One Pink Rose, One White Rose, One Red Rose

a closed door.

The main room had bunk beds lined against every wall. A long wooden table with benches on either side was in the center near a potbellied stove.

Travis acted as though he and Henry were good friends. During supper, he filled him in on all the latest news. Emily didn't say a word. She sat close to Travis's side at the table and tried to eat the foul-smelling soup she'd been offered. She couldn't get any of it down though, and since the proprietor wasn't paying any attention to her, she ate the brown bread and goat's milk instead and left the soup alone.

She excused herself as soon as she finished, but when she reached the door to her bedroom, she turned back to Travis.

'Will we reach Golden Crest tomorrow?'

He shook his head. 'No, the day after,' he said. 'We'll stay with John and Millie Perkins tomorrow night. They rent out rooms in their home.'

She told both men good night then and went to bed. Travis didn't see her again until she came outside the following morning with her satchel in her hands. She was wearing a pink dress with a matching sweater. The color suited her, and damn, but she was getting prettier and prettier.

He wanted to kiss her. He frowned instead and made a silent vow not to get near her today. He would keep the talk impersonal, no matter how much she provoked him.

The day's journey turned out to be extremely pleasant. Emily obviously didn't want to argue either, so the topics they ended up discussing were of a philosophical nature.

She confessed to being a voracious reader. He suggested she read The Republic. 'It's all about justice,' he explained. 'I think you'll like it. I did. Mama Rose gave me a leather-bound copy along with a journal, and they're my most prized possessions.'

'Why did she give you a journal?'

'She told me it was for me to fill with my accounts of all the cases I defend. She said that when I'm ready to retire, she wants me to be able to hold The Republic in one hand and the journal of my experiences in the other. It's her hope that the two will balance.'

'Like the scales of justice,' Emily whispered, impressed by the wisdom of Travis's mother.

She began to question him about Plato's work, and they debated justice and the law well into the afternoon. He thoroughly enjoyed sparring with her, so much so, he was sorry when the discussion ended.

It was his fault. He made the mistake of getting personal again.

'You're a contradiction, Emily. You've obviously been well educated, and I know you're smart…'

'But?' she asked.

'You're doing something that isn't smart at all. In fact, it's just plain stupid.'

His bluntness got her all riled up. 'I don't believe I asked for your opinion.'

'You're getting it anyway,' he replied. 'You just gave me a passionate argument about honesty and justice, and surely you can see that the pretense you're thinking about pulling on your unsuspecting groom is downright dishonest.'

It was the beginning of an argument that lasted until they reached the yard behind the Perkinses' house.

Travis did most of the talking. He gave her at least twenty reasons why she shouldn't marry O'Toole, but he believed his last reason was the most convincing one.

'You won't ever be able to keep up the charade of being a delicate little flower in need of pampering, Emily.'

'I am delicate, damn it.'

He snorted with disbelief. 'You're about as fragile as a grizzly bear.'

'If flinging insults is the only way you can argue your position, heaven help your clients.'

Travis dismounted, then went to Emily's side and lifted her off her horse. His hands stayed around her waist much longer than necessary. 'A good marriage takes effort, and honesty is a definite prerequisite.'

'How would you know? You've never been married, have you?'

'That isn't relevant.'

'Is flirting honest?'

He was caught off guard by her question and had to think about it for a minute before he answered. 'Sometimes it's honest. Flirting is part of the courting ritual, but I personally think it's only honest when a woman flirts with the man she's set her cap on.'

''Set her cap on'? Are you telling me you think she should only flirt with the man she's already decided to marry?'

'That's what I'm saying all right.'

'That's ridiculous. Flirting is the first step in a long process of finding the right man or woman. Men flirt too, you know. They just don't do it the same way women do.'

'No, we don't.'

Arguing with him was proving exasperating. 'It's all a game, isn't it, that's played out between men and women. It's harmless too. Besides, men like women who flirt with them,' she added, remembering how

Barbara had always been able to get every available man at a party to flit around her as though she were their queen bee.

'No, we don't like women who flirt with us,' he insisted. 'We're much more intelligent than you think we are, and we sure as certain don't like being manipulated.'

'You needn't use that superior tone with me. I've patiently listened to you argue your position for the past hour, and I never once scoffed at you. Granted, I wanted to, but I didn't. Now it's my turn. It's too bad I can't prove my point to you.'

'What point?'

She knew he was deliberately trying to frustrate her and refused to cooperate. She stared at the buttons on his shirt so she couldn't be distracted by his smile, and said, 'If the circumstances were favorable, I'd prove to you right this minute that a delicate little flower gets far more attention than a practical one.'

'You really believe a helpless little woman who flutters her eyelashes and hangs on a man's every word will get his full attention?'

'I do.'

'You're as nuts as a tree full of acorns.'

She ignored his criticism. 'I've done a complete study on this subject, Travis.'

'What makes the circumstances favorable?' he asked, latching onto an earlier remark she'd made.

' Boston,' she answered. She waved her hand toward the Perkinses' house as she continued. 'I'm not about to draw any attention to myself in front of a crowd of strangers here because it would be foolhardy and perhaps even dangerous to do so. The men in Boston are more refined and know how to conduct themselves as gentlemen around ladies. There are rules, after all, and they abide by them. I can't say the same for the men who live out here because I don't know any of them.'

'Most of the men out here are gentlemen, but there are a few who would think nothing of trying to drag you off with them. The way I see it though, being your escort means I'm responsible for your welfare, and I don't like the notion of getting into a fight just because you acted silly.

'Furthermore, we're about to eat, and I don't want to have to shoot anyone afterwards. It's bad for the digestion.'

It was such an outrageous thing to say, she struggled to force herself not to laugh.

'Indigestion is the only reservation you have about shooting someone?'

'Just about,' he told her.

'I don't believe you. You're teasing me, and a gentleman would never do such a thing.'

'Now, Emily, we've been though this before. I know I mentioned I wasn't a gentleman. Fact is, you should be thankful I'm your escort.'

She was so surprised by his matter-of-fact remark she didn't bother to push him away when he put his arms around her waist.

'Is that so? Why exactly should I be thankful?'

'Because if I weren't escorting you, I'd probably be one of the few who would drag you off with me.'