Man for woman this time, not boy for girl.
He couldn’t blame her for needing more time.
“Well, maybe a little,” he said to Triad. “Not so much for needing more time, but for not trusting herself. How can a woman who has so much of it in her not trust love? I know, I know, Mommy Dearest, Absentee Father. A lot of scar tissue there.”
So he’d wait. He’d love her, be with her. And wait.
He settled back into the book, letting the quiet and the journey of the story lull him. He lifted the whiskey, took a small sip. His hand jerked at the pounding on the door, so whiskey splashed on his shirt.
“Oh, crap.”
Pulling off his glasses, he laid them on the table with the book. Triad protested when he pulled his feet free. “It’s not my fault. It’s whoever’s crazy enough to be out on a night like this.”
He got up reluctantly, then the thought struck that someone might’ve had an accident, and had come to the house for help. He quickened his pace, imagining skids and crashes on slippery roads. When he opened the door, his arms filled with Mac.
“Carter!”
“Mackensie.” Alarm gushed into his belly. “What is it? What happened?”
“Everything.” She turned her head, crushed her mouth to his. “Everything happened.”
“The estate?” Fire leaped into his mind again. “Was there a fire? Or—”
“No.” She clung. “You found me.”
“You’re cold. Come in where it’s warm. You need to sit down. Whatever happened, we’ll—”
“I forgot my gloves.” She laughed and kissed him again. “I forgot to turn on the heater in the car. I forgot to make the bed. I don’t know why I thought that was important.”
“Did you hit your head?” He pried her back to look into her eyes. They didn’t seem shocky to him, but they were a little wild. “Have you been drinking? And driving in these conditions? You can’t—”
“I haven’t been drinking. I was thinking about wine and phone sex in the bathtub, but that was before I realized I hadn’t made the bed or put my socks in the hamper.” She sniffed. “But someone’s been drinking. Is that whiskey? You drink whiskey?”
“Sometimes. It’s a cold night, and the snow, and . . . Wait a minute.”
“You see? You always surprise me. Carter drinks whiskey on a snowy night.” She spun away from him, then back. “And he can take a punch in the face. He buys diamond earrings and laughs with his father in the kitchen. Oh, I wish I’d had my camera, so I could’ve stolen that moment and showed you. I need another chance at that, when I’m not fighting off nerves and envy. But I have another for you.”
She dragged the box out of the deep pocket of her coat. “Third part of the gift.”
“For God’s sake, you drove all the way over here in this mess to give me a picture? You could’ve been hurt, had an accident. You—”
“Yes. I could’ve. Things happen. But I didn’t, and I’m here. Open it.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Let me get your coat.” “I can get my coat. Open it. Look.” She dragged off the coat, threw it over the banister. “That’s the kind of thing I do. Toss my coat somewhere. You don’t even mind. You might some day. So what? Open it, Carter.”
He untied the ribbon, opened the box. She smiled out at him, her cheek against his. It made him remember the kiss, her pleasure in his gift. The warmth afterward, and the feel of her face brushing his. “It’s wonderful.”
“It really is. I kept one of the kiss. You didn’t know I took the shot. It’s a great kiss, a great image. But this—this is us. Looking out, looking forward. Tonight, after the work, and the dealing with things that can’t be controlled, can’t be predicted—good or bad, happy or sad—and then the closet. I’d messed up my shirts, and your jacket was in there.”
“Oh, I must’ve put it there when—”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s the point. It doesn’t matter that my mother is my mother, or that things don’t always work exactly the way you thought they should. Moments matter. I know that better than anyone, but I never let it apply to me. Not to me. People matter, how they feel, how they connect, who they are alone and together. All that matters, no matter how quickly the moment passes. Maybe because it passes. What matters is you’re the blue butterfly.”
“I’m . . . what?”
“Come on, Professor. Dr. Maguire. You know all about metaphors and analogies and symbolism. You flew into my life, just landed in it unexpectedly. Maybe miraculously. And the picture formed. It just took me a while to see it.”
“I’m not . . . Oh, the picture. Wedding Day, the one you took when you were a girl.”
