hair, for she hoped the ordinary chore could calm her down.
She finally decided she had procrastinated long enough. She put her brush down, tightened the belt on her robe, and went downstairs.
She was trembling from head to toes by the time she reached his doorstep. She didn't know how long she stood there with her hand poised to turn the knob, but it had to have been at least five minutes before she could gather enough courage to go inside.
Harrison had left out a considerable number of details when he'd described to her how she'd looked and felt when he imagined she was in his bed. She had at least a hundred questions she wanted to ask, but she finally settled on just one he would have to answer before she let him touch her.
She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and opened the door.
When she made up her mind to do something, she did it with a vengeance. The door slammed against the inside wall, then bounced back and almost knocked her over. She shoved it out of her way again, though not quite as forcefully.
Twelve minutes. It had taken her exactly twelve minutes to decide whether or not to open his door. Harrison felt like laughing, but he didn't even crack a smile, because showing any amusement now would probably send her running back to the house. The love of his life looked ready to bolt. He'd heard her outside on his doorstep, muttering every now and then, and quickly realized she still hadn't quite finished working the matter through.
He hadn't gotten out of bed to go and get her. He wanted her to make the decision on her own. He had checked his pocket watch, noted the time, and then happened to glance at it again a second or two before she tried to rip the door off its hinges.
As soon as he saw what she was wearing, he knew her brothers hadn't told her about her father yet. If they had, she still would have come to him, but she would have kept her day clothes on. She would demand he answer her questions. She would look hurt, angry, and confused by his complicity. For a while, she was going to believe he'd deceived and betrayed her, and, honest to God, there wasn't a thing he could do about the hurt she would have to endure. He had tremendous faith in her, however, and he knew she would eventually understand. It was his duty to protect her, and, whether she liked it or not, when she arrived in England, she was going to need him. He fully understood what was going to happen to her, for he knew the Elliott family well. With the best intentions, they would try to tear her identity away from her and make her into one of their own. Harrison couldn't let that happen. He wanted Mary Rose to know in every way possible that he loved who she was, not what she was supposed to be.
And that was exactly why he had made his commitment to her now.
Mary Rose's heart was pounding frantically, her knees were shaking, and she was desperately trying to remember how to breathe.
Staring at Harrison didn't calm her down. He was sitting up in his bed, with his back propped against the bedpost and his long legs stretched out on top of the covers.
He wasn't dressed for sleep. He was bare-chested and barefoot, but he still had his pants on, though only partially. The pants weren't buttoned up. The dark, curly hair covering his chest narrowed down into the opening. The sight of him caused her heartbeat to quicken. She suddenly realized where she was looking and immediately turned her gaze away from his groin.
She noticed the open book in his hands when he closed it. Her eyes widened in reaction. He'd been reading while he waited for her to come to him. Honest to heaven, she didn't know how she felt about that. While she'd been pacing back and forth in her bedroom, agonizing and fretting and quaking with fear, he'd been calmly reading.
Once she got over her astonishment, she thought she just might hit him.
Harrison hadn't moved from the bed. He'd seen the fear in her eyes when she'd walked inside and knew he was going to have to find a way to soothe her before he touched her.
He had meant what he'd said when he told her he wouldn't force her. If she suddenly changed her mind and went back to the house, he wouldn't stop her. It would kill him to watch her walk away from him, but he would willingly die before he interfered with her choice.
He realized he was only being noble now because, in his heart, he already knew she was going to stay. It had taken courage for her to come to him. He hadn't expected less from her.
'You were reading.'
Her statement of fact sounded like an accusation. He didn't remark on it. He nodded and continued to stare at her, waiting for her to let him know she was ready to be held. The fear, he noticed, was disappearing. She appeared to be disgruntled now.
He couldn't imagine why. 'Do you want to close the door?'
'No.'
She didn't shout the denial, and there wasn't a trace of panic in her voice. Harrison put the book down on the table, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and started to stand up. He assumed she wanted him to close the door for her.
She stopped him with a silent command by putting her hand out to indicate she wanted him to stay right where he was.
'I have a question to ask you before you move. Why aren't you wearing your nightclothes? That wasn't the question,' she hastily added.
God help her, she sounded like a twit. She forced a shrug. 'I was just curious about your attire.'
'I don't wear anything when I sleep.'
Her knees felt weak again. She couldn't stop herself from picturing him naked. 'You probably shouldn't have mentioned… that.'
'You're going to find out soon enough. Are you going to stay with me tonight?'
She couldn't believe how reasonable and calm he sounded. 'I haven't made up my mind yet.' She managed to give the lie without smiling.
She had made her decision in her bedroom, but she wasn't quite ready to let him know.
She was being stubborn and didn't care, for she was still reacting to the fact that he'd been enjoying a book while she'd been dancing through the fires of purgatory.
How each one of them had spent the evening summed up all the wonderful differences between them. She had agonized. He had read.
'You're the most determined and methodical man I've ever met, and pretty much everything else I thought I would detest in a mate. I wanted a sweet, vulnerable man because I believed he would always need me. How in heaven's name did I end up with you?'
The wonder in her voice made him smile. 'Because I need you, more than all those other men. You need me too, Mary Rose. It would be nice to hear you admit it.'
'Yes, I do need you. I don't like arrogant men though, and I especially dislike being ordered about. I'd keep that in mind if I were you.'
'Sweetheart, how long is it going to take you to make up your mind? I have to touch you.'
The urgency in his voice soothed her. She watched him stand up, then promptly made him stop again.
'Stay where you are, Harrison. I still have my question to ask you. If I don't like the answer, I'm leaving.'
The sparkle in her eyes told him he didn't have to worry. 'It's getting damned cold in here. What do you want to ask me?'
She took a step toward him, letting the anticipation grow inside her. She was shivering now with her need to kiss him.
Oh, how she loved him. He looked like a rake to her, with his lock of hair drooped down over his forehead and his devilish smile. He was strong and commanding, arrogant and proud, solid and reliable, and she would spend the rest of her life adoring him.
She couldn't wait another minute to hold him. 'When you were telling me what you were thinking and you described me in your bed… and we were making love?'
'Yes?'
'Was I smiling?'
He was laughing when he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. His chin dropped down to rest on top of
