Texas Rose. Marie Ferrarella

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      Rose watched her father’s face fall. She knew she was taking away his last line of defense, his last hope. The euphemistic way he attempted to tiptoe around the delicate subject of monthly cycles touched her. Ordinarily her father had the finesse of a wrangler. If Archy Wainwright couldn’t rope it and brand it, he couldn’t deal with it.

      But in his own clumsy way, he was trying.

      And in his own clumsy way, Rose knew her father loved her. No matter how much fire he breathed and how loud he got. He didn’t know how to show affection, only unadulterated anger.

      Archy’s face fell a full two inches. “Then you really are—?”

      Her heart ached for him and if she could have gotten around the truth, she would have. “Yes, I really am.”

      Archy felt numb from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. Numb, like the time his brother had accidentally dropped his rifle and shot him in the hip and shock had set in. “And you’re keeping it?”

      The question was half-rhetorical—because he was fairly confident that she wasn’t the kind to simply wash away a life—and half stunned that his baby, his daughter, was carrying another man’s seed. An unknown man at that. It took his very breath away.

      Rose raised her eyes to her father’s face without saying a word. She didn’t have to. The look in her eyes said it all.

      Archy blew out a long breath in frustration as diverging thoughts in his mind warred with his heart. How did he keep her protected from damning public opinion now that she’d gone and done this?

      “Good,” he barked, “because that’s a life you’ve got inside you and it’s half a Wainwright. But it’s the other half I’m concerned about. Why won’t you tell me who the father is, girl?”

      Rose felt like crying and screaming. Ever since this baby had been formed, her emotions seemed to have settled on a constant roller-coaster ride that refused to come to a stop.

      “Because you’d kill him and then Justin would have to arrest you,” Susan spoke up, coming to her older sister’s defense.

      Under his breath Archy said something unintelligible and best not repeated. He waved an impatient hand at Rose, then looked at his son.

      “Talk some sense into her, Justin. She’s got an obligation to tell me who the young whelp is who did this to her.”

      He made it sound as if she’d been attacked instead of enjoying the most beautiful experience of her life. Rose felt the hair on the back of her neck rising.

      “Did it ever occur to you that we did this to each other?” she asked evenly.

      A fresh wave of thunder descended across her father’s brow. “What did you say?”

      There was a dangerous note in his voice and at any other time she might have backed off. But this time she had to take a stand.

      “This is a love child, Dad.” Her mouth was dry as she tried to make her point. “That means that the baby’s father and I made—”

      Archy quickly cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it,” he bellowed. “Besides,” he scoffed, “what do you know about love? You’ve always got your head stuck in some book.”

      Justin laughed shortly. He’d always known there was more to Rose than his father gave her credit for. Still waters ran deep.

      “Well, her head wasn’t in a book at least one time,” he commented. His father looked at him sharply. Trouble was definitely brewing and he was going to get caught in the middle. “Rosie, tell him who it is before he rides off into town with his twelve gauge under his arm, threatening to shoot every man above the age of puberty.”

      Rose pressed her lips together. There was no way he was getting the information out of her. For all she knew, her father could kill Matt with his bare hands. And then someone from the Carsons would kill him and so on, perpetuating the awful feud.

      “It’s my business, Dad. I’m a grown woman and I don’t have to tell you if I don’t want to.”

      Justin nodded thoughtfully. “She has a point.”

      Archy had expected support from Justin, not dissent. “She has a bun in the oven, boy, and that’s a Wainwright oven,” Archy bellowed. “I’m not going to become the laughingstock of the county, with people whispering about us behind our backs.”

      Susan rolled her eyes. Her father was too provincial for her to endure. “This is the twenty-first century, Dad. Nobody throws rocks at virgins who fall from grace anymore.”

      He looked at her sharply. “Stop right there, Suzy girl, or I’ll have your brother lock you up in your room until you get so old, you’ll be storing your teeth in a glass next to your bed.”

      This was going nowhere. Upset, Rose threw down her napkin and got to her feet, ready to run out. “You’re impossible.”

      Her father rounded the table like a long-distance sprinter and headed her off. For his age and size, he was still surprisingly agile. He caught her by the shoulders before she could leave the room.

      Justin was on his feet, ready to intervene if it came down to that. For now, he kept his peace.

      “I’m head of this damn family and I still have a say in what goes on in it. Now tell me who this son of a bitch is who doesn’t have enough guts to face me like a man.”

      She looked at his hands on either side of her. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, Archy dropped them to his sides.

      Only then did she volunteer any more information. “He doesn’t know.”

      Archy’s mouth dropped open as he stared at her. “What is he, stupid?”

      She felt very protective of Matt. “I didn’t tell him.”

      Archy didn’t understand her. In the world he dealt with, a man was supposed to pull his own weight and own up to his responsibilities. To do that, he couldn’t be kept in the dark. Unless there was more to this than she was telling him. She had been abused, he thought suddenly.

      “Why?”

      She wished her father would drop this already. “That’s my business.”

      “And what happens within this family is mine.” He paused, gathering himself. Knowing that, at least for the time being, it was useless to keep hitting his head against a wall, he backed off. Just a little. “Well, I’m not going to have people flapping their jaws about you like you were common trash. You’re going to live with my sister until this blows over.”

      “This isn’t going to ‘blow over,’ Dad,” Justin pointed out patiently. “Rosie’s having the baby.”

      Archy waved a hand at his son. “Don’t lecture to me, boy. I know that. That’s just something I’ll have to deal with later.”

      You’re not going to have to deal with it, Dad, I am, Rose thought. But saying so out loud would only add fuel to the fire right now. She had to choose her battles.

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