He stared at the flowers so intently that they became a blur of color before his eyes.Hadhe picked this spot for her? Was it some sort of deep-down consideration toward her that had caused him to stop here?
Well, hell, he could like flowers too, couldn’t he? Just because he’d never sought them out on purpose before didn’t mean he didn’t like being near them.
“Those areCallirhoe digitata, Eustoma grandiflorum,andXanthisma texanum,”Theodosia announced as she climbed out of the buckboard and gazed at the thick mass of flowers. “I do believe I shall collect a few specimens to study when I have a bit of spare time.”
Her scientific jargon aggravated him further. “You aren’t the only person in the world who likes flowers, you know,” he told her, determined to set her straight and himself as well. “And that’s what they are.Flowers.Ordinary, everyday red, yellow, and blueflowers.And any fat, shiny, black bugs you see crawling around here arebeetles.And those clouds up there are just puffy whiteclouds.And before you analyze my mood, let me tell you that it is notroinous,got that? It’s sour. It’s just a plain old sour, rotten, bad mood.”
She watched him dismount. After a moment of contemplation, she thought of a few possible reasons for his sudden irritation. Instantly, she tried to think of a way to lead him into telling her himself. And as she thought, excitement slid through her.
There was very little she enjoyed more them delving into the heart of an enigma, which Roman Montana certainly was.
And yet an enigma did not wholly describe what he was to her. Beyond her intellectual interest in him lay something else.
Something emotional.
“What are you thinking about?” Roman demanded.
Calmly, she peered up at the sky. “The clouds. You’re right. They are not cirrostratus. They are cumulus and often appear around midday on a sunny day. They are much lower than cirrus clouds, but should they become bigger and rise higher, they could turn into storm clouds. I won’t worry about a possible storm, though, because you will undoubtedly hear and smell one before the clouds give notice.”
She removed John the Baptist from his cage. After slipping the glittery bird collar around the parrot’s neck and attaching the leash to it, she faced Roman. “And as for your mood, I wouldn’t describe it as roinous at all. It is definitely jaculiferous.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You may look for the definition in a dictionary.”
“I’m not in the habit of carrying a dictionary around in my saddlebag, Miss Worth.”
“More’s the pity, Mr. Montana.”
He stormed through the sea of wild flowers and stopped before her. “I don’t need your pity.”
“How fortunate, for I pity you not at all.” She removed a large basket from the back of the wagon and walked John the Baptist through the flowers.“Jaculiferousdescribes something that possesses spines,” she said, and set the basket beside the trunk of an oak. “Like a porcupine.”
“I’m in a porcupine mood?”
She laughed softly. “I only meant that your mood is spiny. Prickly.”
“Means the same thing,” he muttered. “Sour, rotten, and bad.” He grabbed a blanket out of the wagon and joined her by the tree.
She helped him spread the blanket over the bed of flowers. “You’ve torn your shirt.”
He noticed a large rip in his sleeve and shrugged.
“I’ve never loved a man.”
Her out-of-the-blue statement set his mind spinning.
“And since I have never loved a man, I have no idea what it’s like to want to marry. Tell me what it’s like.”
“Tell you? How the hell would I know?”
She kept her features blank, giving no indication that his response had provided her with the exact information she needed. “I cannot help the fact that I am a woman, Mr. Montana.”
“What?”
She knelt and began to lay out the food for the picnic. “I cannot change my sex, but if you like, we could discuss your untoward feelings for women. Perhaps we would then be able to determine the most appropriate way for you to overcome them. Surely you do not desire to spend your life disliking the entire female race.”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
