Page 12 of Hearts of Resistance
‘I have. It’s taken me all this time to tidy up, but it feels more like home again now.’ Rose kept her smile fixed, not wanting her guests to feel sorry for her. They weren’t long married and she wanted them to enjoy their stay instead of worrying about her. She didn’t mention the fact that on her first night here she’d curled into a ball after crying her eyes out and slept on the cold kitchen floor.
‘Show Charlotte the guest room,’ she said to Sebastian. ‘And please, make yourself at home. Anything you need, help yourself.’
They disappeared, chatting as they went down the hall, and Rose took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check instead of falling back into her grief. It had been only weeks since she’d received the dreadful news, but she’d spent her entire life being headstrong and independent, and she wasn’t about to start cracking beneath her pain now.
A knock echoed, followed by laughter, and Rose smiled as she listened to her brother and his wife. She remembered what it had been like when she and Peter were first married. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and it had been like that right up until the last time she’d seen him.
‘Darling, you’re a wonderful nurse. You haven’t lost your temper in days.’
Rose smothered a laugh. ‘Careful, my love, or I’ll find some crockery to throw at you.’
They both chuckled then, Peter’s eyes meeting hers as they stared at one another from across the bedroom. She sat in front of her mirror, applying make-up, while he sat propped in bed watching her. They’d made love allmorning, her husband finally over the dreadful flu that had kept him in bed for days, and she felt so close to him after the hours spent tangled, naked, beneath their sheets.
‘My parents called you as sweet and delicious as a peach,’ he joked. ‘If only they knew what went on behind closed doors.’
He was right. She did have a temper with him sometimes and the sweet disposition she usually displayed could easily be turned into anger if Peter did something to annoy her. He’d become particularly careful with the attention he gave to beautiful women after she’d slapped him at a café.
‘Speaking of disagreements,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light so she didn’t raise his suspicions, ‘I’ve been hearing a lot about women assisting with the Resistance.’
Peter sighed. ‘For heaven’s sake, Rose. Can’t you just let a man convalesce in peace?’
She set down her lipstick and smiled at him. ‘Darling, you’re hardly convalescing now and, besides, it seems ridiculous for me to sit here doing nothing. Can’t I do something to help the war effort?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, darling, you can knit socks and send them to the poor men at the front.’
She could feel her temperature rising, her cheeks starting to burn. ‘Don’t speak to me as if I’m only capable of knitting,’ she said, fuming, but trying to keep her voice low. ‘I will not be told what I can and can’t do, Peter. I was simply trying to be diplomatic about it instead of going behind your back.’
‘You’re my wife,’ he said, voice as calm as could be, as if they were having a simple discussion about the weather. ‘And it seems to me you’re going to do this whether I like it or not. But this is me, for once, Rose, putting my foot down.’
‘You don’t have the right to, to ...’ She grabbed her hairbrush and threw it at him. ‘I’m your wife, not your slave!’
‘Oh, Rose.’
‘Don’t you “oh, Rose” me!’
‘But you’re so gorgeous when you’re cross with me,’ he said. ‘That sweet little nurse routine didn’t last for long, did it?’
Rose took a deep breath, trying to hate him and failing when he winked and beckoned her closer.
‘Sweetheart, please,’ he said, circling his arms around her once she had come and settled down beside him.
She looked up at him. ‘Is it so wrong to want to help?’
‘No. But you’re behaving as if I don’t have the right to be worried about you,’ he said gently. ‘I love you, Rose. Is it so wrong that I want to do everything I can to keep you safe? That I want to know you’re here, protected, instead of doing something reckless?’
She sighed, her frustration mounting. ‘I can’t sleep at night, knowing what’s going on out there right beneath our noses. We need to do more.Ineed to do more.’
He nodded. ‘I know.’
‘You knew who I was when you married me,’ she said softly. ‘If you wanted to marry a society princess with no conscience, then you picked the wrong woman for your wife. I need to feel like I’m doing something that will actually make a difference.’
Peter laughed. ‘Sweetheart, I know exactly what type of woman I married.’ He dropped a kiss to her lips and ran a hand through her long hair. ‘I love that you want to help, that you’re so passionate and aware, but ...’
She looked up into his eyes, knowing that he was telling the truth. One thing she couldn’t fault her husband for was the way he loved her. He looked at her and truly saw her – he always had – and he’d never expected her to change herself for anyone. She’d been brought up by parents who had appreciated her opinions, but they’d always been worried about how a husband would cope with how outspoken she was. The fact they’d sent her to a top finishing school was evidence enough of how much they wanted her to marry well. Peter had more than passed their expectations, but she knew how worried they’d always been about her opinion on everything from politics to a woman’s right to do as she pleased.
‘Darling ...,’ he started, then let out a loud breath.
‘What were you going to say?’ she asked, pushing him back a tiny bit, palms flat to his chest. ‘You have a look on your face, like you’re keeping something from me.’
