt the car turn, and opened her eyes so she could watch Harper House come into view. “Did you ever want me to give it up, this place?”

 “No.” His expression was utter shock as he looked over at her. “Of course not.”

 “Good. That’s good to know for sure. I don’t know if I could have, even for you.”

 “It’s ours, and it’s always going to be.” He parked, and was out of the car and hurrying to her side before she could get out.

 “I’m just a little shaky, Harper, not mortally wounded.”

 “You’re going straight up, getting into some dry clothes. I’ll bring you up some brandy.”

 “Harper, this is going to sound stupid, but I’m not quite ready to go upstairs.”

 “I’ll get you some dry clothes. You can change in David’s room.”

 “Thanks.” He didn’t even ask why, she thought. Didn’t hesitate. What a man she’d raised.

 “Go on back to David,” he ordered. “Tell him I said you’re to have some brandy, and some hot tea.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 Before she could move toward the stairs, Mitch came out of the library and started down the hall.

 “I thought I heard the door—I’ve been keeping an ear . . .” He trailed off as he got closer, then lengthened his stride to reach her. “What is it? Are you sick, hurt?”

 “No. Do I look sick?”

 “You look pale as a sheet, and you’ve been crying. What is it?” He looked over her head into Harper’s eyes. “What happened?”

 “She doesn’t really want to see anyone right now,” Harper began.