“Epiphanies. I had one then, and I had one tonight. I want this.” She took the picture from him. “I want . . . Here.” She looked around, chose a spot on one of his bookshelves. “I want that. It looks right there, doesn’t it?”
Something squeezed his heart. “Yes. It belongs there.”
“It doesn’t come with a guarantee. Why should it? It’s not a car or a computer. It’s life, and it’s messy, and it breaks down. It’s a promise, to try. I want to promise to try. Carter.”
She walked back to take his face in her hands. “Carter Maguire, I love you.”
As the fist around his heart clenched and released, he lowered his brow to hers. “Say it again, would you?”
“It’s the first time I’ve said it to anyone—this way, I mean. I don’t know why I thought it would be so hard. It’s not. I love you. I love who we are together. I love who I think we might be. I’ll screw up. So will you, you’re not perfect. We’ll hurt each other, and make each other laugh. We’ll make love and we’ll fight. I want us to promise to try not to let each other go. Trying’s all we can do.”
He met her lips with his. There was the promise, he thought. There was everything he’d waited for. There was Mackensie, and she loved him.
“I’m so glad you didn’t make the bed.”
Her laugh muffled against his lips before she tipped her head back. “That was one element of many that coalesced into a moment of absolute clarity. And I needed to tell you. I couldn’t wait. You’re the one who waits so well.”
“It was worth it. Look what I’ve got.”
“I want to tell you something. On Valentine’s Day—our Valentine’s Day—when it wasn’t a ring in the box, part of me was disappointed. That’s what scared me. I’m not scared now.”
His eyes focused on hers, and what he saw in them had his heart leaping. “I want a life with you, Mackensie.”
“I’m asking you to ask me.”
Gently, he brushed his lips to her forehead. “I love your face, and your hands.” He took them in his to press a kiss to her palms. “The way you look when you hold a camera, or hunch at the computer. I have dozens of images, pictures, and moments of you in my head. In my heart. I want a lifetime more. Marry me.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.” He drew her to him, held on. “She said yes. Let’s get married in June.”
She pulled back. “June? We’re booked solid. That’s—” When he grinned, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re a funny guy, Carter.”
Laughing, he wrapped his arms around her once more. “I’ll take the first open date, if that suits you.”
“That’s a deal. Speaking for my partners, let me say Vows is thrilled to provide its services, and promises to give you a perfect wedding.”
“I’ve got you. It’s already perfect.”
She held him, strong and close, through the kiss. Then she laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
From the bookshelf their faces smiled out at her. Moments came and went, she thought. It was love that bound them together into a life.
She had love.
Nora Roberts
HOT ICE
SACRED SINS
BRAZEN VIRTUE
SWEET REVENGE
PUBLIC SECRETS
GENUINE LIES
CARNAL INNOCENCE
DIVINE EVIL
HONEST ILLUSIONS
PRIVATE SCANDALS
HIDDEN RICHES
MONTANA SKY
SANCTUARY
HOMEPORT
THE REEF
RIVER’S END
CAROLINA MOON
THE VILLA
MIDNIGHT BAYOU
THREE FATES
BIRTHRIGHT
NORTHERN LIGHTS
BLUE SMOKE
ANGELS FALL
HIGH NOON
TRIBUTE
BLACK HILLS
Series
Born in Trilogy
BORN IN FIRE
BORN IN ICE
BORN IN SHAME
Dream Trilogy
DARING TO DREAM
HOLDING THE DREAM
FINDING THE DREAM
Chesapeake Bay Saga
SEA SWEPT
RISING TIDES
INNER HARBOR
CHESAPEAKE BLUE
Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy
JEWELS OF THE SUN
TEARS OF THE MOON
HEART OF THE SEA
Three Sisters Island Trilogy
DANCE UPON THE AIR
HEAVEN AND EARTH
FACE THE FIRE
Key Trilogy
KEY OF LIGHT
KEY OF KNOWLEDGE
KEY OF VALOR
In the Garden Trilogy
BLUE DAHLIA
BLACK ROSE
RED LILY
Circle Trilogy
MORRIGAN’S CROSS
DANCE OF THE GODS
VALLEY OF SILENCE
Sign of Seven Trilogy
BLOOD BROTHERS
THE HOLLOW
THE PAGAN STONE
Bride Quartet
VISION IN WHITE
BED OF ROSES
Nora Roberts & J. D. Robb
REMEMBER WHEN
J. D. Robb
NAKED IN DEATH
GLORY IN DEATH
IMMORTAL IN DEATH
RAPTURE IN DEATH
CEREMONY IN DEATH
VENGEANCE IN DEATH
HOLIDAY IN DEATH
CONSPIRACY IN DEATH
LOYALTY IN DEATH
WITNESS IN DEATH
JUDGMENT IN DEATH
BETRAYAL IN DEATH
SEDUCTION IN DEATH
REUNION IN DEATH
PURITY IN DEATH
PORTRAIT IN DEATH
IMITATION IN DEATH
DIVIDED IN DEATH
VISIONS IN DEATH
SURVIVOR IN DEATH
ORIGIN IN DEATH
MEMORY IN DEATH
BORN IN DEATH
INNOCENT IN DEATH
CREATION IN DEATH
STRANGERS IN DEATH
SALVATION IN DEATH
PROMISES IN DEATH
Anthologies
FROM THE HEART
A LITTLE MAGIC
A LITTLE FATE
MOON SHADOWS
(with Jill Gregory, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Marianne Willman)
The Once Upon Series
(with Jill Gregory, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Marianne Willman)
ONCE UPON A CASTLE
ONCE UPON A STAR
ONCE UPON A DREAM
ONCE UPON A ROSE
ONCE UPON A KISS
ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT
SILENT NIGHT
(with Susan Plunkett, Dee Holmes, and Claire Cross)
OUT OF THIS WORLD
(with Laurell K. Hamilton, Susan Krinard, and Maggie Shayne)
BUMP IN THE NIGHT
(with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
DEAD OF NIGHT
(with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
THREE IN DEATH
SUITE 606
(with Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas)
Also available . . .
THE OFFICIAL NORA ROBERTS COMPANION
(edited by Denise Little and Laura Hayden)
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
BED OF ROSES
Copyright © 2009 by Nora Roberts.
All rights reserved.
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PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley trade paperback edition / November 2009
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Roberts, Nora.
Bed of roses / Nora Roberts.—Berkley trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-14894-5
1. Florists—Fiction. 2. Architects—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3568.O243B43 2009
813’.54—dc22
2009019178
http://us.penguingroup.com
For girlfriends
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
—WORDSWORTH
Love is like a friendship caught on fire.
—BRUCE LEE
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
PROLOGUE
ROMANCE, IN EMMALINE’S OPINION, MADE BEING A WOMAN special. Romance made every woman beautiful, and every man a prince. A woman with romance in her life lived as grandly as a queen, because her heart was treasured.
Flowers, candlelight, long walks in the moonlight in a secluded garden . . . just the idea brought on a sigh. Dancing in the moonlight
in a secluded garden, now that reached the height of romantic on her scale.
She could imagine it, the scent of summer roses, the music drifting out of the open windows of a ballroom, the way the light turned the edges of everything silver, like in the movies. The way her heart would beat (the way it beat now as she imagined it).
She longed to dance in the moonlight in a secluded garden.
She was eleven.
Because she could see so clearly how it should be—would be—she described the scene, every detail, to her best friends.
When they had sleepovers, they talked and talked for hours about everything, and listened to music or watched movies. They could stay up as long as they wanted, even all night. Though none of them had managed to. Yet.
When they had a sleepover at Parker’s, they were allowed to sit or play on the terrace outside her bedroom until midnight if the weather was okay for it. In the spring, her favorite time there, she loved to stand on the bedroom terrace, smell the gardens of the Brown Estate and the green from the grass if the gardener had cut it that day.
Mrs. Grady, the housekeeper, would bring the cookies and milk. Or sometimes cupcakes. And Mrs. Brown would come in now and then to see what they were up to.